Betrayal - Chapter 24

Freefall

Obi-Wan felt terrible.

Early morning light was streaming into the Jedi Council chamber, low rays of brilliance that skidded across the broken tiles and sprayed straight into his eyes. But he ignored it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Sunlight was the least of his problems.

Even the phantom pain of previous hours had dulled although the remembrance of it still skittered across his skin like droid septspiders. Looking down, he could see remnants of the self-inflicted injuries spotting his undertunic with encrusted sprays of dried blood. One wound still oozed slowly, red-brown liquid following the pale line of bone and skin until the droplets slipped free onto the once-beautiful floor - a slow tap...tap... tap. It was almost soothing to listen to his lifeblood leaching out his future.

Standing there, swaying slightly, exhaustion seemed to seep into his very bones, sapping his strength. He tried to gather in the Force and gain back some small portion of that energy; he would need it in full measure before long. But the residual effects of the Force-suppression were still clinging to him. It would take some minutes more before he would be able to feel its Light again.

Yet the torment of blinding sunlight and exhaustion and blood trickling off his fingertips was nothing to the misery of knowing that his Master was still trapped below. He could see him there in his mind's eye, the imagined fire-demons picking at Qui-Gon's mind as he tried to fight off the terror that choked the rank air in that hellhole. With every fiber of his being, Obi-Wan wanted to turn around and rescue him.

But there was nothing he could do. He was imprisoned here just as much as Qui-Gon was trapped in that damnable cell at the base of the Temple. Helpless.

It was almost as if the Councilors were playing with them, like felinoids with prey. When the guards arrived early in the morning to take him, they had shut down the feedback mechanism for a brief time. He had hoped that the Council had come to their senses and seen reason. But when the two guards dragged him out of the prison and reengaged the cell's torture device, he had struggled with everything that he had in him to stop it. But it was not enough. Never enough.

And now he was here, standing in the very heart of the Jedi Temple, being judged by those that looked at him as if he were some kind of gorach-slime, waiting with him to make another mistake.

Obi-Wan glanced around the room, trying to gauge whether there was any pity among the Councilors, knowing there was likely none here. Almost all the Masters were present, scattered about in little knots of conversation. Masters Sle'fey and Zacor were off in one corner with heads together, staring at him for a moment and then studiously looking away. The others were also avoiding his gaze. At least, Master Tharten and that blustering bureaucrat, Zaros, were not in attendance. He wasn't sure that he would be able to keep his temper in check if Tharten started in on Qui-Gon's activities again.

Finally, Master Sle'fey gestured for the others to take their seats and Obi-Wan pulled himself upright, gathering himself in for the onslaught. He would face whatever they would throw at him with dignity as befitting a former Jedi Knight. If only he could get them to release Qui-Gon, he would accept punishment. If only...

But Master Xacor was frowning at him, a thunderous stormcloud of anger painting his face in reds and shadow. Obi-Wan thought it likely that the Zabrak Master was angry about his defiance yesterday and would start again to ask him about Qui-Gon and his dealings. But instead, with hoarse distaste, the Councilor's voice rang out, "Kenobi, are you bleeding? Knight Rostak, what is the meaning of this?"

From behind Obi-Wan, one of the guards stepped forward and bowed. "Master, it was not our doing. Knight Kenobi must have been in a fight with Jinn sometime during the night and this is the result. They were both bloodied from it when we arrived. But I assure you that Kenobi wasn't bleeding when we took him out of the cell."

"Qui-Gon didn't do this. I did." But his protest went unheard.

The guard opened his hand and showed Qui-Gon's sharpened boot buckle to the Council. "We found this small weapon in Jinn's possession. It must have been used during their scuffle last night. Of course, we impounded it but it was not easy. Jinn was quite persistent about keeping it."

Obi-Wan sent Rostak a scathing glare. "Qui-Gon and I did not... scuffle. The buckle was used to fight off the mental torture of that blasted cell. He needed it; he still needs it. He should not be down there. This is not justice."

It must have been a trick of the early morning light but Xacor looked almost ashamed. And Sle'fey's fur was flattened in some dark emotion even as his blue eyes met those of the Zabrak Councilor. But when the Masters realized that Obi-Wan was watched them both, Sle'fey's gaze slid away, giving a little shake of his muzzle and Xacor scowled before looking down at his clenched hands.

Furious with the situation and the fact that Qui-Gon was still down there, still being tormented by that place, Obi-Wan stared at the Councilors. His temper was beginning to fray into anxiety as they turned away. They were hiding something and it wasn't good.

But before he could probe further, the Rodian Master Veendo, his green snout glistening with wet eagerness, snorted and snapped back, "Justice is served when Jinn confesses, nothing less."

Glaring at the Rodian for a moment, Xacor ignored the cutting remark and asked the guard, "Knight Rostak, can you explain then why Knight Kenobi is standing here bleeding on the floor?"

"He tried to escape this morning. He could have reopened his wound then."

