Adumbration
by AlexPart 4
The passage was long and poorly lit, illuminated only by a few suspensor globes. Obi-Wan had little time to make a thorough examination of the corridor, but he noted that the walls were quite old, stone, crosshatched with cracks. Granite slugs clung to the lower portions of the walls, clustered in dozens, their thick hairless bodies pulsing wetly. The floor was stone as well, and dotted here and there with puddles of slimy standing water that more than once nearly caused Obi-Wan to fall, hustled along as he was.
The clone was far from gentle; indeed, he seemed totally unconcerned with his captive's discomfort. He held the Jedi by one arm, shoving him viciously when he slowed or stumbled, ignoring the smoking glare that Obi-Wan gave him.
They'd gone almost a kilometer, by Obi-Wan's reckoning, when Belial finally stopped before a single door, outfitted with a retinal scanner. The clone leaned forward into the reader, still holding the young Jedi's arm in a viselike grip. The tiny light on the scanner changed from red to green, and the door swung open silently. The Sith lord yanked Obi-Wan into the room and pulled him along as the door closed behind them.
The room was huge, cavernous, lit with blistering white diasphatic tubing. It was dominated by a single bank of huge screens that wound around the perimeter of the room. Each screen was monitored--mostly by droids, although Obi-Wan saw a few sentient life forms focused on the activity onscreen.
Most screens were humming with intense, and somehow ominous activity. On one, a platoon of Sargothans performed blaster drills; on another, scores of beings unfamiliar to Obi-Wan swarmed over an enormous unfinished ship of a spade-shaped, menacing design; on still another, a ship that resembled a Trade Federation vessel was being loaded with ponderously large transports. The motion on the screens was so frenetic that it was perhaps natural that Obi-Wan's eyes should have been drawn to the two screens that showed no activity whatsoever...two screens that displayed two separate rooms, both familiar to Obi-Wan, both empty.
Obi-Wan felt a pang of foreboding.
The first room was the Senate Chamber. Obi-Wan had only seen it a few times, but he immediately recognized its striking circular design.
The second room...
The second room was the Jedi Council Chamber.
Belial's eyes followed his and he smiled, delighted at the Jedi's apprehension. He never slowed his pace,and Obi-Wan was obliged to follow or be dragged.
Obi-Wan scanned the beings who monitored the screens. Droids wouldn't be much help, as they were impervious to Force-persuasion. Obi-Wan 's mouth twisted, belatedly remembering the collar around his neck.
Hells.
The few sentient creatures who watched the screens didn't even look up as his captor forced him across the room.
They stopped at another door. A young Zabrakian stood in front of it, loosely cradling a blaster in both hands. If he was surprised at the sight of what appeared to be a Jedi Knight Apprentice shoving his bound twin towards the door, he gave no sign of it. He grinned unpleasantly at Obi-Wan.
The Sith lord glared at the Zabrakian.
"Get out of my way."
The Zabrakian shrugged, stood aside, and allowed them passage.
Belial dragged Obi-Wan through several darkened chambers. Obi-Wan could barely see anything at all; inwardly he marveled at the clone's surety of step.
They came to a single metal door set with a simple bolt. Belial shot the bolt and entered the room, pushing his prisoner inside. Obi-Wan stumbled, fell to his knees, but made no outcry.
The door shut behind them, and Obi-Wan could now barely see the robed form of the clone, whose voice floated out of the darkness.
"Strip."
"What?"
"I said, strip, Kenobi."
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. "I can't."
"Why not?" Silkily.
"My hands aren't free."
"Too true, Jedi. Let me assist you." The clone came towards Obi-Wan, hauled him up, and held Obi-Wan's bound wrists in his hands. He leaned forward and spoke softly into the young Jedi's ear.
"Now then, Kenobi," crooned Belial, "You remember that it took very little effort for me to subdue you earlier, and that was when you had the Force at your disposal. Don't do anything foolish, because then I'll be forced to do you grievous harm, and I have no wish to do so...yet. Understood?"
Obi-Wan considered Belial's words. It was true that the clone had overcome him easily, and Obi-Wan's face flamed at the memory. But anyone seeing an exact replica of themselves would undoubtedly be shocked, and perhaps vulnerable to attack, he reasoned. Even now, as he'd had time to digest the notion, he was still revolted. But his thoughts were clear.
Perhaps if his hands were freed, he could overpower the clone with sheer physical strength, get his clothes back, stage a ruse of some kind. Yes, the Force was temporarily beyond his grasp, but there was a possibility...he was torn between his desire for freedom, and his understanding of the need for caution.
In his mind's eye, he saw Qui-Gon. The lessons of his master washed comfortingly over him, and he could almost hear his deep, soft voice...
"One always has choices, Padawan...even with a blade at your throat. It depends on what you truly value...and what you do not."
Darth Belial's fingers dug into Obi-Wan's neck , jolting him painfully out of his reverie.
"UNDERSTOOD?"
Obi-Wan nodded. He would bide his time. He would be prudent.
He would survive.
"Yes."
He held perfectly still as the clone unbound his hands.
"Strip. Now."
Wordlessly and with an economy of movement Obi-Wan shed his clothes. He did not resist when Belial forced him to sit on a chair of smooth wood, bolted to the floor, and quickly, thoroughly, and efficiently bound him to the chair with several lengths of carbon rope.
Belial straightened, turned on a single suspensor globe directly above Obi-Wan's head, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Obi-Wan was rendered almost totally immobile. His feet were pulled back beneath the seat, his ankles bound to the single column base of the chair. Bands of rope, wrapped above and below his knees and anchored to the rim of the seat, held his legs apart. His wrists were crossed behind the back of the chair and tightly roped together. A short length of cord also pulled his elbows toward each other, forcing his shoulders back. Loops of rope encircled his waist, pressing the small of his back to the chair. More coils wound tightly about his shoulders, upper arms, and chest.
Obi-Wan tugged cautiously at the bonds. It seemed as if each cord were somehow connected to every other...he could not pull at the ropes that restrained his wrists or ankles without causing an increased tightness in them all.
His heart lurched unpleasantly. With the collar round his neck, it would be nearly
(Completely)
impossible to free himself. Once again he called upon the Force, summoned it to him, and once again felt the loathsome fluidity of the clone's Force signature. So not only was he incapable of using the Force, but he was confronted with the Sith lord's mental barrier.
The clone gave him a wide sunny smile.
And now Obi-Wan did start to panic, forgetting his training, forgetting the Litanies for serenity. He struggled, fighting the ropes, unable to prevent a low moan of frustration and dismay at his utter helplessness. The more he strained and writhed, the more the ropes responded with harsh intimacy, biting into his flesh, holding him in a cruel embrace.
Belial snickered at the young man's distress and turned away, flicking on more globes, bathing the room in a sickly greenish-yellow glare.
Obi-Wan stilled himself with tremendous effort, his eyes sweeping the room for anything that might aid in his escape.
The sight of the room, though, was far from reassuring.
On either side of him, against the walls, was rack after rack of dark and twisted implements...some wholly incomprehensible, if vaguely threatening; others whose use was only too plain. More such equipment was neatly arrayed on the end of a bench directly in front of him. Also in front of him, about two meters up, hung a single viewscreen, dormant.
On the floor surrounding the chair were dark stains of varying hues.
Obi-Wan shut his eyes, sent a desperate plea to Qui-Gon.
//Master, help me. I am in great danger.//
Again the plea was met by silence.
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