Betrayal

by Diane Kovalcin

Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi meet 10 years later after "But..."

Other stuff: Rated PG. Definitely AU, and Qui-Gon Jinn is in his mid-sixties. Hey, it could happen.

This means thoughts, this means //telepathy//

Author's Note: Sequel to "But..."; For those who haven't read it, Qui-Gon Jinn was dismissed from the Temple when the Senate decreed cost cutting measures.

Disclaimer: These characters belong in total to George Lucas. I'm just borrowing them for a while. No credits have changed hands.

    Betrayal - Chapter 1

And so it begins

"Do you have it?"

His low, harsh voice growled in sibilant tones, hemorrhaging a cold, repellent vibration into the icy night air. No one would have dared deny that voice, and the few that did had died for their efforts, in excruciating and prolonged agony. As the malevolent sounds vanished in the echoing silence that followed, the speaker shifted slightly, arm extended to grasp his latest prize.

"Yes, my Master." The dark-cowled apprentice bowed, and dropped his gift neatly into the waiting hand of the other.

As Darth Sidious moved again, the light spilling from the luminous Coruscanti night briefly lit his face. Jarring in power-mad intensity, the Dark Lord's visage had been called grandfatherly, a kindly man some said, with cobalt-blue eyes and generous mouth slightly turned upward in a politician's smile. Here the shroud was stripped away, the eyes dead-cold, the smile snake-bright.

The Master peered at the item, satisfied. It was a woman's hand, once delicate, fingers now shredded, flesh ripped open between thumb and forefinger to show veined sinew and harsh bone. Burned, too, across the top with long straight strokes, the hand was encrusted with the reddish-brown remains of old blood, and curled slightly inward as if trying to grasp a weapon in the last moments of her life. It was cauterized neatly at the wrist. The hand had just begun to decay, the slight sickeningly sweet odor of death.

Slowly, Darth Sidious began to stroke the corpse's palm, following her torn lifeline with his manicured fingertips, lightly, intimately, moving with a delicate touch. Then, still faintly smiling, he brought the putrid hand to his face and stroked his cheek with it. He could smell the rot, almost taste the sharp metallic tang of dried blood.

His sigh was breathless, long and low, sensual. As he closed his eyes, briefly he could feel in the Force the fear and power in her final breath. The memory of the Knight's crushing anguish and defiance even as her body was torn apart was imbedded in her skin. To Sidious, it was profoundly satisfying.

After a few moments, he lowered his arm, still gently holding the dead woman's hand in his. "Did she give you much of a fight, my apprentice?"

Darth Maul's tattooed visage creased with a dark pleasure, mouth twisted eagerly. "Yes, my Master. Ales'tka fought well. Even at the last, in agony, she seemed to enjoy the struggle." His eyes shut for an instant, his voice rumbling with suppressed laughter. "Playing with her was most....stimulating."

"Did you dispose of the body as per my instructions?"

"Yes, my Master." Maul hesitated, then reached into some fastness of his cloak and brought out a lightsaber. It was as battered and torn as the woman's hand and covered with the same encrusted residue. "She used this."

 The Dark Lord's bark of laughter was clear, ice-sharp. Looking again at the decaying appendage, he shook his head in disdain.  "Oh, little Jedi. They threw you away, forbid you anything of them and you still clung to..." He glanced at the fouled saber, clutched in Darth Maul's grasp. "Ales'tka, you defied the Jedi Council. It speaks... well of you. Too bad you could not be turned. You would have been a valuable asset."

He tossed the filthy remains to the apprentice. "Enough of pleasure. Put that with the rest."

Maul nodded briefly as he tucked away the decaying flesh and then offered up the lightsaber to the other. Sidious sneered, "You make keep your trophy. She won't need it again."