"I did not..." Obi-Wan tried to rein in his thinning control. He was growing uneasy even as his Force signature was beginning to return. Something was seriously wrong. He could feel it. "You turned that torture machine back on. I..."

Rostak interrupted Obi-Wan , sending an annoyed scowl his way. "Knight Kenobi seemed quite upset when we reengaged the feedback device and he struggled enough to injure one of my guards. I was more concerned about how my man was doing."

Glaring at Rostak, Xacor huffed in annoyance, "Well, take care of it. Can't you see that Knight Kenobi is in need of medical attention? We aren't barbarians here."

Acknowledging the rebuke with a sharp nod, Rostak grabbed at the bandages that another of his cadre had thrust into his hand and, catching hold of Obi-Wan's arm, followed the trail of blood back to its source. It took but a few seconds for him to press in the medicinal patch.

The man was gentle enough but Obi-Wan was not paying attention. Instead, unable to hold in his bitterness, he spat out, "Aren't you? That so-called feedback device you used on us was set much higher than I'd ever experienced before. The Jedi's torture chamber.... that thing is an abomination to the Force."

Sle'fey turned his dark eyes toward Obi-Wan, concern and just the barest hint of shame in his voice, "Higher? Are you sure?"

"Ask your security guards. I certainly didn't change it." His sarcastic tone was unmistakable.

As Rostak finished up with the bandages and stepped back, he nodded, "Master Sle'fey, Knight Kenobi is correct. When we arrived this morning to bring him up to the Council chamber, the feedback device was set on maximum. We changed it back to the original setting before it was turned on again. I cannot explain what happened. My men did not take either prisoner to the cells yesterday. I believe that Master Tharten hand-picked them for that task."

There was a scatter of quiet protest about the room. Apparently not everyone on the Council was happy about how cell AA23 was utilized even if Master Tharten, head of that august body, championed its use. But they had allowed it to happen; nothing could change that fact.

As the murmurs died down, Master Xacor sent a look of utter thunderous disapproval towards Sle'fey and then turning to the guard, growled out, "I'm sure she did. Thank you, Knight Rostak. That will be all." With that, the guard stepped back and joined his companions by the door.

Obi-Wan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Much as he would have liked to rebuke the Councilors for their villainous handling of this whole appalling debacle, he knew it would do little good. Scathing retorts would not get Qui-Gon released and that must remain his first priority. "Masters, I...."

But instead of listening to him, the Zabrak Master twisted towards Sle'fey, gesturing toward a small datapad in his hand, interrupting Obi-Wan's remark with a soft whisper, "Trest, she's in the turbolift heading toward the cell block."

A snarling curl to his muzzle, Sle'fey had seemed to be preoccupied, almost as if he were looking about the room, counting heads and unhappy with the result. But when he heard Xacor's statement, he nodded imperceptibly. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned back to face Obi-Wan. "Knight Kenobi, you have indicated that you no longer wish to be a Jedi Knight. But as we said yesterday, we refuse to accept your resignation at this time. You are needed here."

Obi-Wan stood there, arms folded about his chest, holding in the bone-chilling dismay. Deep down, he knew that they would not let him go but he had hoped that they would see reason for once. And yet, and yet, that thought did not explain the phantom slither of shadows even now creeping up his spine. He gave a slight shudder. Something wasn't right and it was getting worse by the moment.

"Keeping beings against their will is not going to aid the Order. I will not cooperate in this."

From behind him, the doors of the Council Chamber groaned open and any further conversation came to an abrupt halt as one garishly-dressed bureaucrat stomped into the room. Kenth Zaros, Senate Representative of the Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs, had finally arrived.

But Obi-Wan's anxiety turned to astonishment when Master Sle'fey ignored the official, saying instead, "And if we told you that we were going to release Qui-Gon..."

Zaros stood at the entrance, all bluster and air, venom in his voice. "What is this nonsense of Jinn going free? The Chancellor did not approve such a thing and neither did I."

Master Sle'fey sent a long measured look toward the rat-faced parasite. Today, the man had obviously taken great care in looking as extravagant as he possibly could - the undercoat of black synthsilk studded with Corsca gems and rare Alderaanian shimmer-pearls couched in gold bullion, the overcoat a brilliant cacophony of reds and oranges with stylized tracings of the Senate seal in minute stones of ruby and obsidian and topaz.

It was obvious to all except Zaros that the brilliantly-colored plumage only highlighted the fool beneath. Obi-Wan thought it absurdly ironic that the servants of the Republic, Jedi Knights in their homespun tunics, looked far more regal than the garish Senate buffoon.

Master Sle'fey's white fur matted down as he barked out, "Representative Zaros, I do not believe you were invited to this meeting."

Stalking over to the Bothan and thrusting his pasty face mere centimeters from Sle'fey's muzzle, the beady eyes of Kenth Zaros bore into the hard durasteel-blue of the Councilor's own. The opulent bureaucrat all but spat his disdain, "I do not need an invitation. And frankly, if Master Tharten had not told me of this, I would not have gotten here in time to hear this ridiculous idea."

