by Lyta Alexander, a.k.a the Pink Padawan
(pinkpadawan@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17 for sex and violence
Category: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, First-Time
Summary: Unexpected events on a routine assignment...sure
you've heard it all before! This is MY version!
Spoilers: for Jedi Apprentice books. Story takes place
approximately five years after JA3. Obi-Wan is barely 18
<G>.
Archive: Sure! M/A only for now...but ask me nicely and I'll
probably say yes!
Warnings: RAPE WARNING! If severely violent, nonconsensual
stuff squicks you, stay away from this story! Or, if you're
morbidly curious and just can't resist a peek, don't blame ME!
I warned you!
Warnings for Warnings: See above... ;=)
Disclaimer: Sorry to use your characters in such ways, George,
but I promise their inner souls are untouched and unsullied by
the hideous deeds I will perform in my la-BOR-a-tory!
Ennaway...I don't make a single daktari off this endeavor. I do
it for the love of it, so don't sue me for my love, George! It
would be too cruel!
Acknowledgements: to my wonderful betas, Fox and Amber Biles! I
must give a great deal of credit to both of them; they rooted
out a whole lot of bad grammar and inconsistencies! And they've
read my work probably a whole lot more times than they ever
wanted to! ;=)
The man trapped inside the twisting metal closed his eyes. He
drew upon a long forgotten power--the Force that allowed him to
separate himself from the pain of the body that lay shattered
around him. His consciousness floated free of the wrecked
flesh, watching the body below as it breathed out its gasping,
certain-to-be last lungfuls of air. Calmly, he noted the long
black hair, matted with ubiquitous blood, acting as an
indicator of the slow uneven motion of the lungs as it
fluttered sickly with each rattling breath.
The blood fanned out with the twisted body as center point,
creating a grisly artwork in red and gray, blood and metal. He
had become detached from the pain. He remembered what had been
his purpose; he was carrying the latest technological advances
and their creators from his home planet, where civil unrest had
threatened them and him. The reward would be wealth; wealth was
power--the power to wreak revenge on the one who had betrayed
him.
A weakly rasping hiccup escaped the lips of the body that lay
heavily below. Blood trickled from the corner of its mouth; he
realized the shell of a man was laughing. He was connected to
the husk below; its thoughts were his own, but they seemed so
distant, unimportant. Even revenge, which was once a brightly
burning goal for him, fell short of worthiness for
consideration in this small world of blood and metal. The world
was shrinking, and there was no place for grand plans.
He thought about all the clever things he had done in his life,
the rewards to the ego when he showed others his
accomplishments...then, the revulsion on their faces when they
comprehended the desperation behind all the damnably brilliant
things he had done...just to hurt one man.
The only one who hurt now was him. He had lost himself; he was
losing the control that kept the pain at bay. As he popped back
into his shattered skin, the physical and mental agony
overwhelmed him, and he screamed as loudly as he could. It came
out as a ratcheting sound, as the blood was displaced from his
lungs. He began to drown in his own body; his mind drowned in
futility. //No one will find you. No one will miss you. Your
death will be the end of suffering for those you sought to
impress--the only good you will ever do...//
Tears mixed with blood, and he gasped through the river of
blood, trying in vain to surface out of the mire of his own
dying soul...he felt for the Force, remembering an old lesson.
"There is no death; there is the Force." But the Force drove
him deeper within himself.
Red replaced the gray, fading slowly to black, contrasting with
his pale torn skin, which unshaded as the world shrank further.
The makeshift crew worked under the ice blue sky, picking the
gray bits of metal from the bodies trapped within. The wreckage
was vast--a crash-landed freighter. It had been successful in
missing a large settlement, but it had lost control in its vain
attempt to maintain altitude.
Instead, it had fallen into the midst of a field of AgriCorps
Jedi, killing one of them, and injuring several more. The rest
now formed the crew that diligently worked to extract what life
they could from this impossibly ruined ship which had once
flown.
Hundreds of the agrarian Jedi searched for the occupants' life
signatures as they would for a seedling in a forest, but, as
the freighter's passengers did not seem to be the least bit
Force-sensitive, it was slow going. Mostly digging and
listening and watching. With the turning of the breeze, these
simply dressed Jedi AgriCorps workers had transformed into
efficient rescue workers. Some tore the hems of their robes to
bind the wounds of those few they could free from the
freighter's deadly metal embrace.
"This is your chance to practice your manual planetary approach
skills, Padawan."
Qui-Gon sat back in the navigator's chair and regarded his
apprentice, who began the process of shifting the cruiser to
manual control. This would be one of the few interesting things
Obi-Wan could expect during this mission. Another trade
negotiation. Another treaty. It paled to the raw exhilaration
of the control of a ship, Force sailing through him as the ship
sailed through the upper atmosphere.
Obi-Wan was lost in his task. Qui-Gon noticed a large freighter
pursuing a similar course to the planet they now approached.
Obi-Wan had noticed it also, and he deliberately set about
correcting their course to avoid the possibility of collision.
Qui-Gon sat up in the co-pilot's chair and studied the large
gray object on the viewscreen. "What freighter is that? I
thought there was an embargo. Send to it on a coded channel,
Obi-Wan. Ask its cargo and purpose here."
The two suns of the planet Dynantiun rose over the horizon,
illuminating Qui- Gon's furrowed brow, casting pools of light
into his deep blue eyes. A disturbance in the Force. Only a
slight one--Obi-Wan didn't even seem to react to it. He sent
the coded query with a graceful sweep of his left hand, while
he guided the transport into a shallow approach vector with his
right.
In fact, Qui-Gon mused that his Padawan looked much like an
initiate at a games console, oblivious to everything but the
yaw, roll and pitch of the ship in his hands. "Be mindful of
your surroundings, not just the ship." Qui-Gon quirked his
mouth into a wry ghost of a smile. He did not indulge his
padawan overmuch, but he understood the younger man's state of
mind all too well.
Obi-Wan's eyes cleared, and he sat up, turning toward his
Master. "Yes, Master. I have been paying attention. I know that
the gravity of this planet is currently being affected by the
close approach of its two suns. Thus, the shallow approach
vector." Obi-Wan cocked his head at Qui-Gon, as if to receive
his congratulations for his vigilance. Instead, Qui-Gon reached
down in front of Obi-Wan to flick a readout switch that Obi-Wan
had forgotten to engage.
Obi-Wan flushed deep red as he met his master's eyes. "Ah,
thank you, Master. The gee-warning, of course. I am not as
mindful as I had thought." He turned back to the console,
quickly giving it a visual once-over, to make sure he had
forgotten nothing else.
It was their fifth straight month of treaty missions. Most were
like stopovers on a cross-galaxy cruise, short, colorless,
tiring. The Corellian Run--all the planets who had trade
contracts with Corellia were required to renew them every five
standard years. Each renewal required a negotiator. Most of the
planets requested Jedi, so one lucky pair of Jedi negotiators
made this trek every five years. It was not a coveted
assignment.
The planet they now approached, Dynantiun, was on the fringe of
the route, between the main spaceway and the sovereign planet
of Naboo. This planet had signed no treaties. The Corellians
were hard-lining them now, insisting that they join the trade
route or the Corellian goods would no longer flow to their
planet. The embargo was a boon to rogue traders that inhabited
the fringe areas around Umgul and Naboo.
"We should be passing over the AgriCorps sector of the planet
by now." Qui-Gon noted, as he adjusted the cruiser's landing
sequence to compensate for the slightly higher gravity caused
by the summer aligned position of the double suns in the skies
of Dynantiun.
"Master, that freighter has touched down in the AgriCorps
field!" Obi-Wan was staring down, baffled. "Something's not
right here. It was farther away than we were."
"You're right, Padawan. That's a crop field, not a landing
strip. And that freighter hasn't just landed, it appears to
have crashed." Qui-Gon disengaged the landing sequence. "Take
it on manual, Obi-Wan. Land in the clear, about a half
kilometer from the wreckage.
"Mind the gravity difference, Padawan. Slow more than you think
you must. " Qui-Gon had strapped himself into the navigator's
seat over which he had previously been hovering, and they
descended carefully into one of the vast grain fields
maintained by the Jedi on Dynantiun.
Ki-Yana had torn most of her robe to make tourniquets for a
badly injured young woman. She began to remove her tunic, when
she heard a small scraping just behind where she had found the
woman. And a Force-signature. She was unfamiliar with it, but
she could follow it.
It led into a blank mass of twisted metal. Ki-Yana focused her
weary green eyes into the mass, drew a deep breath. It was
within the metal case she saw...she blinked. Nothing could
remain alive in such a small twisted space. She laid her thin
hands upon the bent bulkhead, calling for help as she did. She
gathered strength in her small body to uncover what lay below
the frozen lake of metal.
Two young men came to the aged woman's aid, creating a
controlled kinesis to slowly unwrap the metal from the crumpled
body beneath it. A hand appeared; another bulkhead gave way,
and a still figure lay exposed, black hair matted with more
blood than most of these Jedi had ever seen.
But these Jedi of the AgriCorps were seeing more blood than the
majority of Jedi Knights see in a lifetime. Ki-Yana stared at
the figure, watching and feeling for signs of life. She
accepted the feelings of overwhelming horror at the close
contact with so much carnage. It washed over her and she
continued in her work, relentless and methodical, in the same
manner as if she were healing a field of sick grain. She caught
the faintest of Force emanations from this being, and she knew
he must be alive.
The young men continued through the wreckage, turning over
tables that had been wrenched from their strong foundation
within the floors of the freighter. Floors had become walls;
uprooted chairs mixed seamlessly with the bodies that had
occupied them. The search went on.
Another Jedi waded through the ragged metal carrying an
emergency field medikit. He knelt down beside the shattered
figure and began to clear away the blood- dried hair. His dark
green eyes fell shut as he breathed into the still mouth of the
nearly dead man; he heard the rattling of the blood in the
man's lungs, prepared the drainage tube for insertion into the
man's chest. When the process had been well started, he leaned
back on his heels and unconsciously ran his hands through his
deep red hair, freeing it from the leather tie that held it out
of his face.
Ki-Yana was staring at him. "What is wrong, Khraghar? He will
live. And those who die are taken into the Force."
"No, Master Ki-Yana, it is not the death, but memory. I believe
I know that man. He was a Jedi."
Ki-Yana nodded slowly. "That is why I could sense him so well,
even though he was nearly dead."
"He was an initiate in my class, one year younger than me. He
had hopes of becoming a Padawan when I left for the Agri-Corps.
His name is Xanatos. He was a good friend of mine. I haven't
seen him in almost twenty years, but I'd know him anywhere."
Obi-Wan brought the cruiser around and guided it carefully down
on a disused secondary road off the large field into which they
had seen the freighter crash.
"Be careful with the landing maneuver. The solar tides are
rather active in this area, according to my monitor." Qui-Gon
concentrated intently, gathering in the impressions from the
Jedi tending the wounded at the crash site. He left Obi-Wan to
concentrate on their own landing.
A sharp jolt caused Qui-Gon's eyes to fly open. His Padawan had
dropped the ship too hard. He heard the straining of the
repulsor field, as it fought to maintain itself away from the
planet which sucked it mercilessly down.
"Padawan? What was that?" Qui-Gon's head snapped sharply
towards Obi-Wan, who was holding the manual lever back, trying
to maintain a safe altitude. But it had been futile. He looked
up, his brow furrowed, blue eyes staring in disbelief.
Obi-Wan chewed unconsciously at his lower lip, trying to decide
what had actually caused the problem. "It shouldn't have
happened. Master, I think we're in a local gravity well or
something. Didn't the files on this planet contain any
information about this gravity effect besides 'Gravity is
greater when both suns are at their closest approach to the
planet'?" Obi-Wan's mouth curled up slightly in a wry smile.
Qui-Gon smiled with his eyes, but his tone was firm. "You must
be more mindful next time, or we will end up like the
unfortunates in that freighter. Gather the ship's med supplies,
while I empty the linen closet."
"Yes, Master." He quickly idled the engine, keeping the fuel
mixed in case the Jedi should need its services as a transport.
Both Jedi worked quickly and exited the small cruiser at a run.
"The fuel will keep mixing for two hours; then it will shut
down. I've already set it, Master."
Good Padawan. NOW you're thinking. Qui-Gon sent a
hurried, but sincere admiration for Obi-Wan's initiative in
this extreme situation. Obi-Wan's mouth quirked slightly
upwards as he acknowledged the unspoken compliment, but his
expression fell suddenly as the awful scene came into view.
The wreckage loomed like a small, burned out city in the
windblown field. A pale teenage boy wearing the simple brown
tunics of AgriCorps' field workers met them and offered to
carry some of Qui-Gon's linens. "You are welcome fellow Jedi.
There are many dead and injured. We will need your help." He
immediately turned and sprinted back towards the twisted hulk.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan quickened their pace to follow, noticing
only a few rows of burned grains that told of the quick descent
the freighter must have made. Harvester speeders floated toward
and past them, all carrying the bloodied freighter passengers
who had some spark of life left in them.
One of the makeshift ambulances hovered to a stop next to the
two newcomers. "Are you the two Jedi we had been told were
arriving for the trade negotiations today?" A middle-aged,
windblown man in coarse brown fiber tunics regarded them for a
split second, before he nodded shortly and gestured. "Get in.
I'm Henaon. We need all the help here we can get."
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sped towards the mass of metal carnage...
The night had fallen several hours past, and the AgriCorps Jedi
worked alongside the two warrior Jedi by the light of
repulsor-held glowglobes. As they approached the cargo area,
Qui-Gon pulled Henaon aside. "I understood that no goods would
be traded here until our treaty was ratified. Is this a rogue?
Did it contact you at all before it crashed?"
Henaon blinked the dust and insulation from his eyes. "The
automatic sensors set up here identified it as a Corellian
freighter, but, from here, it doesn't look anywhere near
Corellian. More like an old model mining ship. It sent a
blanket distress beacon, but not a direct voice message."
The last of the survivors was gathered into a speeder at dawn.
Qui-Gon and Obi- Wan lay exhausted next to the survivor,
holding him steady as they made their way back to the AgriCorps
complex. The first sun cast a deep orange glow on this last
arriving speeder. The dying lay with the living inside a large
harvesting warehouse which had become a sort of triage; the
young woman Ki-Yana had helped earlier sat propped against a
bale of grain, eyes open, staring dead ahead.
Rows of wounded leaned against the gathered grain in the front
of the makeshift triage structure. They were eerily mirrored by
the neatly arranged rows of the dead at the back of the
warehouse. The survivors sat or lay moaning softly in pain and
horror, awaiting attention from the farmers recently turned
field nurses. They looked strangely similar to those still,
dead figures at the back of the warehouse who had managed to
escape their suffering and merely stared straight ahead.
The night began lifting slowly, and it took with it many lives,
many who became the still, staring reminders of the horror
around them. The Jedi lifted the last limp figure gingerly from
the speeder, taking care to avoid twisting his damaged body. A
makeshift stretcher consisting of a sturdy canvas held by two
young AgriCorps apprentices received the unfortunate man, who
groaned insensibly as he was transferred.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan climbed wearily out after him and saw him
installed on a makeshift pallet near the front gate of the
warehouse. Qui-Gon was concentrating throughout, sending his
own energy to stabilize the fading life that lay in the midst
of the crowded theatre of suffering. Obi-Wan steadily applied
compresses to stave off the bleeding from the man's legs, which
had been cleanly severed at the knees in the violent crash. It
was a losing battle.
The man regained consciousness long enough to scream weakly and
fix Qui-Gon in a death-stare. The Jedi Master held the dying
man's eyes, and gently eased him into a heavy sleep, one from
which he would not awaken. After life signs stopped, Obi-Wan
and an AgriCorps Jedi lifted him with the pallet and began the
trudge to the back quadrant once again.
