| Should As Strangers We Meet |
| Danni was uncharacteristically silent as they were escorted back to the cabin where Xanatos had earlier made his confessions to Obi-Wan. Assuming it was a residual effect from whatever nightmares that had plagued her before awakening, Obi-Wan held her close, crooning soft, loving words into her ear. Leading her into the sitting room, he eased his mate onto the sofa where she seemed to immediately fall into a relaxed sleep. "If there's nothing you'll be needing, I’ll see to a proper meal being sent," the accompanying med tech said standing just outside the open door. "Thank you," Obi-Wan replied, "and thank Lord DeCrion." As soon as the door hissed closed, Danni jumped up from her place on the sofa. Obi-Wan watched in surprise as she sprinted to the door, placing her head against it. After a moment of listening, she reached for the door's keypad. Fingering the soft buttons a number of times her face contorted in frustration. "Sith, it's locked!" she swore softly, using the ultimate curse picked up from Obi-Wan over the years. "Danni, what are you doing?" he asked, perplexed by the sudden change in behavior. Shooting a furrowed brow at him, Danni raised a finger to her lips, crossing the room to stand beside him. "We've been locked in," her quiet voice related. "Why are you whispering?" Obi-Wan asked, unconsciously lowering his own voice to match. "We're probably being monitored," her eyes darted furtively around the room. Obi-Wan pursed his lips, concern evident on his face when she scurried about the room, inspecting various furnishings. He began to wonder if perhaps she had been more severely injured than at first thought. "Danni," he called, going to her and pulling her to the sofa, "you should rest." "Obi, we've got to find Qui-Gon and get out of here." she whispered with grave intensity. "What are you talking about?" he asked, begrudging the Jedi Master's inclusion in her overly protective manner. The young woman glared at him, astonished by his complete disregard of the tense aura she felt thrumming through the Force. "What's the matter with you?" she snapped bitterly, "Have you lost all sense of the Force?" Obi-Wan pulled back from her, stung by her biting words. "Just what is that suppose to mean?" his own anger beginning to surface. "Don't you sense it...the darkness?" she asked, baffled by his blindness. "Danni, I think you're still a bit confused from what happened," he rationalized. "You can't tell me you don't feel the ominous veil surrounding that man?" her eyes wide with disbelief. "What man?" he inquired cautiously, knowing that it wasn't the rogue Jedi she referred to. "That lord of course...Zantos, or whatever he calls himself." she spat with great distain. "Don't tell me you trust him after what he did to us?" "Danni, Lord DeCrion explained to me why he fired on us and under the circumstances, though I may not agree with it, I do understand." Holding her hand in his, Obi-Wan related Xanatos' past history with the Master Jedi. "So, you see Danni, if there is anything you're feeling, doesn't it seem more reasonable that the cause would be attributed to the Jedi?" "But Obi, Oomi picked up on it days ago..." "Yes," he interrupted, "just when the Jedi showed up. Do you believe that merely coincidence?" Danni held her tongue, not wanting to argue… certainly not here or now. “Maybe,” she answered meekly, determining for the time being she would let Obi believe he had convinced her. There was something amiss here, not that she believed for a second that the Jedi was capable of the atrocities Lord DeCrion accused him of. Her thoughts were broken up by a light buzz from the door. "Come in," Obi-Wan called casually from the sofa. A blank-faced man, dressed in a gray jumpsuit entered, pushing a cart. "Lord Xanatos wishes you to enjoy his hospitality and hopes you find the accommodations to your liking," the man stated, placing the cart next to them and turning on his heels to leave. Removing the lid from one of the covered dishes that sat on the cart, Obi-Wan smiled readily. A frown on her face, Danni was about to question the wisdom of accepting the meal provided by their host when her ears were assaulted by a rather loud, strangling groan. "Sorry." Obi-Wan blushed sheepishly, his hand automatically going to his stomach. "I guess I'm hungry." "You're always hungry," she chided gently, unable to hide her smile. Obi-Wan took a great deal of good-natured teasing on account of his appetite. At many a meal with the clan, he was watched with amused fascination as he polished off enough food to feed three large Wookiees. There was a time, shortly after his acceptance into the extended family, were meals had become a sport of sorts as some of the younger men secretly began wagers on the amounts of food the clan's newest member would eat. Oblivious to the goings on, Obi-Wan thought his new found friends were always this enthusiastic at meal time. It was her uncle, Efrem, who had eventually found out about the games and confronted the participants, chastising them from their deficiencies of courtesy and consideration. She had come upon the group and added her own severe thoughts of their amusements as Obi's expense. Months later, when she went to Magdalena and Efrem to proclaim her feelings for the younger man, her uncle laughed, explaining he had wondered when she would admit to her love. "Your true feelings have been evident since rushing to defend his supposed dignity against the others childish games, games I might add, you would have normally joined