The Bothan Councilor leaned back, blinking slowly and deliberately as he stared at the man. "Former Master Jinn is innocent of the charges of murder."

Zaros slapped his hand against the nerf-hide arm of Sle'fey's seat, sending a sharp crack echoing in the room. When the Councilor did not react, he backed off, brushing at his coat and then sitting abruptly in Tharten's empty chair. Huffing in disbelief, he said, "Absurd."

Looking down his muzzle at the Senate's emissary, Sle'fey was all stately grace and calm courtesy in the way his paw waved toward Zaros. But his eyes reflected banked fury. "Nevertheless, it is true. Master Xacor and I went over the datacrystals thoroughly last night. Both Obi-Wan and Padawan Sl'etah were correct. There was an embedded code in the datastream that brought up false information. We have since been able to trace it back to Coruscant, to the Jedi Temple. One of the Order's own sliced it into the datasystem." He flicked a glance at Xacor and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Quite sophisticated, too. The person who did this was unusually adept at manipulation."

The bureaucrat frowned, glaring at the Councilors, "Who is it, then? I want names. This sort of thing would look bad for my subcommittee if the holonet media ever got hold of it."

"I cannot say but you will know in time." Sle'fey exchanged pointed looks with Xacor but his reply was Jedi serene and very decided.

Apparently, Zaros didn't appreciate the answer; the sarcasm in his voice was kilometers deep. "How very convenient."

Carelessly nodding, Sle'fey muttered, "Yes, it is but I am confident that we will have what we need by day's end." And then he turned away, ignoring the sputtering cretin.

Obi-Wan watched the whole episode with frank astonishment. He had never seen Master Sle'fey so dismissive before, certainly not toward the man who held the power to control the fortunes of the Jedi. Much as he disliked the agent, he knew that he could cut off all funding for the Order if he so chose. That the Councilor could be so surly and abrupt with Zaros was alarming.

But he did not have time to ponder the events. The phantom pain of his overnight torment lingered, even as the last of the suppression effect was leaching away. To think that Qui-Gon was still being tortured in that damnable place was grotesque. His eyes darting about the room, trying to gather support for his cause, Obi-Wan pressed for his old mentor's release. "Why is Qui-Gon still imprisoned if you think he is innocent?"

He was surprised when Master Zacor shifted in his seat and looked away for a moment, the Zabrak nervously staring down at his datapad and muttering something that Obi-Wan couldn't quite catch.

But Master Sle'fey obviously could hear every word. Muzzle twisting in annoyance or frustration or worry, he murmured something quietly in return before raising his voice to explain, "He is not without guilt. Even you know this, Obi-Wan."

"You can't prove that he is a slaver or someone helping runaways. And my suspicions are only that, suspicions. You have no evidence of wrong-doing."

Although Obi-Wan had expected dismissal of his concerns, even an argument, instead there was astonishing agreement. Nodding once, Sle'fey said, "You are correct. We cannot prove that he was transporting slaves to Naboo, either to sell them or to free them. He must be judged innocent of the charge at this time."

Representative Zaros was having none of it. He seemed to grow more and more frenzied as Sle'fey spoke of Qui-Gon's innocence. His face flushed a mottled red, he puffed his chest out in an obvious ploy to get attention and stood up, waving his fists in the air at the Jedi.

"Have you lost your mind, Sle'fey? Slave-trading or helping runaways... it doesn't matter. It's illegal." Thrusting his finger at the Bothan, he spat out, "You have no right to say that he is free of taint. The Senate will not sit still for this." And then he began to pace, the bright morning sunlight blazing across his clothes, sending sparkles of color into the Chamber, a beautiful counterpoint to the tension in the room.

Sle'fey all but snapped at the bureaucrat. He pointed to the chair, gesturing with one claw and growling, "They will if they have no choice. Now sit down, Zaros, and let the Council do what needs to be done."

His beady eyes glittering with malice, a thunderous frown crossing his face, Kenth Zaros swelled up even further. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? I am in charge here, not you. And frankly this whole idea of Jinn being innocent of the murders will not sit well with the Chancellor or the Senate Committee. I have it on good authority that Jinn's imprisonment was a foregone conclusion. To change it now...."

"So you are saying that for expediency's sake, you would send an innocent man to prison. How very just of you."

The Bothan's voice was winter-cold and his white fur was as flat as Obi-Wan had ever seen it. There was danger here and he wasn't sure if Zaros realized it yet.

But the Senate's fool just glared back at Sle'fey, ignorant of the emotions that were stirring behind the dark blue eyes of the Councilor or else ignoring them. He sputtered, "I don't appreciate your tone, Jedi. I am in control, not you. If the Republic wants punishment of an obvious criminal, then who are you to deny that?"

Obi-Wan had never heard the Bothan speak with such contempt before. "I, sir, am a Jedi Master, a guardian of peace and justice. And I say that you can either sit down and listen to the truth or you can leave."

Choking back laughter, Zaros raised his voice. "Peace and justice... you can't be serious. You have no authority to force me to do anything."

