Betrayal - Chapter 31

Dejarik 101 - Players in motion

"And Chancellor Palpatine is at the heart of it. Palpatine is the Sith Lord."

The impossible, inevitable words - of Sith Lords and Supreme Chancellors, of a Republic gone rancid under a monster's fists - dropped into astonished and utter silence.

Obi-Wan finished choking out the truth and then slumped back into the bed and let the pain wash over him. It had taken everything in him to tell his old master and Atel of Palpatine's triumph. But now it was done. He'd sacrificed his life, his duty, his spirit to the Jedi Order and to the Force and he'd been repaid in blood and betrayal.  It was over.

He had nothing left to give.

Staring out of the viewport into the glowing night sky, ignoring the beauty of the cityscape and the glittering, never-still traffic overhead, he refused to look at the two people he loved most in the galaxy.

He couldn't bear to see the horror on Qui-Gon's face or hear Atel's denial. Their reactions to this absurd little reality would have made it final somehow and he couldn't accept one more blow or else he would fall into pieces. Perhaps he already had and he just didn't know it yet.

Closing his eyes, trying to avoid touching the currents of the Force already defiled with icy clots of  Dark, trying to ignore all the horrors he'd committed in the name of the Jedi Order, still the bitter memories twisted in Obi-Wan's gut. He was drowning in it, profane black ooze seeping into his skin, pouring into his lungs with every breath he took. It was death and despair and the loss of hope and around him, through him, in him, there was only darkness.

"Obi-Wan, are you sure?" The husking voice of his master was soft with doubt.

He wanted to laugh at such a question. Did Qui-Gon think he would make up something so insane? Did he think that he would spread lies about the Supreme Chancellor and risk everything and everyone if he wasn't sure?

Obi-Wan curled inward, husbanding the pain. He didn't want to think, to feel, to do anything but curl up and sleep. If he was not believed, it would all be for nothing - all for nothing.

 Qui-Gon must have felt his anguish. "Let it go, Obi-Wan. Release your anger into the Force and things will become clear again."

A gentle hand stroked his hair and Atel echoed the words, "Master, please listen to him. We'll find a way to make it  right."

They didn't believe him; that was obvious enough. Opening his eyes to glare at them both, he shook off her hand and all but snarled at them, "Don't patronize me or treat me like some wayward child."

His padawan looked hurt, glancing lightning-quick at Qui-Gon and then back again at him. "Master, you've been wounded. You need to rest and regain your strength. Perhaps later we can discuss..."

"Don't think you can just sweep this away."  He flung out one hand toward the glowing tower in the viewport, an accusing finger pointed straight at the Council chamber and then pulled his arms around his chest, grunting at the movement. The ache blossomed in his shoulder but he reveled in it, too. The pain meant he was still alive. "They hid their petty little agendas behind platitudes and exploitation and it only drove them deeper into the trap." He turned back to bristle at their horrified faces. "Palpatine is the Sith Lord and nothing - not denial or finding balance or releasing anger will change it. If you can't or won't believe me, then I'll just have to deal with him myself."

As Qui-Gon and Atel both started to protest, from the entryway a voice range out. "Well said, Knight Kenobi."

The air seemed to freeze as Master Sle'fey stepped into the room. For a single heartbeat, no one moved. It was almost as if time itself wanted to hold back and keep the future from careening headlong into the present.

Then the moment shattered.

With a growl, Obi-Wan tried to launch himself at the Bothan, his hands scrambling to untangle his legs from the bedding and throttle Sle'fey, but he was held back by Atel's firm grip. He snarled at her, "Let me go. He's responsible for everything. He deserves to..."

"Obi-Wan, stop this." Master Qui-Gon shouted over the din. "You'll reopen your wound. Stop!" When Obi-Wan continued to struggle, ignoring him, Qui-Gon forced himself up, getting out of bed and trying to hobble over to Atel. But after only a few steps, he swayed, his legs giving out and he collapsed to the floor, panting.

"Master Jinn," Atel cried out. She looked as if she didn't know what to do - keep Obi-Wan from Sle'fey or go to Qui-Gon's side. But her words penetrated through the red haze in Obi-Wan's mind and he stilled.

"Atel, help him. He'll start bleeding again if he doesn't get back into bed." He all but spat out, "Damn fool."

In all the madness, Obi-Wan had not seen him but Master Xacor was close behind Sle'fey. Now the Councilor hurried to Qui-Gon's side and, with gentle hands, carefully helped him up and supported him back into his bed, away from the fracas.

Obi-Wan sank back into the bed, confused, furious, shamed. He knew he had no chance to pay Sle'fey back for all he'd done, not while he was on the brink of exhaustion and hampered with his wound, but the opportunity to wrap his hands around that Bothan's neck again had been too tempting.

Now, looking down at his fists, the skin pulled so tight that his hands seemed almost translucent, he wondered just how dark he had become. The loss of control horrified Obi-Wan, but what was worse, that it had felt right. He had wanted to destroy Sle'fey in that instant, send him back into the abyss for what he'd done to Qui-Gon, to the Order, to Obi-Wan's life.

This was insane. Even as he was thinking about what he'd almost done, he knew it was wrong. He needed to regain his center. Qui-Gon and Atel had had the right of it. He needed to let it go before he drowned in hatred.

Atel must have realized that he wouldn't try to attack Sle'fey again, that his fury had died back into self-loathing. Her hand withdrew and, with a worried frown, she looked over at Qui-Gon and asked, "Master Jinn, do you need a Healer? Have you reopened your wound?"

Nodding to Master Xacor in thanks, he stared at Obi-Wan for a moment before turning to her. Obi-Wan twisted away in shame but could still hear Qui-Gon say, "No, Atel, it seems to be all right. My strength isn't what it was a few days ago. Blood loss." A pause and he could almost feel the worry in Qui-Gon's voice. "See to Obi-Wan. His shoulder may have worsened in the struggle."

Staring out into the night, Obi-Wan shook his head, saying sharply, "I'm fine." 

For another long moment, there was silence. Obi-Wan didn't need to see to know that Atel and Qui-Gon were sharing a look of exasperation mixed with concern for him. The Force was stained with it, but more than that, he could feel approaching danger. The sensation was slithering under his skin and setting his teeth on edge. Something was going to be demanded of him, something he wasn't sure he could handle it without shattering. He desperately needed time to meditate, to come to grips with his own darkness, to find the Light again. But it would seem that time was running out.

He heard that detested voice, Sle'fey's sly smooth voice, say, "I am relieved to see that both of you survived Tharten's attack. Your sacrifice will be honored among the Jedi, especially yours, Master Jinn."

Still out of control, still furious, still in core-deep need of regaining his center, Obi-Wan turned back to glare vibroshivs at the Councilor. "What do you want, Sle'fey? All this talk of honor and sacrifice is a cover for something. What is it?"

Wringing his paws, his fur whirling with emotion, Sle'fey said, "You must believe me. I never wanted to use you this way but Master Tharten was so focused on you that it was easier to.... "

"You never stop, do you? Never stop trying to manipulate everyone into doing what you want and you sit there, letting others do your dirty work and you remain pure and oh so noble." Obi-Wan stopped, his throat choked with memories.

From out of the corner of his eye, he could see Qui-Gon and Atel exchanging worried looks but he ignored them as

Master Xacor stepped forward, "Knight Kenobi, he is telling you the truth. We had thought to bring you into our circle when this first started but felt it would be too dangerous to do so. You would have acted differently around Tharten. We..."

"And you are no different, Xacor, following him around like a boar-wolf, using people to your own ends. How many have died because of you both? How many?" Obi-Wan remembered Bant's young face and the faces of all the others who were sacrificed over the years - hundreds of them. And for what, political gain? The battle between good and evil? He wasn't sure any more; he wasn't sure of anything. 

"Knight Kenobi..." Sle'fey was speaking again, all soft tones and exploitation. "Obi-Wan, you must listen to me."

If looks could kill, the Bothan would have been a red pool of blood and bones. Instead, with all the loathing he could muster, Obi-Wan spat out, "You are a lying, corrupt rsshak slime. I will never believe you again."