in had it not been Obi-Wan at its center." Now watching her man, all willpower abandoned to his incessant hunger, Danni smiled pensively. Intuition reverberated with tension, tying her nerves in knotted bundles. It filled her with worry that Obi-Wan should appear so blind to the very Force he often trusted his life to. Deciding to bide her time, relying on her own senses, she would wait and watch. She only hoped that fate would be on their side should the situation prove itself to be as disquieting as she feared. May the Force be with us, she prayed silently. After a number of hours of sitting and watching the stationary figure of Qui-Gon Jinn, Xanatos shifted uncomfortably on the stool. This wasn't quite what he expected. His initial elation at having the Jedi Master at his mercy had quickly receded to disappointment and boredom. It irked him to receive so little satisfaction in causing misery to the man. Over the years he had, on occasion, caught himself thinking with regret on the quick-handed death he had dealt his former master. Always at those times, he reasoned any contrition was a longing to have inflicted as grievous an injury as he himself had felt at the Jedi's renouncing him. He had built dreams, vivid imaginings of what he would have liked to do to his hated master. Each tear he had shed was paid back one hundred fold in his fantasies with pain, blood and torment. Those musings had given him strength, providing him a small contentment at the time. How then now, when I have the very subject of those dreams here with me in reality am I not comforted? Where was the satisfaction of making dreams come true? Why should this apparent victory feel so hollow, the expected gratification so elusive? 'Perhaps because retribution is not what you really seek.' a weak, long banished voice whispered in his head. Xanatos straightened, shocked by the intrusion of this undesired voice. 'No!' he told himself silently. 'That's impossible!' The cold, calculating part of his psyche reinserted itself, searching desperately for that heartless explanation for the feeling of empty. Finally it came, the darkness in his mind laughing triumphantly at its discovery. This wasn't his master, he told himself, not really. Though this man was identical in every aspect, this was not 'the' Qui-Gon Jinn who had betrayed the bond they shared so long ago. Grasping at this flimsy line of reasoning an internal struggle began as logic fought against it. But the dark side, now almost an addiction, pushed hard at the conflicting thoughts. Never did it demand sacrifice or hardship. The dark side only promised an endless fulfillment of all wants and desires. To listen to that stray voice now would only serve to call into question all his life's actions. And because he was weak and it was easier to surrender to ego, he felt the voice of conscience squelched under the weight of self-serving free-will. Xanatos rose suddenly, leaving the room, unconsciously distancing himself from that which stirred doubts and confusion. Striding down the large ship's corridor, he entered a turbolift that took him to a secured deck that few aboard had access to. By the time he made his way to his destination his previously held resolve had returned and all doubts of actions and intentions were erased. A pass of his hand opened the locked door and the Lord of Telos walked into the security station full of dark confidence. The officer on duty jumped to his feet as soon as spying Xanatos at the door. Instantly the man reached for one of the many void-monitors, one that's screen was dark with shadows. "They're asleep," the officer said, extracting a small data chip from the monitor and offering it to Xanatos. Without a word, the Telosian Lord glanced at the screen which showed an unlit bedroom, two indistinct forms nestled together in the bed. Taking the chip, Xanatos turned on his heels and retired to his own suite. Seating himself in front of his personal holo-monitor, he inserted the data chip in the slot to observed the activities of his 'guests'. The girl seemed far more perceptive of her surroundings then the former Jedi initiate and as he listened gravely to her ideas, he began to wonder if there might not be a need to 'dispose' of this troublesome female. Only thing was, that would be losing the one sure thing he could use to keep Kenobi under his control. Chin resting in hand, an index finger lightly tapping against his full lips, he watched the exchange with serious intent as Kenobi defended him. After a short time the girl grew quiet, as if in deep contemplation. Finally she acquiesced, though with little real feeling. 'You've just extended your life my dear.' he thought appreciatively. Scene after horrible scene played itself out behind the Jedi Master's closed eyes, each one accompanied by a torrent of unbearable suffering, both physical and emotional. The transport crash on the mostly water world of Oceaneria . The exhausting two-day swim in the emerald sea in search of landmass. Stripped to their bare underclothes, their Jedi attire discarded as the weight of them wet pulled them down. Onward they swam, ever onward, muscled strained and weary, arms and legs moving so long it was now painful to stop. Deep inside their Force focused minds, their only wish to feel the resistance of solid ground beneath their feet. Obi-Wan, only sixteen then, had been pushed to the limits of physical endurance. Qui-Gon knew the boy was concentrating solely on the strength of his master's presence beside him, urging him on. Swimming for hours, then