Qui-Gon sat peering into the space where the dead man had lain
for a good five minutes before Obi-Wan returned from the
makeshift morgue. He gently touched his Master's mind as he
approached, weaving a light presence so as not to startle the
obviously exhausted and traumatized Qui-Gon. He had
overextended himself in Force-healing for many hours now, as
had Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon unlocked his eyes and raised his head slowly to regard
his weary Padawan. Obi-Wan was covered in other people's blood;
he looked as if he had come from a battlefield. Qui-Gon rose
from his kneeling position and steadied himself on his
Padawan's shoulder; they limped over to the next pallet as the
light of the planet's second sun peeked over the horizon.
The walking wounded entered the main dome area, an enormous
greenhouse with an overarching dome that allowed the
nutrient-rich light of Dynantiun's two suns to filter through
in just the right amounts for the crops held below. The suns
were nearly complete in their circuit of the day when Qui-Gon
and Obi-Wan wearily joined the stream of survivors inside the
dome.
Their temporary quarters were nothing more nor less than a
large storage closet, stacked on one side with boxes of dried
seeds, fertilizer, germinating equipment, the things one would
expect in an AgriCorps dome. The middle of the closet was
dominated by a thin-mattressed rollaway bed, which was
mercifully suspended above the hard floor.
Qui-Gon briefly contacted the organizers of the Trade talks and
informed them of their situation, giving only bare details. The
Jedi Master was too exhausted to give a full report, and the
man on the other end seemed to divine the seriousness of the
delay from the tone of Qui-Gon's voice alone. He quickly
replaced the comlink in his belt and nearly collapsed where he
sat. Sleep would be inevitable, it seemed.
The Jedi huddled together on the mattress, their robes the
only covering. They had been so exhausted, they neglected to
remove their tunics. The blood had dried to a crusty brown over
most of Obi-Wan's outer tunic and pants. Qui-Gon was less
stained, but his sleep was halting and shallow, dominated by
nightmares, which caused him to squirm endlessly and mutter
incoherently.
The result was one Master who was sleeping badly and one
Padawan who could not sleep at all. Untangling himself from his
covering robe, Obi-Wan slid off the makeshift bed, and pulled
his Force-presence into a ball within him. He did not wish to
wake his Master after what he had been through.
Obi-Wan stalked down the seventh or eighth hallway in the
complex, unable to sleep, unable to calm his thoughts. The
lights had been dimmed for the planet's night cycle, and
Obi-wan stared at the long dark shadows his body cast on the
close walls.
He cast his Force-eyes into each room, taking in the pain of
the dying, the horror of the surviving, sinking deeper into the
complex. It bounced off him with the dull familiarity of the
last 24 hours; the agony of those surrounding him was a
constant companion. It felt normal, although he could feel it
eating into his control by steps. A familiar tickle played at
him as he approached the dark end of the corridor. He stopped
at the last room on the left and silently stepped over the
threshold.
The familiarity was here. He focused on the shadowed face,
mindlessly cataloguing the features--long black hair, pale
skin, dried blood...scar on the face. The frisson hit his
nerves and he straightened. That was Xanatos. No doubt. It had
only been five years since he had been tortured by that twisted
creature.
Now he lay on the edge of death, helpless. A powerful wash of
sensation came over Obi-Wan as he considered the position he
now held. He could snap Xanatos' neck like a sugar stick, and
it would be one less evil in the universe. It would be for
the good of those he will destroy in the future. Not for
revenge...for the good of these people he has doomed...
Obi-Wan had moved to the head of the lightly cushioned table
which held the ravaged, shallowly breathing form of Xanatos.
His breath deepened, his entire body trembled with his purpose.
He took Xanatos' head in his hands, bit his lip as he began to
sink forward. It would only take a quick snap...he froze
suddenly as Xanatos' eyes snapped open, fixing Obi-Wan in an
engulfing stare.
Obi-Wan felt the force of ten men on him, as he was slammed
against the close wall, held fast by the iron hands of Qui-Gon
Jinn. Obi-Wan was pinned by the neck, wedged against the wall
with the entire bulk of Qui-Gon's larger form.
Qui-Gon cast a quick glance to his former Padawan, assessing
the situation. Xanatos lay still, eyes closed, breathing
shallow but regular. The master then swung Obi-Wan roughly
across the room and out into the corridor. The older Jedi's
expression was carefully impassive, but he faced his Padawan
down firmly.
Obi-Wan melted immediately. Purpose was replaced with
confusion. He could only stand silently, mouth hanging open,
eyes widened incredulously, and wait for his Master's sentence.
"Obi-Wan, you are a Jedi. Do you know what that means? Can you
not recognize Darkness within yourself? You will return
immediately to our temporary quarters and meditate on what you
have done. And you must sleep. We will talk about this later."
Obi-Wan could say or do nothing. He couldn't meet his Master's
eyes, as he took several shaky steps around Qui-Gon and
returned up the corridor.
Qui-Gon stared after his Padawan, who was tracing an erratic
pattern away from him. What came over him? That is not the
way he acts. And why is Xanatos here? The universe wasn't
big enough for Qui-Gon and Xanatos, yet Qui-Gon refused to
simply erase him, evil as he may have been.
He turned wearily on his heels, scanning Xanatos' room one last
time as he did. The young man lay still on the table, as
damaged as many he had seen and treated in the dome. A tight
bandage was wrapped about his bare chest, from which a tube
protruded, and a gash on his neck that had narrowly missed the
carotid artery stitched hastily, a gaping wound on his left
leg...Qui-Gon closed his eyes and turned away from the dark
room, heading for the greenhouse dome's main guard office.
As he neared the main dome area of the greenhouse, he opened
himself to his padawan's Force-presence. He found it easily,
although the confusion he had detected earlier was still
strongly present. Obi-Wan was meditating, albeit not very
successfully. Qui-Gon turned back to his path.
The main office was little more than a series of alcoves, lit
with old-style enzyme lamps set at one-third strength for the
night cycle, so as not to disturb the plants growing in the
main dome. A small pale woman met him at the door. She reached
Qui-Gon's waist and had to twist her slim neck sharply upwards
to address the towering Jedi Master.
"I am Thyrae, the night manager of the AgriCorps dome
operation. I have heard of your arrival. You are a Jedi
Knight?" Thyrae's pale blue eyes regarded him completely,
focused on every detail, flitting over him as if she were
gathering data for a computer modeling program.
"I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. I am here with my padawan. We
were sent to oversee the signing of a trade treaty between
Dynantiun and the Corellian government. It was unfortunate that
we meet under these circumstances however. Do you know anything
of the freighter that crashed. Was it a trading ship, and was
it authorized to be here?"
Thyrae gathered herself and told Qui-Gon what she knew.
"Apparently, the bulk of the passengers are from a planet near
here that already trades with the Corellians--Telos. They were
scientists and engineers mostly. They told me of a mass civil
unrest on Telos that had displaced the elite there--which
consists mainly of the industrial and technological research
and development companies.
"They told me they were evacuated on this freighter so that
they could escape the mobs that would surely kill them on
Telos. Some brought as much of their scientific equipment and
experiments with them as they could, in order to set themselves
up off-planet."
Telos. Qui-Gon remembered the planet. The pieces were falling
together slowly. He wondered if Xanatos had engineered this
mass exodus of the Telosian elite in order to rebuild his
empire somewhere else. But why Dynantiun?
"How did they identify themselves as they approached here?"
Qui-Gon inquired.
Thyrae looked thoughtful. "They didn't really. They called our
comm station with a beacon distress signal moments before they
crashed. I don't even know if they meant to come here."
An accident of the Force had brought him to face Xanatos for a
second time since their severing of the Master-Padawan
relationship. This time Qui-Gon thought he held the advantage.
Xanatos' world had fallen apart.
Qui-Gon thanked the diminutive young woman and set out around
the dome, slowly scanning the crowd of survivors, some
sleeping, some softly shifting as they were attended to by the
Jedi who made this complex their home. One middle-aged man sat
upright against the curving outer wall, staring into the
shadowed expanse of the dome.
The man caught sight of the Jedi Master and spoke. " Master
Jedi, may I ask you a favor?" Qui-Gon approached him slowly,
knelt to meet his eyes. Qui-Gon mused that he must stand out in
some way to be so easily identified by a civilian who happened
to be surrounded by Jedi.
The man's face was lined with many years of living and also
with a long scar, which was the mark of a life turned upside
down. A thick swath of dark stained cloth wrapped tightly
around his midsection. Qui-Gon could feel the shock dwelling
deeply within this man.
Qui-Gon approached him, radiating calm as best he could.
Qui-Gon sent a tendril of Force to calm the man's haunted mind.
The man's eyes lost their glaze and he tilted his head to look
at the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon greeted him in soft tones and
awaited the man's response.
"Can you help me find my daughter? I haven't seen her since we
crashed. " His eyes burned as he brought his frustration to the
forefront.
Qui-Gon asked for her description, and assured the man he would
look for her as he tended the injured.
The man's eyes filled with tears, and he continued, his voice
shaking. "I am well respected on my home planet of Telos. But
now, I have nothing, no power; I can't even protect my own
family.
" I am fleeing for my life to escape the cancer that has
invaded my planet. I fled with the son of Crion Latrodectus,
who promised to save not only our skins but our creations from
the tide of commoners who rose against us. Then the army rose
against him. We are all lost now."
The man's eyes fell back into a haunted stare as he leaned back
with a groan. Qui-Gon could feel the emptiness in his soul
through his rapport with the Living Force. He held the strands
of this man's anguish, wrapped calm around them, and eased him
into a thankful rest.
Qui-Gon had seen several young women die here this day, and he
hoped silently that the man's daughter was not among them.
Qui-Gon stood and shook the feeling from him, released it into
the Force, and turned back towards his temporary quarters and
the problem of Obi-Wan. He found himself unconsciously
performing the deliberate calming breath techniques that are
taught to initiates who are just beginning to grasp the Force's
power. He was uneasy enough that he had to revert to basics to
regain even a semblance of being centered.
Qui-Gon pulled back the heavy drapes that obscured the large
storage closet in which their temporary quarters had been
placed. A large rollaway bed sat empty in the darkened alcove.
Boxes surrounded it; no sign of Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon lost his center for an instant. His weariness caused
him to become slightly disoriented. He ran to the end of the
corridor until he reached the door to the outside. He forced
himself to calm, to concentrate, to focus on his padawan's
presence. It didn't take long.
Outside, in the midst of the grain field, sat Obi-Wan,
illuminated by the dim light of Dynantiun's single moon,
kneeling below the grain level, face turned to the dimly
glowing satellite. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open,
deliberately taking deep measured breaths. Each slow heave
lifted his chest, sent waves of dark feelings into the air.
Qui-Gon felt his padawan's distress clearly, although he was
sure Obi-Wan had been here for hours, shedding emotion into the
Force. His Force signature was embedded here, as if he had
staked out the area and drawn an invisible circle around it,
marking it as Obi-Wan's.
A deep glow emanated from Obi-Wan, his usual deep blue, but now
shaded with the darkest red, the glow of embers just before
dawn. Obi-Wan was clearly deeply upset. He moved suddenly,
having sensed the questing of Qui-Gon's Force- presence.
In less than a second, Obi-Wan was standing, facing away from
his master, still breathing deeply and deliberately. He turned
around slowly and faced Qui-Gon. His darkened blue eyes held a
haunted look that eerily matched that of the survivor he had
interviewed earlier that evening.
"Padawan, do you know why I stopped you?" Qui-Gon eased his
voice into what Obi- Wan knew as his "gentle-but-firm lesson"
tone. Dark, intent eyes bore down on Obi-Wan as he gathered
himself to speak.
"Master, I felt the prompting of the Force. In that moment, I
knew I was saving millions of lives by destroying this one
evil. I felt it was right." Obi-Wan's jaw set, and he regarded
his Master more evenly. "When you stopped me, I doubted what I
had seen and felt. I am lost now, Master. I can't believe what
I almost did."
Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, which were filling with burning
tears.
"Padawan, I sensed in you a rage, and I had to stop you before
you committed murder. Certainly Xanatos is guilty of murder and
other unspeakable crimes, but it is also possible to make him
pay restitution and to become an example to others. If you had
killed Xanatos, it would become the doorway to the Dark for
you. "
Obi-Wan struggled to raise his head, to meet his master's eyes,
but he could not. His eyes focused within, searching for the
calm peace that had once been at his fingertips and now eluded
him. Confusion swirled about him palpably.
"How many criminals are there in the galaxy? Millions,
uncountable millions. Can you kill them all, Obi-Wan? Could you
decide who lives and who dies? Could you take that path? Could
you handle the responsibility of being the last word of justice
in the galaxy?"
Qui-Gon kept his voice even as he studied his Padawan intently.
Obi-Wan slumped and his head dropped still further. Hot tears
flowed down his face; his teeth clenched and he no longer
controlled his breathing. He fell limply against Qui- Gon's
chest and chanted brokenly "No...nooooo...nooo..." Qui-Gon held
his padawan, wrapping his long arms around Obi-Wan's shaking
body, anchoring the distraught boy with his strength while he
faced the demons within him.
"Now, it's time you returned to quarters and got some sleep,
Padawan." Qui-Gon gently held Obi-Wan's shoulders and guided
him back into the complex.
"Yes, Master. Your wisdom, as always, is infinite." A tentative
smile curled the corner of Obi-Wan's lips. "I will see you
there soon."
"Yes, Padawan. I just have to talk with a few more people; then
I will be along." Qui-Gon regarded his padawan as he dreamily
padded back into the building. Then he turned into the
moonlight.
Obi-Wan walked wearily through the long corridor, emerging into
the main dome area, where he was assaulted by the massive
emotions of the wounded who inhabited cots along the floor. He
tried to block out the strong sensations, but he was worn down,
and they merely beat at him, causing him to become somewhat
disoriented.
He speeded up his pace, making it to another corridor, where he
remembered their closet quarters would be. Obi-Wan's face had
become pale and drawn with fatigue. Almost there...
Suddenly there was a still, dark figure blocking his way. It
limped severely and its breath came in painful sounding rasps.
Obi-Wan shook the fatigue from him and rushed to help the
injured man, who slumped against him. Obi-Wan held the frail
man gently, and pulled back the concealing hood to find he was
holding Xanatos.
His eyes widened, and he wanted to let him go and run away
quickly, anywhere. But Xanatos was supporting himself on
Obi-Wan, and he couldn't, in good conscience, let him fall.
Xanatos' pained voice forced out horrifying words. "Kill me,
Obi-Wan. You wanted to do it before. Do it now. You have all
the reasons you will ever need." Obi-Wan stared into Xanatos'
white face, felt the sincerity in his voice. He wanted to die.
Or he wanted to make Obi-Wan betray his training, his Jedi
purpose, which seemed more likely to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan reflexively let go of Xanatos and backed up, his jaw
clenched, fighting back the warring feelings within him. To his
surprise, Xanatos did not fall in a heap to the floor, but
supported himself with a small wooden stick, holding his
ground, looking straight into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Should I try to
kill you again, good Padawan? Would you then have the excuse
you need to snap my neck as you so wanted to?"
Obi-Wan straightened against the wall and drew in a deep,
mind-clearing breath. "I could overpower you easily, Xanatos.
And this time I will deliver you to my Master and the
authorities. It would gain you nothing." Obi-Wan was forcing
himself to breathe evenly, deliberately calming himself. He SO
wanted to snap the villain's neck and be done with him forever,
but the thought horrified him now.
Xanatos merely stood his ground and closed his eyes slowly.
Then I'll have to subdue you by other means, Padawan. He added
a tiny emphasis on the word "Padawan", making it sound like a
mocking title. He stood with his eyes closed, gathering Force
around him.
Obi-Wan stared at him, confused by his stillness. Then Obi-Wan
felt hands on him, all over, incorporeal but strong as the
elemental forces themselves. One stroked his groin and gently
teased him to arousal. Obi-Wan fell back against the wall,
breathing quickened, and stared unbelievingly into the focused
eyes of Xanatos. He hadn't been prepared for this. He was so
tired and it felt so good. If only it weren't coming from this
monster before him. If only it were Qui-Gon...
