Adumbration
by AlexPart 13
The guard had walked away from Obi-Wan, and now he returned, holding an old-fashioned syringe.
"What is that?" said Obi-Wan.
"Something to ensure your docility," replied the Zabrakian quietly. He knelt next to Obi-Wan and pushed the needle into his hip before Obi-Wan could react.
"Your idea?"
The guard smirked. "Lord Belial's. A practical solution, though."
"Why is that?"
"We're leaving Coruscant, Jedi. It'll be much easier to smuggle you aboard a ship if you're unconscious, "
Obi-Wan focused on the guard. His eyes were pale amber and fixed on his captive. Obi-Wan's eyes widened. He hadn't caught it before; he'd been consumed by fear, anger and pain. But now he was able to think more clearly, and he felt the eddy of the Force.
"You're Force-sensitive."
"Yes."
Obi-Wan studied him intently. The Zabrakian's shields were strong. He would have presumed that anyone in the employ of the Sith was dedicated to Darkness, and yet he caught no true feeling of Darkness from this man. He felt a brief sting of compassion for the Zabrakian. Whatever else he was, he was strong in the Force. How had the Jedi missed this one? Surely he wasn't much older than Obi-Wan himself.
"Don't waste your sympathy on me, Jedi."
"What is your name?" asked Obi-Wan. He felt dizzy; the drug was beginning to take effect.
"My name is not important."
"You know who it is you serve."
"I'm not an idiot, Jedi. I know of the Sith and their past."
"And you choose to serve them."
The Zabrakian bent over Obi-Wan. "Have a care, Jedi. I'm not cruel like Lord Belial, but I advise you not to anger me."
Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. He lay his head on the cold stone floor, feeling the drug trickling through his veins. He looked back at the guard, who had risen. The drug was numbing the pain in his ribs and shoulder, a small comfort. He was so tired; his eyes were closing. One last thing, though; he knew, he was almost positive, but the Force was not his to command, and he needed the guard's help.
"He didn't kill Qui-Gon."
The Zabrakian closed his eyes for a moment.
"No."
"Why?"
The guard shook his head. "I don't know."
"Won't you please help me?" He had to try...
The guard knelt again and looked at the Jedi, his gaze unwavering.
"I serve the Sith, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. He tried to speak, to reason, to plead, but he couldn't, and his eyes closed and the blackness claimed him.
The Zabrakian stared at the drugged, bound youth for a long time.
The Jedi had endured much. The guard had seen the blood on the inside of the prisoner's thighs, and he'd felt the exhaustion and pain of the young man through the Force. He'd seen Belial storm out of the interrogation chamber, cursing in half a dozen languages, his mouth bleeding. A short time later he'd heard the agonized screams of the Jedi. He'd gone to another room where the cries were inaudible. Torture for the purpose of extracting information was one thing; retribution for what was probably an escape attempt was another thing entirely.
He admired the Jedi, he realized almost unwillingly. Lord Belial had often referred to them as a passive order of monks, soft and weak, but that was patently false. The young Jedi was possessed of remarkable strength, despite the physical torments inflicted upon him, and the stealthy, methodical assault upon his mind and heart by the Sith Lords...both of them. The guard had felt the presence of the clone's Master, a frightening, yet intoxicating presence, a presence that had never demanded the guard's allegiance. The Zabrakian wondered at that sometimes.
Obi-Wan shifted, and moaned as his broken ribs ground against each other. There was still pain, even with the drug, the guard realized.
He stretched out a hand, laying it on the injured body. Visualized the damaged ribs, saw other things: torn muscles, bruised internal organs. Sent healing Force into the Jedi.
Live, and fight, Jedi, he thought.
Belial maneuvered a speeder bike through the sublevels, ignoring the shouts and curses of those he narrowly missed hitting. He bent over the controls, scowling. Time was short now. They had to evacuate.
It goes badly, he thought. I've disrupted my own plans, and for what? For the two of them...
He dove into an alleyway and touched down. He slowed, but the bike still skidded, fetching up against the far wall with a crash, crushing the fore-sensors and instruments. He discarded the speeder and slipped through a narrow door.
He stopped on the other side. He felt a powerful urge to return to the Jedi Temple, to collect Qui-Gon, steal him from the fools who had cast him out.