floating, the only respite for their beleaguered bodies. Swimming again, tight overused muscles burning in protest at their use. Floating, ah...blessed stillness, the water lapping around them, lulling them into a dangerous hypnotic slumber. Then the Force screaming in alarm, Qui-Gon's eyes snap open, his arms flailing at his side, their predicament in the water momentarily forgotten upon awakening. Attempting to right himself, forcing cold, numb legs to move in a pendulum motion to stay afloat. His eyes searching frantically over the water's surface to locate Obi-Wan, some twenty meters away, still overcome by sleep. The Force's insistence of danger grows stronger as he watches his apprentice bob lightly on the calm water like a buoyant piece of driftwood. //Obi-Wan// Qui-Gon calls calmly over their bond, instinctively knowing that movement may draw the attention of whatever lurked beneath them, but needing Obi-Wan awake and alert. //Master?// came the baffled response of his apprentice as the master felt the water begin to churn around him. Whatever was hiding in the depths was rising to meet him. //Be still Padawan.// He sent in a tone of command that bade compliance. Something brushed tentatively against him, then in a rush, he felt his legs wrapped in a tight, compressive hold. The flat, triangular tip of a large, thick tentacle wormed its way up his torso as he felt it constrict, snapping both femurs like dry kindling. "Arghhhh..." Qui-Gon's agonized howl was cut short as he was submerged underwater. Springing up in a great splash, he coughed and sputtered out the salty water he had both swallowed and inhaled, arms flapping wildly. "Master!" Obi-Wan cried out and in an adrenalin spiked burst of energy swam to where his master struggled with the unseen sea monster. //Stop// he sent weakly through the bond, the excruciating pain of his crushed legs exploding in his mind in bright red light. //Obi..still, must remain..still// Immediately the boy stopped, but already Qui-Gon could feel the grasp on his legs lessen. His body angled horizontally as his legs floated to the surface, broken and useless, the hold on them released. Floundering miserably, barely able to push pass the pain that accompanied each jostling wave, he caused as he strove to keep his head above water. Off to his left Obi-Wan watched the water around him. Qui-Gon saw the tentacle rise from the water behind his apprentice. Saw as it bent forward over the boy's shoulder, latching on to him, pulling him down. "No!" Qui-Gon panicked as Obi-Wan's head disappeared beneath the emerald waves. Ducking his head underwater, Qui-Gon observed helplessly while his apprentice was dragged down into the darkened depths of the sea. Arms outstretched, desperately reaching out to his master, his braid fluttering over his head, the creature retreated to the deep with its captive in tow. "Master!" eyes wide with knowing terror, the boy mouthed, his life's breath leaving his lungs, the air bubbles quickly rising to break on the surface around his master as he was hauled to a watery grave. Alarms shrilled loudly in the room. The lone med tech worked rapidly as the Jedi's life signs went dangerously erratic. If the man should die all blame would be lain at his feet and the thought of what his lord might do to him paled in comparison to whatever he thought the Jedi might be going through. Quickly, he decreased the rate of the IV drip and turned the knob controlling the electrical power on the pain inducer down. There, he thought, relieved to hear the monitor’s silence and the man's vitals slowly move to a life sustaining level. He glanced quickly at the Jedi, wanting to see with his own eyes the man still breathed, never noticing the trickle of tears that coursed down the side of the Jedi Master's face. By morning, after hours spent in deep, contemplative meditation, Xanatos felt refreshed and confident. The Dark Force prickled tightly against his pale skin, a portent of some great defining moment on the horizon, looming ever closer. All he need do was stand fast, ready to make the most of the opportunity when it presented itself. The ship was only hours away from Dolari Tunz, the planet on which young Kenobi had told him the Jedi Master needed his help with repairs of a transport. Xanatos knew it was here that he would find the device that enabled the alternate Qui-Gon Jinn to travel to this dimension. Repairs indeed! As of yet, he was unsure what role Obi-Wan played in the Jedi's plans, but as he made his way to the med lab, he was certain that all his questions were about to be answered. "Wake him." Xanatos commanded, as he passed through the doorway, his cape fluttering soundlessly to his side. Instantly the med tech set about removing the electrodes attached to the Jedi, unceremoniously ripping the adhesive patches from bare skin. Bizarre images and distortions still plagued Qui-Gon. The mission to Aurora Li, mediation of a land dispute between two of the planet's ruling families. The destruction of the Great Domed Hall were the conferences took place. The rescue efforts. Sifting through rubble for survivors or those less fortunate. The final blast that brought the transparisteel lattice work of the dome itself crashing down on he and his apprentice. Being trapped, pinned down under a jumble of girders as fire raged around him. The flames lapping at his boots, unfelt as it consumed his clothes, charred his flesh, burning legs deadened by a broken back. Struggling in vain, all the while being incinerated alive... then darkness... and