Adumbration
by AlexPart 1
Coruscant.
Epicenter of the Galactic Republic. Seat of peace and justice. Named for the luminescent corusca gem, it is truly the shining jewel of the galaxy.
But even the finest jewels have a flaw. Some are more apparent than others.
Far below the glittering antiseptic surface of the city-planet is another world. Known as the sublevels, it is a place where few decent citizens can traverse boldly. It is populated by the refuse of society: thieves, whores, gangsters, drug dealers, arms smugglers, flesh traders, hired killers; those who do not abide by the laws of the Republic, or the Code of Honor Mercantile.
There are two immutable laws in the sublevels.
The first is Profit.
The second is Survive.
Denizens of the sublevels know danger intimately. They adapt and assimilate,or die. For danger is a daily part of life, as common as air, evident in the furtive hand to hand trade of psychotropics and hallucinogens, in the dusky, enticing smile of a prostitute, in the chill stare of an assassin for hire.
And yet...there is a place worse than this.
Most believe it is only a rumor.
Those who know the truth and live remain silent.
It is below the vast complex of machinery that keeps the planet and its citizens alive. Below the filters, pipes and tunnels that cleanse the air and water, below the power conduits and fuel lines, close to the raw crust of Coruscant lies the Tombs.
No one has ever ventured willingly into the Tombs. Those individuals hapless enough to become lost in the maze of tunnels leading to the Tombs are never heard from again. Indeed, they are barely spoken of again, if the tunnels are their last known location. Best not to think of the nightmares suffered, if rumor is to be believed.
And so the spectacle of a hooded figure carrying the bound, unconscious form of a Jedi Knight Apprentice into the tunnels is pointedly ignored by those who dare to venture close to the entrance of this labyrinth.
Best not to think of it, after all.
Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt in the center of his bedroom, trying and failing to meditate. He sat back on his heels, rubbing his eyes. Despairingly, he tried again, fingering his string of beads, feeling the Force flow through him--not smoothly, as usual, but chaotically, dipping and lurching, making it impossible to find his center. For days he'd been tormented by thoughts of his master, thoughts he'd managed to quell, with varying degrees of success, for years.
At the age of twenty-two, he'd finally found a measure of peace within himself. A few short years to Knighthood, and then, Force willing, he'd find the courage to reveal his feelings to Qui-Gon. A Jedi is patient, he'd counseled himself endlessly. I can wait. And yet these agonizingly erotic images had flashed through his mind for days, distracting him, making it difficult to even look Qui-Gon in the eye. He'd been blushing with annoying frequency, so much that Qui-Gon had asked him if he was feeling ill. Which naturally caused Obi-Wan to flush even more brightly. To cover up, he'd said that he was feeling a little dizzy, and thought he'd lie down for a bit. Qui-Gon had raised an eyebrow and advised Obi-Wan to make a visit to the healing dome.
Obi-Wan sighed and stood, still clutching his meditation beads. He decided to eat, then go to training hall and find a sparring partner. Qui-Gon was in a closed session with Master Koth and wasn't due back for a few hours. He walked into the common room and froze suddenly as a figure stepped into the soft light above Qui-Gon's chair.
Gods...
Obi-Wan stared in absolute shock at the man who stood before him.
But for his black garments and his long hair, a sigle braid plaited tightly against his head, the man could have been Obi-Wan's twin. Was his twin. The Jedi took in the face...the summer-sea eyes, the straight nose, the dimpled chin...Astounding.
The man stood relaxed, arms at his sides, a slight smile curving the corners of his mouth.
Was it a droid? Obi-Wan wondered. An amazing technological simulacrum, a marvel of machinery and plastiskin? A colossal joke?
No. The man was a living being, human--not machine. Obi-Wan extended a thin trail of Force toward the man, probing, and recoiled at the Force signature that he touched.
It was--frighteningly--almost exactly like his own, but at the core of the signature was Darkness. Darkness, bred deeply, festering. And at the threshold of the man's mind was an open admission of what he was.
A clone. A replicant, not birthed, but grown, covertly, in the tanks long outlawed within the Republic. Grown from Obi -Wan. An eyelash, a drop of sweat, a fingernail paring. Grown at amazing speed, educated in the vats from embryo to adult, decanted with full awareness of the world on which it would be unleashed.
"It is forbidden to reproduce sentient life for any purpose by means of artificial parthenogenesis..."
The phrasing of the statute echoed through Obi-Wan's mind, and his soul cried out in protest against the theft of his cells to make this abomination who stood before him so calmly, smiling, whose aura held the taint of Darkness.
Instinctively, Obi-Wan reached out along the training bond that he shared with Qui-Gon.
//Master!//
The mental cry flared, then dwindled into oblivion.
Fighting panic, he tried again.
//Master!//
There was nothing but silence. Qui-Gon had not heard him. Obi-Wan felt a stab of guilt and fear. He'd neglected the training bond for too long...he'd been apprehensive of Qui-Gon's mind touching his and finding Obi-Wan's love and need...and now the bond was damaged, possibly beyond repair.
The being smiled sweetly, then drew and ignited his saber. Obi-Wan, sick with dread, did the same, dropping his beads. He assumed a defensive stance, forcing his limbs to relax, willing calm...but the dread remained.