Could he be turned? wondered Belial. It would be a greater challenge than turning Obi-Wan. Perhaps the three of them, together...Belial shuddered pleasurably. It was almost too delightful to contemplate...but it was too late to go back for him now. He started down the dark, twisting tunnel toward the Tombs.
No. If Qui-Gon awoke, he would search for Obi-Wan. And doubtless would not stop until his beloved apprentice was found. The Jedi would not aid him. They might search for the apprentice for a time...but failing to find him, would conclude that Obi-Wan had left voluntarily. Even if Qui-Gon were to reveal Belial's existence, there was little chance that the Council would believe him.
And so...Belial would leave a trail. Qui-Gon would follow, and then Belial would decide whether or not he could be turned.
Always two, no more, no less.
No, perhaps not. Times changed, and perhaps it was time for the Sith to change with them.
Either way, Obi-Wan was his. His fingers itched to roam over the Jedi's body again. He was so exquisite... His innocence and purity of soul was beautiful, and his cries of pain and his struggles against Belial's advances were incomparably sweet. Once we're on Sullust and the Jedi Council is gone, I can focus on you, Obi-Wan, and the eradication of your will. We'll have time and time, and I will enjoy every second of it. Whether or not you enjoy it is not my concern.
But I think that eventually, you will enjoy it.
He came to the proper door, leaned into the scanner. The door clicked open, and Belial went straight to the interrogation chamber, heedless of the continued activity on the screens above him.
He swung the door open. The Zabrakian was standing over an unconscious Obi-Wan.
"You gave him the drug?"
"Yes."
"Good." He knelt beside the Jedi, ran a hand over his flank.
He glared up at the Zabrakian. "Did you remove his collar?"
"No."
He touched Obi-Wan again, then rose and grasped the guard by the front of his tunic. "You healed his ribs."
"Yes."
"I don't recall telling you to do that," he said, pulling the guard forward until he stood nose to nose with him.
"You didn't." The guard's voice was soft, but not fearful.
"Give me one reason not to disembowel you right now."
The guard said nothing. Belial shoved him away, and the Zabrakian righted himself gracefully.
"Ready the ship," said Belial, turning away from the guard, "and if I see you near him again, you'll pay with your life, I promise you that."
The guard turned and walked out.
Belial sank to the floor again and gathered the Jedi into his arms. He ran his fingertips over the slight growth of beard on the young man's face. He touched Obi-Wan's lips, that luscious mouth, slightly slack. He leaned down and took Obi-Wan's lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it, biting gently, his tongue exploring the Jedi's unresisting mouth. A faint moan escaped the Jedi, and Belial felt himself hardening. Reluctantly he withdrew, staring hungrily at his mouth, the lower lip vulnerable and bruised, slightly swollen, reddened. He shivered.
Ah, if there were time now, Obi-Wan...perhaps I'll experiment on Sullust. There are so many drugs that weaken resistance, and enhance pleasure. So many ways to intensify sensation. So many devices to make you feel every nerve in your body, alive with rapture or excruciation. A judicious amount of pleasure intermingled with agony...even a Jedi cannot fight forever.
He rose and unbound the restraints that held his prisoner so securely. He tossed them aside and stripped off his robe, and wrapped it around Obi-Wan. He lifted Obi-Wan, carrying him out of the chamber, through the room with its banks of monitors, and into the narrow hallway. He came to another door. There was a keypad next to it, and Belial hefted Obi-Wan's limp body over one shoulder and hit a series of characters. The door slid open, and Belial stepped into a lift.
Up, and up, and there was a pressure in his ears. He felt Obi-Wan stirring, and he frowned. Hadn't that fool of a guard administered sufficient amounts of the drug? He'd neglected to bring any more with him. He lay Obi-Wan on the floor of the lift and checked his belt. Nothing but food capsules, a tiny toolkit...wait. A medi-kit. He rummaged through it hastily. Hells. No sedatives. He returned the kit to his belt and picked Obi-Wan up again as the lift came smoothly to a halt.
The door opened, and he stepped out into a luxurious apartment, with crimson walls and dark furnishings. The door slid shut again, and Belial turned to gaze at the ornate carved panel that hid the lift door. He smiled. The public trough was bottomless, apparently.