Sle'fey nodded, seeming to accept the rebuke. "I deserve your contempt for all I've done to you, but nevertheless we need your help, yours and Master Jinn's."

When Obi-Wan sent him another glare, the Bothan hesitated, glancing at Xacor who just shook his head. It looked like the two of them were contrite. Whether that was truth or more manipulation remained to be seen. Sle'fey continued, "Darth Sidious is bound to be suspicious by now. The Temple is in lock-down, although we have continued to act normally once outside the Temple to avoid drawing attention."

"And you want our help." Obi-Wan's voice was cold enough to freeze most of Coruscant.

Master Xacor spoke up, "Sidious targeted Master Jinn for some reason. Tharten was very clear on that. If we don't do something, he's likely to try again." It sounded all so reasonable but Obi-Wan couldn't believe them. He didn't dare.

"This time we had some information as to who was working for him, Tharten and her followers. Next time we may not be so lucky," Sle'fey pointed out.

"You are really quite a manipulative, little..." Obi-Wan snarled.

Qui-Gon interrupted, "Padawan, he's right. Sera Tharten said that I'd angered Sidious. That he wanted me dead." Shaking his head, he said thoughtfully, "The timing was odd, though. I would have been more vulnerable once outside the Temple and yet she tried to kill me while the Council was in session."

Sle'fey said, "He may have his own timetable. I know that Palpatine was scheduled to go on a fact-finding mission in the Outer Rim area today but he canceled it at the last minute. Rumors were flying that he was going to meet with Count Dooku, the Separatist leader, maybe broker a treaty with him. The Count's power has been rising in the area and there have been rumblings of war between the worlds aligned with Dooku and the Republic."

Obi-Wan refused to listen. "You want something. You always do and it's everyone else who has to pay the price." The price was too high, even now and yet all he could say was, "What do you want, Master?"

Sle'fey didn't even blink at the rebuke in Obi-Wan's voice or the disrespect. "We've found evidence that he'd been ordering the deaths of former Jedi for some time. Also, through intermediaries,  bribing or blackmailing or killing Senators or former Senators who refused to accede to his demands. Dozens of illegal activities ranging from slaves to the spice trade to diverting weapon systems to the Separatists. Small and large scale. Tharten was quite busy making sure he'd not be able to move against her once she'd taken over the Republic. She had many files." He sounded almost bewildered. "Fool that she was. A Sith Lord was not someone to defeat so easily."

"You have what you need, then. The rest is none of my concern." But Obi-Wan knew there would be more. There always was.

Sle'fey didn't take long to point it out. "It is your concern, yours and Master Jinn's. Sidious wants him dead. My guess is that he'd like you gone as well. Your association with Master Jinn condemns you." When Obi-Wan just glared at him, he explained, "We need to get Palpatine to come to the Temple. We can arrest him here, away from the Senate or his guards. Surrounded by Jedi Masters, he should be relatively easy to subdue."

There was an inelegant snort and then Obi-Wan spat out, "And after that? Are you going to kill him, too? Like I did Tharten?"

"We have enough evidence to condemn him in the courts. Force-suppression and isolation in our most secure cell should be enough. Killing him is a last resort although execution is a possibility if the courts so rule."

Sle'fey sounded certain but with Obi-Wan's continued dismissal of the plan, Xacor spoke up, "You know that, Obi-Wan. A last resort only. That is the Jedi way."

"Now why don't I believe you? Either of you." He couldn't think why they would expect him to trust them again. There were too many times when he had and they'd taken his trust and turned it into desecration.

"It's imperative that we neutralize him and to do that, we have to trap him somehow." The Bothan hesitated, his eyes flicking to Qui-Gon and back to Obi-Wan. He looked almost ashamed. "We will need bait to draw him in."

"Bait again." He was growing tired of this. He could not keep the loathing out of his voice. "Used like a piece of meat and then tossed aside when you have what you want - power and the Temple under your command. And how many more lives are you going to destroy in your lust for control, Sle'fey? How many?"

Obi-Wan decided that it was better to explain it in uncertain terms and perhaps then they'd finally realize that he would never cooperate. "Because I refuse to do it. I've had enough of your games. Now leave and don't come back."

"You are not the bait, Obi-Wan." Sle'fey hesitated again and turned toward Qui-Gon, the Bothan staring at his Master with melancholy eyes. "I'm sorry but it has to be Master Jinn. He's...."

"No! I absolutely forbid it."

He wanted to throttle Sle'fey for suggesting such a thing, especially after all that had happened. But Atel was there, pressing him back down again, prattling on about wounds and regaining his strength. He shook off her hand, saying "Qui-Gon, don't listen to him. He's lying."

Obi-Wan knew that his old Master might just accept such a burden. It sounded all so reasonable, so much of a sacrifice to the greater good. To bring down a Sith Lord, one who had been the reason for so much destruction, was a great and necessary task but Qui-Gon was not bound by duty to this. He was wounded and weak. He had sacrificed enough.

But he should have known better. Qui-Gon said softly, "Obi-Wan, I think we should hear him out first."

Twisting around to face his old Master, he snapped, "You are a fool if you expect anything but treachery from him."

"Thank you, Master Jinn," Sle'fey said. "The Jedi Order is deeply in your debt."

Qui-Gon frowned at him, "Don't thank me yet, Councilor. Obi-Wan is right. I would be a fool to trust you after all that you've done but the Force is working in this. I will listen."

"Don't do this, Qui-Gon, don't." Obi-Wan husked out the words, a half-whisper, a breath of defeat. He already knew that his old Master would not heed his warning, not when the Force was telling him otherwise.

There was danger and death ahead; he could feel it in the murky currents. Only the slimmest of hopes glimmered in the darkness and yet the Force was urging them into a final confrontation with Sidious.

His Master said what he always said, what he always would say until the day he drew his last breath. "I will do what I must, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands. Qui-Gon's decision might have just condemned them all.

********************************

Darkness soaked into the Force like spilled blood, black and thick and rich with portends.

Darth Sidious stood at the viewport of his vast office, staring out into the never-still night, and drew in a deep breath. He could feel the dark energies coalescing, the shadowy futures narrowing into paths he and the Sith masters before him had so carefully designed years ago.

The end was coming. He could almost taste it.

Turning toward the glowing towers of the Jedi Temple, looking at that unsullied vista in the distance, he could not help but smile at the irony. They were bringing about their own destruction, appearing to be pure and noble of heart those purveyors of peace and justice, and yet the nertl-slime were harboring darkness in their midst. No matter what road they chose, they were doomed.

Yet there was a slight problem in all this and Sidious had to admit that it was unsettling. There was still no word from the Jedi Temple. Indeed, his secretary had been trying to reach the Council for some time without success.

The scum would have to answer him and soon. They could not snub the Supreme Chancellor for long, not without serious consequences. Their appropriations were up again in the Senate Oversight Committee and when the members of that august body heard that he'd been ignored, it might be enough to get the Senate to accept additional dismissals and further fund reductions.

It might also silence some of the Senators who had objected to the last set of sanctions - not that it mattered. His super-majority made it almost impossible for anything to pass into law without his approval. The few protestors, those pathetic insects, would soon know what it was to oppose him. The list of those begging for destruction grew longer every day.

Sidious had to admit that he was becoming impatient, though. The final act of this holodrama was about to begin, years of planning and manipulation and death but it had not been enough, not nearly enough to satisfy him. He longed to cut the Jedi down, to destroy every last one - those weak compassionate fools, to shred their bodies into meat and entrails and let the hawkbats fight over the decaying corpses until there was nothing left but brown stains and bone.

But tiresome as it might be, he knew he had to wait until they were few and helpless before he could strike. It would be soon, though, and then it would be a glorious orgy of torture and death. The ultimate destruction of his hated enemy, the Jedi Order, was almost at hand.

However, there was a small matter of Tharten's part in all this. The Council's reaction to that buffoon, Zaros, was of little concern, almost laughable. They were playing right into his hands with their feeble attempts at rebellion; their reactions would only fuel the fire that would consume them in time.

But Tharten had not contacted him. Even knowing his wishes, she had thought to defy him.

Or was it betrayal?