"Will you strike the first blow, Jedi?"
The voice, so like his own, horrified Obi-Wan anew.
"Who are you?" His voice was steady, but his heart was pounding wildly.
"Who I am should be obvious, Jedi," the clone said, his smile widening. "I ask you again: will you strike first?"
"I-" and Obi-Wan's saber flew out of his grip, into the clone's black-gloved hand. Swiftly the clone deactivated both sabers and launched himself at Obi-Wan, knocking the young Jedi to the ground, pinning his arms to his sides,hooking his legs around the Jedi's, forcing him flat.
"You're no challenge, Jedi," the clone said mockingly.
Obi-Wan struggled, but the clone was incredibly powerful, his limbs like steel. He easily resisted Obi-Wan's efforts to throw him off. The young Jedi then called upon the Force, coiling and pushing outwards to dislodge his assailant, but the concentration of Force was met by the clone's mental wall, which seemed to collapse liquidly into Obi-Wan's consciousness and swirl around him, submerging him in Darkness. Obi-Wan gasped, slammed his mental shields up.
Desperately, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to cry out for help, hoping someone would hear him beyond the confines of his quarters. Abruptly the clone's hand clamped down on Obi-Wan's mouth.
"No. No outcries, Jedi," the clone whispered in his ear. "Time enough for that later." With that, the clone leapt to his feet, dragging Obi-Wan up roughly. A gesture, and coils of Force wound around the Jedi, imprisoning his limbs, silencing his vocal pleas. He was powerless to move as the clone disappeared into Obi-Wan's bedroom, returning with his outerrobe.
The clone draped the robe about Obi-Wan's shoulders solicitously, smoothed its folds. It was Qui-Gon's gesture, and the clone grinned as Obi-Wan glared at him. The clone leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Oh, yes, Padawan Knight. I know. I know so many things about your beautiful master. Things I'm only too happy to share with you...eventually."
The clone pulled his hood up, partially concealing his face. He dragged Obi-Wan, who was still pinioned by bands of Force, toward the door.
"Now, Kenobi," he murmured, "We're going to disappear, you and I. I think that I've done an admirable job of restraining you, and it won't do you any good to fight me. You'll only exhaust yourself. Now, Jedi...watch and learn. See the power of those who have given themselves to the Dark Side of the Force."
The door opened, and the pair stepped out.
Obi-Wan felt a brief surge of hope as they made their way through the corridors. Surely anyone who passed them would see his predicament, and aid him.
But he soon saw that no one thought that anything was amiss. Quite against his will, he found himself walking easily, striding through the halls of the Temple. He passed several knights who nodded to him as he bowed slightly.
Can't they at least see it in my eyes? he thought frantically. He wanted to scream, wanted to cry out to each individual who passed him. He grinned at a small group of Padawans who stopped and greeted him.
"Obi-Wan! We're going to get drunk. Care to join?" Cyrinda, a female apprentice whom with he'd grown up in the creche, was speaking. She mimed swigging a drink.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to beg for their help, and was sickened to hear himself laugh. " Not today. I've got bigger plans."
The Apprentices hooted and made lewd noises, and continued on their way, shouting crude advice to Obi-Wan...a joke, as he had a reputation for modesty, if not downright prudishness.
Obi-Wan was faint with terror. The clone was manipulating the Force as they traveled, forcing Obi-Wan into his characteristic easy stride, preventing him from broadcasting his distress...that much was obvious. But the apprentices hadn't even looked at the clone. The being was making himself dim, or invisible, cocooning himself in Force. Obi-Wan may as well have been alone.
They made their way out of the Temple, and into a waiting aircar with opaque black windows. The clone hustled Obi-Wan into the passenger seat. He forced his arms behind his back and bound his wrists with manacles. He locked the Jedi's ankles together with similar cuffs, then pulled a length of cloth from an inner pocket and blindfolded the young man.
Obi-Wan felt another stab of fear as his sight was taken from him, but he also managed to feel slightly hopeful again. The clone couldn't restrain him with Force indefinitely; it must have cost him more than he showed. Stealthily, Obi-Wan focused on his wrist cuffs, envisioned them, began to attempt to work them open. He spoke, attempting to distract the clone, who was maneuvering the aircar into traffic.
"What is it that you want from me?"
"What I want from you right now is silence, Jedi."
"You can't possibly hope to get away with this, whatever your plans are. When the Council learns that I've been--" A stunning blow to the face made him cry out, and bite on the inside of his cheek. Obi-Wan heard the faint sigh of the autopilot engage. The clone grabbed him by the hair, drew him forward.
"When I want you to speak, Kenobi, I'll tell you to speak."
There was a rustling; then Obi-Wan felt hard leather-clad hands wrenching his jaw open. Almost choked as a knotted silken cloth was forced deep inside his mouth, then pulled tight and tied behind his head.
The clone took hold of his tail, pulling his head back. Obi-Wan let out a muffled shout.
"I know you're working on those cuffs, Kenobi," he hissed. "Save your strength."
Obi-Wan felt the cold sting of a needle in his neck.
And then he felt nothing.
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