DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. Shevann, Arcarian pirates, erebus, and the whole alternate universe concept this story takes place in belong to Sharon Nuttycombe. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
One of the raiders was screaming when Obi-Wan entered the infirmary. Benz looked up, clearly harried. There were three others, who were blissfully quieter also awaiting treatment.
Benz motioned Obi-Wan toward the screamer. "What do you make of this?" he asked.
Obi-Wan leaned down to inspect two deep burns on the man's shoulder. One of them had nearly sliced the arm in two. Both of them were deep and blacked with cauterized blood and tissue. Obi-Wan could still smell the burning flesh. He had a flash of recognition. But, it couldn't be, he thought. He started to back away, but the raider grabbed him by the collar with his good arm.
"I'll kill you." He hissed, "You and your kind."
Obi-Wan was speechless. He remained still until Benz pried them apart. "Why don't you let him help you first?" He said. Benz went to the cabinet and pulled out a sub-dermal injector unit. Obi-Wan felt his muscles freeze in place; he couldn't take his eyes off it. It was almost a conditioned response to the thing. But Benz used it on the raider, who quickly stopped screaming and lay quietly.
"Tell me what you think?" Benz said.
Obi-Wan took a second look at the wounds. "It looks like a lightsabre wound." He said.
"That's what I thought. Nobody's talking though. Could they have found themselves on the wrong end of a Jedi?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "It's possible I guess. What would a Jedi be doing in the Acarian sector though?"
"Looking for you maybe."
Obi-Wan smiled wanly. "I highly doubt it."
Benz shrugged. "So how do you treat it?"
"I don't know. I never saw burns like this at the temple. We used attenuated power cells for training. The worse I ever saw were first-degree burns. They hurt, but it wasn't like this."
Benz frowned. "How did you treat those?"
"The healers had salves and such. I never knew much about that. But I'll tell you one thing."
"What's that?"
"Either the Jedi who did this was injured or he had incredible control." Obi-Wan said.
"Why do you say that?"
"If this is a lightsabre wound, it should have sliced him in half. So either the Jedi didn't want to and stopped the swing before even cutting off the arm, or he was injured and not strong enough to finish it."
Benz nodded. "We'll just have to play it by ear then. How much time do you have?"
Obi-Wan checked his chrono. "I have about an hour." He said.
Benz looked around, taking a quick triage. "I could really use your help. These men just have scrapes and cuts. How about fixing them up and then you can go? That should be less than an hour."
Obi-Wan nodded and went to work. He opened a glass-fronted cabinet and loaded a tray with gauze and disinfectants. If they stayed still, it wouldn't be too bad. Obi-Wan carefully cleaned cuts and bandaged them. He hadn't excelled in healing at the temple, but he had done well in basic medic training so he worked with an efficiency that came from experience. The men were exceptionally calm about the whole thing. For various reasons, most of Shevann's raiders wouldn't let Obi-Wan anywhere near them, let alone treat their wounds despite his recognized skill in the area. It was lucky for him that these particular men didn't seem to care. They glared at him wordlessly, but no one so much as flinched.
When he was done, Benz dismissed him. "Coming to the show tonight at the club?" Benz asked as Obi-Wan was stepping out the door.
"Is that what they're calling it?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Sure." Benz said smiling. "And I'll see you at the parac table."
"Absolutely. I'm out of cigarettes again." Obi-Wan grinned and walked down the hall. He had only a short while now, but if Shevann was in a better mood, it might still work out. He stepped lightly to Shevann's makeshift office and saw him standing by the wall, carefully sharpening a mean looking knife.
Shevann looked up from his work. "Excellent. So, what did Benz need from you?"
"Just an extra pair of hands." Obi-Wan lied. "I helped him bandage a few cuts. What happened?"
"Met up with a bit of a feisty one. Put up a hell of a fight. I'll need you for him later. But right now I need your help with that merchant. What was his name again?"
Obi-Wan shrugged.
"Not that it matters. Let's go."
Shevann lead him back to the cell. The man still hung from his chains, but had stopped struggling. Obi-Wan wasn't even sure he was alive anymore. "You want me to shoot him?" he asked Shevann impatiently.
