Adumbration
by AlexPart 15
The Sith Lord, Darth Sidious, sat swathed in shadow, contemplating the perpetual hazy, orange glow of the Sullustan landscape.
A servant stood in the doorway, not moving. He had been standing there for nearly half of an hour.
Let him wait. Lord Sidious' servants knew better than to press him.
The Dark Lord was serene. Belial would come before him very soon, and he would bring the young Jedi.
And the Jedi Order would gain a new adversary.
Darth Sidious had never openly admitted to error. Not even to himself. Yet, he felt a touch of...was it unease...?
No.
Annoyance.
The Dark Lord was patient. He had searched for nearly two years, seeking the ideal candidate for his experiment, considering and rejecting hundreds of Jedi Knights, each more pathetic than the last. A soft lot...absurd that they were his nemeses. If not for their vast number, endlessly seeking and replenishing, he would have exterminated them all at once.
And then, at a Senate reception...a banal affair, but so necessary...he'd found him, through a powerful stirring in the Force.
A youth, sixteen or seventeen years old. Not at his full growth; he'd appeared even slighter standing next to his towering Master. Breathtakingly innocent, he'd remained close to his Master's side, even as the crowd threatened to pull them apart. Lord Sidious drifted closer, anonymous, innocuous.
The boy was lovely, and his beauty pleased the Dark Lord. But more than that, he was strong, his Force-signature nearly overwhelming. He'd probed, and had been amused to observe that the boy...Obi-Wan Kenobi...was desperately in love with his Master. And...even more hilarious...the Master was in love with his apprentice. And their bond was weak. They had shielded themselves from each other.
Perfect. It was perfect. The Force had led him to this boy.
Lord Sidious disappeared and returned a short while later. He had focused on the boy and called him.
/Obi-Wan.../
The boy had frowned, and turned back to his Master, who was chatting with a senator from Alderaan.
Sidious was impressed.
/Obi-Wan...to me./
Obi-Wan turned hesitantly. Darth Sidious caught the faint alarm in the boy's mind and had smothered it, drowning the boy's consciousness in toxic reassurance.
/To me./
Obi-Wan had followed him to a room far from the noise and confusion of the reception. He stood in the doorway, some part of him aware that he was not there of his own will.
And Sidious saw his eyes opening wide, and felt his struggle, and for a brief moment the boy had almost won.
/Mas-/
Sidious had taken hold of the Padawan apprentice's mental cry and had crushed it, so that nothing remained but a tiny spark of defiance.
/Sleep./
/No.../
/Sleep./
And the boy had crumpled to the ground. Sidious lifted him and carried him to a couch, and had taken samples...blood, hair, skin...enough to ensure a perfect reproduction.
It had been so easy, and he had looked at the sleeping youth and had wondered if perhaps he should reward himself. Obi-Wan was so vulnerable, his head turned to one side, the braid, a hated symbol to the Dark Lord, yet somehow incredibly erotic on this helpless young man, fallen across his neck. Sidious let his hand roam over the youth's chest, his fingers slipping inside the tunic and brushing against a nipple. He skimmed the fabric of tunic and leggings and came to rest between Obi-Wan's legs.
No. No time for that. The boy's master was already growing concerned, and the risk of discovery was too great. Reluctantly he ceased his exploration and once more insinuated himself into the mind of the young Jedi.
/You will not remember./
He left without a backward glance.
I may not be able to avail myself of the pleasures of your mind and body, Obi-Wan Kenobi. But there will be another...and you have my gratitude.
He had gone to Sullust, to the vats built in secret and at enormous expense, and he had begun his work, watching the clone take shape, raw cells to embryo to youth, the Sith Lord feeding the clone dark energy, projecting knowledge; sciences, arts, history, the ancient saga of the Sith, tales of the Jedi, always weaving the Darkness into the lessons. Rejoiced when the clone responded, questions and confusion, and finally acceptance and devotion, eager for freedom, and when the accelerated growth was nearly complete, when the clone was close enough to Obi-Wan's age as made no difference, the Sith Lord freed him.
Belial had emerged from the vat a perfect disciple. Beautiful and deadly, and devoted in all ways to his Master and Maker. He had studied the information gathered by Sidious' droid spies diligently, copying Obi-Wan's movements, and voice, adding each gesture to his vocabulary until he was nearly perfect. Sidious too had watched the stolen data tapes, pilfered from the Jedi Temple, and had observed the progressing strength of the Padawan apprentice.