"Oh yes, I do and I will if you do not be quiet. Things will become clear to you when the time is right. Not before." The glare in Sle'fey's eyes would have silenced a more intelligent man. "You have not taken over the Jedi Order yet and if I have anything to say about it, you never will."

Zaros could never be accused of being bright. But he did have the audacity of someone used to the oily acquiescence of sycophants and it would seem that he could not allow anyone to challenge his authority, even a Jedi - especially a Jedi. "You cannot think you can speak to me this way. I have the full authority of the Senate to act as I see fit when it comes to dealing with the Order. I can have you dismissed with the wave of my hand."

"Then I suggest you think about waving your hand elsewhere. The Jedi Order has taken its last command from the likes of you." And with that, Sle'fey turned away, reaching for his datapad and looking at it with studied care, deliberately ignoring Zaros.

"How dare ..." The bureaucrat was wild with indignation. He towered over Sle'fey, his fists raised in fury, but the Bothan seemed to take it all in stride.

Leaning to one side, looking past the blustering fool, Sle'fey said calmly, "Knight Rostak, have one of your men escort our esteemed Senate Representative to my office, lock him in and then return. I'll deal with him when this session of the Council is finished."

One hulking guard marched over and, lightsaber in hand, gestured for Zaros to move away, toward the entrance and the offices beyond. When the Senate agent refused to comply, the Jedi wrapped his hand around the arm of the indignant bureaucrat and began to pull him from the Chamber. A steady stream of foul language followed but as the doors began to close, Zaros let out one final threat, "You will regret this...."

And when the bronzium doors groaned shut, Sle'fey leaned back and said sarcastically, "I regret it already."

One and all turned toward the Bothan Councilor, astonishment and disbelief and just a touch of satisfaction crowding the room. Several of the younger Masters sat there silent and concerned; Xacor merely nodded and went back to looking at his datapad. But Senior Masters Veendo and Nunb were both sputtering in fury.

The Rodian was the first to speak, his green skin almost grey as he tried to rein in his contempt and anger. His wet snout spattered drops of wet mucus as he swung toward Sle'fey. "You can't do that. Master Tharten would never agree to such a thing. You can't just unilaterally speak for the whole Council. You haven't got the authority."

"Veendo is right. This is completely unacceptable. The Senate will certainly cut off our funding and you will be dismissed as soon as Zaros gets back to his office." Nunb was almost gibbering as he struggled with his agitation at this turn of events.

But Master Sle'fey was calm, cool and very clear. "Tharten is not present. And after today, I will have all the authority I need. You would be wise, both of you, to look to your own freedom. The Jedi will no longer accept treachery to their own."

With that, Nunb turned a sludgy brown and settled back into his chair, peering at the other Councilors as if trying to find support for himself and finding none. Shaken, blinking furiously, he looked sickened... and guilty.

But Master Veendo was more aggressive, pressing his verbal attack. "Treachery.... how dare you! When Tharten gets here, we will see just who is in charge. And you will be dismissed from this Council at the very least. What do you think you are doing?"

"Yes, when Master Tharten reveals herself, we will indeed see who is in charge. For now, she is not." Sle'fey turned away and started to speak to Xacor but Veendo cut him off.

"I will not stay here and be a party to this foolishness." He started to rise, his grey-green face sweaty with fear and fury. "If you come to your senses, I will be glad to speak to Representative Zaros and try and fix this fiasco. Until then, I will be at the Senate chambers."

The Bothan Master lifted his paw and gestured for one of the guards to step forward. In a perfectly calm, even tone, he said, "Master Veendo, I recommend that you remain here until this is finished. You are completely safe as long as you do not interfere. And I'm sure that Representative Zaros will understand when it is explained to him and you may do so when this is finished. Besides, it won't take long." The threat remained unspoken but no one in the room could deny that he was in control of the situation. Apparently, leaving without permission was not an option.

Obi-Wan did not think that the Rodian could turn any greyer but he was wrong. Veendo was positively ashen. And he couldn't blame the Master; after all, this was unprecedented. But he watched as the Councilor slowly sat back down, glaring at Sle'fey the whole time.

Concerned and more than a little perplexed, Obi-Wan remained silent. It was clear that there was a power play going on and Sle'fey was likely maneuvering to try and take over the Council, perhaps even the Jedi Order itself. But if that were so, why was he here? He had no influence or power within the Order. He was held in contempt by most of the Council and the senior members usually went out of their way to torment him, even before this mission. It didn't add up, at least not yet. He could only be patient and wait it out. But in the back of his mind, the harsh, gibbering memory of that cell reminded him that Qui-Gon was still trapped below. In pain.

Sle'fey, his white fur gleaming and sleek, looked at the Zabrak and asked, "Is everything in place?"

It was obvious that Zak Xacor, head of the Hunter's Group, was aware and agreed with the struggle that was being played out here. He pointed to his datapad and smiled rather wickedly. "Yes. She disabled the holovids but I've planted new monitors in the cell block and they are working perfectly. She should be there momentarily."

