. Bonds of Choice #5 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 3 of 7) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The planet of Oreen was a lush and beautiful place. Drel Mran and Faydrus Dekk stepped forth from their transport under a starry sky. The air was heavy and warm, thick with humidity. Gathered at the base of the ramp was a small cluster of people. Standard humanoid, with dark tan skin, Obi-Wan noted. The agenda set forth scheduled them to proceed directly to dinner. They had freshened up while still shipboard and were ready to be wined, dined and cajoled into purchasing a vast quantity of crystal that they would, in fact, never consider. The crystals they would accept would match the dark and angry one now nestled in Qui-Gon's belt pouch. Obi-Wan slouched, bored and sullen, a few paces behind his master. He didn't look at the surroundings, or the people. He didn't pay attention to the dinner, but consumed what was placed before him after an angry glare from Drel. They were seated at low tables, on very comfortable cushions. An army of servants passed in and out, serving Qui-Gon and the three men who came to sell to him. There were others in the room, hangers on, Obi-Wan supposed. They didn't matter. At last they had finished the final course. Obi-Wan was vaguely aware that through the dinner Qui-Gon had inspected and rejected dozens of cases of crystals. The salesmen were getting desperate. "Is there anything we can offer you? Anything at all?" one of them asked. "Some entertainment would be nice," Faydrus piped up. He received another glare from Drel, which he ignored. "I'm bored." "Yes, of course." A few moments later two women entered, stood in a clear space between the tables and started a long, beautiful song on the subject of peace and inner beauty. Obi-Wan felt a nudge against his mental shields and opened to it minutely. //Now will be your chance, Padawan.// **I think you enjoy this way too much.** //Duty, Padawan.// Something cold seized in Obi-Wan's chest. It hurt, badly, almost making him lose his breath. //What's wrong, Obi-Wan?// **Nothing, Master. I am ready. I only hope that I am up to the task you have set me.** The women bowed the finish, smiling into the applause. Faydrus yawned. "Drel, dear, why are we still here? It is clear this is not the place you sought." Obi-Wan stretched, popping the joints in his back. "Hush, now. I'm doing business." "But really, Drel, darling. I'm sure that song was nice enough for the ordinary sort, but hardly the art of a planet that has what you are seeking." Obi-Wan let a long, insolent, lazy grin creep across his lips. "Just what does that mean?" one of the salesmen demanded. Obi-Wan stood up. "Do you want to see special? I'll show you special. Then you'll show Drel whatever you think you have to match special and I can go home. Deal?" The men nodded dumbly. Qui-Gon had a look of exasperated indulgence on his face. "Now, I know you haven't the proper music, but do try to pay attention." //Obi-Wan, wait. Are you sure you're up to this?// Qui-Gon sounded genuinely worried. That cold thing caught Obi-Wan under the breastbone again. **Yes, Master. I am ready to serve you. Try to act like I'm doing something amazing. It'll help our position.** Qui-Gon settled back, let admiration shine in his eyes. Obi-Wan stepped out of his slippers and went to the clearing between the tables. Qui-Gon picked up a chopstick and began tapping a rhythm on his water glass. The soft chime rang through the perfectly quiet room. Ting-tocka ting tok-tok toka-ting. Obi-Wan let his knees relax then fell into the rhythm with the isolations from his balance training. His arms were held away from his sides, shoulders moving in the quick, popping rhythm. He brought his arms down to frame his body and moved just his hips, up and down. His left foot crossed over his right, and he slowly curved his chest around, dipping down, then back up to the left, down, then up to the right. Nothing moved but his chest and ribs. Ting-tocka ting tok-tok toka-ting. Slowly he turned, pivoting on the balls of his feet, dipping his left hip, then right hip. He felt the stretch of his tight trousers as the muscles bunched and gave. He stepped up, rising high on the right foot, left arm high above his head, slowly circling as his body undulated from shoulder to knee, a perfect downward S-shaped wave. Ting-tocka ting tok-tok toka-ting. His hand circled above his head in the opposite direction his body turned. Long, slow ripple of perfect muscle control, all of it drawing attention to pelvis and hip. He stopped, planting both feet. Now the utterly self-glorifying but spectacular performance was about to end. Obi-Wan had not really thought how to end this little charade. He listened to the chime; leaned slowly, slowly back, bending knee, arms out to the side, making the snake arms undulations he enjoyed so much in the stone gardens. Back and back and bending at the