He set Kenobi down on a low couch and hurried into the bedchamber. He found the outfit that was readied for him, shed the tunic and leggings, and dressed in the loose dark trousers, tunic, and cap of a Senate emergency medic. He carefully tucked the incongruous braid into the cap. He went to the 'fresher and activated the antigrav gurney that leaned against one wall, and pushed it into the receiving room where Obi-Wan lay. He positioned the gurney and hauled the Jedi onto it, pulling the restraining straps around him tightly. Obi-Wan stirred and moaned again. Belial hurried back to the 'fresher, pulled open cabinets and drawers frantically. There. A mild sedative, but fairly fast; Obi-Wan might be conscious, but he wouldn't be strong enough to attract attention. He went back to where Obi-Wan lay and pulled the hood of the Jedi's robe up, concealing his face. He ripped open the packet and sank the single-use needle into Obi-Wan's flesh. Obi-Wan made a small noise and his body twitched.
Belial pushed the gurney out into the crowded halls of the Senate living quarters complex. He kept his face down, using Force to navigate and clear a path. The crowd parted for him, and he hurried to the wing's docking bay where the Zabrakian waited with the ship. Almost there...he saw the ship now, its cargo hold hatch open, and he increased his pace, seeing Obi-Wan awakening. The Jedi moaned again, and Belial saw his mouth moving, trying to form words. Belial's hand dropped to Obi-Wan's leg and his fingers dug into the Jedi's thigh, a warning gesture.
/Be silent, Jedi. Or I will begin to fire randomly into the crowd./
He felt sick again.
But something was different, though it took him some time to realize what it was.
Slowly it came to him.
He was moving. And he heard voices. Hundreds of voices, the normal bustle of daily activity.
He couldn't see. And as awareness returned to him, he felt the comforting familiarity of his robe wrapped around him. Automatically he went to push his hood away from his eyes, only to find himself unable to move.
Restrained. Still. He contained his despair, and focused on his surroundings, listening intently.
He heard normal conversations...the mundane and the fantastic, dozens of languages. A public place, then, or public enough as made no difference. Still on Coruscant. He felt a hand brush against his leg.
He was prone, his body held still with wide straps. Felt an oddly familiar hum, and recognized the noise. An antigrav, and he finally knew how their departure from Coruscant was being engineered. A weary sort of desperation seized him, and he tried to shout, but could only produce the most pathetic of sounds. No one paid him any attention.
He felt a pressure on his leg, and heard the clone's threat.
He was sickened by the clone's casual disregard for life.
/You have a choice, Obi-Wan. You remain still, and no one will be harmed. If you cry out...these innocent creatures will suffer the consequences./
Obi-Wan made no futher attempts to be heard.
The clone and his prisoner boarded the ship. Obi-Wan felt the straps of the stretcher being unfastened. Belial lifted him off and set him down, pushing his hood back.
Obi-Wan blinked and looked around him, at his surroundings. His vision was still a bit hazy, but he was able to tell that he was in a small cell. There was a sanitary unit and a cot, attached to the wall; but for those, the cell was empty. Belial grabbed his wrists, and clapped a set of binders on them. He crouched down next to Obi-Wan and lay a hand on the side of his face. Obi-Wan looked at Belial.
"Qui-Gon..." he whispered.
Belial shook his head impatiently. "What of him?"
"Not...not dead."
"Not yet."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "You couldn't."
Belial smiled at Obi-Wan, a small, pointed smile. "I know you wish it were so, Obi-Wan. No harm in indulging your fantasies." He patted Obi-Wan's cheek softly.
"You couldn't. Why?"
The clone stared at him for a long moment. Then he inclined his body toward Obi-Wan, and his mouth found Obi-Wan's and fastened upon it. Obi-Wan's hands rose to fight him off, but he was still so very weak, and he could do no more than press his hands against the chest of the clone, seeking purchase and finding none. He felt the beating of the clone's heart, and the rise and fall of his breathing. The clone's hands closed upon Obi-Wan's shoulders and pulled him closer. His tongue slowed, probing the inside of Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan offered no response. He allowed the clone to ravage his mouth. He would not fight him.
He wanted to, though, so badly. He'd shut out the memory of the rape, but now all of the horrifying imagery came flooding back, and he wanted to pull away, to strike at the clone with all of his strength.