The invisible hand grabbed him more firmly now, stroking
inexorably, causing the sweat to fall from Obi-Wan, his breaths
to shorten and become ragged. When the next invisible tendril
slithered around him and opened him from behind, he lost his
control. He slumped against the wall, trying desperately to
open, to grasp the Force-hands which held him.
Xanatos declined his thin face to the panting padawan, and
allowed himself a small smile. " This is an old trick my Master
taught me, but I've found a new and exciting use for it. You'd
never catch Qui-Gon doing this--no, he was much too dignified
and reserved. Feels good, does it, Padawan?" Xanatos' face was
set in utter strength of concentration, but his voice had that
sneering undertone that Obi-Wan remembered from five years
before.
Obi-Wan pulled himself up from his crumpled position, fighting
the building sensation within him. "You are a criminal. You
deserve to die...but someone else will do it." he managed to
whisper huskily. The slight tingling became a roaring
electrical surge, he felt himself falling as waves of
unexpected orgasm hit him, one after the next.
"Why not you, Padawan? Why leave it for another?" Xanatos had
removed the hood and kept his eyes on Obi-Wan, following him
down the wall, drinking in the Force that radiated from him.
Obi-Wan's body had been starving for this, and it had betrayed
him. The wetness spread on the front of his pants, warming him,
throwing him further into the abyss of pleasure. His head fell
back; his mouth fell open to gasp in more air. The sweat poured
off him as his body shook with exhaustion and utter surrender.
Obi-Wan's eyes had been shut tight. As he opened them, he
remembered where he was, saw the dreadful figure of Xanatos
standing in front of him, his breath labored, slowly falling to
the ground. He sprang up faster than he could handle, grabbing
Xanatos before he could hit the floor. Obi-Wan's head swam, and
he fell back with his burden, impacting the wall, trying to
catch his breath.
Slowly, he adjusted Xanatos' weight against him and staggered
back towards the quarters Obi-Wan shared with his Master.
Xanatos gasped quietly, "Was it good for you, PADAWAN?" A bare
breathy whisper, and he was still managing to sneer at him. His
head fell back onto Obi-Wan's shoulder, and his eyes lost their
focus.
"I'm not your Padawan. You'll never be worthy of a Padawan..."
Obi-Wan softly intoned under his breath, as he supported the
wraithlike Xanatos. His jaw set as he approached the dark
closet, and he felt Xanatos slide into unconsciousness against
him.
Obi-Wan used a tickle of Force to pull the heavy drapes aside.
They fell open rather more violently than he would have liked,
but he managed to enter and deposit his frail burden on the
bed. He knelt on the floor, feeling the other man's
Force-presence fade as he opened to the Force within him.
Obi-Wan's breaths slowed and he cooled, the sweat drying on
him, the Force flowing around him. He fell into an uneasy rest
meditation, to compensate for the long hours without proper
sleep.
That was how Qui-Gon found him a short time later.
Obi-Wan was so exhausted that the rest meditation had become
sleep, and he had slumped forward onto his legs. Qui-Gon found
him, curled into a little ball, asleep in a fitful way,
mumbling at a dream-presence.
"Padawan?" Qui-Gon's low tones penetrated the haze, and struck
Obi-Wan into instant wakefulness. Obi-Wan's watering blue eyes
snapped open, and he pulled himself upright to face his master.
It was Obi-Wan who spoke first. "Master, you might wonder why
Xanatos is in our bed. I found him outside our quarters. He
collapsed, and I brought him here." Obi-Wan held his master's
eyes, practically staring at him.
"And then you collapsed, am I right, Padawan?" Qui-Gon's deep
blue eyes managed to twinkle through the massive exhaustion
that pounded at him. "I think we need to find a better resting
place for Xanatos than this. "
Qui-Gon activated his comlink. As it beeped its calling signal,
a calm voice registered on the other end. " Ki-Yana here."
"This is Qui-Gon Jinn, one of the two who have come to mediate
the trade negotiations on this planet. I have need of
assistance. "
Ki-Yana arrived shortly, with two assistants, Orthyn and
Khraghar, who wheeled in a long platform into Qui-Gon and
Obi-Wan's temporary quarters.
"Thank you for coming so quickly. I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is
my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi." Qui-Gon inclined his head
toward the young man who slumped unceremoniously against the
far wall. Obi-Wan barely acknowledged them, nodding his head
slightly.
Khraghar adjusted the height of the platform and looked down at
the unconscious form that sprawled limply on the small bed. His
eyes widened as he recognized his old friend again.
"How did he get over here? He was very badly wounded. I thought
for a while he would never regain consciousness. " Khraghar
cast a look of concern and puzzlement at the prone Xanatos and
threw questioning looks at the two Jedi who had called them
here.
"My padawan found him wandering the halls near here. Apparently
he is not so incapacitated as you might have thought." Qui-Gon
allowed the men to transfer Xanatos to the wheeled cart and
drew Ki-Yana aside.
He regarded Ki-Yana seriously, "This man you have saved here is
very dangerous. He has been involved in criminal activities
which include conspiracy to murder hundreds of miners on
another planet. I suggest you take every precaution to ensure
that he does not wander these halls again."
Khraghar stopped and straightened after he and Orthyn completed
the transfer. He met Qui-Gon's eyes sharply. "You must be
joking, Master Jinn. Xanatos? A murderer? I can't believe
that."
"How do you know Xanatos?" Qui-Gon's face flushed almost
imperceptibly; he fought against the insistent inner pressure
of impatience. "And how long has it been since you have seen
him or talked to him?"
Khraghar backed up in the face of the insistent Jedi master,
who seemed to have grown several inches in the past few
minutes. He spoke uncertainly to Qui-Gon, who loomed over him
with questioning eyes. " We were initiates together. I knew him
from the time we were toddlers. I came out here with the
Agri-Corps when I was 13; I admit I've been rather isolated. I
haven't seen Xanatos since then, but we were very good friends
in the Temple. He had more ambition than me. He wanted to be a
Jedi Knight and save the world. I just wanted to grow the
galaxy's finest Gumpowder flower."
Khraghar smiled uneasily, attempting to break the tension that
was apparent in Qui-Gon's demeanor. He regained his balance and
met Qui-Gon's burning eyes. "What happened to him? What could
make him do things like that?"
Qui-Gon turned from him quickly, eyes darting around the room
until he rested them on his padawan, who was helping Orthyn
affix some makeshift straps to Xanatos' mobile platform.
Keeping his focus sharply on Obi-Wan's intently moving form, he
replied, "He made some bad choices."
Khraghar lowered his eyes and sought out the comfort of
Ki-Yana's soft gaze. She addressed Qui-Gon in her little voice,
no bigger than her little body. "He was a Jedi then, but is no
longer? I felt his presence in the wreckage through the Force.
That is how we found him." Her glistening green eyes focused on
Qui-Gon. "We will keep him in the Zero Room. It is shielded
within from Force-kinesis and other similar
Force-manifestations. He shouldn't be able to employ any of his
Jedi-learned techniques of telekinesis or suggestion there. I
can't offer any better than that."
She turned back to Orthyn and Obi-Wan. "Let's get him into 16A,
Khraghar, Orthyn." She turned away smoothly and pulled the
heavy drapes aside to allow the two men to wheel Xanatos away.
"Goodnight, fellow Jedi. May the Force be with you."
Qui-Gon swept the drapes open and watched the three figures
recede with his former padawan. After a frozen moment, he
pulled himself back into the cramped quarters and sat down hard
on the bed. Obi-Wan had returned to his position slumped
against the back wall, head lolling slightly, as he regarded
Qui-Gon with a dull gaze.
Qui-Gon sighed and pulled his boots off wearily. He didn't
bother to remove any clothing before he lay heavily on the
small bed, his eyes shutting reflexively. It appeared as if he
had fallen immediately asleep.
"You will pass a very uncomfortable night if you stay there,
Padawan. I suggest you lie down while you can. I don't see this
trip getting any easier."
Obi-Wan peeled himself off the wall and fell onto the bed
beside Qui-Gon, sleep overtaking him almost as he hit the bed.
The next day brought the realities of crash survival to bear on
everyone. Agri-Corps Jedi rustled around the dome carrying
large quantities of liquids and bandages, tending to those who
had survived the night. In places, groups of two or three men
gathered stiff forms onto myriad wheeled platforms and
disappeared down one of the halls that came off the main dome
area. That particular hall had a flickering light at the
entrance and was dubbed the "Hall of the Dead" by some of the
field workers who had been pressed into removal service.
Down that hall was also Room 16A, the Zero Room, as the
researchers of the AgriCorps called it, a room specially
designed to be a null field room, where none of the stray
influences of the outer world could penetrate. Here,
experiments were done with plants in which they were
selectively exposed to one force at a time and growth
characteristics plotted. It was a small room and a small
project, which had been lately discontinued.
The room was empty, save for one locked rolling platform and
its one occupant, who was slowly coming awake. Xanatos squinted
at the filtering light, and immediately he felt the hammer of
pain descend upon him once again. His head spun, and he panted
quickly, trying to slow his breath and release the pain into
the Force.
Footsteps. He couldn't sense anything through the intense pain.
"Do you know why you are here?" a thin high voice began.
Xanatos groaned in pain and confusion. He couldn't turn his
head to see who had addressed him.
"I have checked up on you, and it seems you are a wanted man,
young Xanatos. I know you were a Jedi training towards
knighthood at one time, but I see you have fallen far."
Xanatos could think of nothing to say, except "Who are you? "
The words echoed in his aching head and he cried out in agony
as he said them. Tears fogged his eyes. He couldn't release his
pain into the Force. He couldn't feel the Force at all..."Help
me...I'm going to be sick."
"I am Ki-Yana. That's all you need to know." She loosened the
restraints slightly and turned him on his side. Waves of nausea
hit him one after the other, and he retched and vomited into a
conveniently placed bucket at the side of his platform. He
heaved until he was exhausted, and lay back gasping for breath,
miserable.
"This room sometimes has that effect on Force-sensitives. It
will pass as you become accustomed to it. This is a null room.
I have enabled gravity to keep you from floating about the
room, but you will not be able to utilize the Force in any way
as long as you are in here. It is a precaution we must take.
You will have breakfast soon. Good day."
Ki-Yana turned on her heel and departed as two young men
entered with a tray of fruit and bread, borne on the seat of a
wheelchair. The men removed the tray and placed it aside; then
they released Xanatos' bonds and firmly guided him to the
chair, where restraints were placed upon his legs.
Xanatos laughed at the sight he made. Handled like a dangerous
criminal---he, who only wanted justice and his fair share. His
laughter turned bitter, as he watched the men leave him.
Xanatos worked to dissipate the unpleasant floating sensations
of the zero room into the Force, using an old lesson, one he
had learned as an initiate, long before the disaster of Jedi
Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He closed his eyes on the spinning room
and forced himself to breathe deeply, though it amplified the
nausea he felt rising. He focused on his purpose, and those who
followed him in it. he traveled to the corner of his mind that
held the core of his being.
He examined every crevice and alcove in that corner, absorbing
his purpose again, disregarding his temporarily enforced
stasis. This was Xanatos' headquarters, his final refuge, the
force that drove him on. He expected to find his father
represented there, as he was the banner which he carried in
front of him to lead the great number of the Telosian elite
that had entrusted their safety and creations to his
leadership.
What he saw was nothing of the sort. A ghostly robed figure
stood, shaking his head slowly and sadly. His former master,
Qui-Gon Jinn reproached him, even in his most private retreat.
Xanatos shook his head violently at the vision, and that
brought a wave of uncontrollable nausea with it. He gasped and
leaned as far as his restraints would allow, losing the
breakfast he had been fighting to keep down all morning.
The door came open behind him, and a single figure approached.
"If you center yourself in the Force, you will get over the
effects more quickly, Xan."
The words tugged at him with their strange familiarity. The
voice was one he knew, but he could not place it. The Jedi,
however decided to be helpful. "I am Khraghar. Do you remember
me? From the Temple, many years ago. "
Xanatos whipped his head up to meet Khraghar's sharp green
eyes, and a slow relaxation came over him. He breathed out the
name, "Khraghar Tyannus. Krag. Of course. I never thought I'd
see you again after they shipped you off to the AgriCorps. You
are looking good, my brother. I can't say the same for myself."
Khraghar winced at Xanatos' use of the familiar endearment they
had shared so long ago. But he couldn't deny his tie and
friendship with the closest companion he had had in his youth.
The Temple could be hard and unforgiving, and his bond with
Xanatos had eased the encroaching loneliness of the impersonal
vastness of the Temple. He was a kindred soul who contrasted
sharply with the unapproachable Masters who sat in judgment
over the young initiates as they strove to prove themselves
worthy of the Jedi Order.
Xanatos had been his brother in mischief, in the adventures
outside the Temple walls. Khraghar would never have had the
courage to try new things without the driving impetus of his
fiery friend Xanatos. He had also introduced him to the love of
his young life, Kaluga.
Khraghar had lost contact with her long ago, but he still
thought of her fondly, wondered what life would have been like
if he had run away from the vast edifice of the Jedi and taken
his Kaluga with him. They used to weave fantasies about living
together as wanderers in the transparisteel jungle of
Coruscant, performing services, doing odd jobs, never staying
in one place.
Kaluga was utterly devoted to becoming a Jedi Knight, like
Xanatos, and she left Khraghar too early, chosen as Padawan at
the age of 11. Their last night together was tentative;
Khraghar had wanted to profess his love for her, to beg her to
run away with him. She had not seemed to notice his intense
sadness; she spent the whole evening recounting her trial for
Padawanhood under Master Val-Kyr. There were tears in both
their sets of eyes, but the sentiments were galaxies apart.
She left the next day, and they kept a datalink correspondence,
but he had lost touch with her when he had come to Dynantiun.
The rushing memories diluted his doubt about his old comrade
who now lay in front of him. His eyes lit with the fire of
sweet nostalgia.
"Xanatos, where have you been? What has happened to you?" He
started slowly, tentatively meeting Xanatos' ice-blue eyes, the
mischievous eyes he remembered from youth, damped with pain and
other seasonings he couldn't identify. "I missed you all these
years."
Xanatos gulped a deep breath, his eyes filled with tears he had
not tasted for many years. "Khraghar, it has been a hard life.
I have been betrayed over and over again. I miss our time. You,
me and Kaluga; it was so perfect then." He couldn't continue;
the tears flowed down the sides of his face, an involuntary
wail escaped him. He shook with the regret of 20 years at the
sight of this ingenuous old friend of his.
Khraghar still believed in him, although Xanatos had done
thoughtless and terrible things to him as an initiate. Khraghar
was so desperate for a friend, and Xanatos had used this to
advantage. It tore him apart now, seeing that perfect trust
echoing into the present through this man who had managed to
remain so innocent through years of being Jedi. But he had not
been through the experience of Qui-Gon Jinn, the years of trust
built and betrayed in one sweep of a lightsaber through his
father's heart.
Khraghar waited by Xanatos' side, mindlessly stroking the
matted dark hair, calming him as he would a stressed seedling.
He felt stabs of unknowable pain and regret as he watched his
old friend in so much agony. Slowly, Xanatos relaxed and
reopened his reddened eyes, allowing them to focus softly on
Khraghar standing over him.
"Have you seen or talked to Kaluga, Xan? Do you ever hear from
her or Master Val-Kyr?" Khraghar was falling away from the
present, reliving only the old events made pleasant by their
age and the coloring of memory.
Xanatos' eyes abruptly cleared and his expression changed,
becoming ice. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the
expression faded into an approximation of his former "pleasant
reminiscence" face.