"Good. Let me know when she arrives." The Bothan sat back, seemingly comfortable with the situation, ignoring the tendrils of hatred and fear swirling in the air and through the Force.

Perhaps this is what Obi-Wan had felt earlier, the danger sense showing him that the Order was about to change. But there was no more time for speculation as Sle'fey twisted to meet his gaze, "Knight Kenobi, with the exception of the lightsabers, Jinn is innocent of the charges. Even possession of a Jedi's weapon is acceptable if he has permission from the Jedi Council."

Obi-Wan held his breath. Was Sle'fey going to....

"I hereby give him that permission."

The relief Obi-Wan felt could not be expressed in mere words - it sang in the Force, seeming to push back the ever-deepening shadows that had permeated the Council chamber. As long as Sle'fey was in charge and it seemed likely that he would be so at least for the near future, his old mentor would not go to prison after all. He would be able to return home, to go back to doing the work he loved and to the people that he loved - to Le'orath and Ben and even to Anakin. This was a welcome gift and he was profoundly grateful for it. "Thank you, Master Sle'fey. He will be happy to return to Naboo and his home."

But he was also wary. There was always a price for such a gift. And the political machinations of this Council were sending skittering tendrils of apprehension down his back. The darkness was growing again and, while he did not yet know where the danger lay, the Force was trying to send him warnings that he would be a fool to ignore.

Anxious to free Qui-Gon from his prison, he bowed quickly and turned to go. He did not notice the concerned looks that passed between the two Masters nor the deep shame that seemed to settle on the Zabrak's face.

"Not so fast."

Obi-Wan froze. And the relief he had felt evaporated like mist before a supernova. They wanted something from him, something that would be costly, something that they were not sure he'd be willing to pay. That was why he was here alone - without his old Master, without his Padawan. They were using him for some reason of their own and they needed him to be here. Now.

The anxiety he'd been feeling rocketed skyward. This was not good.

Sle'fey raised one paw, his muzzle dropping down as he glanced away for a moment, out into the distant cityscape. He looked almost guilty. But then he gathered himself together with an almost imperceptible shake of his fur and drew back, staring straight at Obi-Wan. He seemed self-assured and clearly in control but his eyes were full of shadow. "I am truly sorry, my friend. If we could have done this any other way..."

So he had been right after all. The price would be high indeed. "What do you mean?"

But before the Bothan could reply, Xacor interrupted, his finger pointing to the datapad. "Trest, she's arrived at the cell but she's just standing there, watching him."

"She hasn't moved yet?" Sle'fey's growl was low-pitched and annoyed and concerned.

The Zabrak just shook his head. "No. But she has her lightsaber and, from what I can tell, apparently a vibroshiv in her hand."

Obi-Wan didn't like the sound of that. They kept talking about a cell and he could only assume that it contained one former Jedi Master, his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. If a woman was down there with a weapon in her hand and Qui-Gon helpless in that place... Blast, what were they thinking leaving him there alone and unarmed?

Glaring at them both, almost shaking with the burgeoning polluted feel in the Force, fists clenching and unclenching as if he would throttle every Councilor in the chamber if he had to in order to get to the bottom of this, he stepped toward Sle'fey. His grey eyes were blazing a trail back and forth between the Bothan and Xacor, daring them.

He wanted the truth and he wanted it now. Before it was too late.

"What is going on?" He would have thought that his demand for answers would have brought about another argument or even a reprimand but the two Councilors remained shamefully silent. Xacor turned his face away and looked down at his datapad as if gathering comfort from its green light; Sle'fey just radiated guilt. The other Jedi shifted uncomfortably in the ongoing stillness.

Centering himself, reaching into the knots of light and dark that seemed to wheel about the room like poisonous kreelbats seeking prey, he drew in one deep breath and another. And then opening his eyes, he was finally beginning to understand why and where and how. He was being used and the taste of it was ash and dust and the decay of the Jedi Order.

After all he had learned in the past week, after all the lies and accusations and shifting realities, he finally realized just what he was, a fool - a blind, trusting naive fool. And his Master was going to pay for his folly.

Obi-Wan's voice was almost calm. "You were going to dismiss the charges against Qui-Gon anyway. And if you already knew this morning, why wasn't he released when I was brought here? Why is he still down there?"

But he didn't need to hear the answer. It was plain as the shame and tattoos on Xacor's face and the guilt of durasteel blue in the eyes of the Bothan Councilor. They were merely to confirm what he already knew.

Qui-Gon was the dangling bait in a quarlle trap. And Obi-Wan was just in the way.

But it still hurt to hear Sle'fey's steady voice. "He needs to remain in his cell for the moment. He is going to play a pivotal role just as you have done."

"You are using him. It's all part of this grand design of yours, a trap for one of your enemies." The last bitter dregs of hope cluttered his throat; he could barely speak. Disgust and utter contempt for these corrupt beings began to seep into his gut and he just wanted to leave, rescue Qui-Gon and fly away from here, never to return.