knee. Ting-tocka ting tok-tok tocka-ting. Now his knees touched the floor, his back continued curving, curving, back a perfect arch, his hips still high up from the floor. The crown of his head touched the carpet. Still arching, he pressed his legs out, clearing the way, letting his shoulders slowly lower, his arms still curving, undulating, keeping his balance. Shoulderblades now on the floor, hips still high up, bringing down the back, now finally allowing buttocks to come slowly towards the floor, not quite touching, hips high and proud. Ting-tocka toc. There the rhythm stopped, so Obi-Wan froze. Qui-Gon began the applause this time. Obi-Wan rose, bored again. "Show them and let's get out of here." Qui-Gon turned back to the salesmen. "You see that I have rather a special commodity to provide for, here. So let's cut to the chase. What I want is six dozen crystals of this type and quality." He took the box out and showed them the focus stone from the Sith lightsaber. They passed it around, exchanged nervous glances. "Ah, no. No, we don't have quite that quantity here for sale. A gentleman took all that we had just last week." "Did he? Well, you can provide me with his name and I will deal with him directly," Qui-Gon made a fluid gesture and looked at them like this was the most sensible thing to do. Moments later a secretary had brought them the needed information. A few minutes more and the Jedi were walking back to their transport. *************** Obi-Wan had just finished sending the information they had gathered back to Coruscant when he heard a clattering noise from the direction of the ramp. He poked his head into the corridor, saw Qui-Gon headed towards the entryway and returned to his work. Moments later he heard voices trading words in heated tones. He went back into the hallway just in time to see one of the crystal merchant's guards slug Qui-Gon in the jaw. The Jedi spun halfway around and fell in a heap on the lowered ramp. The guard looked at Obi-Wan, shouted something unintelligible in the native tongue and gestured towards him. The Padawan did the only thing he could, given the circumstances. He let his eyes roll back into his head and fell to the floor. The guards spoke in worried tones for a long moment. Obi-Wan lay perfectly still. Finally two of them came and gathered him up. He heard them collecting Qui-Gon as well. **Master?** //Just ride along, Padawan. Good thinking, by the way.// **Thank you, Master.** //This won't take too long to deal with.// **Yes, Master.** Their captors bore the limp and waiting Jedi back into the house in which they had dined. Obi-Wan instinctively cataloged the turns they took and the number of steps between each turn. He scanned them for their emotional state and it seemed to him they were overly agitated. This was not going according to plan for them. Finally they entered a room and Obi-Wan was put down someplace soft. He heard the rustle and bump as Qui-Gon was also set down. A more familiar voice spoke just then. "You idiots! I said convince them, not kidnap them! They'll never come to terms with us now! You there, slavegirl. Stay with them until they awake. Let the guard know when they revive. The rest of you, come with me," and the sound of feet receded into the distance. A hiss and click told Obi-Wan that the door was closed. He held his breath steady, double-checked their watcher's position between them, and asked **Now, Master?** //You take her. I'd scare the life out of her from my size alone.// Obi-Wan stifled a snort, counted three and tossed himself onto the slave. He covered her mouth with one hand and hoped she didn't have another to cry out with. "Keep still. Keep quiet. I will not hurt you if you will do those things. Do you agree? Nod if you do." He felt her signal an affirmative and hauled them both to their feet. And gasped. She was almost as tall as he, slender, with alert eyes. Her body was covered in a coat of thin blue fur. "Kurasian," he whispered. Her eyes widened, surprised. She nodded. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. She clearly had been sold off from the group taken as slaves more than a month ago. The ones he and Qui-Gon had freed. "Your people live, and are free. Your family is safe." Something within him said that this was the most important piece of information he could give her. Something new sparked in her eyes. Determination. Good, they could use that. "We have to go, Obi-Wan. Put her to sleep so we can take the ..." "No, Master. She's coming with us." Obi-Wan couldn't believe he'd just said that. "Is she?" "Yes, Master. With or without your permission." Obi-Wan realized he delivered these words in just the same tone Qui-Gon used on the Council. "Hmm. I see. You'll be punished for this later, you understand. Defiance on this level will not be taken lightly." Qui-Gon took a position by the door. "Of course, Master. Thank you." Obi-Wan took a look at the girl. There was a cheap and unreliable tracker on her wrist. He snapped it easily and tossed it on the sofa he had been laying on. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. My name is in your Book of Heroes. I will take you home." She nodded, held out her hand. "Jenka Nes'Nurian." Then Qui-Gon Forced the door, snatched the guard and dragged him inside. Obi-Wan seized his chin and ordered "Sleep." The guard went under with a whimper. "Very good, Padawan." "Thank you, Master." The three made it almost to the Fortnight Gannet without being spotted. Those who had been set to watch over it opened fire on them as they keyed entry to the gangplank. Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber from its hiding place, but was loath to turn it on. No need for them to know whom they fought against. They dashed up the ramp without counterattacking. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan made for the controls and had the ship in orbit before they could turn to their passenger. "Jenka Nes'Nurian, may I introduce Master Qui-Gon Jinn?" "Master?" She asked. "We are Jedi," Obi-Wan explained. She took in their clothes, hair and makeup, sat down on the deck and howled with laughter. Obi-Wan turned to his master. "Please excuse me while I go to regain my dignity, Master." He staunchly ignored the fact that Qui-Gon's laughter joined Jenka Nes'Nurian's as soon as Obi-Wan was out of the room. ************ Obi-Wan was tugging his boots on when his doorchime was sounded. He answered to find Jenka Nes'Nurian standing there. "Can I help you?" he asked. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed like that. I heard your master say you'd be punished if you rescued me. I heard you accept that punishment for me. I ... should not have laughed." She was staring at the floor before his feet. "I'm sure I must seem pretty laughable. Especially if you saw that dance at dinner. Look, would you like a change of clothes? I can see right through that shift and I know your people don't usually dress that way. Take whatever you like." He gestured towards his bedroom, where he had stowed his travel packs. She nodded and he left the room to give her some probably much-needed privacy. He made his way down to the galley, in search of tea. Not long after he heard her follow. She came into the galley dressed in some of his silks. They were much too large, but better than trying to get Qui-Gon's clothes to suit. "Hungry?" he asked. She nodded and he gestured towards the table. Soon he had a meal set before her and she started in with relish. He leaned against the countertop, sipping his tea. "You won't join me?" She asked. Obi-Wan shook his head no, tugging his Padawan braid loose from the extensions. "Why?" He shrugged, uncertain. Finally he asked. "Is there a difference between 'Nurian' and 'Nes'Nurian'?" She nodded, "I am not yet a Nurian. I was ... am training to be one. What is a Padawan?" "The same thing probably. How old are you?" "I have twenty one summers. I have taken the Semsha Rites of Passage." "Mmm-hmm. Well, Jenka Nes'Nurian, there's a price to be paid for your freedom. I must go see to paying it. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you," He set his cup down. The Gannet was not particularly small, had sufficient weapons and supplies to keep them in the field for a good month or so. He found his master in the meeting room. Qui-Gon was standing, watching the stars go by. "We are on a course for Renal Sejon. I have contacted Master Windu and explained our plan, or utter lack thereof. You're lucky this time, Padawan. Sejon is nearby, a good place to lay low while our hosts stop looking for us. We'll have to wait a few days at least before continuing our search. Cord is working on finding our next target." Qui-Gon turned to face his student. "Is there something I can do for you?" "Yes, Master. I have come to take my punishment," Obi-Wan informed him. "Now? While I admire your compassion and sense of duty, I must tell you I would prefer to wait." "Why is that, Master?" Obi-Wan was honestly confused. "You defied and disobeyed me, Obi-Wan. I might have been swayed, had you asked, but you did not. That is wholly unacceptable. You know this is serious and here I do not have the time or the luxury to devise an elegant lesson. I would prefer to not use the only sorts of punishments available to me now. You know I have no wish to be that brutal with you, Koateleu." Qui-Gon turned his back on the stars. "Besides, if you didn't know the meaning and reasons for obedience by now, I would have sent you to some other calling." "It will be faster and easier on us both this way," Obi-Wan opined. "If we do this I would have to do something I find deeply distasteful and crude. I am, of course, prepared to do so if you really think you would prefer it this way. I hope it shames you enough that we will not need to repeat this particular form of punishment for another good long time. I know I will be ashamed that it was