Author's Notes: To HTML Girl - Linda Campbell. If Beta Readers got medals, she'd get the silver star of gallantry...and tenacity. Without her my stories would have a lot more cliches...and would take a heck of a lot longer to write!
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. 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.
Something was wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was definitely something wrong. Obi-Wan frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His Master was behaving...oddly. Ever since they had arrived yesterday on Kheros to help with the peace talks, there had been something...different about the Jedi. It was nothing obvious, just little things that weren't ringing true -- things he hadn't realized he knew about Qui-Gon until they were no longer there. And there was something else... Obi-Wan shook his head and glanced at the empty chair across the table, then at the chronometer. He was late. His Master was never late.
It had begun earlier that morning during the negotiations. Qui-Gon had sat quietly in his chair, absorbing everything and making brief contributions to the conversation. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that. Obi-Wan admired his Master's ability to sit back, see the whole picture, and pinpoint the one thing that everybody else was missing. But this time there had been no moment of insight, no new outlooks on the problem. He had simply stood with the rest when the talks had stalled and turned to leave. Obi-Wan had risen hastily to his feet to follow him from the room.
"Master."
Qui-Gon had stopped but not looked back. "Yes, Padawan?"
There it was again. That vague feeling of wrongness, of overt formality. Obi-Wan had frowned. "Is everything all right?" He shouldn't really have been asking this. It wasn't an Apprentice's place to question his Master...and yet...
The Jedi had stiffened. "I'm fine. It's just...a mild headache."
Concern had gone through Obi-Wan. "You should see a healer."
"I'll be fine." His voice was sharp. "In the meantime, I suggest you study the treaties we discussed yesterday. You might learn something." There had been a curt note of dismissal in his Master's voice that Obi-Wan could not ignore.
"I...yes, Master."
Qui-Gon had nodded briefly and continued down the hallway, leaving Obi-Wan alone with a growing sense of unease.
Obi-Wan's misgivings had not dissipated with the hours but had grown until he was jumpy and ill-at-ease. Telling himself not to fidget, Obi-Wan buried himself in the pile of old treaties on the table before him and tried to ignore the impatient stares from the diplomats seated nearby. Furtively he glanced at the chronometer again, his gaze sliding over the ceremonial guards flanking the entrance.
It was several minutes before the door slid open and Qui- Gon entered the conference room. Without a word, the Jedi crossed the room and sat down beside the Padawan, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms. Across the table, the Kherosian Prime Minister gave him a reproachful look then began to speak.
Obi-Wan took a quick glance at his Master, frowning slightly. There was definitely something different about him. Something wrong. And he didn't know what. Obi-Wan could feel tension beginning to prickle behind his eyes and he looked away, rubbing his temples and struggling to concentrate on the Prime Minister's words.
* * *
//He suspects. Yes. That's it, Obi-Wan. Look a little closer. Don't believe what your eyes are telling you. Trust your instincts.//
Qui-Gon struggled once more against the bonds that held him. As ever, his efforts failed and he coiled himself once more into the back of his mind, watching and waiting with barely concealed frustration.
It had begun the previous day. He had been meditating, preparing for the coming day's negotiations. There had been peace... serenity. And then -- something -- had ripped through his mind like paper, flung him screaming in silent agony into some dark corner of his mind -- while it took his body. And there it had remained, no matter how hard Qui-Gon tried to dislodge it. It controlled his actions, spoke to the Kherosian officials...and was even now sitting next to his Apprentice.
Obi-Wan. He was the only one, so far...the first to suspect. Qui-Gon wasn't surprised. Next to Master Yoda, his Apprentice knew him better than anyone. Although he hadn't expected the boy to realize something was amiss quite this soon... It was obviously a measure of their closeness that he was growing suspicious so quickly. The imposter's act was almost perfect. Whatever it was that had stolen his body, it must have somehow accessed his memories. The masquerade was excellent, Qui-Gon had to admit. It hadn't made many mistakes. So far.
//Look at me, Padawan. //
Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan give him another sidelong glance, reading the tension and confusion in his posture.
//That's it, Obi-Wan...Your suspicions are correct...//
* * *
Obi-Wan peered surreptitiously at his Master. To all intents and purposes, Qui-Gon was listening to the Prime Minister of Kheros, absorbing the nuances of the conversation. And yet, why were all of Obi-Wan's instincts screaming at him? Why did he feel a sense of...dread... when he looked at his Master? For a moment he weighed his options, then, abruptly coming to a decision, turned to the man beside him.
"Master," he whispered.
"What is it?"
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yes." The note of impatience was back and the Jedi made a quick hushing movement.