Sle'fey looked distinctly uncomfortable at the way Obi-Wan was glaring at him but his reply was Jedi cool. "Yes, and she's walked right into it."

"She?" The deadly tone would have quashed a lesser being but the Bothan just continued to watch him calmly as Obi-Wan reasoned it out. "It's Tharten, isn't it? She's not here and you've been... How long have you been planning this?"

"A long time..." The answer was off-handed, serene and complacent, as if it were of no consequence to anyone.

To anyone but the one who had been used.

"It all begins to make sense now. You... you sent me on this mission. You used me to bring him back here. And to think that I pleaded time after time to be able to contact him and you never would let me. You and this damned Council. Why? Was it too soon for your little plot to let me see him before now?"

Obi-Wan folded his arms about his chest, trying to keep in the warmth that was leaching out with every word he said. He had been a fool for so very long. It was almost obscene that they could have used him this way, drawing him into their conspiracy without his knowledge or consent. To manipulate him like this. He felt violated.

Xacor's soft "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan" was lost in Sle'fey's explanation. "She has been careful for a very long time but she hates Qui-Gon, unreasonably so. He has done nothing to her but she sees only injury and destruction. And she looks at you and remembers. His Padawan."

He was about to go on but the Zabrak Master interrupted. "Trest, I think we should bring up the vid feeds. Let everyone see what she is doing down there."

Squirming in his seat, Veendo looked as if he were about to object but Xacor just stared at him for a moment and he subsided reluctantly. Some of the other Councilors were murmuring among themselves and Master Nunb just sat there, crouching in his chair, trying to look innocent and failing miserably.

Nodding, Sle'fey said, "I agree. We have enough evidence to convict her on lesser charges but I want to know who she's working for, his name, not just some nebulous shadow that we can't bring to justice. I doubt that she's informed her co-conspirators about it." He looked toward the other Councilors but none would meet his eyes. He just humphed in disgust at the sight and nodded back towards Xacor.

With a wave of one tattooed hand, the small holovid projector sent shimmering blue forms and sound into the dusty chamber air.

Obi-Wan could see that Tharten was playing with some controls at the entrance to cell AA23, humming quietly to herself. She seemed excited, almost aroused as if she had just come down from the heights of pleasure or perhaps beaten some helpless fool to death. It was clear that she was thoroughly enjoying the moment.

And beyond, Qui-Gon was huddled in the corner, his clothes splattered with sprays of red-brown stains, his hair matted with sweat. On his face, he had obviously tried to scratch himself and the blood was still oozing out of one cut. He was shivering, muttering incoherently, deep in the throes of that phantom terror.

And Tharten was smiling.

Frantically looking around, seeing if he could persuade someone to see that this was not right, that Qui-Gon was incapable of defending himself from any threat right now, Obi-Wan pleaded, "I have to get down there. Can't you feel it? The darkness..."

Xacor was not listening, cutting across Obi-Wan's frenzied words with an excited, "She's hit the override controls. The feedback device and Force suppressors are off."

Obi-Wan turned away, heading for the door - permission be damned - but the guards just blocked his way. Twisting back, his face stark and furious and terrified for his old mentor, he looked at the Bothan, daring him to do the right thing and let him go.

But instead Sle'fey just patted his paw in the air. "Stay where you are, Kenobi. We have to let this play out."

In the blue mist of holotransmission, he could see his Master shudder off the feedback effects, wiping at the blood with one feeble hand, blinking out at the shadowy form just beyond his cell. He looked confused and very ill, a weak old man. "He is helpless down there."

"He is doing what needs to be done. Bait to draw her out. Just as you were used for all those years." Sle'fey wasn't even looking at Obi-Wan, didn't seem to consider his words. He was focused on Tharten, his eyes glittering with anticipation.

But Obi-Wan was also intent on the scene before him, so much so that he almost missed what the Bothan had said - that this had been going on for years, that he had been as much a piece of meat to draw out the predator as Qui-Gon was now. He wasn't sure if he should be horrified at the thought or resigned that he, too, was merely a long-term pawn in this power play of the Council.

"Years?" He knew he had to ask the question but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

There must have been something in Obi-Wan's voice, perhaps as raw and husked and vulnerable as he felt. Sle'fey sat up and, blinking rapidly at the turn of events, stared at him.

"Of course. You don't think this was recent, do you?" He made it sound as if Obi-Wan should have known all along, as if it were obvious even to a battered fool of a Knight.

Sle'fey turned back to watch the unfolding drama, only half-conscious of speaking as he watched Tharten saunter into the cell. "She darkened several years ago, using the chaos of that time to take control of the Council. With the help of someone high up in the Senate - we don't know who it is as yet although I have my suspicions."

Stopping for a moment, he watched as she moved closer to her victim, as she stared down at Qui-Gon with rabid hunger in her eyes.