It didn't matter what she had done. Unlikely as it was, she could have told the Council about Darth Sidious, about her connections with a Sith Lord. But she had no knowledge of his true identity and even if she had found out somehow, it was of no concern.

Being a Sith was not a crime, even if they did stumble across the truth. Legally they would have no say in the matter. He could even claim that they were maligning him, trying to impugn his honor and bring down the Republic by attacking the Supreme Chancellor and his office.

Enjoying the malicious pull of skin across his mouth, feeling utter contempt for those who would think to oppose him, he smiled at their folly. The Jedi were doomed either way. He was looking forward to their final eradication.

Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, he turned to ponder his other problem, Darth Maul.

That damn fool apprentice of his was late with his report. This was insolence.

When Maul returned to Coruscant, it was plain that he would need to be chastised for this - thoroughly chastised. Vibroshivs were always a useful tool and a layer of Naboo sea salt pushed into the wounds and left to bubble there would add just the right amount of prolonged agony. Maul did scream most beautifully. It would serve him right; this audacity of his apprentice demanded no less than the most inventive torment.

Just the thought of those choked cries made Sidious feel better.

There was a soft chime and he looked over to see that Maul had finally answered. He waited a heartbeat, then two more before turning on the commlink.

The Zabrak was kneeling, seemingly penitent. His apprentice might be an animal but he understood keeping his Master waiting was not wise.

Sidious took his time, sauntering over to his desk and sitting down, brushing off a few microscopic particles of dust that had dared to settle onto the mirrored surface. Then staring unblinking at the image, his voice low and full of malice, Sidious said coolly, "Lord Maul."

Flinching back ever so slightly, apparently recognizing the promise of torments to come, Maul lifted his head. "My Master, I have reached Naboo and begun to eliminate the Bendu scum as per your orders. The first of the killings is now complete."

His eyes narrowing in threat, Sidious glared at his apprentice, and after a long pointed moment, asked, "Was there a problem?"

Swallowing hard, Maul growled out, "No, my Master. The destruction of the vermin took longer than expected." As he continued, he grew confident again. His mouth was gleaming pleasure-wet and his yellow-stained eyes glowed with satisfaction, "But it is done."

Sidious leaned back, pressing his fingers together. If some of those mindless Senators had been present, they would have seen their Supreme Chancellor giving careful consideration to the problem at hand but he knew Maul would understand the gesture; the Dark Lord of the Sith was unhappy. "Longer? That is unlike you, boy."

At least Maul was not a blind fool. He rose up, standing there with arms folded, staring at his Master, feral eyes turning into slits, almost daring Sidious to do his worst. He must have known that his fate was sealed no matter what he said or did.

After all, over the years, Sidious had learned to take great care in drawing out long, wire-fine agony, eagerly watching his victims shriek themselves hoarse as they begged for death. But begging only meant that they were still alive. And alive meant that there was more pain, more wanton pleasure to be drawn from the screaming meat under his control. Merciless, inventive and thoroughly knowledgeable from years of experience, he knew just how far he could go before his prey drown in their own blood.

Maul had been his most useful subject: strong, willing to learn even at the price of agony, hatred growing with every session until it seemed that the universe was filled with it.

Sidious knew that it was only a matter of time before his apprentice tried to kill him; he was looking forward to the attempt.

"The Bendu had a double-bladed saber and was well trained." The black-red tattoos stretched as Maul bared his teeth, sneering amusement. "She screamed long and hard when I gutted her." Then he waited a heartbeat before he said, "Master."

So his apprentice thought the time for rebellion was close. Foolish pup. Trying not to smile at Maul's audacity, he said, "Tread carefully, boy. My temper grows short with your insolence. See that you remember your place or I may have to give you additional lessons in that regard."

"Forgive me, my Lord." Even the apology was slow in coming.

Things were looking up. It had been a while since an apprentice had dared to attempt assassination. Sidious remembered his last; the agony had resonated in the Force for days after his death.

"Send me her hand and the saber. I will add them to my collection." Maul should have known better than to think he could succeed in overthrowing Sidious. Killing is a fine art and one that required just the right touch. His apprentice never understood that gouging out bloody entrails was not the same as getting the victim to cut his own throat.

Maul's brutality was useful at the moment but once they had succeeded in destroying the Jedi, Sidious would need to find a new apprentice, one with more finesse. But for now, he merely asked, "And the reaction of the Force users?"

"They scamper like slet-beetles when the hive is destroyed." Maul's face twisted in derision, then bowed his head, and let his hands fall to his side, seeming to acknowledge his submission to Sidious. "I left her body on the far side of Naboo. As you predicted, they have sent operatives to investigate the murder, leaving their Sanctuary unguarded."

"You see, my apprentice, how easily they are distracted." Sidious let himself enjoy the moment. His plans were going well.

"I still have much to learn, Master." Maul bowed with all obvious contrition. Sidious knew that it was only pretense. Although he had also played this game with Darth Plagueis before he'd killed the old man, Sidious was much more adept at false humility that Maul could ever be. "I will reach Jinn's farm tomorrow, gut the harlot and her whelp and then return to Coruscant... "his apprentice hesitated, "unless you want me to kill Windu."

Sidious thrust his face forward, almost into the blue-hazed transmission. With venom in his throat and slitted eyes, Sidious spat out, "Do not ask again. Windu will be dealt with in time but not by you." Maul flinched back, his eyes blinking terror for a moment before he regained control. "I will not be pleased if Windu dies in the next few days. Am I clear on this?"

The toad sounded almost humble. "Very clear, Master."

But Darth Sidious was not fooled. His apprentice was becoming more of a liability by the moment. "Good. Contact me when you are on route back to Coruscant. We will have much to discuss when you arrive." He said, slowly, distinctly, "Lord Maul."

Reaching over and cutting the transmission, Sidious sat back and pondered what he would do next.

This was not Maul's usual style. Ever since he'd visited Tyrannus on Geonosis, he'd been not a little insolent and more sure of himself than in times past.

Sidious was certain they were conspiring against him. Tyrannus was the bigger threat but Maul had his uses. Separately or together, they could be an obstacle to his plan for domination of the galaxy. However, he had already planned for their eventual demise. He merely needed to begin putting his strategy into motion.

But he would not stand for this presumption from Maul. His apprentice needed to be reminded of his place. Prolonged agony and just the right touch of hatred would bring him back into line; perhaps Tyrannus could use a reminder as well.

When he had taken care of Tharten and her followers, it would be time to look for another apprentice. Among the Jedi scum there were few worthy of being a Sith but one stood out. Kenobi was disgustingly lightside but he was strong in the Force and a fine swordsman. And the last time he'd met him, the Knight had been exhausted and not a little angry; there had been a touch of delicious darkness polluting his spirit.

With Jinn dead and the Temple in upheaval, Kenobi might be a possibility, an appropriate candidate to mold into a Sith. He would have to probe further, capture the man when he was most vulnerable and torture him until he accepted the darkness as his own. Kenobi was strong enough and stubborn enough to last a long, long time under agony's torment.

He looked forward to the challenge.

And absurd as the idea might be, if the man dared refuse the honor of becoming a Sith, Obi-Wan Kenobi would end his days in a fiery ecstasy of pain and desecration.

Either way, Sidious would make sure that Kenobi screamed - beautifully.

********************************
It was much later that the Jedi finally dared contact him. Palpatine had used the time for some of his other pet projects - to push them forward with a deft touch here, a soft word there or threats when necessary. The Jedi were his most important but not his only concern. But as the night wore on and still no word from the Temple, his hatred had swelled and then ebbed into satisfaction. The fools were making it all too easy to obliterate them.

Now in the blue-hazed transmission, he could see Xacor, idiotic head of the Jedi Hunter's Group, and Sle'fey, the fool who had dared tell that buffoon Zaros to leave the Council chambers, standing there, both of them shivering with apprehension. Pathetic weaklings.

He was going to enjoy this.

Glowering at the images, Palpatine sat back in his chair and then waited a few seconds before huffing, "I am not used to waiting for the servants of the Republic to contact me. My secretary has been trying to reach you for some time."