"I have heard from her quite recently. She is a Knight, and she
has returned to Coruscant to take a Padawan, finally. Her own
Master, Val-Kyr, was killed in an explosion only last year. It
was hard for Kaluga, so she returned to Coruscant to clear her
mind and focus on the future by seeking a Padawan. I fear she
is too greatly saddened by the loss of her old Master, though."
Khraghar sank into melancholy. His world shrank to the words of
Xanatos and the images the words created of his old love. "I
should like to see her again. Do you think I could cheer her
up? You and me, my brother? it can't be easy for her. " He
shifted almost impatiently in anticipation of Xanatos' words.
Khraghar was never adept at hiding his feelings, but he had
never professed his love for Kaluga. He had been afraid to
burden her with the knowledge in the face of her excitement
about her new life as a Jedi Padawan. Now, twenty years later,
he found himself still regretting it. If she had known, she had
never said anything.
Khraghar's head was reeling. He felt ten years old again. He
felt the Living Force speaking to him. It had brought Xanatos
back to him. Now, perhaps it would bring him to Kaluga. He
smiled down at his old friend and gently smoothed the ex-Jedi's
sweat-soaked black hair. "It is good to see you again, Xanatos.
I have to go, but I will return. I am sorry I am not allowed to
remove the restraints, but I'm under orders." Khraghar shrugged
and bid good night to the still-firmly tied Xanatos.
More quickly than Khraghar had dreamed possible, Xanatos caught
a fold of his tunic and pulled him in close. Khraghar was drawn
down to meet Xanatos' haunted blue eyes, face to face. Xanatos'
voice was harsh and pleading. "You've got to help me, Krag!
That Jedi Master is trying to destroy me! He is bitter and will
stop at nothing to see me destroyed...please, I need strength.
I can't heal in this horrid null room. Please, just move me
somewhere so I can heal myself. Please!"
Xanatos' breathed in harsh gasps, the desperation plain in his
voice. His eyes engulfed Khraghar's warm face. No
Force-suggestion would work in this room. Xanatos was begging
an old friend for help. Khraghar disentangled himself slowly
but firmly from Xanatos' entwining fingers. His dark red hair
fell over his face, covering the ambivalence in his eyes as he
stepped away from his old friend.
Khraghar pictured Xanatos in better days, the young, fiery
initiate who lived for the day he would become a Knight. The
wraith on the table, pleading pitifully for a healing place
tore at him, and he remembered the Jedi Master and his
warnings," Who is this Master? What did he do?"
Xanatos raised his head as much as he could against the
restraints. "He was my Master. And he killed my father in front
of me." Burning tears welled in Xanatos' sunken eyes, and he
set his teeth, ground his jaw against the memory. His voice
shook slightly and he sank down again, angrily sobbing in the
hollow room.
Khraghar's soft green eyes filled with tears of sympathy and he
approached his friend, standing by the side of the rolling
table to which he was bound. His voice was no higher than a
whisper. "I'm sorry, Xan. I'm sorry you have had to endure such
a thing. "
A long pause, and Khraghar's jaw set in determination. He fixed
Xanatos with a long look and whispered, "I'll help you. I can
take you to the room next door. It is not field-nullified like
this one. I can't stay with you, but at least you will be able
to heal more fully there."
The two slowly wheeled in shadow, out of the zero room and down
the shadowed hall...Khraghar opened the small room next door
and deposited the table and Xanatos safely in the hidden
chamber. He then turned towards the corridor where his own
lonely quarters lay.
Qui-Gon returned to their closet quarters bearing fruit and
bread on a small tray. When he opened the drapes, he found
Obi-Wan already immersed in meditation. He placed the tray on
the bed and curled his legs towards him, and watched his
Padawan breathe. It was a pleasure he did not often allow
himself, but he could not resist the temptation laid out before
him. As long as it remained untouched.
The young Jedi sat with his legs folded underneath him, back
straight, chin tucked in a traditional meditational stance. His
arms fell into his lap, right hand over left, cupped and open.
Obi-Wan was attempting to center himself, using the rock
Qui-Gon had given him five years ago for a focus point. The
smooth rock floated in front of Obi-Wan, wobbling slightly,
mirroring the unease within the Padawan.
He sensed that Obi-Wan was not gaining peace from his
meditation however, and he leaned over and touched his
Padawan's shoulder lightly. The rock dropped heavily into
Obi-Wan's cupped hands.
Obi-Wan slowly raised his head and focused on his Master.
"Master? Did you ever teach Xanatos unorthodox uses of the
Force?" Obi-Wan blurted out without preamble. His eyes bore
into Qui-Gon's and his brow furrowed intently.
"What sort of uses are you talking about, Padawan?" Qui-Gon was
certain there had been some sort of exchange between Obi-Wan
and Xanatos last night, and now his Padawan would bring it
directly to him.
"He used a delicate manipulation of energy on me last night. I
was totally unprepared for it. I think I could have easily
handled it if he had just attacked me with a lightsaber, but
this was so...unnerving. " Obi-Wan swallowed hard, and lowered
his eyes involuntarily. His skin flushed deep red, and he let
out the breath he had been holding.
"Padawan, what did he do?" Qui-Gon was darkening as well,
knowing the inventiveness of his former Padawan and the
instability and susceptibility of his current Padawan. He would
not allow Xanatos to torture his Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan cast his eyes to the floor. He was silent, and Qui-Gon
could see that he still held his breath. Obi-Wan was clearly
disturbed by something Xanatos had done last night. Qui-Gon
slid from the bed and sat facing his Padawan. He took Obi-Wan's
face in his hands and directed it upwards to face him.
"Obi-Wan, look at me. You must tell me what he has done. A Jedi
faces what troubles him and overcomes it. Allow your fear to
flow into the Force. Nothing you say will make me think less of
you."
Obi-Wan slowly raised his eyes to lock on his Master's intently
focused countenance. He remembered to breathe, and looked into
the deep blue eyes that had so often been his comfort and his
universe. With the exhalation, he began, "Xanatos used the
Force to...excite me. He...touched me with it...in a controlled
way." Obi-Wan had lost words to describe the experience, but he
could see that Qui-Gon understood.
Qui-Gon settled into a comfortable sitting position in front of
Obi-Wan. This made the padawan fidget, for he knew he was in
for a cross-examination. He wasn't sure he could withstand
Qui-Gon's questions without completely falling apart and saying
something that would change their lives forever.
Obi-Wan understood the importance of respecting his master and
keeping nothing from him, and it had always been easy before,
once he knew Qui-Gon had truly accepted him. But now, a new
dimension had entered into the Padawan's consciousness and he
couldn't banish it, couldn't return to the blissful unaware
state he had enjoyed in his early years as Qui-Gon's Padawan.
Obi-Wan suddenly flushed even more deeply as he made himself
say it. "I enjoyed it. I found I didn't want him to stop doing
it. I'm not able to defend against it. I've become weak,
Master." A lump was forming in Obi-Wan's throat and his eyes
misted. His breath came more quickly and shallowly, as he
revealed his distress to his Master.
He looked up into his Master's eyes with the most despairing of
expressions. "Does this mean I'm unworthy of being a Jedi? I
almost fell to the darkness; now I am rendered insensible by
the attentions of a monster? Can I not be trusted anymore,
Master?" Obi-Wan's teeth were clenched and his chest heaved
shallowly, as if he were afraid to take a full breath before
Qui-Gon passed sentence on him.
Qui-Gon's expression showed no reproach, but Obi-Wan thought he
recognized something else, something altogether inappropriate
for the depth of his despair--amusement. Was his Master now
laughing at him? Obi-Wan's eyes widened and frustration set in.
He rose quickly and whirled toward the drapery that formed the
door to their quarters.
Even more quickly, Qui-Gon was in front of him, his arms firmly
planted on Obi-Wan's shoulders, his body a rock holding the
distressed young man rooted to the spot on which he stood.
Slowly, Qui-Gon backed Obi-Wan up onto the bed. He fell to a
sitting position and stared incredulously up at his Master, who
still held him immobile.
"You do not simply walk out on your master, Padawan. The
problem you are facing is also my problem. Every master goes
through this with his or her padawan eventually. It is not an
easy thing to face, but you are not the first one to face it. I
am only sorry you had to be introduced to it by one such as
Xanatos. You are more worthy than that."
Obi-Wan's jaw gaped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing
from his master. His center returned suddenly to him as he
realized the depth of feeling Qui-Gon had for him as padawan.
He sometimes lost sight of his master's feelings in his
struggle with his own. He had been blind to his master's
struggle.
"I'm sorry, Master. I want to do the right thing. I want to
make you proud of me, but I keep disappointing you." Obi-Wan's
eyes burned into his Master's. "I have been so focused on my
own problems that I did not think of you, the effect my actions
have had on you, on others here. I have not been mindful, and I
might have done great damage. "
Obi-Wan sank off the bed to the hard floor and bowed calmly but
formally to his Master, curling his body over his bent knees.
"I submit myself for discipline. I have not behaved as a Jedi
is required to behave, and I recognize that."
Qui-Gon sighed deeply, as he took in the sight of his padawan
nearly prostrated in front of him, completely at his mercy.
No, Obi-Wan, you don't know the half of my struggle, but it
is mine and I must not subject you to it.
"Obi-Wan, you do realize why this has happened to you, don't
you? The answer is quite simple, and you needn't fear that it
will haunt you for the rest of your life." Qui-Gon gently held
his padawan's shoulders and straightened the young man to a
natural sitting position.
"You are eighteen standard years of age. This is the natural
time in your life for your body's hormones to cause you to be
susceptible to such an 'attack'. Xanatos knows this, as he went
through it too. He attacked you at your weakest point. But as
you enter adulthood, you will overcome the weakness, and you
will learn how to deal with what you feel."
Obi-Wan now held his master's eyes steadily, an intent
expression showing he absorbed every word his master was
saying. His eyes sparkled with new understanding, but it did
not dampen the rising feeling that assaulted him now in the
presence of his master.
When Obi-Wan remembered his encounter with Xanatos, all he felt
was horror, but he found that he wanted to repeat the
experience...with Qui-Gon. He wanted to erase the agony which
mixed with the ecstasy he had felt with Xanatos by burying
himself completely in his master's embrace. The feeling was
overwhelming, especially now that he knew his master regarded
him so highly, despite his recent failings.
He found himself falling into Qui-Gon's midnight blue eyes,
wanting desperately to be engulfed by his master's whole
essence, to become one with Qui-Gon. He fell forward into his
master's arms and held on tightly.
Qui-Gon nearly cried out as Obi-Wan fell into his arms; he took
several deep breaths as he held his padawan close. He had to
control himself. It was his duty as Obi-Wan's master. Anything
less would be a betrayal of the complete trust Obi-Wan had
placed in him when he had accepted Qui-Gon as his master.
Long moments passed, and Obi-Wan continued to hold on, seeking
closeness and reassurance in his Master's arms. Qui-Gon thought
he felt Obi-Wan's breathing becoming ragged. He would be there
for Obi-Wan, a rock to support him, an example for him to
follow. It was not an easy task for Qui-Gon; he faced new
sensations he remembered vaguely with Xanatos and Irylian, his
first padawan. But they seemed so irresistible now.
This would be a lesson for the master as well, Qui-Gon thought,
as he struggled to center himself in his padawan's embrace.
The energy flowed unhindered around the prone figure on the
wheeled table. Deep gashes in his chest and neck knit together
at a visible speed. No light filtered into 16B, where Xanatos
lay deep in meditation. His focus was completely inward,
drawing the Force into him, washing the poisons out of him,
flushing them back into the reservoir of the Living Force.
The Dark warred with the Light as he concentrated his energy;
healing lapsed into patchwork. Xanatos found himself
strengthening, but the pain also increased with his efforts.
It had been 18 hours since his old friend had taken pity on him
and delivered him from the prison into which he had been dumped
so unceremoniously the day before. As the day waned, Xanatos
surfaced into his own thoughts again. There was nothing to do
but lie in the dark and gather strength. In the absence of
external stimuli, his own mind whirled.
He thought of Khraghar and Kaluga in the old days, when
everything had seemed so simple. Xanatos had worshipped Kaluga,
had wanted to have her accept him as a future mate even. The
flashing fire and intelligence behind Kaluga's deep brown eyes
matched his own, and her tongue was as sharp as her eyes. She
had completed the construction of her first lightsaber days
before Xanatos was able to; they were always in competition,
and she was a worthy rival.
But Xanatos did not want her as a rival; as she grew older and
became Val-Kyr's padawan, he realized he wanted her close to
him. He had wanted to feel her in the depths of passion for him
and only him.
She, on the other hand, had had eyes only for the unassuming
Khraghar, the initiate who just wanted to grow beautiful
plants. When Khraghar left to join the AgriCorps, she had
professed her love for him to Xanatos, thinking he would tell
Khraghar what she could not. Khraghar left Coruscant never
knowing.
A few years later, when he and Qui-Gon returned to Coruscant,
he had found Kaluga again. A lighthearted session of sparring
had turned quickly into a heated game of cat and mouse as
Xanatos decided he had waited long enough. He finally knocked
Kaluga's lightsaber away and fell upon her roughly, tearing her
clothing and raping her most viciously. All the while, he held
her down with the Force that he had become increasingly adept
in manipulating in his short tenure with his master.
She had fought him with everything she had, but he had used
Dark tricks. She would never tell her master, Khraghar or
anyone of the incident. When she finally struggled free, she
closed her mind and ran. She never again let her presence be
known to Xanatos or his master. She disappeared to them; and
later she would disappear to all. Xanatos had seen to that.
Xanatos' eyes filled with tears at the remembered incident. He
couldn't have her, so he had killed her. What did it gain him?
Even immediately after the explosion, Xanatos was mortified at
what he had done. He had huddled in the corner of his and
Qui-Gon's quarters, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, hating
himself for having done it, but hating her for making him do
it.
Qui-Gon had thought he was mourning his old friend with
particular zeal. How blind his master had been.
In the mid-morning, the transport ship arrived to take the
survivors to Hye-Thurian, the nearest large city with adequate
medical facilities. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan assisted in
transporting the wounded from their rough pallets in the
Agridome to the large hospital ship.
Many had died over the night, while others recovered
sufficiently to walk aboard the ships. It was still a grueling
physical job, and the two Jedi were exhausted by the end of the
afternoon. All of the non-ambulatory patients had been
transferred by late afternoon.
Qui-Gon turned to Khraghar, who had just finished loading the
last of the stretcher patients. "Well, I suppose we had better
get Xanatos. I think it would be a good idea to sedate him for
the trip. He isn't known for being the best of patients."
Khraghar's brow wrinkled and his eyes widened slightly. "No
worries. I'll get him. He won't do anything funny with me. We
go way back."
Qui-Gon looked unconvinced. "We do as well. I will come with
you. Obi-Wan, I want you to double check the security in that
hospital ship. I will be back shortly." The Jedi master and the
Jedi farmer turned together and disappeared through the nearest
hall portal.
Obi-Wan had just finished his inspection of the ship and
ensured that all patients were strapped in securely, when he
felt the alarm through his training link with his master. The
padawan whirled where he stood and quickly excused himself. He
was running back into the dome when he saw Qui-Gon and Khraghar
approaching at a similar clip.
Obi-Wan's face fell into a certainty of expression. He realized
what had happened. Before Qui-Gon could speak, he almost
whispered. "Xanatos is gone, isn't he?" Qui-Gon's face showed a
mixture of emotions--consternation and slight anger that
Khraghar had been so careless, a touch of pride in his former
padawan's cleverness...
"We can't hold that ship while we look for him. Obi-Wan, tell
them to take off. We'll handle Xanatos on our own. " Qui-Gon
was slightly breathless as he barked his orders. Obi-Wan
bounced to his task, the picture of a perfect padawan in
action.
Qui-Gon and Khraghar moved off into an alcove at the edge of
the main dome area. "We shall have to sit and wait. I can sense
Xanatos through our old training bond, and that will hopefully
tell me where to find him." Khraghar stared at Qui-Gon with
incredulous amazement.