Obi-Wan hesitated and considered letting the matter drop. After all, what was he supposed to say? 'By the way, Master, I've noticed that you seem to be behaving oddly. No, I don't have any evidence to support that conclusion, just gut instinct and an impending sense of doom. Care to explain?' No. Definitely not. But the nagging sense of urgency within him was growing too powerful to ignore. He straightened his shoulders.
"Master...I," he began
The man beside him gave him a cold look. "If you can't remain silent, Obi-Wan, I suggest you leave the room and give some thought to the dictates of politeness." The Prime Minister broke off his speech, turning to stare at both of them.
Obi-Wan felt himself growing red and fought the urge to sink down in his chair. "I'm sorry Master..."
"Go." It came out as a growl.
Ears and face burning, Obi-Wan obeyed, eased out of the chair and stood reluctantly. He could feel everyone's gaze on him, but did not look up to meet their eyes, his whole being suffused with embarrassment. As quietly as he could, he turned to leave the room.
Abruptly, he felt movement behind him. Obi-Wan paused, half-turning to look back. There was a startled cry from one of the diplomats...and then something hit him hard across the right cheekbone. Obi-Wan staggered backward, his vision blurring from the force of the blow. He hit the floor hard, momentarily stunned.
There were shouts and the sound of hasty activity behind him and then Obi-Wan found himself being dragged unceremoniously to his feet, his lightsabre yanked from his belt and a muscular arm locked tightly around his neck. An emerald lightsabre blade suddenly hissed and sizzled only centimetres from his throat. He arched his back to try to ease the pressure on his throat, pulling futilely at the arm. Qui-Gon's arm.
"Don't move." It was Qui-Gon's voice, but the tone was cold and ruthless, a tone Obi-Wan had never heard from the Jedi. The hurried movements of the Kherosians stilled and silence slowly descended. Obi-Wan blinked away the remaining spots dancing before his eyes, wincing at the pain in his face. Qui-Gon (but it's not Qui-Gon, his subconscious mind screamed) was holding him tightly in front of his body as a shield. All of the guards had drawn their blasters.
"Drop your weapons or I'll kill the boy." The voice was flat and emotionless. Obi-Wan believed him. There was no sense of deceit in that voice. He would kill him without a moment's thought. The lightsabre moved a fraction closer to his throat, and the Apprentice froze, trying very hard not to breathe.
"Everyone back away from the door -- slowly. Stay where I can see you. No tricks, or you'll get the chance to see a Jedi die. Painfully."
"Master Qui-Gon..." The Prime Minister's voice was quavery, his face ashen.
"It's not Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan managed to gasp then the arm tightened around his throat, cutting off his words. And his breath. Obi-Wan's vision blurred again. Around him, the guards were slowly laying their weapons on the ground, in response to a signal from one of the diplomats. Then they moved obediently aside, clearing a path to the door. Obi-Wan found himself being dragged step by step back toward the doorway.
"We can talk about this..." It was the Kherosian Chief of Security, taking a careful step around the table.
"It's too late for talking."
Obi-Wan clenched his teeth as the door slid open behind them and he was dragged unwillingly through it into the hallway beyond.
Qui-Gon threw the entire force of his mind against the alien in his body. He could not allow this to happen, could not let this...creature...hurt Obi-Wan. His body was being used against the one person who meant the most to him. When he heard his Apprentice gasp with pain, anger shot through him.
It was no use. Nothing he did could penetrate the barriers that had formed around him. The effort left him exhausted and weakened. He sent a silent apology winging toward the boy in his arms even as he fell back into the prison that his mind had become.
Several Kherosian officials were treated to the unique sight of a Jedi Master holding his Padawan learner hostage before somebody's orders had the corridors cleared. The man still holding him lengthened his stride and it took Obi-Wan only a moment to recognize their destination -- the docking bay.
The Apprentice purposely tried to slow their pace but the grip on his throat tightened until he thought better of it. He wouldn't be able to help his rescuers if he were unconscious, after all.
Somehow his Master...wasn't his Master. That much he knew. But who was it? There were no answers. The Apprentice stretched outward with his feelings, trying to touch the mind of the one holding him captive. Nothing. The Force slid through his grasp like water. The imposter was either shielded against Obi-Wan's efforts, or the Force had no impact on him...
And then they had reached the hangar and it was too late. Obi-Wan's captor dragged him hastily to the nearest ship, a Kherosian shuttle, keyed open the door, then shoved him inside. Closing the door behind him, the man flung Obi-Wan into the pilot's seat and deactivated the lightsabre.
"Fly."
Obi-Wan stiffened. "No."
Surprise flickered across the man's face, in an obscene parody of an expression he had seen Qui-Gon wear, many times before. But it wasn't Qui-Gon.
"Who are you?" Obi-Wan fought to keep his voice even, suppressing the need to rub his throat and give in to a coughing fit.