Sending a pointed look toward the Bothan, Zak Xacor turned and bowed deeply toward Palpatine. As he straightened, he said softly, "Our most heartfelt apologies, Supreme Chancellor. We meant no disrespect." His hand moved slightly as he glanced dagger-stares at Sle'fey.

There must have been some message there because the white-furred beast stared at Xacor, and then turning toward Palpatine, sketched a hasty bow.

Palpatine's eyes narrowed as he looked from one insignificant insect to the other and back again. There was a long, long pause and, then sharp and clear, he snapped, "But you have done so. Representative Zaros was most emphatic. He was highly insulted by the treatment of the Council and you in particular, Master Sle'fey. Insults to one of our representatives is an insult to the Republic, Masters."

Glaring at them both, he enunciated each word slowly, "As... well... you... know."

Sle'fey's fur was whirling with emotion, his muzzle pulled back into a snarl. The Bothan Master was clearly angry about something and it looked like Xacor held his leash - at least for the moment.

As he watched them both, Xacor turned slightly, and almost out of Palpatine's visual range, furtively tapped one finger against the top of his other hand again.

He recognized it as one of the many subtle gestures used by the Jedi and this one meant 'Obey'; he pretended not to notice. It would not do to have the Jedi realize that he could read their primitive signals as easily as they. He did wonder, however, why Xacor was not using mind-speech with the other Jedi. Perhaps, the two were at such odds that it was impossible.

Whatever Xacor's hold over the Bothan scum, it was effective. With obvious reluctance, Sle'fey muttered, "I offer you and I will offer him my most profound apologies, Supreme Chancellor. I was under a great deal of anxiety and Representative Zaros unfortunately felt the brunt of it."

"That is most distressing to hear. Representative Zaros is the eyes and ears of the Republic on the Jedi Council and to treat him so abominably does not speak well of the Jedi or your commitment to our lawful government."

He did so enjoy manipulating the fools. Xacor looked as if he was drowning in worry and Sle'fey's fury was palpable through the soft haze of the transmission. Even the Force was poisoned with their desperation.

Palpatine put a deliberate edge to the angry whine in his voice, just to nudge Xacor's apprehension closer toward nova status. "He indicated that the Council would bar him from future meetings. This is unacceptable."

He watched as the Jedi squirmed and tried not to enjoy it too much. Besides he'd found, over the years, that beings often made mistakes when under severe stress; the Force and his own experiences were telling him that he needed to know the truth about what had happened in the Temple. These two insects were ready to collapse at the slightest hint of trouble.

But then what else could he expect? Anyone of courage had been culled out of the Jedi Council years ago.

The Zabrak cleared his throat and explained, "Master Sle'fey spoke out of turn, Supreme Chancellor. He no longer speaks for the Council in such matters." He sent the white-furred scum another glare and then looked properly contrite when he turned back to Palpatine.

"Indeed?" It was becoming increasingly difficult not to laugh in their faces but Palpatine made the effort.

"Yes, Master Sle'fey has requested of the Council that he resign from his current position and serve the Jedi in other ways."

Xacor and the Bothan beast exchanged heated stares and it was surprising to see Sle'fey turn away first. While Bothans as a species were notoriously sneaky and foolishly courageous at times, Jedi training had all but erased Sle'fey's heritage. Now he was nothing more than a simple, power-hungry bureaucrat, someone willing to do just about anything to stay in a position of authority.

Palpatine wondered what Sle'fey had done to lose his place among the Jedi. Berating an over-dressed fop, even the Senate's representative, wouldn't have been enough. There were many possibilities, most of which he could turn to his advantage but he needed more information.

"And quite rightly so." Playing on his role of unhappy Chancellor, Palpatine scowled at the pair. "Council members must have the utmost respect for the Republic and those who work for the greater good."

"It was unfortunate that Representative Zaros had to witness some of our internal problems but he is certainly welcome to return at any time."

There it was - internal problems. It would appear that their treatment of that rat-faced Zaros was merely a symptom; the Jedi Council and perhaps the Jedi Order itself may be starting to fracture into squabbling factions again. They had done so ten years ago when the first of the dismissals had become a reality. Unfortunately, after a while, the pathetic Jedi had slipped into resignation.

Palpatine had to admit that it had disappointed him at the time; fighting among the Jedi would have only weakened the Order and brought them down that much sooner. Now, perhaps, he could help to widen the conflict again.

"I am glad to hear it, Master Xacor." A heartbeat of silence and then, as if confused, he said, "Internal problems?"

"Ah, forgive me, Supreme Chancellor. I did not want to bother you with something so insignificant." The Zabrak was clearly nervous. He kept clenching his hands and sending furious looks at Sle'fey.

"Let me be the judge of its insignificance, Master Xacor."

Palpatine made sure his voice had just the right touch of restrained anger. There was clearly something going on and he wanted to know what it was. He wanted to drive the simpletons into making mistakes, hopefully into cracking under the strain, and from the look that passed between the Jedi, it appeared to be working.

"I...." Clearing his throat, Xacor started again. "Supreme Chancellor, there were disagreements as to who would lead the Jedi Council. But the matter is now resolved, sir." After another uncomfortable pause, he said, "Although we will have Representative Zaros look over the changes and we will, of course, follow his recommendations."

Palpatine could taste their fear; the Force was contaminated with it.

So the problem was a simple matter of squabbling fools, staking out territory. Little did they know that their pitiful world would come crashing down around them in a few months, maybe less. The irony was exquisite.

It took all of his acting ability but he was able to keep a triumphant smile off his face. "And what did Master Tharten have to say about all this?"

If anything, the beings in the blue-tinged transmission seemed to shrink further into panic. Master Xacor hesitated and then stammered out, "Ah... that's... unfortunately the reason why it took so long to respond to your inquires, Supreme Chancellor. There has been an incident."

Until now, Palpatine had thought the darkness he sensed was due to the pitiful machinations of these pathetic bureaucrats to garner power as they back-stabbed their way into strength. But the currents of the Force were churning, a black jumble of destruction and spreading chaos. Something was amiss and he'd be a fool to ignore it.

"An incident? Of what nature? Why isn't Master Tharten here to discuss this with us?"

The Jedi both flinched at his harsh question, the trifling slet-beetle scum sharing a look of desperation.

Sle'fey started to speak but Xacor cut him off. "She was attacked while interrogating Qui-Gon Jinn. He..., " the insect was sweating and his eyes kept darting everywhere except into the holocam as he said, "he stabbed her with her own lightsaber. She has since died of her wounds."

It did not happen often but Palpatine was stunned speechless.

So the useless grub-worm was dead - stupid enough to be gutted by her own saber and at the hands of Qui-Gon Jinn no less. How truly ironic and not a little irritating. Now he'd never have the pleasure of hearing her scream as he pulled her heart from her body or see the bright red of spilled blood or savor her last agonies in the Force. He had been looking forward to it, too.

"Died!?" Finding his voice, letting his anger bleed free, he thundered, "Jinn murdered her? How was he able to do this? Are your guards so incompetent as to leave them alone?"

"Supreme Chancellor..., " Xacor was whining terror, almost tripping over his words as he hurried to explain, "Sir, we have holocam recordings that show that she brought a vibroshiv into the cell with her. The guards claim, and I have proof to back it up that Master Tharten had ordered the guards to stand down. After that, the recordings blanked out, but by the time the guards realized something was wrong, she was already dead from saber wounds. Jinn was also bleeding badly from a vibroshiv blade which we later found in the cell." He slowed to a stop and stood there, eyes wide, looking like a nerf about to be slaughtered.

"Is he dead?"

He tried not to let his eagerness seep into his face or his voice. It wouldn't do for these inept fools to know just how much he wanted that blood-sucking Jinn destroyed.

"No, Supreme Chancellor. We were able to stop the bleeding and he is now resting under guard in the Healer's ward." Xacor hesitated. "He claims that she attacked him and he only defended himself."

Not dead - his enemy was not dead. It was clear Palpatine had made a critical error when he'd assigned Jinn's destruction to underlings.

He would need to gut Jinn - personally.