With a little shudder, Sle'fey murmured, "She hides it well, twisting light into darkness and making it seem as if it was the right thing to do; she is insidiously clever. And you were a special case, Obi-Wan. I think she hated you as much as she wanted you. To control you, to manipulate you into being exactly what she wanted you to be. It seemed almost a mania to her - to force her enemy's apprentice into her foul hands, to do her will and more." He pointed down toward the blue figures wavering in the air. "Look at her. Who could think she is anything but dark?"

All eyes turned toward the shimmering forms as Qui-Gon, obviously exhausted from his ordeal with the cell's torture device, struggled to rise. And Sera Tharten stood there, still smiling, playing with something that gleamed metallic in the harsh glare of the prison cell.

Speaking softly, the Bothan stared unblinking at the tableau. "It made things so much easier for us, Obi-Wan. She would expend such large amounts of energy just trying to get you to agree to her designs that she was paying less attention to what we were doing."

The Rodian Councilor was livid, spiraling around toward the other Council members and spitting out, "We? There is no we here. You won't get away with this. If this is some kind of game..."

"No game, Veendo. We have proof of her wrong-doings and her treason against the Order. And you and your followers as well..."

Obi-Wan could see the nervousness in Veendo's eyes and the way his green skin turned slick-gray and wet with fear. "What are you saying, Sle'fey? You have no proof. Now turn off the vid and we can discuss this like rational beings. After all, we are Jedi and we can..."

Swiveling around, eyes hard and sure as the thickest durasteel, he glared at Veendo, all but snarling back, "Don't. Don't pretend that you are ignorant. Did you think we would let you would get away with the gutting of the Order? Did you and Nunb and the others think that we would turn a blind eye to this? She has been siphoning off money, personnel and supplies for years. She has sought to destroy the Order for her own gain and yours. Twisting the Jedi into darkness and defeat and despair. And you helped her do it."

Sle'fey looked away for a moment, his fur swirling in agitation and shame. Turning back to face the transmission, he growled out, "Damn, I helped her by going along with it all, by not fighting back. I should have had the courage to face her in the open, in the clean air. But no more. We will not allow it to continue. We will save the Jedi, even from you."

Pulling back at the vehemence in the Bothan's voice, Veendo tried to brazen it out. "You are bluffing."

"We shall see."

But there was no more time for this. Tharten was on the move once more. Her voice was tinny and small but she could clearly be heard in the Council Chamber. "How the mighty have fallen. Although I must admit that you have looked better."

As Qui-Gon tried to stand, she waved him back down saying, "Don't bother getting up just for me, Jinn. I'm enjoying this, you scurrying about on the floor like some kind of repulsive insect. And bleeding, too, I see. Did that delicious padawan of yours finally come to his senses and turn on you? "

Obi-Wan's heart was lodged in his throat, the pain of watching his Master try to face his enemy with courage when he was so weakened by the cell's effects almost too much to bear. After several seconds, Qui-Gon managed to struggle to his feet. He stood there, swaying dangerously, one hand grasping at the wall behind him to steady his movements. He looked exhausted.

Lifting his head slowly, blinking as if he was fast losing what little energy he had left, Qui-Gon rasped out, "Leave him alone."

Tharten snickered, her form wavering in the blue transmission mist. But as she turned to one side, the gleaming object in her hand came into view and Obi-Wan could see a sleek vibroshiv, all metallic sharp, wickedly pointed, ready to be used to rend meat and bone apart.

"I thoroughly enjoyed watching your pathetic attempts at avoiding this cell's more interesting effects. Obi-Wan can be quite inventive when pushed. I'll be sure and take him in hand when you are gone."

Qui-Gon's voice was as cold as the space between galaxies. "He will never join you."

Lifting the shiv, looking at the line of wickedly thin blade, her smile twisted into delight. "He will... with time and persuasion. When I've finally molded him into the Jedi he should be. Too bad you won't be there to see it."

"You are wrong." The low rasp could not hide his weakness but the strength of will came through. The Bendu moved slowly along the wall, one hand outstretched and clinging to the surface as he slid away from Tharten.

But she followed him, shaking her head and waving the shiv around like an accusing finger. "Qui-Gon, you are as stubborn and addled as you ever were. You could never see clear to true understanding of the Force and the nature of power. Always so righteous, so controlled, so nauseatingly noble."

Obi-Wan could hardly breathe - his Master was vulnerable, half out of his mind with the terror of that place, surrounded by darkness. The Force was ever growing night, was all but screaming at him to move, to get down there and protect Qui-Gon before it was too late.

But he was trapped. They both were.

He turned to the Bothan, trying to get him to see that this was not going to work. That Qui-Gon was in trouble.

"Master Sle'fey, please. He's in danger down there. She looks like...he'll be helpless against her with the suppression and residual effects. She could do anything and he'd be unable to stop her. Let me go to him. Or send someone else. Master..."

Xacor spoke up, unfurling fear in his voice, "Trest, he's right. She isn't going to tell him anything, not and let him live. Let Kenobi go or send some of the guards."

The pain in Sle'fey's eyes were very real but he merely shook his head in stubborn denial. It was almost as if he did not want to accept that his plan had failed, that she would not give him what he wanted, that Qui-Gon could be more than just a pawn, that the Bendu could be dead before long. If someone did not act quickly.