"So, you were Xanatos' old master? What did you do to him,
then? He's so tortured now. Not like he used to be. He said
you...killed his father. Is that true?" Khraghar's green eyes
were burning with confusion and barely suppressed anger. He did
not expect the Jedi master to confirm what Xanatos had said.
" I did kill his father, Khraghar. I cannot deny that. His
father had raised an army against his own people, and Xanatos
headed that army. Xanatos fomented a civil war on his home
planet that does not seem to have died out even now. His father
challenged me, and I was forced to kill him.
"Your friend fell to greed and envy. He was consumed by the
darkness within him. He is not the boy you knew so long ago. He
is consumed with the need to destroy me. He failed in his
attempt on Bandomeer, but he killed many innocents in the blind
need to wreak his pale revenge. "
Khraghar's face drooped as he held his face in his hands. "
It's a shame. When I saw him, I had such dreams of him, me and
our friend Kaluga getting together again, like the old days in
the Temple...do you know Kaluga Kierant, Master Jinn?"
Qui-Gon's eyes grew distant as he remembered the incident. He
had returned from a Council session to find his padawan
crumpled in a corner, tears streaming from his face.
"I remember her. She died with her master about 15 years ago. I
never saw Xanatos cry so hard in my life. They had been close
friends." Qui-Gon raised his eyes and noticed Khraghar's face
had grown red; his eyes had grown wide and pained. Khraghar's
jaw was set.
"Xanatos told me she was still alive." His voice strained and
broke through his clenched teeth, and he lowered his eyes from
Qui-Gon's gaze. "He told me he would get in touch with her and
tell her where I was, so we might get together again one day."
The apparent truth of it hit Khraghar like a lead fist.
Khraghar lost his facade of control and buried his head in his
hands, sobbing angrily. Qui-Gon sat, resigned, comforting the
agonized man. He would not tell him that he had found out much
later that Xanatos had been the one who planted the explosive
that had killed Kaluga and her master. Khraghar had enough to
deal with now.
Obi-Wan watched the hospital transport ship leave for
Hye-Thurian. He looked on as it shrank to a pinpoint in the
sky. The second of the planet's two suns sank slowly below the
horizon. He returned in the direction of the dome via the
grainfield. He came upon the two utility speeders parked
outside the warehouse next to the dome, and realized these
would be Xanatos' first line of escape.
The padawan quietly slinked through the grain and reached the
first vehicle, a weatherworn XP-7. He opened the front panel
and removed the power cell; then he stalked to the second
speeder and did the same. Twilight was seeping into the
complex, and Obi-Wan cast about in his vicinity to determine
whether he was alone. Time enough to join the search; for now,
Obi-Wan needed to center himself.
He stood in the tall grainfield as twilight came, and he felt
himself being engulfed by the shadows of the grain around him.
He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, remaining standing
in the deep blue light. Energy gathered around him; a
comfortable deep blue aura grew about him and he started to
calm.
A picture of his master appeared in his mind. Qui-Gon was
embracing him as he had done in their quarters, only this time
he had taken Obi-Wan's face in his large hands and kissed him
deeply, entwining their tongues and drawing each within the
other. It was a peaceful, fulfilling sensation, but Obi-Wan
found himself breathing harder and faster, losing his center
even as the pleasant sensation rose.
He shifted the meditation. A recent saber demonstration at the
Temple--Obi-Wan had been challenged by Mahri-Lan, another
padawan who was eager to try out some new techniques her master
had taught her. He felt the breeze of dynamic calm float
through him at the memory of his match. It had almost seemed as
if he and Mahri-Lan were dancing, both rigidly performing the
8th level kata movements, parrying each other's blows exactly.
It had been thus, until Obi-Wan had felt a new layer open in
the Force; he forgot the form of the kata, while Mahri-Lan
continued in the prescribed movement sequence. He found himself
breaking through her guard repeatedly, landing the stinging
blows of a saber on low power contacting flesh. Qui-Gon had
been proud of him. he had told him that was the whole point of
learning a kata and practicing it over and over---to forget it
and allow the Force to flow within the framework of the kata's
dance-like movement.
Obi-Wan felt his mind opening; his focus blurred and he felt
the Force gathering into him. The light surrounding him
deepened and intensified. He watched through half-lidded eyes
as a silent dark figure floated toward him from the direction
of the dome. It moved steadily and noiselessly; it did not
appear to notice Obi-Wan standing in the field.
Obi-Wan rose out of his trance momentarily as he decided this
might be the errant Xanatos. He drew the Force into him, hiding
his presence. The figure moved closer. As it came close,
Obi-Wan saw he could see through it; it appeared non-corporeal.
Like a dream, the shape moved in, gliding rather than walking.
Obi-Wan had seen shapes like this before during meditation.
Qui-Gon had called them "allies," a strange name for
incorporeal blotches of darkness that were nothing if not
threatening.
"An ally will expose your weaknesses and try everything it can
to get you to succumb to it. But it is called an ally because,
if you are mindful and see it for what it is, it will help you
overcome your weaknesses."
Obi-Wan had not fully understood it then, but he knew to accept
them for what they were. Fear of the ally led to its victory
over you. You then were confronted with the same fear, the same
ally, again and again until you finally overcame it. Perhaps
Xanatos was his ally.
Obi-Wan watched as the ally came near him, he calmed himself
and forced himself to look it up and down, to identify it. Was
it an illusion, a true ally or was it a cleverly cloaked
Xanatos? Obi-Wan set himself for the crossing of its path.
It walked neatly past him, heading for the parked speeders
beyond. Obi-Wan turned silently, watched the figure try the
ignition on one, then the other. It made no noise as it floated
back in his direction. Obi-Wan stepped clearly in front of it,
it seemed to lose even the veneer of solidity. It had become a
dark patch of air--until the Dark Force suddenly gathered and
came down like a lead fist on top of Obi-Wan.
It seemed as if the Dark Force itself had grabbed the startled
padawan and had thrown him down as if he were a leaf in a
windstorm. Obi-Wan's head bounced solidly off the ground and
the dark figure hovered over him before stepping quickly around
him and heading for the warehouse.
Obi-Wan automatically swung himself to a standing position and
ran after him, igniting his lightsaber in mid-stride. His
vision swam before him; he felt the blood streaming from his
nose and ears. He forced himself to breathe deeply and continue
his pursuit. The dark figure had lost its transparent
qualities; it was clearly Xanatos. Obi-Wan charged at him
through the haze of his rattled brain, reaching him just as
Xanatos turned to face him.
Obi-Wan had lost his equilibrium, but he managed to aim a cut
at Xanatos' center of mass. Xanatos floated under and around
the cut, toppling the already dizzy padawan and slamming him to
the ground once again.
The saber flew out of Obi-Wan's hands, and Xanatos quickly
pinned him with an incredibly powerful tendril of the Dark
Force he was channeling. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, but he found
he could not focus. The dark figure whirled in his sight and he
had to shut his eyes before he became nauseated.
"You're all too easy, Obi-Wan. Or do I just have more power at
my command than you do?" Xanatos emphasized his statement with
a soft but insistent pressure on Obi-Wan's chest which drove
the air from his lungs. At the same time, he gently stroked the
younger man's groin, gently exciting him as he suffocated him.
"I just want to leave, to pursue my own destiny. Yet you and
your master insist on stopping me. Isn't it enough that I'm
disgraced forever? Does Qui-Gon have to utterly destroy me?"
Obi-Wan's mouth flew open as he tried to take in air; his
rising arousal just made him dizzier. He felt consciousness
ebbing from him. In a spasm of desperation, Obi-Wan threw his
right hip up into Xanatos, taking the other's center of balance
and rolling over him.
Obi-Wan fell on top of Xanatos, where he lay heavily gasping
for air and attempting to regain his equilibrium. The padawan
automatically brought his weight down fully onto Xanatos,
striking him with his extended thumb-forward fist. Xanatos had
other ideas.
Suddenly Xanatos pulled the padawan down into him, causing
Obi-Wan's hand to slip and his balance to falter. Xanatos
captured Obi-Wan's mouth and held on tightly, centering himself
in this contact. Obi-Wan felt the desperation in the kiss, and
he felt the iron hands holding him as if he were the Universe.
Obi-Wan felt Xanatos taking him over again, his hot breath
close. " Do you know just how much I envy you, young one?
Qui-Gon trusts you without question. You can do no wrong. You
have everything I have lost. I want you. And I want to be you."
Xanatos' voice was breaking and becoming raspy.
*Xanatos is afraid.* Obi-Wan could not help but pick up the
desperate agony in Xanatos' thoughts, his driving need to hold
on to someone. Everyone in his life had died or he had turned
them against him. Why he latched on to him so hard, Obi-Wan
could not fathom.
The Light and Dark clashed around the pair as Xanatos
relentlessly channeled Force into the stroking of the padawan's
body. A tremendous wave of pleasurable sensation washed over
Obi-Wan in an instant, and his gasps for air became heavier and
more rapid. He could no longer focus his thoughts or intention.
Xanatos rubbed firmly against him, sending tingling shocks
through Obi-Wan's overtaxed body. As Xanatos began to touch him
through his pants, the sensations became overwhelming. Obi-Wan
began to hyperventilate as his recently deprived lungs now took
in more air than they could handle.
The dizziness increased and the padawan cried aloud, his voice
a breathy gasp. He was held fast. Xanatos had freed himself
from his own clothing restraints, and he had pushed Obi-Wan
over onto his stomach while never letting go. Obi-Wan felt
himself being gently prepared with one finger and then another.
Xanatos was actually being careful not to hurt him.
"Relax, Obi-Wan. I want to show you this." Obi-Wan was
concentrating on slowing his breaths, trying to regain his
strength, as Xanatos continued. "I know you've never had it
before and I want you to know the pleasure of it. You know I
asked my old master to do this with me and he refused me flat.
I wonder what he'll do when you ask him?"
Obi-Wan froze. Xanatos had wanted Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon had
rejected him. In that moment, he connected with Xanatos,
feeling the despair of having been refused the intimacy with
his master that he had craved for so many years. Obi-Wan's own
insecurities rose; the calm he had striven for evaporated in
the worry that Qui-Gon might indeed reject him as well.
At that moment, Xanatos pulled Obi-Wan onto his lap, sinking
his erect member slowly into Obi-Wan's body. Obi-Wan drew a
sharp breath as he felt himself being gently filled. Shocks of
sensation radiated from his prostate, and he began to shake
with their intensity, his breath rushing through him as if
controlled by the winds.
Obi-Wan tried to slow his breathing and regain his balance, but
the shooting pleasure pulsed within him, and he could not
control either. He found himself holding on to Xanatos'
encircling arms, rocking back into the older man's sweat-soaked
body.
Xanatos held Obi-Wan in a firm grasp, pressing his entire body
into him, pressing his mind against Obi-Wan's confused
Force-presence. He touched the Light inside Obi-Wan and gasped
with the beauty of it, a beauty he could only observe and
recognize. The contrast was too much.
Darkness flooded Xanatos' thoughts as he realized just how
different he was from this innocent young padawan who was, for
all purposes, giving his body up for his use. A harsh cry
escaped the now-raggedly breathing Xanatos, and he felt the
Darkness overtake him.
What followed was a horror. Xanatos rolled on top of Obi-Wan
and pushed him savagely into the ground. The gentle thrusts
became intense and stabbing. A fog had descended onto Xanatos,
and he forced himself deeper into Obi-Wan's body. Each stroke
slammed Obi-Wan's head into the ground, sending waves of
intense pain and dizziness through him.
Obi-Wan screamed at the sudden pain which assaulted him from
within. The sound of his own strangled cries died in the air
around him. He felt utterly trapped and isolated within the
bubble of Darkness.
The real danger of being torn apart from within cleared
Obi-Wan's mind enough for him to struggle away for an instant,
but in that instant the force upon him became crushing.
Xanatos held him with his tenuous command of the Dark Force;
his thrusts became faster, his breathing a harsh, rasping pant.
Sweat pasted Xanatos' long black hair to his flushed face;
there was nothing of Xanatos in the eyes which bored into the
trapped padawan beneath him. Deep red wisps floated around the
pair, growing stronger, feeding off their energy.
Obi-Wan felt a wave of painful ecstasy rising. His body shook
violently against Xanatos' pounding thrusts, and a sharp warmth
overtook him. Obi-Wan panted uncontrollably as the waves broke
over him, pain and pleasure both finding their mark. Xanatos
had lost control; Obi-Wan's harsh cries began to carry outside
their immediate area, echoing off the dome, as Qui-Gon and
Khraghar were emerging.
Xanatos cried out as he spilled himself inside Obi-Wan; the
possession faded and left him gasping for air that would not
come into his lungs any longer. He coughed roughly, tasted the
blood in his mouth. he forced himself to his feet.
At that moment, sounds broke into their perimeter.
"Ki-Yana had said she sensed someone out here a few minutes
ago. Maybe he's trying to use the speeders." Khraghar ran
alongside Qui-Gon, who suddenly felt an overpowering wave of
distress emanating from his padawan. It was sharp, overwhelming
and very close. Another presence registered, one tainted with
Darkness. Obi-Wan and Xanatos.
Qui-Gon broke into a run. He did not get far, when a pale
figure rose almost right in front of him. Xanatos leapt at
Qui-Gon, his face twisted in a mask of desperation. He called
Obi-Wan's lightsaber to his white shaking hands with a great
deal of effort.
The sweat and blood glistened on Xanatos' pale skin in the blue
glow of the saber in his hands. He found his ex-master's eyes
and fixed on them.
In the space of fractions of a second, Qui-Gon had ignited his
green saber to counter the attack of the blue saber of his
padawan. Xanatos was tentative, though, swaying on his feet as
he lunged in, obviously exhausted and unbalanced. Qui-Gon
easily parried his clumsy attacks.
Xanatos opened himself to Qui-Gon's saber again and again,
until Qui-Gon knew he was purposefully putting himself in the
way of the cuts. At that point, Qui-Gon ducked under a
half-hearted slash and drove Xanatos to the ground using his
command of the other's balance.
Qui-Gon stood over Xanatos, his saber glowing in the dull
grainfield, lending the dark yellow stalks an eerie green glow.
Xanatos laid his arms to either side, and closed his eyes. His
ineffectual gasping slowed and he whispered, "It's time to get
rid of the bad apprentice now, master. He knows the emptiness
of the path he has chosen, and he wants out!" His voice rose to
a harsh rasp, and he coughed in a sudden spasm.
Blood tinged his lips and his breathing became further labored.
"It's not that easy, Xanatos." Qui-Gon held the eyes of the
fallen apprentice steadily, his own face a mask of
determination. He stepped around the ragged figure that lay
before him.
Khraghar cautiously approached and cast a long look at his old
friend. Xanatos was white as a sheet, blood on his face from
his ravaged lungs, which obviously had not healed as he had
thought.
Khraghar's expression was unreadable. "So you thought to
escape, did you, Xanatos? What is it you've done anyway? And
why did you think you had to lie about Kaluga? You aren't the
old friend I remember. I don't even recognize you anymore. "
Khraghar turned away, a single tear burning in each of his eyes
for the loss of his friend. His voice shook slightly. "That's
one hell of a fallen apprentice you have there, Qui-Gon. I
suggest you do what he says. " Khraghar looked back once at the
slowly ebbing Xanatos, and he quickly started back toward the
dome.
"Stop." Qui-Gon stopped him with a word. "Khraghar, you will
stay and help me transport him to the authorities. I need your
help now. Let him go as I had to." Khraghar paused and met
Qui-Gon's eyes. The regret buried deep within their blue depths
was apparent now to him. He shared it in full measure.
"Watch Xanatos while I find Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon turned away
quickly and stepped around Xanatos, scanning the surrounding
grainfield for the Force-presence of his apprentice. What he
found caused him to lose his composure completely.