The problem was how to get the Bendu slime away from the Jedi. They were certainly want to punish him themselves but their idea of revenge was pitifully inadequate - a few years in a penal colony and meditation exercises. What Jinn needed was a long lesson in wire-fine agony, perhaps some experiments in pain-enhancing drugs coupled with neural whips and saber burns.

He'd heard that Jinn was afraid of fire; Tharten had found some old records about feedback experiments and had gifted him that information a while ago. Perhaps playing with his mind might be in order as well. He'd have to give it some thought. It would certainly sweeten Tharten's failure.

"Do you believe him?" Palpatine said sharply.

"No, of course not. He's a rogue Jedi. We are handling it. As per Republic law, he will be tried by the Jedi Council and when found guilty, sentenced to twenty years in a penal colony." Xacor seemed to be trying desperately to placate him. "Force-suppressed, of course."

Did these Jedi think that he didn't know the law? He had written the damn things, had intermediaries to push them through the system, had made sure that the loopholes were there for his exploitation.

"He murdered the head of the Council! Life in prison isn't good enough for him."

Leaning into the transmission, Palpatine frowned outrage at the Jedi. But secretly, he was savoring the moment; it was rare that he allowed himself the luxury of naked anger. Usually, he had to balance the dark energies with the games he played. But even here, he had to be careful. It wouldn't do for the Jedi to know how much he was looking forward to killing Jinn himself.

Putting his hands flat on his desk, Palpatine snapped, "He should be executed."

"We are not allowed to...."

Palpatine cut the Zabrak off. "The Republic makes exceptions for criminals of this sort."

Xacor let out a relieved sigh, his face breaking into a smile. "Supreme Chancellor, I am very glad to hear this. The Council was uncertain whether they would be able to execute a murderer under the law, even one who had butchered the Head of the Jedi Order. We did not wish to be seen taking matters into our own hands without clearance. It sets a bad precedent."

The Councilor continued, "The Council is most eager to see justice done. We have been in session for over an hour, discussing the how and why of his impending execution but we had not thought that the Senate, or frankly you, Supreme Chancellor, would accept it. This is wonderful news."

"And why would I not accept the execution of a murderer, Master Xacor?"

"Well, Jinn is a hero on your home planet of Naboo. We wouldn't want to make it uncomfortable for you, considering your steadfast support of the Jedi Order over the years." Xacor looked as if he wanted to reassure himself as much as Palpatine.

Before he could say anything else, Sle'fey twisted around, grabbing onto Xacor's arm with his paw. "I can't believe you are talking of killing Master Jinn. He hasn't had his trial yet." Snarling at the other Master, he said, "He doesn't deserve execution. It was self-defense."

The Zabrak jerked back, out of Sle'fey's reach. Glaring at him, Xacor snapped, "You don't know that. All we have is his word and we know how good that is."

It was almost amusing to watch the two Jedi arguing. All this talk of Jinn's execution was ironic considering that he was indeed innocent. It would be interesting to see if the Jedi were courageous enough to do the deed but unlikely. Besides, he needed to know more about what was going on at the Temple. An argument was usually a good place to start; so much could slip out in heated conversation.

The white-furred beast growled, "Tharten was up to something, something big. If you had only let Jinn talk..."

"Councilors, please. Do your posturing on your own time," Palpatine snapped. Then leaning back, his fingers intertwined, his face arranged in a thoughtful frown, he said, "Master Sle'fey, so you think Master Tharten was acting inappropriately, do you?"

The Bothan Master was pathetically eager. "Supreme Chancellor, she was after Jinn for some reason. I have proof that she planted evidence to make Jinn look guilty, guilty enough to warrant death. If you go through with the execution, you will be murdering an innocent man. And we'll never find out why she wanted him dead."

"And why should we believe someone who was trying to take over the Jedi Order?" Standing there, hands on hips, Xacor looked so much the typical holodrama hero that Palpatine was having a hard time holding in his contempt.

"I was trying to protect the Order from her manipulations. Surely, you understand this, Zak." Sle'fey was curling and uncurling his paws and his fur was swirling with emotion.

Xacor was having none of it. His eyes blazing, he drew back and scowled at Sle'fey. His voice was space-cold. "I only know that you almost succeeded in your plot to make yourself Head of the Jedi Order. Luckily the rest of us understand how the Republic works even if you do not. We are servants, doing the will of the Senate and the Chancellor's office, not independent operators following the Force alone."

"You are wrong, just as you are wrong about Jinn." The Bothan was shaking his head again.

But Xacor only seemed to grow more adamant. "If the Supreme Chancellor thinks that we can execute a guilty man within Republic law, so be it. He deserves his punishment."

"The darkness is coming, Zak."

"He killed Sera Tharten. What more do you want?"

Palpatine swore that he could see a tinge of yellow in the Zabrak's eyes. Better and better. It might be possible to play Xacor's anger into something he could use.

But before Sle'fey could say anything else, Xacor said flatly, "Look, Trest, you need to wake up to the political realities of the matter. If we don't punish Jinn to the fullest extent of the law, we will be seen as weaklings. It would prove disastrous for the Order if we don't kill him." He shrugged at the look of horror in the Bothan's dark eyes. "Besides, he's already admitted that he did it - self-defense or not."

"This is insane." The Bothan's fur was whirling, a clear sign that he was disturbed. "I'll take this to the Senate. I'm sure the Naboo delegation will file an objection in the courts. And we all know how long that can take. At least, Jinn will be able to defend himself in a fair and open trial." Sle'fey's muzzle was pulled back into a snarl. "We need to know what really happened in that cell."

This was a problem. It was possible that Tharten let some things slip out in her dealings with Jinn. The Bendu hasn't had a chance to tell his side beyond the claim of self-defense according to Xacor - as yet. But once he has time to recover from his injuries, anything he learned would become public knowledge.

Jinn had to be silenced and soon.

At the same time, it would not be in his political interest to show any eagerness for revenge. The Naboo delegation could make it uncomfortable; Jinn was one of their Heroes after all and that irritant, Amidala, was a friend of his. She was as tenacious as a boar-wolf once she got her teeth into an issue. Luckily she was back home, negotiating with miners about living conditions or something else equally unimportant.

Palpatine waved the objections aside. "Unfortunately, Senator Amidala is off-planet at the moment. I'm not sure when she will return and the rest of her staff are unlikely to help you at this time."

Before Sle'fey could protest further, Palpatine smiled, saying, "Councilor Xacor, I must admit that I am surprised and pleased at your willingness to see justice done so quickly. Usually the Jedi use a slow stodgy approach and the Senate Appropriations Committee has been unhappy with the Order's results of late. This will go a long way to placate some of the Senators' objections."

"Chancellor, you can't be serious. He may be innocent. You..."

The white-furred fool was open-mouthed in disbelief. It was really quite amusing to see. But Palpatine needed to play the part of annoyed Chancellor for a bit longer.

"Master Sle'fey, you do yourself no good continuing with this argument. Have a care or you may find yourself among those in the next round of dismissals later this month." Leaning forward, looking at the blue-tinged transmission and the pathetic figures cowering in the haze, he frowned displeasure. "Am I clear on this?"

Sle'fey flinched back, his dark eyes flicking between Xacor and Palpatine, looking as if he wanted to find some pity there and realizing there was none. Finally, he bowed his head in resignation and murmured, "Yes, Supreme Chancellor, abundantly clear."

"Supreme Chancellor, if you can come tomorrow at 1500 hours to the Jedi Temple, Master Tharten will be honored with the lighting of her funeral pyre. After that, I believe that we can offer you justice, swift enough for the Senate."

Xacor stood there, eager and pathetically obvious; it would seem that he was hoping to garner support for his rise to Head of the Jedi Council. He had shown that he could be both ruthless and servile and willing to do almost anything to remain in power - a useful trait in a pawn.

Palpatine had need of pawns, at least for a little while. And it would be amusing to push Xacor into helping to bring down the Order now that Tharten was dead. Zabraks were so very good at pain management.

Less amusing was the realization that he would not have the pleasure of making Jinn scream after all. The savage sounds as he tore into Jinn's flesh, the gurgles as the grub-worm's throat shredded and he drown in his own blood - this would have been almost payment for all of the petty annoyances Jinn had put him through - but it was not to be.