But he did not. He remained where he was, not struggling, and the clone's unwelcome intrusion seemed to go on forever, until Obi-Wan wanted to scream.
Finally it stopped, and Obi-Wan let out a low sobbing breath.
Belial stood. "True, Obi-Wan...I let Qui-Gon live. You want to know why. I'll let the notion enliven your idle moments on the journey to Sullust."
Belial exited the cell and touched a control on the outside of the cell wall. Immediately crimson beams of light spanned the doorway of the cell.
"Be careful, Obi-Wan. I don't want you damaged."
He left, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes.
Meditation came more easily now. He was calmer, not entirely at peace, but it would come.
He hoped.
There was a low, rumbling noise, and Qui-Gon was annoyed by it.
/Leave me alone./
/Qui-Gon...can you hear me?/
He felt a gentle tug of Force, pulling him out of the abyss of sleep.
His eyes opened.
Mace.
Qui-Gon sat up. "What do you want?"
Mace regarded him with raised eyebrows. "A thank-you would be appreciated."
Qui-Gon glared at him. "Ah. Thank you for ejecting me from the Order, Mace. I'm sure the Council is indebted to you."
Mace sighed. "Qui-Gon, you were always a stubborn fool, and you'll always be a stubborn fool."
Qui-Gon was silent.
"All right, that's enough," snapped Mace. "Obi-Wan has disappeared, and one of the healers is dead. Depa Billaba can't remember leaving the boy in the healing dome. I find you unconscious, and your comm unit destroyed. I just spent three hours trying to waken you. I sense Darkness and fear and anger. I think that you may be able to tell me what is going on, Qui-Gon. Do correct me if I'm mistaken."
Qui-Gon pushed himself to his feet. "Why should you believe me, Master Windu?"
Mace struck his palm with his fist. "Damn you, Qui-Gon...something's wrong."
"How extremely perceptive."
Mace rushed forward and seized Qui-Gon by the front of his tunic. "Tell me, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon gazed into Mace's dark eyes coolly. "Let go."
Mace released him and turned away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.
"Where is Padawan Kenobi?"
"Padawan Kenobi has not been at the Temple for days." Qui-Gon's voice was icy.
Mace wheeled about. "What are you saying?"
"That was not Obi-Wan."
"Qui-Gon..." Mace shook his head.
"Qui-Gon shrugged, walked into his bedroom. Mace followed him.
"You're not serious, are you?"
Qui-Gon ignored him. He picked up the holo of himself and Obi-Wan, tucked it into his robe. He walked back into the common room. Obi-Wan's lightsaber, discarded by the clone, had rolled into the niche under the comm unit. He retrieved it and clipped it to his belt.
"Qui-Gon..."
"Yes?"
Mace's voice was unsure. That was a rarity.
"An impostor?"
"A clone."
Mace exhaled deeply. "Master Khadri?"
"Murdered."
"And your padawan?"
"A prisoner."
"Gods," Mace muttered.
"Excuse me." Qui-Gon brushed past the elder Jedi.
"Wait. Where are you going?" Mace caught his arm.
"To find Obi-Wan."
"How do you intend to find him?"
"Don't worry about it, Mace." He stopped, turned around. "One thing...I found the clone outside the Council Chamber. I don't know what he was doing...but you should exercise caution."
"Thank you, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon nodded and pivoted on his heel.
"Qui-Gon! Wait!"
Mace walked toward him. Almost hesitantly he withdrew an object from his robe.
Qui-Gon's lightsaber.
Mace put it in his hand. Qui-Gon's fingers curled around it. He felt a surge of joy. I thought that it was gone forever, he thought. He clipped it to his belt next to Obi-Wan's saber, looking questioningly at Mace.
Mace met his gaze levelly. "I was going to destroy it. After I discovered you, I thought that perhaps...you would need it. I see I was right."
"I'm grateful to you."
"I don't need your gratitude. Find your apprentice."
"You didn't ask me about the holodisc."
Mace looked uncomfortable. "We can discuss that when Padawan Kenobi is safe and returned to the Temple."
"And the Council?"
"Leave that to me."
The corner of Qui-Gon's mouth twitched upwards.
"Thank you."
"Master Jinn...may the Force be with you."
Qui-Gon gripped Mace's hand and left his quarters.
/Obi-Wan...I am coming for you. Fear not, my love. I am coming./
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20