Obi-Wan lay in the tall grass, mumbling incoherently, eyes
unfocused and staring straight up. The padawan was not really
aware that his master was near. He lay in the tall grain, his
pants around his ankles, blood staining his face and torso.
"Master?" Obi-Wan intoned weakly. "Will you reject me too? Like
you did him?" Obi-Wan was not focusing on the tall Jedi who
stood over him. Apparently, he was unaware of Qui-Gon's
presence. His Force-presence was wavering, even at this close
range.
Qui-Gon knelt quickly beside his apprentice to assess the
extent of his injuries. "Obi-Wan? Can you hear me? Are you all
right?" Qui-Gon could not keep the rising panic out of his
voice when Obi-Wan lapsed back into silence. Tendrils of fear
seeped into Qui-Gon's smoldering blue eyes, as he tried
desperately to gain response from his padawan.
Qui-Gon regained a forced calm as he reached into Obi-Wan's
mind through their bond. Confusion and distress greeted him. He
reached into his pouch for a small portable light source and
shone it into Obi-Wan's eyes. The pupils were dilated evenly,
but he had obviously taken a blow to the head as his gaze
appeared unfocused.
Qui-Gon turned roughly to the slumping form of Khraghar behind
him. " Get Xanatos inside. I don't want to see him. Now!" He
turned immediately back to the limp form of his padawan, who
gasped shallowly as he attempted to sit up. Qui-Gon grunted
with suppressed anger as he noticed the blood staining
Obi-Wan's face, his tunics, his bare lower torso.
The master helped his apprentice to his feet, steadying him,
pulling his trousers up. It was clear to Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan
had been brutally raped. Qui-Gon's jaw set and he took several
long deep breaths before he was able to look at the ravaged
form of Obi-Wan again.
Khraghar felt the way Qui-Gon had sounded. He released as much
anger as he could manage and knelt down to heft the burden of
Xanatos.
By this time Ki-Yana had joined them in the field and assisted
Khraghar with the groggy, weakly protesting Xanatos. As the two
AgriCorps Jedi carefully pulled Xanatos into the nearest wing
of the dome, Qui-Gon carefully lifted his padawan from his bed
of grain and gently helped him to his feet. Obi-Wan was able to
stumble slowly along with his master's help.
Ki-Yana sat beside the small bed which held the failing body of
Xanatos; her eyes were closed, her concentration complete. She
laboriously healed the man's ravaged lungs, pumped the Darkness
from his body, filling it with her Light. She could do nothing
for his spirit, but she could at least reverse the damage he
had done to his body through his dalliance with the Dark
Forces.
*How little the young understand the true nature of Darkness*
she mused to herself. *They think it will bring you power, that
it will make you strong and superior to others. It promises
much, but it takes everything from you in return for the little
that it gives.*
She looked down at the haggard skull-like face of Xanatos. She
now knew of his terrible crimes, his wrongs against his master,
against Obi-Wan the apprentice, against Khraghar, who was her
close friend and one of the best men she knew in her long life.
Yet she could feel no hatred for this ravaged soul.
It was clear to her that Xanatos gained no pleasure from what
he did; his evil destroyed him as much as it destroyed those
around him. He had given in to the dark promise, and he now was
paying his dues to Darkness. The tragedy of it was that the
evil would demand more and more of him, each time eating away
another part of his soul, until nothing would be left.
Ki-Yana wondered how much of this man's soul still lived and
how much had been consumed. She stroked Xanatos' matted black
hair away from his face. Qui-Gon had told her he was in his
late twenties, but he looked much older now. His features were
sunken, his face a mask of death. She deepened her trance,
opened herself to the corruption within Xanatos, filtering it
through her own body and soul, releasing it finally into the
Force.
Xanatos did not toss or turn. His body was immobile, but his
mind was not.
K7...Core 5. The two Jedi fought as a team, although they were
not Master and Apprentice. Tandem saber strokes drove Xanatos
deeper into the mine. But he had the control. The way out. He
had a plan. He backed confidently against the back wall of the
unstable Core 5 shaft level. As he waited for the shift in the
thermoelectric properties of the wall, he watched Obi-Wan then
Qui-Gon disappear into another part of the wall.
The dust began to gather in the shaft, as the familiar
explosive device counted down numbers lower than those he had
remembered seeing in his memories. Xanatos pressed himself
desperately against the wall that refused to fade as he had
engineered it to do.
The miners killed in first blast he had engineered suddenly
began to filter through the solid rock. They swirled around
him, speaking in short sentences. " You killed us, and we know
this." Another: "We are safe now, but you are not." Another: "
You will never be safe enough." Another: "You will destroy
yourself."
They sounded like threats, but also like simple verities, like
someone telling a man's freshly severed head that he is now
dead. A glowing aura surrounded one of the approaching wraiths
as she resolved into familiarity.
Kaluga stood before him, dressed in the dirty practice tunics
she had worn when Xanatos had attacked her so many years ago. A
bright blue glow encompassed her, and she smiled slightly. All
around her was contentment, no hint of the desperate darkness
with which Xanatos had covered her.
She looked like a projection, but she stared straight into
Xanatos' eyes and through to his soul. This was Kaluga come
back to torture him, he thought in his dream-state. Her endless
brown eyes swallowed him into the past; she spoke in a ringing
whisper. " Xanatos, you think you have done me the great wrong,
but it is yourself you are wronging. I forgive you and so does
Val-Kyr. We are in the Force where nothing dissonant can
occur."
Her soft, sweet voice fell on Xanatos' ears and flung him back
into the past. The friendly match turned horrible rape; the
agony in Kaluga's cries rang in Xanatos' head, contrasting
sharply with the sweet even tones that filled the space he now
inhabited.
He remembered everything--the slight tipping of her balance
caused by her overcurving right toe...he, throwing her down
with the force of full-contact sparring, his failure to let her
up. He felt the raw need that pulsed through him; she was an
easy target, as she could never have expected that her friend
would not only throw her down, but would use dark energy to
keep her horrifyingly immobile.
Kaluga spoke again. "My only regret was not telling your master
about it. I was too ashamed of my weakness to let anyone know.
Perhaps I could have saved the Jedi from a monster like you.
And you would not have so much to feel hatred for." The blue
light floated around her, sharply delineating her from the gray
Xanatos, who was amazed at her frank choice of words. He could
only stand there and stare at the apparition, which began to
wisp away and change before his eyes.
Xanatos sank deeper into the morass of his own mind, feeling it
sifting as Ki-Yana pumped her healing energy into him. His body
knit together as his mind fell deeper into remembrance.
Inside their small quarters, Qui-Gon sat silently next to the
bed which held his injured padawan. Qui-Gon had induced sleep
and was now concentrating on relieving the pressure on
Obi-Wan's brain from the head trauma he had suffered.
Deep within that veil of sleep, Obi-Wan warred with his ally.
Xanatos had gone, but he had planted seeds within Obi-Wan which
were flowering dangerously within him. He knew he was not like
Xanatos, and yet they had connected on some level through their
desire for Qui-Gon, their mutual master.
He flashed back to the talk they had had only yesterday.
Qui-Gon had taken his distress at losing control with
equanimity; he had seemed to be sympathetic to Obi-Wan's
plight. He had said Xanatos had been through the same thing.
Had this been when Xanatos had approached Qui-Gon and been
rejected?
The ally spoke its poison to him. * Qui-Gon is NEVER tempted.
Why should he be? You are just another one of his apprentices.
He will finish with you and take another soon enough. And where
will you be then? Abandoned to find your own padawan and your
own pale imitation of your time with Qui-Gon.* The ally spoke
with Xanatos' voice. It spoke with the hurt tones of one who
has been rejected time and time again.
Obi-Wan reminded himself that Xanatos' fall was his own fault;
no one had forced him to choose between rejoining his father
and staying with the Jedi. Xanatos had chosen to align himself
with those who instigated great evil and great suffering. And
he had multiplied that suffering throughout the galaxy by his
own actions. There was nothing to blame Qui-Gon for in Xanatos'
fall, except perhaps his fear of opening up to Obi-Wan.
Even through their many trials, Qui-Gon had kept a part of
himself to himself. Obi-Wan could feel the shields hidden deep
within his master every time he contacted him through their
bond. He was coming closer to those shields as his relationship
with Qui-Gon had begun to deepen in more recent years.
Obi-Wan realized that he would have to bring his feelings for
Qui-Gon into the open and risk rejection. he couldn't see
himself falling like Xanatos, resenting Qui-Gon for his lack of
reciprocation. But to keep himself hidden like this, to always
wonder, to never be able to open completely to his
master---these things Obi-Wan decided he could not live with.
If Qui-Gon rejected him, he would live with it, and things
would continue as they had been. The ally faded into the Force;
Obi-Wan could sense and let go of the fear which comprised it.
His eyes opened, the pupils focused and evenly dilated. The
first thing his focused on was his master's eyes. A small
wistful smile played on his features. This moment would never
come again; he drank in the river of possibilities in Qui-Gon's
ocean-deep eyes, flooded their bond with his love for his
master.
Qui-Gon's face lost the tension it had been holding as he
watched his apprentice's eyes open. He felt a wave of emotion
hit him through their bond. He felt its nature, remembered the
same kind of broadcast from Xanatos so long ago. There was a
difference between them in this as well as with other things.
Xanatos had been desperate in his love. It was more lust and
insecurity than love. Qui-Gon had been unable to allow Xanatos
to fall into that trap, so he had gently rebuffed him. Obi-Wan,
however, had a serene acceptance within him. The feelings he
was sending were completely without fear. They spoke of
Obi-Wan's devotion to his master beyond the need for
reciprocation, a selfless love.
Qui-Gon found himself falling into his apprentice's gaze,
knowing without words what Obi-Wan wanted. "I know, Obi-Wan. "
It was all Qui-Gon could manage to verbalize. He returned his
flood of feeling back through their bond and watched Obi-Wan's
face relax as he fell back into his light Force sleep, the
small smile playing sweetly at his features.
It felt different this time. Qui-Gon remembered this time with
Xanatos, when the young apprentice had won a saber sparring
match with a much older padawan. Xanatos had been sixteen
standard years of age. The joy and pride in Xanatos was in the
forefront. He had leapt into his master's arms in the rush of
youthful excitement and found himself to be aroused in more
ways than one.
Later that evening, Xanatos had found another excuse to hug his
master, in the privacy of their own quarters. This time Xanatos
hung on and pressed himself into the firm body of his master.
He had felt the love from Qui-Gon, and it had driven him
completely over the edge. He grabbed for it with the
desperation of a man starving.
Xanatos was instantly hard, and the insistent friction he
created against his master caused an overwhelming and sudden
spasm of release. As his padawan fell against him shaking
softly, he realized that he had to talk to Xanatos about it, to
assure him that this was a normal phase of the master-padawan
relationship and would fade in time.
Xanatos had been crushed, and Qui-Gon had noticed a change in
the way Xanatos interacted with him then. He also realized that
it distanced him from his bond with his padawan. He looked down
at Obi-Wan, and he wondered if he would have to repeat the
painful ritual. What if he had given himself to Xanatos? Would
things be the same now?
Qui-Gon felt the whole nature of the master-padawan bond being
called into question. Was this just another manifestation of
his guilt about Xanatos? He had to let it go. Obi-Wan deserved
better.
Assuring himself that Obi-Wan was under the veil of sleep, he
allowed himself to drink in the beautiful, relaxed features of
his young face, the beginnings of a furrow in his brow that
would only deepen as Obi-Wan faced the trials of taking his own
padawan in the future...Qui-Gon could get lost in that face. He
bent slowly and placed a kiss on his padawan's forehead. He
then turned silently and slipped out of their quarters.
Qui-Gon moved like a shadow in the long hall leading to the
main dome area. He approached the hall where Khraghar's
quarters were, and he raised Khraghar on the comlink.
Khraghar met Qui-Gon in front of his quarters. The small,
ancient woman was emerging just as Qui-Gon was approaching. Her
watery green eyes were surrounded by dark circles and lines.
The recent ordeal had taken its toll on the fragile body of the
old Jedi farmer. She moved stiffly, but still with the grace
common to those who have followed the Jedi ways for so long.
She met the inquisitive stares of the two men, and answered
their unasked questions. " I have stabilized his respiratory
condition and eased him into a healing sleep. I suggest that
one of you continue to watch him while I take my rest in my own
quarters. I am not young anymore and I do need my sleep. "
Her eyes twinkled for a second and she said, "Why don't you
flip a daktari for the privilege." She chuckled under her
breath and slowly retreated to the dome for a long needed
respite.
Qui-Gon and Khraghar looked at each other for a long instant.
Khraghar spoke. " I'll watch him, Qui-Gon. You have an injured
apprentice to look after. I know the basic techniques of
inducing a trance and light sleep. In Xanatos' condition, I
doubt he could resist even me." A tired resignation spread
across Khraghar's sunbaked features, and he forced a small
smile as he nodded to Qui-Gon for reassurance.
The dim glow of the enzyme lamps cast Khraghar's weary features
in a bluish tint. He stared emptily at Xanatos, watching
half-heartedly for signs of movement and wakefulness. He found
none. Xanatos' breathing was shallow and even, his pale face
devoid of tension. *He sleeps like a baby* Khraghar mused
bitterly. * I think I'd feel better if he had nightmares or
something.*
Khraghar shook his head slowly, closing his eyes against the
serene awfulness of the tableau in front of him. Unbeknownst to
Khraghar, Xanatos was deep in a nightmare; the Force was
showing him his life by recounting its watershed moments.
The first time he had triumphed in a saber sparring session as
an initiate; his grand adventure with Khraghar and Kaluga in
Coruscant's seedy lower level alleys; his pride at being taken
as padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn; his confession of love for his
master; his horrible rebound which destroyed Kaluga's life; his
ascension to power on Telos; his first meeting with Obi-Wan,
almost a connection; losing everything on Telos, finding
himself lost....
Xanatos felt himself slipping through a vortex of despair. His
entire life had been a struggle to regain the favor and
innocence he had enjoyed in his younger days. He saw that ideal
in the older Obi-Wan; a too-close reminder of just how far
Xanatos had fallen, how unattainable that state now was for
him...he had had to take a piece of Obi-Wan for himself.
Even as he watched himself inflicting the horror on the young
padawan, he realized that he wasn't getting what he needed. In
fact, Obi-Wan was taking from him his equilibrium, his purpose,
everything. Xanatos simply fell apart and Obi-Wan absorbed him.
The thought paths of the fallen apprentice kicked in--*It is
enough to have corrupted the perfect apprentice*. A new, darker
thought accompanied it. *I ruin everything I touch* The vortex
swirled more heavily, dragging Xanatos into murkier depths of
despair.
Obi-Wan had awakened suddenly, feeling his master's absence. A
strange fog hung over him, and his head spun. He reached out
for a steadying structure, and found a box, which toppled as he
leaned a little too heavily. The unsteady padawan sank to
regain his balance and watched the contents pour out of the box
onto the small space of the stone floor.
Obi-Wan stared trancelike at the contents of the newly upset
box, and he slowly began picking each one up in turn. As he
performed this meditative activity, he began to feel a spinning
sensation not unlike the one he had felt upon standing. He drew
a quick gasping breath and sat down hard on the bed.
Obi-Wan sat still for a long moment, his gray-blue eyes
studying a small insect that lay upside down on the stone floor
trying to turn itself over. He listened to its insistent
clicking sound as it attempted to right itself; the sound
became the universe. Everything around him stood out in sharp
focus. He found that he was able to direct his attention
completely to the insect, without intrusion of any of the fears
and insecurities that had plagued him only the night before.
This intensity played through his body too; he felt every inch
of his flesh, the soft nap of his tunics as they overlapped on
his chest, their slight movements as he breathed. He felt his
breath in all its particulars, the oxygen returning to his
brain, the horror retreating to a dark corner.
He felt the Force flowing so clearly that he could hear it
rushing by his head, echoing through the small room, until he
could no longer stand to be in it. Drawing several deep
breaths, Obi-Wan rose carefully and quietly padded down the
corridor to the portal to the grain field in which he had
meditated only the night before.