If the Jedi were willing to kill Jinn, much as he wanted to do so personally, it would be more politically expedient to let them have their way. Sometimes one had to give up the ecstasy of torturing another in order to further the Sith agenda. At least he'd be able to watch him die.

But as he opened his mouth to accept, something halted him. There, in the Force, was a warning; a trap was hidden somewhere in the future, a light in all that putrid darkness, danger to himself and to the final Sith victory so close at hand. He would be a fool to ignore it and Palpatine was no fool.

Instead, he shook his head slowly, composing his face so that it would appear that he was mildly disappointed. "My apologies, Councilor Xacor, but I am a busy man. I don't have time to travel to the Temple, not with my schedule." Then he let his eyes brighten as he said, "I have an idea, one that will serve both the Jedi and the Senate. Bring Jinn to the antechamber next to my office at 1600 hours tomorrow. You can turn him over to the Senate guards for execution then."

Startled, Xacor stammered out, "Chancellor? Jinn is a Force-user and a strong one. He will need special handling. He's...."

Did this slet-beetle think he could dictate to the Supreme Chancellor and get away with it?

Palpatine's voice hardened. "Enough, Councilor Xacor, enough. I would have thought that you would welcome the Senate's help in this matter." When the Jedi opened his mouth again to protest, he put up his hand to halt any further discussion. "I understand the problems but I am willing to put up with a bit of unpleasantness for the sake of the Republic. However...."

He looked down at his datapad, frowning at it as if troubled by something, and then looked up to stare at the two Jedi. He said tartly, "You can either bring him to my office for transfer or execute him yourself without me present. Your choice. I don't have time to squabble with you about this. I've spent quite enough time on something so trivial when I have whole systems to worry about."

"Then your office, Supreme Chancellor, at 1600 hours tomorrow." Xacor looked unhappy but that was of little concern to him.

The Force was still churning with danger although it had lessened considerably when he had changed the venue to his office. If there was something going on, he'd be ready for it. This place had traps upon traps and all geared for Jedi hunting. He was looking forward to a little sport. Maul shouldn't be allowed to have all the fun.

If all went well, he'd have Jinn in hand by nightfall tomorrow. Then it would be simple enough to kill a few Senate guards, make it look as if the Bendu had escaped and there would be no one to realize that Jinn was actually his prisoner.

Things were looking up. He'd be able to torture the scum after all.

There was one other item - Kenobi. Soon, the Knight would need to begin the long, slow slide into hatred if he was to become his next Sith apprentice; this was the perfect beginning to that, making him watch the Jedi hand his old Master over to be killed - nerf to the slaughter.

"I am glad to hear it, Councilor. It speaks well of your duty to the Republic." Nodding, he pretended to look at his datapad, looking as if he had his mind on other things, and then glanced up again at the Jedi. "And be sure to bring Kenobi, Jinn's former Padawan, to witness the transaction. I've heard that he's been giving you some trouble of late. A bad precedent to set for the more impressionable Knights. I am surprised that you haven't punished him for it, make him understand his place in the scheme of things."

Xacor seemed surprised at the request. "He has been punished, Supreme Chancellor."

"Not satisfactorily. Master Tharten was kind enough to explain the situation. She said that his loyalty, to the Order, to the Republic, was in question. Perhaps he should be present when we deliver justice to Jinn." He frowned into the blue haze. "A test, to see if his allegiance is to the Order or to a murderer."

He waved his hand in dismissal and started to turn away, reaching for the transmission switch.

"I... yes, Supreme Chancellor. As you wish." He could hear the confusion in Xacor's voice. "May the Force be with you."

"Zak, this is...." And the blue-edged images winked out and there was silence.

Things were going slightly amiss but it was nothing he could not deal with. Tharten's death was surprising but manageable and the first cracks in the Jedi foundation were already widening. That bumbling pair, Xacor and Sle'fey, would continue to turn inward and fight among themselves for an ever-smaller power base and it might cause Jedi to side with one or the other, making for civil unrest in the Order. Pathetic fools.

At least, he'd have Jinn to torture - pleasure in the making. He'd been looking forward to trying out a few new techniques on slaves he'd been keeping for just such an occasion but now he would have a powerful Jedi under his control. He'd even be able to play with him for a while before he'd have to leave for the Outer Rim.

Of course, if Jinn lived long enough, he'd bring him aboard his ship. He could hide Jinn in one of the shielded rooms, and practice his methods then; the voyages were always so boring, otherwise. The Bendu could scream until his heart gave out and no one would hear - no one except the Force and Darth Sidious.

Jinn might even live long enough to see Lord Tyrannus again - a very intriguing thought.

Palpatine had to wonder what Tyrannus would do, choose to accept his apprentice's demise, even help with the torment, or would he try to rescue his old Padawan. Either choice would be instructive. Not that there was really any choice - Jinn would die. But Tyrannus might tip his hand.

He would have to contemplate this further. But he had time. And Jinn had none at all.

********************************

The blue-tinged recording winked out, and for a moment, there was silence.

Face drawn in lines of outrage and desperation, his hands clenching and unclenching as if wanting to throttle the Master, Obi-Wan glared at Sle'fey. Even Atel was looking at the Bothan, her mouth open in surprise.

But before Obi-Wan could say anything, Sle'fey shrugged his shoulders. "This conversation was recorded a few minutes ago. I had hoped that Palpatine would come here where he would be surrounded by Jedi operatives. It would have made things much easier." His white fur was flattened, a clear sign that he was troubled. "Master Jinn, I am sorry that you had to be a part of this but I hope you saw just how much he wants your death."

"Yes, I saw." Qui-Gon was calm, much calmer than Obi-Wan was at the moment, as he asked, "Do you think he suspects something is wrong?"

Master Xacor's eyes were as hard as stone. "Of course. Otherwise, he'd have no problem coming to the Temple. He's been here many times. We will need to bring our strongest, most able fighters. And it is likely that he'll have traps set."

Sle'fey and Xacor exchanged glances and then turned back toward Qui-Gon. The Zabrak Master said, ""Are you clear on what needs to be done, Master Jinn?"

Obi-Wan couldn't believe that they were all sitting here, in the Healer's ward, and calmly discussing an attack on a Sith Lord. Qui-Gon was still injured. It was possible for his old master to be a little better by 1600 hours tomorrow but he would not be back to full fighting strength.

In the days before dismissals became a way of life, when he was young and foolish and naive, the Council wouldn't have even considered sending an injured Jedi Master back into a hopeless situation like this, not when there were others equally capable and healthy. But those days were long gone.

It was insane; they were all insane.

Yet the others didn't seem to think anything amiss with the idea. Even Qui-Gon accepted it. He was calmly discussing it as if it were a normal thing, to walk into a Sith trap while he was injured, vulnerable. "Yes, bait. But how long must we keep up the pretense? He will surely feel if I'm not Force-suppressed and I can't fight against a Sith Lord if I am."

"We have modified some of the Force cuffs so that they will slip off as soon as you touch one of the knobs to a hard surface or if someone else releases the mechanism." Pulling out a pair of binders, with one finger, Xacor tapped at the knobs and they fell open. He explained, "The only problem is that you will be vulnerable for about 20 seconds before you will be able to use the Force again."

Obi-Wan could keep silent no longer. Spitting out fury and desperation, he was almost shouting, "Twenty seconds? A Sith Lord will cut him into pieces in a single breath." Everyone turned to stare at him. Atel tried to calm him down with little touches of her hand against his shoulder and quiet murmurs but he would have none of it.

In one part of his mind, he knew that his words would be ignored but he had to try. He couldn't let his Master sacrifice himself for these rsshak slime, not again. "Qui-Gon, don't do this. They can find another way to arrest Palpatine, one where you won't have to die in their little game."

"Obi-Wan.... " How the man could be so calm about something this final was almost beyond him. "Padawan, the Force is demanding that I go."

He knew that his reactions were still amiss, that he was still not thinking clearly. The taint of Tharten's death and his part in it was staining his spirit; he knew he had to regain control of his emotions if he were to help Qui-Gon escape this. But there wasn't time and perhaps there never would be.