so between us." "Yes, Master." Obi-Wan felt his pulse quicken. What was about to happen would be less than pleasant and more than a little humiliating. "Very well. Let it be agreed between us that when I am done, I am going to ask your pardon. Due to the nature of your training, it would be possible for you to ignore what I am about to do. I forbid you to do so. Is that understood?" "Yes, Master." "You are to remain within your normal sensory input levels. You are to give me honest responses to what you experience." "Yes, Master." "Wait here." Qui-Gon left the room and returned with a long, thin, flexible rod in one hand. He regarded it with a look of utter disgust. His eyes fell upon Obi-Wan, then flicked away, focusing on the stars once more. He found it impossible to say these words while watching his student's accepting eyes. "Your punishment is this: I am going to cane you. Now, off with those tunics and boots. Come here." Obi-Wan obeyed. "Master? I just… I already pardon you." "Face down on the deck. Push up on your arms." Obi-Wan extended into the classic pushup pose and held his weight there on his hands and toes. The first blow was a line of fire from ribs to shoulder. The second was nothing less than agony. The third split the skin, and he felt himself beginning to sweat. He pressed his lips together, then opened them, trying to steady his breathing. He let his head fall down between his shoulders, watching his muscles recoil from another blow that deepened the cut. A thin trickle of blood made its way down his ribcage. The pain was incredible, but more difficult was fighting the instinct to retreat into the mental discipline he had been taught to withstand torture. He kept his eyes opened and focused on the floor as two more lashes of silvery fire were laid across the same wound There was a pause, then a new welt was begun. Two strokes in quick succession made the mark and forced a gasp out of Obi-Wan. At a dozen he was screaming. Now both sweat and blood were dripping from him, salty fluid running over his shoulders, down his arms and pooling around his fingers. Two more cuts were opened, twin lines of molten torment from shoulder to hip. At two dozen blows, his arms collapsed. He gasped and struggled to get up, hold himself up, not simply lay there and whine like a mindless beast. Qui-Gon waited for him to reassume the pose and carried on. Tears leaked down Obi-Wan's face. He did not feel the shame or the humiliation he had expected. He suffered, but more, he felt responsibility. He had done what must be done and now accepted the consequences. His openmouthed howls were nothing compared to the sure voice within him that said this was nothing more than another facet of his duty. Salt from his perspiration was now gathering in the open wounds. The saline fire added new pain where he thought no more could exist. He wanted to beg for mercy, for just a moment's rest, but refused to shame himself further by showing such weakness. He also knew that he would never, ever EVER defy his master if there was any other avenue available to him. He had thought this a lesson well learned at this point in his life. There were now six parallel lines down his back, evenly spaced, each a universe of burning punishment that was about to grow much worse. The cane now fell between the bleeding cuts, not tearing flesh but making finger-wide marks between them, leaving no skin untouched. At four dozen strokes, Obi-Wan knew he had paid a fair price for Jenka's freedom. The pain was incredible, blinding and impossible to ignore. He had given up on breathing and was satisfied that any air was entering his body between sets of wracking sobs and earsplitting screams. At five dozen lashes the blows stopped. "You may lay down now, Padawan." Obi-Wan slowly relaxed his arms, lowering himself to the cool deck. Even when he had been lying in the hospital drowning in his own blood, he hadn't felt torment like this. Every breath was a misery. His heartbeat made him whimper with the level of hurt it caused. He trembled with wracking sobs, stunned and dulled by the sensations. His back felt like raw meat, though he knew there were clean, precise stripes that would heal without scarring. "Now will you pardon me, Obi-Wan?" "Yes, Master," the strangled yelp was painful to voice. "Now, Padawan, let me ask you this. If we were in the same situation, would you still disobey me to save that girl? The one that laughed in your face not five minutes after you won her freedom? Would you do it even knowing this is the price you would have to pay?" Qui-Gon's voice was cold and level. Obi-Wan cringed inwardly as his openmouthed sobs and choking gasps filled the room. He slowed his breathing, slowed the muscle reactions that caused them, drew a deep breath and replied, "yes, Master." The tears overtook him again and he poured his pain into the Force. Qui-Gon's hand was on his chin, turning him to face. "Well done, my Padawan. Sleep."