nothing. A voice calling... calling a name... his name. It was difficult to concentrate. Thoughts tattered and faded even as they formed. His mind overwrought, his body abused. "Qui-Gon..." The voice. His name. Listen...focus, he told himself, fighting through the dense haze that prevailed. "Qui-Gon." This time more sharply, demanding attention. Dragging his consciousness out of the fog, he anchored his mind to the sound of the voice. "Answer me Qui-Gon!" "Padawan," he heard himself answer. Xanatos called the large man's name repeatedly, endeavoring to arouse him from the drug-induced stupor. Finally after a number attempts, the Jedi seemed to react to the verbal stimuli, responding with a slurred, thick-tongued 'pa da wa'. Turning toward the sound of the voice, Qui-Gon's world swam behind closed lids, waves of nausea and dizziness threatening to undermined his already tenuous grip on consciousness. Observing the man's gradual return, Xanatos pulled the chair to the end of the cart, taking position directly behind the large man's head. "Master?" the dark lord whispered, bending close to the Jedi's ear. Upon hearing that word Qui-Gon instinctively reached out with his mind to connect to the one person he automatically assumed it to be. "Ob-Wan.." he muttered, floundering at his attempt to center himself, lost to the Force and too weak and disoriented to comprehend his circumstances. Xanatos startled at the degree of affection and conviction Qui-Gon had projected on the utterance of that one name. Confident that his information on Kenobi was accurate, he was intrigued by the possibilities this air of extreme familiarity intimated at. It was obvious the former initiate's presence was more than circumstantial. Closing his eyes, gathering the strength of the Dark Force, Xanatos leaned heavily on the Jedi Master's mind. Qui-Gon Jinn's reaction was immediate, though entirely ineffective. Had he not been restrained with Force-inhibiting binders, or his body and psyche not been subjected to brutal abuse only recently terminated, the Jedi Master would have effortlessly deflected the savage intrusion of his mind. As it were, Xanatos was able to break through the flimsy shields Qui-Gon erected with remarkable ease. Inside the man's mind, Xanatos found not the sound and rational strength of a Jedi but the distraught and fractured musings of a being in the throes of mental psychosis. Even as he probed deeper into the subconscious, the dark lord could barely discern fact from fiction in the disoriented thoughts and images that washed through the muddled, drug-laden mind. "Qui-Gon," Xanatos pressed hard, forcing the Jedi to focus on him. "Where is the transport?" Prying crusted eyelids apart, Qui-Gon's vision filled with bright light and formless shadows. "Obi-W..Wan?" he stuttered pleadingly. A picture formed in Xanatos mind. A young man dressed in Jedi tunics, the symbolic apprentice braid dangling over his shoulder. Kenobi? Of course, Xanatos thought. Now things were beginning to come clear. Evidently in whatever time line this Qui-Gon came from, Obi-Wan Kenobi not only continued in the Jedi Order, he had been chosen a Padawan learner to the esteemed Qui-Gon Jinn. It came as no surprise that the Jedi Master would seek out the help of the one most closely regarded in his own world. His own deceased Master had shown countless times the same fallible tendencies allowing affection to cloud his reason. Snorting derisively, Xanatos used his power of the Force to manipulate the Jedi's mind. "Master. I've found you at last!" he twisted the words in an all too familiar accent, placing just the right amount of concern in the voice. His words now produced the desired effect on the Jedi Master. Without any verbal response at all, Xanatos gleaned the answers he sought as images of the device and its location flashed through Qui-Gon's easily pilfered thoughts. He could sense the Jedi's futile attempts to access the Force, but it only succeeded in rendering him even more susceptible to the maelstrom of conflicting neuro-synapses that were being triggered by his drug-addled brain. Recognizing the incipient effect of the oft-used psychotic, Xanatos knew time could be of the essence here. Former antagonist's given the same drug in far lesser dosages had died quickly in violent convulsions. "Master," he implored in mimicked voice, "the device's control..." Behind clouded eyes, Qui-Gon felt his struggle to maintain dominance of mind and body fail, even the comfort and strength derived from hearing the sound of his Padawan's voice was lost to the sharp, synaptic responses firing erratically in his brain. After hours of the highly addictive chemical flowing through his veins, the abrupt cessation of it created an even more destructive imbalance in his system then its introduction. Unseeing eyes rolling back in his head, Qui-Gon's facial muscles began to twitch, his body spasming wildly in drug-deprived seizure. Xanatos fought through a wave of hysterical images, finding the necessary clue to the operation of the transport just as Qui-Gon's brain was disrupted by an overload of neuro-input. Quickly retreating from the chaotic mind, he watched as the large man's body jerked roughly against the binders that held him to the cart. The med tech was there forcing a wedge of demi-vinyl into the Jedi's mouth. "Your wishes?" The man asked, holding on to the cart as the seizing form threatened to overturn it. "I may yet have need of him," Xanatos answered coldly, his eyes never leaving the quaking form on the cart. |
 |
|
|
|
|
|