He found himself shaking involunarily as he made his way to the
grainfield with its awful familiarity. The ripples in the Force
from his ordeal that evening hung low about the place, and
Obi-Wan could feel every nuance.
The full satellite of Dynantiun hung directly overhead, casting
a pale blue glow over the padawan's tense features. Slowly, he
sat, knees bent underneath him, and breathed deliberately to
calm himself. Long breath in....slowly out...the shaking slowly
subsided, and an ambient blue glow began to encompass the lone
figure in the field. It shone through the tall stalks of grain
pure and bright. Obi-Wan was finding his center without effort.
He allowed images to come into his mind as the Force willed
them. His early time as an initiate, being rescued from
drowning by a tall Jedi master at the age of four; first
feelings of the Force's infinity in the Flow exercise...the
overwhelming power and exhilaration of being in tune with the
Force; his rather extended trials for padawanhood under
Qui-Gon; the utter fullness of perching on the precipice of
life and death for the sake of Bandomeer; realizing what he
wanted was not what he thought it would be; his first encounter
with Xanatos, the utter horror of the fallen apprentice's
twisted mind, invading his...
He remembered Xanatos' abject horror even better than his own.
He had left his body to Xanatos' use, but his mind drank of
Xanatos' soul, begging to understand; pleading for him to see
the tangled twist in his life that made it all go wrong.
Obi-Wan found that, as horrifying as his rape by Xanatos' hand
had been, he could not hate him, even now. Xanatos was lost in
his own hate.
The grain glowed with previously unseen energy, bright sparks
of yellow Force luminescence punctuated the circle in which
Obi-Wan sat. A low fog of deep indigo settled into this new
place of power. Obi-Wan was more open to the Force than he had
ever been, and it gathered around him, acknowledging his new
awareness.
Obi-Wan's eyes misted with tears to be shed at the painful
change within him. For him, it was a learning experience, the
opening of a new door which could never be shut again. While he
couldn't bring himself to remember the experience itself, he
felt the rush of new feelings as it had opened the universe
wide again for him. Nothing would ever be the same again.
As the universe opened for Obi-Wan, it was shutting for
Xanatos.
Xanatos came awake, but he did not move or make any sound to
hint at that fact. Khraghar sat slumped back in the small
single chair, his eyes glazed by the lateness of the hour. He
stared with fixed, watery eyes at the perfectly still figure of
Xanatos, who presented the tableau of a lump of blankets with a
wild-haired head sticking out at the top.
Xanatos adjusted to his surroundings quickly, taking in deep,
even breaths and centering himself. Even with his eyes shut, he
saw the whole of the small quarters--the shelves full of
analytical agricultural equipment, the dim panorama of a
holocard of a Force-imbued field of flowers, Khraghar's
familiar ceremonial dagger from his homeworld, the limply awake
figure of Khraghar leaning back in his chair, the simple
locking mechanism on the primitive door.
Not a muscle moved, even though Xanatos felt enough tension to
cause him to scream aloud for hours without stopping. He was
shaking off the fright from the insistent vortex which had
almost sucked him down in his dreams, throwing up hideous
memories like a lawnmower in Hell. He pushed the dream away and
focused on his immediate surroundings.
A strong breath in drew ambient Force into his healing body,
tickling every nerve ending as it permeated him. Xanatos
remained perfectly still. The Force flowed throughout his body,
picking up his scent, mixing it. Slowly, Xanatos gathered the
Force closer into a smaller ball in his abdomen. The intensity
was so great it burned. The burning rose and exited through his
arms into his hands. He held the core of his Force-essence in
front of him...slowly, he kept it floating on the bed, while he
extracted himself from underneath it.
The ball rolled on the sheets, coating them with the essence of
Xanatos' being, folding back into the shape of Xanatos. The
Force-ball quieted and returned to him as he flicked the
primitive door-lock easily. He turned briefly to watch Khraghar
staring at an empty bed. The fool relied too much on his
feelings through the Force. It had been easy to create the
illusion that what now lay in the bed was the very being of
Xanatos, when in fact it was a surface painting of all that was
*seen* as Xanatos.
A shadow stalked the corridor into the darkened main dome and
exited through the front door, right under the nose of the
preoccupied night manager at the guard booth.
The Force outside the dome was more open, more prone to the
currents of the universe. It felt free, untainted by the Jedi
notions of Light and Dark. To his far right, he saw a
concentration of blue light, a concentration of Light Force
gathering in the grainfield around a particularly tall patch of
grain. He turned the other way, towards the site of the crash
which had changed his life in the twinkling of an eye. He
followed the thin harvesting road straight ahead, careful to
dissipate his Force-signature as much as he could.
He was close to his objective. Lakes of power resided all
around him. The Force flowed in nature in such a pleasing
manner, nothing pressing and insistent like the will of Jedi.
Dark patches also lay within the fields, moving with unseen
currents. A patch of the field stood suddenly in front of him.
The patch became pure blackness, then resolved with tentative
green luminescence into an all-too familiar figure. Qui-Gon,
his old master now stood before him. Quicker than a flash of
lightning, Qui-Gon's hand encompassed Xanatos' neck and easily
drove him to the dirt. By the time Xanatos had figured out that
this really *was* Qui-Gon and not another dream vision, he was
firmly pinned, his breath driven from him.
The eyes of the Jedi Master burned into him, pressing him down
even as effectively as the choke hold. Bright green fire bored
into his soul as he stared open-mouthed at the man who was
choking the life out of him. As soon as the shock wore off,
Xanatos cupped Qui-Gon's thumb and tore his grip loose. But
Qui-Gon was firmly atop him now.
Xanatos' ragged gasps filled the quiet night as he fought to
breathe.
"You always had a penchant for doing damage, Xanatos," Qui-Gon
spat at him. "But you have gone too far this time.
"I know what you did to Obi-Wan, and you will suffer for it,
more than you can possibly imagine. " The even tones held
dangerous anger; Qui-Gon's aura sparked with it, the Dark Side
too close.
Xanatos felt the crushing force of his old master pressing the
air out of him, killing him slowly with an invisible hand. He
realized that this was not the Qui-Gon he remembered. This
Qui-Gon was being tempted, and he appeared to be losing the
fight with that temptation.
Patches of sparking green and yellow flashed before Xanatos'
eyes as his body was drained of oxygen. His muscles tensed
involuntarily and he bucked violently against Qui-Gon's sturdy
weight, which refused to be moved. At the moment he felt
himself slipping into blackness, Qui-Gon let go.
Xanatos gasped loudly as his roughly healed lungs greedily
struggled for air, but before he could catch his breath, it was
cut off again. Qui-Gon's face suddenly loomed over him and
engulfed him utterly. The master's mouth captured the mouth of
the fallen apprentice savagely and completely. Qui-Gon pressed
against Xanatos' nose, again shutting off his access to air.
An endless rising sensation flowed through Xanatos' body at the
same time he was starving for air. His body tingled with
shooting nerve signals as he was simultaneously aroused and
deprived. His body was responding to Qui-Gon's attentions, but
he could not control it.
Stars swam before his eyes; he did not see his old master, but
he felt him in the core of his being. Xanatos' body shook
violently, fighting for air, yet surrendering to the years of
desire which teased at being fulfilled.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Qui-Gon had let
him go, he felt his head hitting the hard ground. He heard
himself coughing and whimpering uncontrollably. As the air
rushed back into his body, his vision spun, then cleared. He
saw his old master sitting atop him, felt himself being firmly
held. Words began to resolve themselves.
" You realize I'm not going to kill you, don't you Xanatos? But
now you know just a tiny portion of what you have put Obi-Wan
through. And I'm sure Obi-Wan will come out of it well. He was
more mature at 13 than you ever were. " Qui-Gon's eyes seemed
to glow in the moonlit air as he spoke his harsh words.
"I never wanted anything but the best for you, Xanatos. But I
really should have beaten you within an inch of your life. It
seems to be the only way to teach you anything. It's not my
concern anymore." Qui-Gon's words trailed off into a low growl.
Xanatos stared at Qui-Gon with a haunted expression. He
couldn't believe his master was saying these things, and he
realized more than he ever did just how disappointed Qui-Gon
was in him. The ego threatened to rise and parry with its
ever-ready boasts, but now that Xanatos had lost all material
goods, he found that he couldn't think of a boast.
And here he sat, in the dirt, humbled and subdued by a single
kiss from his master, realizing that he had nothing to show for
his life. He would doubtless be killed on sight on Telos; his
entire empire was based there. Everything from this point
forward would have to come from within him.
Xanatos looked within himself; he remembered the sounds and
feelings from the moments just before he had plunged into the
trap of desire, the sparring session with Kaluga...his last
moment of innocence. Suddenly he realized he desperately wanted
to jump out of his own skin.
Reflexively, he jerked forward and rolled over, toppling
Qui-Gon, who rolled gracefully to his feet. Xanatos launched
himself at his old master, using the force of a low stance to
deliver a sharp blow to Qui-Gon's midsection. Qui-Gon turned
with the lunge, barely touching Xanatos as he captured his
balance and turned 180 degrees, throwing Xanatos straight down.
The Darkness rose to replace Xanatos in his skin; he enhanced a
series of kicks with powerful Force-energy, sending Qui-Gon
flying into the ripe grainstalks. A moment of disorientation
was all Xanatos needed. He disappeared with Force-enhanced
speed, as Qui-Gon jumped back to his feet and started after
him.
The pools of energy in the grainfield swirled with Xanatos'
passage, each either attracted or repelled by the concentration
of Dark energy. It spread itself around him even as it ate a
hole inside him. He could feel the draining effects almost
immediately, as he caught a rushing dark figure approaching him
from yet another angle.
The Republic cruiser lay just ahead of Xanatos, and he quickly
removed the magnetic code-box he had stolen earlier. With a
final burst of speed, he attached the box to the hatch lock. In
the few seconds it took for the box to do its hack-work,
Xanatos found himself staring into the sharp, steady eyes of
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The hatch opened quickly, and Xanatos leapt upon the ramp. In a
blink of an eye, Obi-Wan was upon him. using a deliberate, low
attack stance, Obi-Wan glued himself to Xanatos and dropped his
weight, pulling Xanatos down, rolling down the closing ramp.
Xanatos used the momentum Obi-Wan had created though, to end
his roll with a kick, and Obi-Wan flew off the ramp and into
the endless grain. Qui-Gon reached the scene in time to watch
his padawan sailing through the air and the hatch pulling
itself shut, Xanatos inside.
In an instant, Obi-Wan had rolled to his feet and ignited his
lightsaber. The whirling padawan lunged forward, bringing the
saber down in a relentless arc across the aft stabilizer of the
cruiser, throwing wild sparks and sending pieces flying all
around him.
He felt the tickle of the building repulsor field and leapt
away in one fluid motion as he deactivated his lightsaber.
Obi-Wan flattened himself as the engines fired close to him. He
felt the force of strong arms encircling him, rolling him away
from the strengthening repulsor field; he just let everything
happen around him. He felt his master close to him and relaxed.
Qui-Gon released his tight hold and faced his padawan. "Are you
all right, Obi-Wan?"
A nod. Suddenly Obi-Wan stood and withdrew a small device from
his belt, pointing it in the general direction of their
departing craft. He pressed one button, then another. His
expression was one of calm calculation. He panted slightly with
his exertions, but quickly brought his body to a relaxed state.
"Master, he's disengaged the remote access to thruster control
and steering, but I have disabled hyperdrive capability. That
should make him easier to find." Obi-Wan relaxed his ready
stance and faced his master.
Qui-Gon felt a definite rush of pride this time. Obi-Wan,
always thinking on his feet. " You have indeed been mindful, my
clever padawan. We shall perhaps retrieve our craft a little
more easily," Qui-Gon smirked wryly, " but I think it won't fly
straight for awhile."
Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled. "It should be interesting to see how
far Xanatos gets." The ghost of a wry smile lifted Obi-Wan's
lips. "Want to lay bets, Master?"
Qui-Gon smiled wearily and shook his head. "I can tell you're
feeling much better, Padawan. We shall have to warn the
delegates that that isn't us in that cruiser."
Qui-Gon removed his comlink, raised a very sleepy sounding
Khraghar. " Khraghar, where are you?" As he waited for a reply,
he noticed that Obi-Wan had sunk to his knees and was slowly
immersing himself in a light meditation.
"I'm in my quarters. " Silence, then a gasp of realization.
"Xanatos is gone again? I can't believe it. I remember seeing
him only a few minutes ago, snoring away, too. How..?"
"Never mind, Khraghar. He seems to have procured our ship. Do
you have tracing capability in the dome? We need to know which
way he is headed. Obi-Wan and I will return shortly. All we
need is the information if you can get it. " Qui-Gon closed the
connection.
The walk back to the dome was long but pleasant in the bright
moonlight. Qui-Gon looked over at his silent padawan, who
appeared to be taking every opportunity to touch random stalks
of grain as he passed along the dirt path. Obi-Wan seemed to be
walking in another world.
The lakes of power were shifting in the field, by the current
of the Force, unknowable but definite. The moon was descending
full behind the AgriDome as the two weary Jedi approached it on
foot.
Khraghar met them at the dome's main entrance. " We've been
scanning in our area and in low orbit, but we have not received
a signal. Those Republic cruisers don't have cloaking devices
these days, do they?"
Qui-Gon slowly shook his head. He removed his comlink from his
belt and flicked it on with a long dirt-encrusted finger. The
delegates at those talks would have to be warned, and so would
the Council, the local authorities, everyone. Qui-Gon sighed
and began the arduous task.
Khraghar attended quietly, but Obi-Wan begged his leave and
made his way to the 'fresher in the long hall that led to their
quarters. A short time later, he emerged, dressed in a white
AgriCorps tunic and pants. He bypassed their closet quarters
completely and headed out to the end of the hall and the
familiar grainfield.
The field fairly shone with Obi-Wan's Force-signature, his
indigo luminescence sparked with gold. Obi-Wan found his circle
without trouble by following the strong Force light which lay
there. He knelt immediately within the tall grain, drawing a
boundary around him as he descended.
Every movement was a meditation, every breath a river of Force
flowing through Obi-Wan. The light rose from him in silence and
broadcast its strength. Obi-Wan reached into the training bond
he shared with his master and touched him with a single
blue-gold finger. An invitation, but without intention.
The intention was seated within Qui-Gon. It was his place to
take what his padawan had offered and accept or reject it as he
saw fit. Qui-Gon felt the touch waft over him lightly as he
showered, knew it right away. Every movement of the long lean
body was purposeful. Every step closer to joining his padawan
where he was now.
*It would be the grainfield again* Qui-Gon's inner voice said
quite clearly. That field had been the scene of recent trials
for his padawan, and yet Obi-Wan was still drawn back there. He
could feel the touch of his padawan in his mind, more uniquely
Obi-Wan than he had felt before. Pulling on a rather too-short
set of tunics and trousers from the 'fresher shelf, he emerged
into the dim hallway, striding slowly and calmly.
Dynantiun's single moon had set behind the dome and the field
lay like the depth of endless ocean before Qui-Gon. Slowly he
began to see the lakes of luminescence, pockets of power within
the grain and the soil itself, shifting with the complex
currents of the Force.
Centered just ahead was an intense concentration of indigo and
gold light. It surrounded his padawan, who sat quietly still in
its midst. The aura he exuded was calm and sure, not desperate
and fearful like Xanatos, not even innocent and trusting like
Irylian. Obi-Wan was a strong presence in the Force and within
Qui-Gon. As he drank in the sight of him, Qui-Gon realized that
he could not imagine life without Obi-Wan. No matter the past,
it had brought him to this point, to Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon stepped forward to stand at the circle's boundary.
Obi-Wan opened the circle to him with a graceful cutting
gesture, drew his master inside.