With a dismissive shrug, Sidious brought out a datachip and handed it to his apprentice. "Here is the list of Jedi discharged from the Temple six months ago. They should be ripe for the picking by now. As always, the Jedi Council will not be paying attention to those gone from the Temple that long. They have too much else to worry about...."

His voice was icy with contempt. "Isolate and destroy these fools as with all the others." He looked at Maul, contemplating all the lovely, exciting, terrible ways to kill a Jedi. "Dispatch them as you like, but don't take too long. There are other matters that need attention."

Maul nodded again and growled, "My Master, there is still the matter of Jinn and his associates. They are too well guarded and more flock to him every day."

Sidious pondered this revelation. "Yes, it has been difficult. He is a wily opponent. But I have decided to let the Jedi Council deal with him." Maul moved to object but stilled his protest as his Master glared at him.

"Do you question me?" The malevolent voice was low and insistent, death waiting, longing to strike; his apprentice quickly shook his head.

"Good." Sidious smiled, "I enjoy the irony of the Temple punishing one of their own without our having to lift a finger against him. I will have my agent suggest it." He looked out into the vibrant, glowing Coruscanti landscape, his gaze sweeping over the distance and stopping at the brilliantly-lit Temple in the distance.

"I'll have them send Kenobi. Yes, Kenobi should be just the Jedi to dispatch Jinn." And Sidious began to laugh, deep, roiling, vicious sounds sweeping out into the bitter night.

Betrayal - Chapter 2

Enter Stage left

The Jedi Council chamber was bathed in the mellow-red glow of sunset, crimson light splashing across the ornate floor. Circular in design and majestic, with pillared windows framing the onset of coming night, the room was a breathtaking center of calm and beauty, the very heart of the Jedi Temple. The dying light hid well the worn tiles and cornered dust of neglect.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, ignored the bleak evidence of his eyes and the brilliant glare of blood-red luminescence streaking across his face. The siren call of the lights of approaching night did not tempt him. He was here to be briefed on his upcoming mission, not look at the increasing decay that was the Jedi Temple. And so, standing in the very center of the Council Chamber, arms folded, face stony and shuttered, mental shields up, Knight Kenobi waited and watched. By his side, his Padawan, Atel Sl'etah, stood as well, silent and ready for the briefing to begin.

Obi-Wan glanced at his apprentice, frowning slightly. Atel was nearly 20 now, with brown eyes and maroon hair, a slight purple tint to her skin but otherwise human. Dressed in typical drab grey-beige tunics, frayed chocolate robe, and worn boots, she looked threadbare and destitute.  Only the lightsabers truly indicated that they were Jedi and even the sabers were shabby, showing signs of much use.

Damn, Obi-Wan thought, she looks like a refugee, not a respected member of the Jedi Order. His frown deepened. She deserves better than this. If only I could make them understand that money spent on proper clothing is not a waste of resources. Appearances do matter to those in power.

Looking down at his own tattered garb, he grimaced, I don't look so wonderful myself.

His thoughts turned towards Atel again. It did not seem possible that she had been his Padawan for ten years. Had it really been that long? mused Obi-Wan, ten years since the first of the dismissals, since the beginning of the strangulation of the Jedi Order over money. He snorted silently, It was always about power, never money.

Closing his weary eyes for a moment, he gently sighed, I wish that things had been different.

The Jedi Knight tried to bring his thoughts back to the matters at hand but he was tired, exhausted really, and he knew Atel was, too. They had only just returned from a grueling assignment a few hours ago. That one had been disastrous all right but somehow, somehow, they had managed to pull out a success from a very near failure -again.

Now, Obi-Wan reflected wearily, another task and another and another. How can they expect success every time when they keep pushing us beyond the limits of endurance?

He swayed slightly. Perhaps because they want us to fail?

That was an uncomfortable thought, but it wasn't the first time he had pondered the question. It made sense, too, with the exhausting workload, the back-to-back missions, doing the work of two or three teams and no one to pull the Jedi out when they got into serious trouble.