"I'm the person who's going to kill you if you don't get this thing in motion." The man leaned menacingly closer.
Obi-Wan suppressed the urge to gulp and look away. He wasn't going to back down from this. He couldn't. Not only his own safety but his Master's might depend on his courage now. Besides, he probably needed only a few more moments before the Kherosians would come up with something...
"Where's Master Qui-Gon? What have you done with him?"
"Why, right here, Padawan. I'm right here." The man smiled mockingly.
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "I don't care what you look like -- You're not my Master." Just keep him talking for a little while longer, he thought desperately. Just a few more minutes...
As if reading Obi-Wan's mind, his captor reached past him and powered on the shields. Damn! Obi-Wan looked back up...and found himself staring down the end of a Kherosian blaster.
"You will power up the engines and fly us out of here now. This not a request." If his voice had been cold before, it was positively glacial now.
"Fly it yourself." Obi-Wan turned away, folded his arms, and stared resolutely out the viewscreen, reminding himself that it wasn't his Master he was talking to.
Locked in his prison, Qui-Gon could feel a wave of outrage sweep over the alien and a chill went through him. //Be careful, Padawan//
The being reached out, dragged the Apprentice to his feet and slammed him against the bulkhead with all the force in Qui-Gon's arms. Obi-Wan flinched but made no sound. He glanced down at the blaster in the other man's hand.
"If you shoot me with that," he said contemptuously, "who's going to fly the ship?" It was becoming apparent that this person couldn't fly the shuttle... He might know enough to impersonate Qui-Gon, but piloting a shuttle was obviously beyond his abilities. At least, Obi-Wan hoped so...
The man glanced down at the weapon, smiled slightly (that was all wrong...it was Qui-Gon's smile, but it wasn't Qui- Gon behind it) and shoved it in his belt, then reached for the console and powered up the weapons. "If you don't fly this ship out of here, I'm going to start firing. At random," he said conversationally. "I think even a small ship like this could do a fair amount of damage to the security forces that will be coming through that door very shortly, don't you?" He sat down in the co-pilot's chair and waved a hand toward the hangar doors. "Shall we just wait for them and see what happens?"
Their gazes clashed. Obi-Wan was the first to look away. He didn't have a choice. Clenching his jaw, he reached out and brought all the systems on line with a cool professionalism that masked the turbulent emotions writhing inside him. Within moments the shuttle was humming with energy. Slowly, ponderously, the ship left the confines of the hangar and headed through the atmosphere toward open space.
"What now?" Obi-Wan shot a glance at his captor.
"Here." The man handed him a set of coordinates. Obi-Wan glanced down at it.
"What is this place?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Just set the course."
Obi-Wan didn't argue. He obeyed, set the ship on automatic, then turned back to the man.
"Now what?" he said again.
His captor was staring out the window at the stars blurring past them. "Now we wait." He fell silent.
Obi-Wan frowned, ignoring the pain the movement caused in his face. "Who are you?" he repeated.
"What makes you think I'm not Qui-Gon Jinn?"
Obi-Wan grimaced. "Let's see," he said dryly, "You've attacked me, threatened me, taken me hostage, and caused a diplomatic incident. Now granted, I'm sure Master Qui-Gon has probably wanted to do all of those things at one point or another during my training, but let's just say he's shown admirable self-restraint so far. Besides which, you don't move, act, talk, or sound like him. So I want to know...who are you and where is my Master?!" His words took on a dangerous tone.
The man smiled briefly. "My name is Eidolon. At your service," he said mockingly.
Eidolon. Well, that was a start. Obi-Wan repeated the question that was uppermost in his mind. "Where is Master Qui-Gon?"
"Gone. Dead."
A chill shot through the Apprentice. "I don't believe you."
Eidolon smiled. A nasty smile that sent a shudder up Obi- Wan's spine. "Believe it," he said, "I killed him and took his body. And he never even put up a struggle."
It was the last sentence that set his reeling emotions back on an firmer keel. Qui-Gon would never have given up, not without fighting to the last bitter inch...and if Eidolon was lying about that, then he could be lying about everything else. "I don't believe you," he said again firmly.
Eidolon's eyes narrowed then he flicked out one finger to lightly brush Obi-Wan's right cheek. Even that faint touch hurt and the Padawan winced away. Eidolon smiled grimly then returned his gaze to the stars.
"I don't care."
Qui-Gon winced inwardly too. There was already a mark on his Apprentice's face where he...where Eidolon had hit him, and it was evident from the stiff way Obi-Wan sat that he had other injuries where the creature had slammed him against the bulkhead. Anger began to burn within him. He would stop this alien, Qui-Gon swore. Somehow...