" This is my place of power, Master. This is where my life
changed and this is where I will it to change again. " Obi-Wan
spoke formally, but his eyes reflected a resonant depth that
had been recently washed in powerful waves to the surface.
Qui-Gon felt his padawan's intentions, what his entire being
was asking, and he thought back to Xanatos. This was SO unlike
anything his former padawan had initiated. There was no
desperation, no clinging fear, no anger or possessiveness.
" I know it is your choice to accept or reject a deeper, more
complete relationship with me, but I want you to know that I
will respect either choice. Before my experiences here, I might
have been more rash and more desperate, but I have thought
about it for a long time now. I wish to have a full
relationship with you. I want to know your body and soul, and I
want you to know mine."
Obi-Wan's eyes never left his master's. His voice wavered
slightly, but his intention was clear. Qui-Gon noticed that his
breathing had sped up slightly. It had taken nerve for Obi-Wan
to say what he had said.
Qui-Gon found himself moving forward without volition. He
pulled Obi-Wan against him in one fluid motion and held him
close. "Padawan, Obi-Wan, you have been through a great deal in
the last few days. Are you certain this is what you want? It is
an important choice."
Qui-Gon asked himself the same questions as he said them aloud
to Obi-Wan; he found that the hesitation, indecision and fear
he knew he would feel at the revisiting of this awkward
situation was melting away. He could feel no guile, no fear, no
hesitation even. Obi-Wan was asking him with his entire being.
And there was no precipice in Obi-Wan's mind waiting for
rejection to cast him over into anger or hurt.
The light shone through Obi-Wan's eyes clearly, and his answer
lay plain for Qui-Gon to see. He balanced himself forward on
his knees and captured Obi-Wan's serene mouth. That mouth
opened easily to his touch, taking in the essence of Qui-Gon,
drinking in the Jedi master's very soul, nourishing him with
his own.
Qui-Gon felt years of embedded fears pouring from him, long
overdue for their release into the Force. The doubts and
barriers he had faced in his years struggling to perfect the
raising of an apprentice to a Knight fell away. He realized
that in total trust there is total surrender.
He felt Obi-Wan's breathing speed up still further as Qui-Gon
lowered his barriers completely, some of them for the first
time in his memory. He felt himself shaking, the joy within him
producing wracking sobs within his large frame. He pulled
Obi-Wan even tighter against him and wrapped himself around
him, body and soul.
Obi-Wan felt his master open to him and he lost himself, became
one mind with his master. He gasped deeply with the beauty of
it. Qui-Gon surrounded him and fed him with pure light. He felt
indescribable waves of pleasure wash over him; every nerve felt
alive and filled to its utmost. He found himself pressing
insistently against his master's body, willing them to join as
closely as they could.
Qui-Gon stroked the soft fabric of Obi-Wan's tunics, then
gently eased them off. His large hands explored the warm skin
of his padawan with intricate slowness; he felt the chills
forming on Obi-Wan's chest and back. Obi-Wan's breathing had
become short and ragged; his head was falling back. Qui-Gon
licked gently at the nape of Obi-Wan's neck as his hands
reached Obi-Wan's thighs, which were shaking softly with his
growing arousal.
"Master, you are teasing me. I can't take it much longer. "
Obi-Wan's gasps became harsh pants and he swelled with
readiness. Qui-Gon let the ghost of a touch fall on his
padawan's penis and Obi-Wan could take no more. He fell forward
onto his master, the warm jets of pleasure shooting through
him, sending waves of sparking sensation over and over him.
Obi-Wan's shaking body held fast to Qui-Gon; his padawan was as
out of breath as he had ever been during a long training
exercise. Qui-Gon felt everything as Obi-Wan was overwhelmed
with his spontaneous orgasm; the shocks beat into him; every
nerve tingled and vibrated. Qui-Gon found himself falling atop
Obi-Wan, his rock-hard penis pressed against the wet body of
his padawan. The pulsing pressure pushed Qui-Gon into sudden
release. The shock hit so fast that Qui-Gon could not catch his
breath; he lay gasping and shuddering, wrapped around the warm
living form of Obi-Wan.
The living form spoke, his voice shaking with his body. "Master
I want you in me. I want you to take me with love, show me the
beauty in the joining with my soul's mate." Obi-Wan's eyes
watered as he entreated his master. He chewed roughly at his
lower lip, obviously riding through a painful memory.
"Obi-Wan, you are not ready for that yet. You need to heal
completely. I will not jeopardize your well-being for a single
moment of pleasure, as much as I might desire it and you. "
Qui-Gon's indigo eyes burned into Obi-Wan, searing him with
their sincerity, but making it clear that he ached for the feel
of Obi-Wan's body.
"Master, I am healed beyond what I could ever hope to be before
this ordeal began. My eyes have been opened, never to be shut
again, and I know what I want. I know I am ready. I have
accelerated my Force-trance to handle the physical healing as
well. I have prepared for this, and I know I am ready for it,
Master, Qui-Gon, my love. " Seemingly from nowhere, Obi-Wan
produced a tube of lubricant and handed it unceremoniously to
his master.
Qui-Gon caught the tube and grinned suddenly, his eyes
sparking. He met Obi-Wan's eyes suddenly; they locked gazes,
and Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon down on him. Deliberately, but with
a hint of impatience, Qui-Gon prepared his padawan, applying
more lubricant than he thought necessary just to be safe.
Obi-Wan moaned low in his throat as Qui-Gon's long fingers
entered him and slowly widened him. The fingers were replaced
by Qui-Gon's achingly hard penis, which gently but inexorably
pressed into Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan drew in a sharp, sudden breath at the pain of the
intrusion, but he deepened the inhalation and relaxed as his
master sank into him. The light engulfed Obi-Wan as he let go
and let his master take him.
Qui-Gon began to move within Obi-Wan, stroking the sensitive
spots deep inside him, building sensation from Obi-Wan's deep
center point. Surges of current played at the rubbing surfaces,
grew inside both Jedi as they explored within. Qui-Gon held his
padawan's legs and gazed down at the transported face,
transformed with his sheer surrender to what he had wanted for
such a long time.
Qui-Gon bent closer to his padawan's face, the angle catching
and stroking Obi-Wan's member against his stomach until he lost
control, spurting seed between them, every muscle spasming,
pulling Qui-Gon in the irresistible current. Qui-Gon thrust
uncontrollably into Obi-Wan's shaking body as he spilled
himself inside him.
Sweat poured off the two entwined figures who lay within the
circle of light, holding each other. Small shocks ran through
Obi-Wan as he trembled softly beneath his master's body. He
felt the newly opened mind of Qui-Gon Jinn, and it made his
breath catch with its indescribable beauty. His own shields had
dissolved away; he lay bare to his master.
They reveled in their bodies and souls stripped bare, bonded
together. The energy flowed effortlessly through them. They had
become a single river of directed Force. The currents of light
in the field swirled close to them. Qui-Gon's shimmering green
intermixed seamlessly with Obi-Wan's radiating indigo-gold
within their shared circle of power; they were the favored of
the Force.
The field behind the dome had not been planted in a very long
time. The long-since composted stalks of a long passed season's
grain shone dimly under the suspensors of the cruiser as it
touched down silently. A lone figure stalked from it, hiding
himself under cloaks of darkness and the Force.
Xanatos slipped through a grain chute at the back of the dome
and tumbled unceremoniously back into the dome from which he
had earlier escaped. His figure formed the shadows of the night
cycle.
He wove his way back into the dim hallway from which he had
emerged earlier in the evening. Khraghar's quarters lay,
unlocked, to the left. The shadow seeped into the room, which
was empty and dark. A dim enzyme lamp illuminated Khraghar's
life achievements, dried samples of exotic flowers and grains
mostly. Xanatos' eye fell on the ceremonial dagger once again.
He removed it from its frame and held it delicately,
remembering the stories of its origin, woven
overenthusiastically by the young Khraghar to a bright young
Xanatos.
"It was the knife my great-grandfather used to slay the evil
landlord who enslaved my family long ago, and then he used it
to fight off land-hungry neighbors..." Khraghar had sounded so
ridiculous weaving such a tale, but Xanatos found himself
smiling at the memory of it. Such an innocent time.
The smile faded quickly though, and Xanatos dropped the knife
at his side and stared at the blank door. Suddenly the door
opened and Khraghar appeared. His eyes focused suddenly on the
ceremonial dagger sitting on the bed, then his gaze rose slowly
to fix on Xanatos.
Xanatos sat back on Khraghar's bed, staring at Khraghar as
though he was memorizing his features to take away with him.
Khraghar's deep green eyes narrowed at the figure on the bed,
and he spat out words without thinking. "What are YOU doing
here? Haven't you got anyone else to terrorize? " His eyes
strayed to the dagger beside Xanatos. "Perhaps you've come to
ruin some more of my childhood memories..."
Xanatos never broke eye contact as he suddenly tossed the
dagger at Khraghar, who flinched but caught it handily. "I
remember the stories you used to tell me about that dagger.
Fanciful tales they were, but they made it meaningful for you,
didn't they?" Xanatos spoke in a slow, almost bantering voice.
"Slaying dragons that hoarded their gold in vast caves...tell
me, Khraghar, what's the point in killing a dragon who has no
gold in his lair? Question of the day!"
Xanatos's eyes were burning now, his stare boring deep into
Khraghar. *Eyes of a madman* Khraghar heard his mind reciting.
"Why did you come back, Xanatos?" Khraghar was annoyed, but
also genuinely puzzled.
"You were always a bit slow, weren't you, Khraghar? Well, I'll
spell it out for you. I came back to wipe my slate clean with
you." A small, frighteningly inappropriate smile crept slowly
across Xanatos' wild face. As suddenly as it had appeared, it
was gone, replaced by a serious, rather depressed look.
*He is a madman. The Darkness has him.* Khraghar realized he
was losing his hatred for this twisted shadow of his former
friend. Pity crept into its place, as he stared into Xanatos'
haunted eyes. He began to think about taking proper measures,
reached for his comlink. Before he could complete the motion,
Xanatos dropped the bomb.
"I killed them, Khraghar. Kaluga and her master." Xanatos' eyes
were saucers, piercing into Khraghar's fragile soul. Fire
jumped into the farmer's eyes and he approached Xanatos
steadily, jaw firmly set.
"Why did you have to tell me that, Xanatos." Khraghar's voice
broke as he stood over the dark Jedi, shaking with rage. "I
could have lived a lifetime without knowing that. You
undervalue an innocent mind, my friend." Khraghar spat the word
"friend" in Xanatos' face as he loomed over him.
Xanatos did not move, but his eyes were still fixed steadily on
Khraghar. A slender white finger reached slowly out and touched
the tip of the dagger grasped firmly in Khraghar's right hand.
Blood dripped slowly from Xanatos' finger as he drew it along
the sharp edge of the ceremonial blade. His ice blue eyes
softened as he watched Khraghar's simmering rage build slowly.
Mist began to cover his vision, and he cursed the tears that
came at the worst possible moment. He steadied himself and
delivered the last blow.
"I raped her too, Khraghar. She never told anyone, either."
Xanatos' voice was barely a whisper, but the words were clear.
The taut string holding Khraghar together snapped, and the rage
flooded his body and mind. He snarled loudly and lunged forward
at Xanatos, who had closed his eyes and spread his arms wide.
Khraghar felt the dagger split Xanatos' skin, felt Xanatos
collapse with the contact, then a powerful hand pushed him away
suddenly.
The dagger clattered to the ground, and Khraghar fell back
against the wall. The dagger flew towards the door suddenly. As
he hit, his rage dissipated somewhat; he turned to see what had
happened. A small silhouette stood in the doorway. Ki-Yana's
slight frame stood quietly, incongruously grasping the bloodied
dagger with one small wrinkled hand. Khraghar had not even felt
her approach, and he was quite familiar with her
Force-signature.
" Poor Khraghar. You almost fell into his trap, you know. Even
Xanatos doesn't realize what a trap it was he set. If you had
killed him, it would be a stain upon your soul, a surrender to
the Darkness within you. " Ki-Yana's words brought Khraghar
quickly to his senses. He whirled to face her, saw that her
eyes were banked fire. The Force flowed powerfully through her;
Khraghar gasped at the power she had displayed. Not once in all
the time he had been here had he witnesses such a display from
Ki-Yana.
Khraghar tore his eyes from his mentor and turned to assess the
damage he had done. Xanatos lay upon the bed, staring straight
up. He took heaving breaths and ran his finger mindlessly
across his blood-sheened midsection.
Ki-Yana strode purposefully to stand over the prone Xanatos.
Her age-worn features seemed even more weary than was natural.
She methodically tore his shirt open and mopped up the spilled
blood. "He is not injured badly. Khraghar, get the bandages and
antiseptic while I contact the Jedi. "
Xanatos stared at the diminutive figure that stood over him.
The angel that had delivered him and the devil that had kept
him from oblivion. He found himself at a loss for words; he lay
breathing heavily, feeling his soul tearing, accepting it
because there was nothing else to do.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan lay in their small cot-bed, wrapped tightly
around each other, both sleeping soundly for a change, when the
comlink began its insistent beeping. They looked at each other
with sleep-lidded eyes, and breathed the same word--"Xanatos".
They dressed quickly and headed for Khraghar's quarters, where
they were greeted by a strange tableau indeed.
Khraghar was bent over a fully awake Xanatos, wrapping him
carefully in many layers of white gauze bandages, while Ki-Yana
stood away, her robe covered in blood. She held a bloody dagger
in her right hand, her comlink in her left. As the two Jedi
arrived, Ki-Yana snapped her head up and turned purposefully
toward Qui-Gon.
"A word with you please, Master Jinn?" She pressed toward the
door and Qui-Gon followed her out. They began the short walk to
the hall 'fresher in silence. Ki-Yana entered the 'fresher and
placed the dagger in the sink gingerly, ran hot water over it.
Qui-Gon noticed it was a rather ornate looking blade.
"Qui-Gon, your former apprentice seems to have been a thorn in
many people's sides, hasn't he? Even my protegee has had the
misfortune to have been acquainted with him. " She regarded
Qui-Gon carefully before saying more.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes wearily and nodded. "Yes, I am deeply
sorry for the trouble he has caused, but as you see, he didn't
really heed my teachings. Obi-Wan and I shall see him
transported to the Jedi Council for handling."
Ki-Yana held up a hand as Qui-Gon began to speak again. " I
have a better idea, if you'll pardon my presumption." Qui-Gon
stopped short and fixed his eyes on hers, nodded for her to
continue. " I have a large field behind the dome that your ship
is sitting in right now. It hasn't been planted in several
seasons. I suggest you allow me to wear young Xanatos down with
hard work. I am quite capable of handling anything he tries. I
didn't want to make a show of it, though."
Qui-Gon opened himself to her and realized what she said was
true. Although she was the humblest of ancient farmers, she had
a Force presence to rival that of Master Yoda. The Force
gravitated to her and she played it without effort.
"I shall have to consult the Council, of course. Theirs will be
the last say, but I must say that it's certainly unique. "
Ki-Yana's watery green eyes twinkled. "And even if it doesn't
build his character much, it'll help us get a field planted. I
don't think Khraghar will like it much, but it is what the
Force told me to do."
Qui-Gon returned with Ki-Yana to Khraghar's quarters, where a
quiet but tense scenario greeted them. Khraghar sat silently
rolling up the unused gauze bandage, while Obi-Wan stood
against the wall and calmly locked eyes with Xanatos, who sat
completely still on the bed. The two apprentices' expressions
were unreadable.
Qui-Gon greeted Khraghar briefly and wrapped his hand around
the arm of Obi-Wan's rumpled tunic. Obi-Wan let himself be
pulled gently out of the room by his master. His eyes held
Xanatos' until they had cleared the room.
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, and he blinked once. "That's it.
He's gone from me. Thank you, Master." The two Jedi walked
slowly back up the corridor and back to their comfortable,
entwined sleep.
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