He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed out a slow, resigned sigh. And here we go again.

He thought that his actions would not be noticed. But his ever-alert Padawan glanced towards her Master and sent a gentle pulse through their bond. //Focus, Master.//

Obi-Wan sent her a weak chuckle tickling back. And then he centered himself, breathing deeply, settling in to wait for the briefing to begin.

As the seconds stretched into endless minutes, Obi-Wan began to wonder why they were still waiting. He said nothing, of course. It was up to the Council to decide when and how briefings, or for that matter any discussions within these chambers, were to be conducted. Perhaps they were waiting for more information; perhaps another Council member was to join them.

Perhaps it was a subtle form of power play, to impress upon this Jedi Knight just what his place in the Order was. 

At the moment, Obi-Wan noted that only three Jedi Council members were in attendance, none of whom he knew well. Kenobi began to feel the slightest pinprick of apprehension. The white-furred Bothan, Trest Sle'fey, head of the Committee for Jedi Missions, was known for his strict adherence to the letter rather than the intent of Republic law.  The green-tinged Rodian, Veendo, was in charge of Sedition Activity Investigations, a group that had grown recently, much to Obi-Wan's dismay, looking into all aspects of Temple activity with great alacrity. The last, the Head of the Council, Master Sera Tharten, was a tall blue-skinned human female of indeterminate age. She was exceptionally outspoken on the uses of Temple regulation control and had written the stringent, restrictive code for 'Standards for Jedi Behavior' instituted last year. Of these, only Master Tharten had had any significant interaction with Obi-Wan. And those confrontations had been unpleasant; he avoided her whenever possible.

The Masters were all youngish, too. No older, more experienced Councilors - knowledge yes, but there was no wisdom here, only likely punishment for petty and cryptic infractions.

Obi-Wan's tickle of unease began to increase to a full-blown itch. This was not going to be pleasant. Silently sighing, he wondered what marginal offense he would be accused of this time. Unlike his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not known for bending the rules, but he had been tainted by association and it had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.

For a few more long moments, no one spoke. The Jedi Councilors shifted uneasily in the rounded chairs as though anxious to be away. Then, from behind Obi-Wan, a derisive voice sounded.

"Do you know why you have been called here, Jedi Kenobi?"

"No, Representative Zaros." Obi-Wan quietly replied to the rat-faced, overly-dressed man.

Making his way ponderously around the dusty, darkening room, his ornate red robes glistening with fine embroidery and sparkles of light as he strutted past the bars of fading luminescence, hair perfectly in place, Kenth Zaros came to stand before the Knight, his condescending, narrowed eyes boring into him. The garish gemstones in the man's cravat alone were blinding.

Obi-Wan's words had been perfectly polite and did nothing to betray the absolute loathing that he felt for the foppish, decadent human. Luckily, Zaros was not a Jedi or else Obi-Wan might have faced a severe reprimand for his wayward thoughts, and a reprimand these days was not a thing to take lightly.

"We have a special mission for you, one for which you are uniquely qualified."

Zaros smiled slightly, paused and then, deliberately sat down next to Master Tharten, not in the guest chair reserved for Republic officials but in a seat that should have been used by the Jedi Council members only. Not there, Obi-Wan's thoughts raged, not there. You have no right.

He moved imperceptibly, almost in protest, and then eased back to ready stance and waited, tight fists clenched under his threadbare Jedi robes. He breathed out, trying to get some semblance of control of the almost involuntary wish to throttle the man, and swallowed hard. When Kenth Zaros, Senate Representative of the Oversight Committee on Jedi Affairs, smiled, misfortune certainly followed.

Obi-Wan's revulsion spiked, his thoughts on a fast jumble of past missions, of the anguish and death that this man seemed to relish. He tried to tamp down the roiling emotions before the other Jedi seated in the chamber could become aware of them and comment.  His Padawan hastily glanced at him, an admission that she was reading her Master far too well.