"Not yet. Drew!" Shevann shouted down the hallway and in a few moments Drew arrived dragging a large woman behind him. He threw her to the floor where she lay sobbing pitifully. Obi-Wan could see she had been raped and tortured. Probably all afternoon. He turned away in disgust.
Then he realized who she was. The merchant's wife. The one whom he loved dearly. The room was suddenly so full of emotion as the two recognized each other that Obi-Wan was staggered by it. He put his hand to the wall for support.
"Kill her instead." Shevann said.
The events of the morning came back to him slowly. The fat merchant's name was Ken Oglevy. He loved his wife more than anything. They had 2 sons on Corellia. He was a good man. He just wanted to make ends meet. Obi-Wan frowned. Why was he remembering this when he forgot everything else? Why could he remember this man's name when he couldn't even find his own damn toolbox? Anger surged within him and Obi-Wan unsnapped his holster and removed the blaster. He aimed it at the woman's chest. He could see their children in his mind. He could here her pleading with him. "Please don't kill me", over and over again. And Ken Oglevy, begging him to take his life in place of his wife's.
Obi-Wan tried to remind himself that this wasn't about their pain; it was about his pain. It was about what he needed. All he had to do was pull the trigger this time. And then maybe once more and everything would be okay again. But he couldn't. He couldn't do it. He lowered the blaster in a shaking hand and turned to Shevann.
"This isn't fair," He said. "I won't." Obi-Wan handed the blaster to Shevann butt first.
Shevann shrugged and took it. "It's up to you." He said. Then with a nod of Shevann's head Obi-Wan felt himself being lifted off his feet and dragged down the hall. "Wait as long as you like," Shevann called after him. "It's not like I care."
It had started. Obi-Wan sat against the wall shivering, his knees up tightly to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. At the temple he'd been taught to welcome pain, to listen to it telling him where to direct his energies toward healing. But this was the wrong kind of pain. It seemed to come from outside of him. He could listen to it all he wanted, but it made no difference. It only grew worse, never better.
For a brief moment he considered waiting it out. How many hours would it be? How much pain? And then he would be over. He wouldn't have to worry any more. He'd thought of this dozens of times before. It was such an easy way out, but he never took it. He knew he could endure the pain, but he couldn't die in a prison cell. If it was the last thing he did, Obi-Wan had promised himself that he would die free.
And so he waited, shivering on the floor, quietly enduring wave after wave of agony. Soon Shevann would open the cell door and when he did, Obi-Wan knew he would obey.
Shevann looked at the sky through the dingy window and then at Kenobi's blaster still sitting on his desk amidst the coffee cups and cigarette butts. He couldn't remember how long ago he'd put him in there. Judging from the fading light outside, Shevann decided it was probably long enough. He picked up the pistol and strolled down the hall.
He passed the cell where the merchant remained chained to the wall with his wife blubbering at his feet. The door was open and only a single guard posted and they didn't even try to escape. Perhaps they honestly thought that Kenobi wouldn't kill them. An interesting notion and from what they had seen of him, a reasonable conclusion. Shevann smiled. Of course, he was sure that Obi-Wan's attitude had changed radically. They would soon see.
He opened the door to Kenobi's cell. The boy lay curled with his back against the wall, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. Sweat ran down his face, which was a mask of pain. He didn't even lift his head when Shevann sat down beside him.
"How are you feeling?" He asked with mock tenderness.
"Shut up!" Obi-Wan shot back.
Shevann handed Obi-Wan the pistol. "Well, you know what to do." He said. Obi-Wan pushed it away.
"It's not fair." He said.
Shevann set the pistol on the ground beside Obi-Wan and stood up. "Have it your way. You want to lay in here and die that's your choice. But, in case you change your mind - that's yours and the door's open." Shevann pushed the blaster towards him with the toe of his boot for emphasis.
Shevann was on his way out when Obi-Wan sat up. He was still shaking and breathing in great gasps, but he'd clearly turned the corner. Shevann was pleased. He liked nothing more than to see people turn. All his life he'd reveled in the way good people could be pushed to the deepest extremes of evil if you played them right. Some said it was pure cruelty, but for Shevann it was more than cruelty. It was art. And so far, Obi-Wan was his greatest achievement. A Jedi of all things, who still dearly clung to the light side, and yet could display such base ruthlessness with only the slightest prod. It was quite a thing to see and Shevann had set it up so he could watch it night after night and day after day. He was grinning now.