He hated what he had done, what had been done to him. And he felt unclean in that hatred.

Trying desperately to come to grips with it, knowing that they would never listen to him if he didn't regain his balance, he stopped and drew in a deep breath, holding it for a moment or two and letting it out again slowly. The pain in his shoulder jangled at him but he ignored it and took in another deep breath.

When he knew he was able to speak more calmly, Obi-Wan gazed at Atel and Sle'fey and Xacor. "The Force is telling me that someone is going to die tomorrow. There. In that snake's office."

Feeling helpless, afraid that no matter what he did it would never be enough to stop the inevitability of it all, Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, pleading with him, "It's likely to be you."

His old Master sent him a brief, sad smile - and condemned himself to duty and death. "Then it will be me. But we will have destroyed the Sith. And both the Bendu and the Jedi will breathe free again."

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan sank back into the pillows and closed his eyes. He did not want to look at Qui-Gon Jinn and see fate shadowing his old master's face. He wasn't sure he could take another death and ever find himself again. It was too close, too soon, too much pain, too much betrayal. Another blow and he'd shatter into dust.

"Obi-Wan, we need your help as well. Palpatine...."

Sle'fey's voice was urgent but Obi-Wan jerked up, leaning on his good arm, staring at the being who had engineered all this. It took all of his strength not to laugh in Sle'fey's face.

"Help you? Help you when all you do is lie and manipulate everyone around you? When you use beings like dejarik pieces and then discard them when they are of no further use? When you willingly destroy the trust of those who believed in you? When you let Jedi be killed so that you could keep going with your blasted plan to get Tharten?"

Obi-Wan's voice was laced with poison. "A shining example of Jedi justice, Master Sle'fey. And with such a record, why should I ever help you again?"

"To save Master Jinn." The Bothan had the audacity to look ashamed. "Palpatine expects you there. While we focus on arresting him, someone will need to keep Qui-Gon safe. Who better than you?"

"You never stop. Always trying to find a weakness and exploit it." Anger tangled in his throat. He wanted to throttle the Bothan again. He didn't like that he felt that way but he couldn't seem to stop. Perhaps he didn't want to stop; Sle'fey deserved it, after all.

"I don't think Master Obi-Wan going is a wise idea. He's still wounded. He will be vulnerable in a firefight." Atel sounded urgent and very worried. Looking down at Obi-Wan, she gave him a nervous smile. "I'll go. I can handle it."

"No, I absolutely forbid it, Padawan. You are no match for a Sith Lord." He sat up, grabbing onto one arm and shaking her. Never mind that his shoulder flared in pain or that he felt unbalanced and furious again. It was vital that she not go; she was too young. She had no idea of the cruelty and sheer cunning of a Sith.

But her mouth was flat and she could be more stubborn that Qui-Gon when she thought she was right. "Master Qui-Gon is wounded and you know that this Sith Lord will go straight for the most vulnerable opponent. He will need my help."

"Not if he doesn't go. They can find another way."

Qui-Gon said gently, "Obi-Wan, be at peace. I have already made my choice." Turning to the two Councilors, he bowed his head. "Master Sle'fey, Master Xacor, I am at your disposal."

"I will go with Master Jinn and make sure he stays out of trouble, Master." Her soft voice only reminded him of past missions, of bacta and sabers and narrow escapes. He had always been there to keep her safe.

Now with Qui-Gon determined to meet the Sith Lord and help bring him down and his young apprentice just as determined to protect his old Master even over his protests, Obi-Wan found that he had no choice. Again.

"Not without me, Padawan." Obi-Wan let go of Atel and lay back down: hopeless, afraid and trapped. He stared out past the viewport, looking up into the night sky and the brilliance of the lighted Temple in the distance. "I'll go. To help Master Jinn."

He didn't need the Force to tell him that this would end in death; it was obvious that lives would be lost. It was only a question of how many and who.

"You've won this round, Sle'fey. I just hope you know what you are doing," Obi-Wan said quietly.

Master Sle'fey's reply wasn't reassuring. "I hope I do, too."
 

********************************

Last-meal was full of silences. Qui-Gon had tried to talk with him, tried to get him to understand why he'd made the choices he had but Obi-Wan was tired of it. He'd heard excuse upon excuse in his long apprenticeship and it always came back to the same thing - Qui-Gon Jinn would do what he had to do to follow the will of the Force, no matter what the cost. It didn't matter that Obi-Wan might have a different perception; it didn't matter that Obi-Wan was looking at the longer term consequences of what his old Master insisted was right. It didn't matter at all.

So with every regurgitation of Qui-Gon's 'doing what he must',  Obi-Wan turned further and further into stone until it would seem that he was but a statue amongst living beings.

Shoveling food into his ash-filled mouth, staring down at his plate as he tried to block out the sounds of protest and explanation, he ignored Qui-Gon's concern, Atel's worry staining the air. Instead he concentrated on nothing.

It wasn't working.

Finally, he had had enough. Shoving the remnants of the food away, he settled back into his bed. Sending a glare upward toward the lighted tower of the Jedi Council in the distance, he closed his eyes and tried to shut out the murmurs in the room. 

He wanted to rest, wanted to stop thinking and just sleep. After all, tomorrow would come soon enough and he'd need all of his strength to keep his foolish Padawan and more idiotic Master from getting themselves killed in an absurd attempt at arresting the Supreme Chancellor. That mission could only go badly. He just hoped he'd have enough strength to shield them from their own folly, to keep them alive past the first few seconds of battle.

He didn't care much about his own chances. After all, he'd done terrible things. His deliberate rape of Tharten's mind was still a sewer-stain on him, something for which he should be punished. Yes, he'd been misused and betrayed by the Jedi, their damned agendas twisting all that was good and right with the Order into something almost blasphemous; yes, he'd been manipulated into battling Tharten to keep from losing his former Master.

That was no justification for what he had done. He had chosen to inflict pain when there should have been compassion. In those horrible moments, he'd ripped into her nerve centers and tortured her. Even now, he wasn't sure if he'd done it for the Jedi Order or to punish her for trying to kill Qui-Gon. He wasn't sure he'd ever know. But whatever the answer, he knew he'd yet to pay the real price for torturing Tharten.

He knew he would pay - in the end.

"Obi-Wan?" The voice was insistent, reminding him that he wasn't alone in the room. "Obi-Wan?"

Knowing that ignoring Qui-Gon would do no good, he opened his eyes and said flatly, "Yes?"

The crabbed mouth and narrowed eyes told him that Qui-Gon wasn't pleased with his response but the older man only said, "Obi-Wan, perhaps shared meditation might help in bringing balance back to us all."

"No." The thought of meditation, shared or otherwise, made him ill. The darkness within him would only bring shadows to those he loved. He could not have them contaminated with his corruption.

"This is not like you, Padawan." There was disquiet in his old Master's voice. Qui-Gon straightened, pushing away his own food, and exchanging another glance with Atel, he said, "Sharing meditation often helped when...."

"That was a long time ago. When I was young."  Obi-Wan snapped. He looked away, half-whispering to himself,  "When I was clean."

"Do you think I've never experienced the Dark?" Qui-Gon was frowning, a deep ridge of worry pulling at his skin, aging him. "Have you forgotten so quickly? My thirst for vengeance when Tahl died? The fact that if you hadn't been there to help me, I'd have murdered him without a second thought?"

"I haven't forgotten." He remembered that Qui-Gon's hatred had filled the Force, the venom of it building and building until it would seem nothing else existed. He had tried to help his Master but it wasn't enough. Qui-Gon had pursued Tahl's murderer relentlessly, ignoring everything and everyone but his own pain. In the end, it had been a near thing. Obi-Wan knew that it had taken his Master a long time to recover. In some ways, he never had.

Now it was his own pain that poisoned the Force, contaminating the clear currents until it would seem choked with hatred. Now he was the one in need of help. He just wasn't sure it would be enough.

"Let me be your guide, Obi-Wan, as you were once mine." Qui-Gon leaned forward, wincing a bit as he did. "Let it go, Padawan."

Atel said softly, "Please, Master, you need this."