"We want you to investigate...." Zaros paused for dramatic theatrical effect and Obi-Wan's simmering apprehension skyrocketed. But when he said nothing, was silent as stone, the degenerate bureaucrat continued, "Qui-Gon Jinn. Your old Master, I believe."

Obi-Wan went absolutely rigid with shock, shields buckling for a brief moment before regaining his calm. Zaros's smirk grew predatory, his beady eyes glittering, and he nodded as if pleased with the traumatic effect that he was inflicting on the Jedi Knight.

He replied softly, "Sir, I have had no contact with Master Jinn for ten years. I have repeatedly asked to be allowed to do so but every request has been refused."

Zaros snickered and waved his bejeweled fingers, flicking an imaginary piece of dust from his glittering ornate robes. "Yes, I know. He was a bad influence on you. It was in the best interests of the Jedi Order that contact be denied."

Obi-Wan moved again, stepping towards the Senate representative, furious eyes narrowed with revulsion. His voice was low, cold, dangerous. "What do you mean by that?"

The Rodian Council Member spoke up, dismissively, "We all know that Jinn was a rogue." Obi-Wan's eyes widened in stunned disbelief, angry beyond words as the other Jedi members murmured in agreement with Veendo's assessment. "Again and again he went against the Jedi Council, following his own path, ignoring the direct orders of his obvious superiors. It was blatantly, openly rogue behavior. And, what's more, it was sedition of the worst kind. "

Obi-Wan could not believe what he was hearing. If possible, his voice iced further. "He was following the will of the Force."

The Rodian snorted. "So he said."

Obi-Wan closed his weary eyes for a moment, trying desperately to regain what little calm remained to him. He knew if he protested too much, he would be punished and Atel as well. For her sake, he breathed deeply once, twice, but the bile rising in his throat, anger pushing past all reason. He had to regain control.

Voice dripping with derision, Zaros spoke up again. He seemed oblivious to what Obi-Wan was feeling, or perhaps not caring. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. Damn old fool."

Zaros had done many things over the years, to both Obi-Wan and to his beloved Jedi Order. This last statement was almost too much, a small thing among all of the other countless injustices, all the deaths and destruction that this man had wrought on the Jedi. Now, Obi-Wan stepped quickly forward, shaking hands rising. The Bothan barked out, white fur whirling in dismay, "Yes, Kenobi, you have a comment?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi stopped abruptly, looked at his alarmed young apprentice and, then with shoulders slumping, stepped back into the center of the Chamber. Quietly, he said "No, Master Sle'fey."

"Good. I would hate to have to reprimand you for any insolence shown to the Senate Representative."

"Of course, Master."

Zaros continued as if nothing was amiss. "Glad to hear that you will be cooperative, Kenobi."

"Of course, Representative Zaros." Obi-Wan clenched his aching jaw at such an impossible lie but knew it would suffice for now. But he would have to release his anger to the Force soon. His wearied thoughts turned to the request at hand.  "May I ask what the mission is and how it pertains to Master Qui-Gon?"

"Former Jedi Jinn has been doing the work of a Jedi Knight these past years in strict violation of his mandate."  Leaning forward, Zaros thrust his immaculate, manicured hands into the air, frowning and splattered his words into the chamber, sneering voice rising with emphasis. "Jinn's dismissal was very clear as you well know, Kenobi. He defied the Council again and again and what's worse, he failed a number of times to complete his missions. When the cost-cutting efforts started, and with his failures and attitude, it was clear that he would be one of the first to go. He is no longer with the Jedi Order and he is not allowed to act as a Jedi. He must desist his current activities. You have been chosen to investigate and bring him into custody, if necessary, because you know him so very well. Who else but you?" The man leaned back, satisfied, a fat crimson arachnid spinning his cruel web.

Obi-Wan Kenobi murmured, "Who else indeed?"

To Chapter 3