"We cannot. She's done nothing wrong, not even threatened him. Until..."

Master Tharten's harsh laugh skittered through the ether, obscene little snaps of static. "Well, this has been quite enjoyable but I have a job to do. I would have liked to postpone this when we would have had more.... time but my Master has insisted that you be dealt with today."

They could all feel it. The darkness, the danger to one who had once been a Jedi. To Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan let out a shuddering gasp, his grey eyes begged for release. "Let me go."

In the blue wavering light, they could see Qui-Gon looking at her, blinking rapidly, brushing aside a tendril of hair that has plastered itself on his exhausted and bloodied face. "Master? And who would that be, Sera?"

Pulses of smoke and blood-red were beginning to swirl about in the Force, clotting into whirlpools of frothing danger. Shadow ribboned through the luminescence currents, deep despair and pain spreading like black ooze into the flow. And everywhere the Force was demanding that there was peril, that they had to act before it was too late. Too late.

Sliding along the wall, leaving a trail of sweat and crimson behind, Qui-Gon tried to move away from Tharten but to no avail. She merely sauntered over, reaching up to caress his still-oozing cheek. He jerked backwards, but her hand came away, smeared with his blood.

In the Council Chamber of the Jedi Order, his voice hitching in desperation, Obi-Wan looked frantically from one Councilor to the other, whispering, "Let me go, let me go." But no one would heed his urgent plea.

Tharten stared for a moment at her bloodied fingertips, then deliberately licked at her hand, watching Qui-Gon as she did it. "The one who taught me the true meaning of the Force, of power and how to use it. You might have met him."

She held up her hand to his face, her palm still wet with saliva and blood, and wiped the remains onto his tunic. "Darth Sidious."

The Council was suddenly in an uproar. The disjointed noise of voices raised in horror, the howls of "Darth...Sidious" and "She's been in league with a Sith Lord?" and "How could she be?" and "They have been extinct for a millennium" seemed to fill the room with an echoing cacophony of sound and surging discord.

Yet even more ominous, in the Force, the swirling oily darkness was pouring in, had become duracreet blocks of black ice, choking everything in a slushy avalanche of frozen dark terror and blood. No... no... no.

Obi-Wan forgot to breath, could only watch helplessly as Tharten laughed at his Master's stunned look. "You must have done something to anger Sidious very much."

As Qui-Gon tried to fall back, away from Tharten's hand, she surged forward, grabbing onto his splattered tunic. With one sharp jerk, she pulled him to her, her lips hovering above his own even as he stared at her in revulsion. Her voice grew husky with satisfaction as she breathed, "So I have a message for you."

Then as she forced her mouth over his, making obscene noises in her throat even as he struggled to push her away, she brought up her other hand and plunged the gleaming shiv deep into his gut.

Obi-Wan's despair was loud in the Force, tearing through it with black shards of ice and dark fury. But there were no shouts of rage, no calls for revenge or retribution, only the horrified whisper, "No..."

In the blue waver of photons and energy patterns, he could see his Master's eyes glazing over in shock as he slipped off the blade and fell into a boneless heap to the floor. A bubbling rasp of pain, breathing harsh and troubled, he looked up at her and frowned a question.

Sera Tharten, Head of the Jedi Council, looked down at her handiwork. She said ordinarily, as if they were discussing flavors of tea, "Death, the sentence is death." And carelessly dropped the bloodied shiv next to his agonized face.

Obi-Wan stared at the scene, his mind gibbering in pain, his heart not beating any more. It could not be real, it could not be...

As if from a deep well, the sound so far removed from reality that he could not comprehend it, he heard Master Sle'fey whisper out, "I am truly sorry, Obi-Wan. If it could have been any other way...."

And with that, the fury bubbling beneath the surface of his skin burst out. He flung back the paw that had rested so sympathetically on his shoulder, shouting at the vile creature that had arranged this horror. Jerking away, he pointed to his fallen master, "Liar! You have betrayed me! You have betrayed him. You have betrayed the very Order you say that you wish to save."

From behind him, Xacor's words had no meaning, merely registered as coherent sound. "Obi-Wan, he's not dead yet. We'll send down a Healer and some guards. They might be able to keep him alive if we act now. But you have to let go."

Blinking wildly, Obi-Wan's crimson rage cleared enough to see that he had his hands around Sle'fey's throat. With a horrified cry, he loosened his fingers, letting the Councilor drop half-crouching onto the floor. He didn't even remember using the Force.

Sle'fey could hardly breathe, the hasping rattle loud in the room but his blue eyes held no malice. Drawing back up, he reached behind him and brought out Obi-Wan's saber, offering it to him in apology. A grinding whisper, "Obi-Wan, go. Help him. I'm so...."

But Obi-Wan did not stay to hear the rest. He sprinted out the door, was on his way to the bottom of the Temple, to save his Master. If only he could get there in time.


 

To Chapter 25