A shame that you must die, Obi-Wan. But I have my consolation...your twin.
His dark angel, and Sidious had pleasured himself, had reveled in Belial's tears of pain as he was raped repeatedly. Had taught the young man to absorb staggering amounts of pain and suffering, had provided him with the most skilled courtesans in the Republic and beyond, delectable food and wine alternating with periods of starvation, luxurious rooms with soft beds and filthy cells carved from stinking earth, with only nightcrawlers and disease-ridden rodents for company. Belial had begged and pleaded and raged and threatened to kill him, and Lord Sidious had shown him incomparable pleasures again, and agony again. He'd driven him in tests of endurance, both physical and mental. He'd jarred and frightened and pleased and hurt.
Shock upon shock until the lesson was learned, until pain and pleasure was one and the same.
Strength.
And finally his creation, his malevolent beauty, was ready. The night before Belial had departed for Coruscant, he had lain with his Master, willingly, so willingly, and Sidious had tortured him before taking him...never the kind of pain that scarred and maimed and disfigured, for marring Belial's beauty was not something he was willing to do. But he'd used the neural whip until Belial had been broken to screaming, and then had shown him great tenderness.
There was allways a lesson to be learned.
Belial sprawled in bed, his thighs parted shamelessly, his head tilted back, his hair flowing to the pillow. Sidious had taken a strand in his fingers.
"You'll have to cut this, my apprentice."
"It will pain me, Master. But not as much as my separation from you."
"How long will you watch?"
"Long enough to determine that which I need, Master."
"And then?"
"Obfuscate. Deceive. Destroy."
Sidious had nodded in approval.
But then...days had passed, and there was no communication. And Sidious had sent himself out, had plucked the thoughts from Belial's mind.
His apprentice had become infatuated with the boy. And worse, with the boy's Master. Lord Sidious had been enraged, and had almost gone to Coruscant to take matters into his own hands. At the last moment, he had relented. Belial would do what was necessary.
Lord Sidious had seen the shifting, chaotic tide of his creation's thoughts, sands in a desert. It had caused him some concern. Perhaps...perhaps the clone was unstable because the Force flowed so strongly within him.
Certainly it was not because of the treatment he'd received at the hands of his Master.
Belial was starting to fall apart, like an indifferently made doll. He thought himself possessed of his own will.
If only he knew how transparent he was, how easy it was to read his thoughts. Sidious had taught him well, but the young man had not enough skill and experience to hide his innermost thoughts from his Master. He sensed his defiance, his lust, his treachery. But he had not acted, even when Belial made the decision to keep the young Jedi alive.
And slowly he realized that Belial was correct. Obi-Wan was valuable. Too valuable to kill.
It was better, was it not, to take the Padawan as his apprentice. He was at a perfect age...initiates were too young; they were too untrained to suppress fear and anger. A Knight too heavily indoctrinated in the ways of the Jedi...too far gone to be useful. Masters...not even worth consideration.
But a Padawan apprentice...that zeal, that devotion to duty and the Light...that could be easily exploited.
Yes.
Obi-Wan would be his apprentice. It would be so pleasurable to subject him to the training necessary to embrace Darkness.
He would finally be able to taste the flesh of the young man he'd set eyes on years before.
Belial was right.
And that was as close as he'd ever come to conceding a point.
He would create life again. Clones, a vast army of clones. But not Force-adepts. They were too unpredictable, perhaps too strong, to trust. Millions of drones, content only to do his bidding.
And with Obi-Wan at his side...
Belial. Lord Sidious felt a stab of rage. Belial, his perfect beauty, was flawed, and he had not seen it in time. And now the clone had jeopardized his plans, so perfectly laid, with his illusions of love. He had nearly strangled Belial when he considered going back to the Temple for Qui-Gon.
You will pay for your defiance, my impetuous one.
How you will pay.
He turned his attention to the servant in the doorway.
"What is it?"
"Lord Belial has arrived."
"Have him bring Obi-Wan Kenobi before me. At once."
He turned back to the window, gazing at the noxious clouds of gas.
He smiled to himself.
Very soon now...
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