Obi-Wan glared at him. "Like I have a choice." He said. Then he snatched the pistol from the floor and jumped to his feet. He stormed past Shevann out the door and down the hall. Shevann almost had to jog to keep up with him. Moments ago he'd been a shivering wreck and now, fueled by anger, adrenaline, and aggression, he was unstoppable. Shevann watched as Obi-Wan entered the open cell and without a moment's hesitation or regret, thumbed off the safety, turned the gain up and shot the wife in the chest. He didn't even wait for the merchant to cry out before he turned the blaster on him and fired a second time. It was a beautiful cold-blooded murder done with the accuracy and calculation of a Jedi. Shevann couldn't have been happier.
Still surveying the scene Obi-Wan took the muzzle of the pistol and handed it back to Shevann.
Shevann shook his head. "It's yours." He said.
In a daze Obi-Wan looked down at his empty holster. So it was. He hadn't recognized it.
Obi-Wan stepped out into the evening air. The coolness and the smell of the sea made him feel a little better but not much. His skin was crawling and he was drenched in his own sweat. As the wind blew across the courtyard, it only made him shiver harder. He hurried across the yard stumbling occasionally, once even falling to his knees. His whole body ached like it was on fire but if he could just get back to the barracks everything would be okay. He could see the shapes of figures making their way toward the Officer's Club and the promise of live professional female entertainment. No one paid him a second glance. They'd seen it before.
The door to the barracks swung open as a few of the raiders stepped out into the night. Without bothering to look up, Obi-Wan held out his hand and pushed them aside.
"Hey!" One of the raiders grabbed him. He'd killed men over less. He looked into Obi-Wan's hollow eyes and something made him let go. "Get out of here." He shouted shoving the boy away. A few of his pals laughed and they continued on their way.
Obi-Wan was relieved to find the barracks empty. He hated using when the men were around. They played tricks on him whenever they could. The worst was when he awoke to find himself hanging upside down with one ankle tied to a beam on the ceiling. Raiders laughing and egging him on, telling him to use the force to free himself surrounded him. But, Obi-Wan couldn't. Erebus reduced his ability to concentrate and thus he hung helpless for hours while he waited for the effects to wear off enough for him to summon his pistol to his hand and shoot through the rope. He hadn't given them the satisfaction of watching him squirm though. He spent the hours with his eyes shut, a look of serenity on his face and his arms folded over his chest. By the time he had it together enough to escape, no one was even paying attention.
The empty barracks almost made up for Shevann's earlier humiliations. Obi-Wan tore through his footlocker, not caring where his possessions fell until he found what he was looking for. He climbed onto his bunk and set his things out in front of him. Shevann must have found the rubies on the merchant's ship because he had been unusually generous. Two vials of Erebus. It was rare that he even got one full vial. And two of the circacian cigarettes he liked. It was more than he needed for one evening and for a fleeting moment Obi-Wan realized that he could save one of the vials; stow it away on the ship like he had planned. If he rationed it carefully, one vial would get him a quarter of the way to Coruscant. He could divide the remaining vial in half and even have some left over for the morning.
Obi-Wan assembled the sub-dermal injector that had been a gift from Shevann when he'd first arrived. He had turned 13 a month before and Shevann called it a belated birthday present. "I heard that Jedi give their padawans gifts for their thirteenth birthdays." He had said. "So this is my gift to you Padawan." Obi-Wan spit in his face at word and in return Shevann had tied him down and beaten him within an inch of his life. He spent nearly a month in the infirmary recovering, but Shevann never called him that name again. And so Obi-Wan accepted his gift.
When Obi-Wan loaded the entire contents of one of the vials into the chamber, instead of half like he had meant to, he blamed it on his shaking hands. He could have poured some back out, but he didn't risk spilling it. He plunged the injector into his thigh. Just that act alone made him feel better. And then as it emptied its contents the pain slipped away and was replaced by warmth. Within seconds it was as though the pain had never existed. Obi-Wan slid the injector back into its case and hid it beneath his pillow.
He lay back on his bunk and shut his eyes.