He stared at them both, Atel radiating anxiety, Qui-Gon with that patient, pained look he'd get whenever he was trying not to appear to want something too much. They were worried about him. No, it was more than that; they were alarmed.

He knew he wasn't acting normally. How could he? His choices has contaminated him and now he was unsure of what to do that might lead him back into the Light.

He had always been the one to follow the Code - once he'd gotten past his early days of bad choices and insecurity.  Qui-Gon would go with his instincts and land them into trouble and the Council would be unhappy afterwards, even if it had turned out well. Half the time the Councilors would look at Obi-Wan with something akin to pity or else amusement and then let them both off.

It was almost as if the Council had expected him to keep his old Master in line. Of course, it never worked but Obi-Wan learned to be calm and centered as he grew older, balancing the Code and the wisdom of the Jedi with his Master's sometimes odd ideas.  They had worked well together.

Atel, on the other hand, was Qui-Gon's opposite in many ways. She was too rigid; the compassion that all Jedi should feel sometimes eluded her. So Obi-Wan found himself acting more like his old Master in an attempt to try and temper her driving need for rules and harsh justice with compassion for those less fortunate - the very lifeforms he'd jested about in his youth much to his shame. Until this mission, they had worked well together.

Now his calm center, his fine balance between the Code and his heart, had imploded into a black hole that ate at his spirit. He had lost his way - and they all knew it.

Qui-Gon would have said that the first step to recovery was acceptance; although they could learn from the past, it  could not be changed. They could only move forward.

Obi-Wan knew he was right but despair was still soaking into his skin, weighting him down. Fighting to keep from sinking back into the depths, he closed his eyes, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly. He tried to empty his mind of everything but the clarity of the Force. But the currents flowed sluggishly, filled with pain and the black debris of choices gone wrong.

In the distance, he could hear Atel's worried voice and his Master's gentle reply. And then like balm to his wearied spirit, he could feel Qui-Gon's steady glow on the edge of his consciousness, sending light into the murky depths. His Padawan's tentative probe followed, helping to brush aside the darkness.

He let out another breath, feeling for the first time in an eternity, the beginnings of absolution. Only the first step but it was a start. Eagerly, he pushed for more, impatient to be cleaned of the filth still clinging to his spirit.

Then with appalling swiftness, the Force took him.

Death in the raging black, shadow billowing across the darkness,  flashes of red light streaking through it, leaving trails of poison and obsidian ash. He couldn't breathe for the horror of it, his throat clogged with desperation.

There were shouts in the lightless void, some he didn't recognize but Qui-Gon was hoarse with urgency. "No, Obi-Wan. Stop!" He'd never heard him so worried.

The darkness roiled again, spreading the black into the corners of the universe itself and there was a wail of grief. Obi-Wan struggled to see beyond the shadows, striving to find a way free, searching for one glimmer of hope. But there was none.

Pain-filled moans and the startled howl of cauterized agony. Atel struggling with something or someone in the darkness, shouting, "I won't let you hurt him. I...." She fell abruptly silent.

Grunted exhaustion, the sound of lightsabers clashing, spitting, hissing and meat thudding against something solid. Obi-Wan peered into the night but there were only jagged light and the blinding curve of sabers in motion.

Behind him was the shrill whimper of a woman in pain, tortured beyond her endurance and a child's broken-hearted cry. It sounded very much like Qui-Gon's son, Ben.

A demon mask in red and black stained the darkness. The searing red stab of a lightstaff scrawling symbols in the air. 

In the shadows, a low voice, male, harsh with remorse, whispering, "It is not your fault. It is mine."

And then there was only the remorseless night.

Obi-Wan came out of the vision, gasping for air. Slick with sweat, every centimeter of him ached as if he'd run for kilometers; his shoulder hurt abominably. Even his hands were shaking, little half-moon cuts gleaming bloody in his palms.

He looked over to see his old Master's face scored with grief. The man looked old and thoroughly lost.

Atel, too, was sitting there, blinking back tears, whispering, "The same. It was the same as before."

Horrified, he realized that he had broadcasted his vision to them. The shared meditation, their gift of renewed hope, unfailing compassion, and love, had failed.

Obi-Wan curled inward, his head buried in his hands. It was clear that the Force was trying to show them just how badly things could go if they tried to arrest Palpatine. The darkness that they had tried to dispel in him had instead spread to the people he loved - just as he'd feared. He had damned them with his choices.

Behind him, he could hear Qui-Gon ask Atel to get the guard. A shuffle of feet, a quiet question and  Obi-Wan looked up to see their  Knight sentry standing just inside the door, shaking his head. "Master Sle'fey left strict instructions that no messages be sent out of the Temple. I'm sorry, Master Jinn."

"I need to send that message. It could mean the difference between life and death." When the guard started to protest, his Master interrupted, "Let me talk with Master Sle'fey, then. He might make an exception just this once." He swallowed hard, bowing his head for just a moment and then said softly, urgently, desperately, "Please."

There must have been something in Qui-Gon's eyes or the sorrow in his voice because the guard relented, saying, "I'll ask, Master Jinn, but there are a lot of things in flux right now. I doubt if Master Sle'fey will be able to see you before morning."

Qui-Gon's face paled. "That may be too late. Any help would be greatly appreciated, Knight...."

"Derst, Master Jinn, Asaf Derst." He nodded and turned to go. "I'll see what I can do."

Leaning back, looking much the worse for wear, Qui-Gon nodded, "Thank you."

As the door slid closed, Atel, obviously still shaken by what she had seen, said, "Master, it was almost the same vision as I'd had on the ship. There were a few things different  - a woman screaming and a child crying." She looked horrified. "What does it mean?"

Qui-Gon seemed to shrink, his eyes filled with shadow. "It sounded like Le'orath. And Ben. I've left them alone. Unprotected." His hand scrubbed at his face. "My own hubris. Following the will of the Force, thinking I was the only sacrifice and I left them there." His voice slowed to a whisper. "I left them there."

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan said, "Qui-Gon, you thought you were doing the right thing at the time. And surely Master Windu will look after them."

"Le'orath won't have it. She will try and do it all on her own, staying at the farm, trying to be both mother and father to Ben. My decision to go with you...." He looked ill. "If something happens to them, how will I be able to live with that?"

For that, Obi-Wan had no answer. Their choices had led them here and they were all damned for it, one way or another.

The door opened again and Master Xacor swept into the room. Their guard stayed outside but at least he'd done more than they had really expected.

The Zabrak looked harried, but as he stood there, looking at them, his face smoothed out and he bowed slightly toward Qui-Gon. "I was on my way to a planning session when Knight Derst contacted me saying that you wished to send a message. I don't think that's possible. We're in lock-down mode at the moment. What is so urgent that it can't wait until tomorrow night?"

"My wife and child may be in danger."

Master Xacor looked puzzled and not a little worried. "How do you know?"

"Obi-Wan had a vision." Voice flat and unyielding, Qui-Gon seemed to be thoroughly prepared to do whatever was necessary to contact his family.

"Ah." Xacor looked skeptical and not a little annoyed. "The future is always in motion."

Among the Jedi precepts, the standard and accepted reaction to visions was one of cautious disbelief. The Force could send tantalizing glimpses of possible futures but often as not they were misleading. Sometimes, they brought disaster and it had made the Jedi very reticent to act upon them. Even long ago predictions of Jedi-Sith battles and mysterious Chosen ones were treated with suspicion.

"Obi-Wan is exceptionally strong in the Unifying Force." Qui-Gon was not one to let something go so easily. When the Zabrak only tilted his head, clearly not impressed, he insisted, "A message to warn the Bendu, then. Something. The killer may be there already."

Before Xacor could protest, Obi-Wan said sharply, "You owe him, Master. A simple message should not be too hard for you." He sent a warning glare toward the Councilor, wordlessly reminding him of all that Qui-Gon had sacrificed for their blasted plots.

It must have been enough because the Zabrak shrugged, nodding his consent. "Very well. I will make sure something is sent to the Bendu warning them.  We set up a system when we started sending the coded tranmissions to Naboo. However, it will take some time as it is routed so that it cannot be traced back." Obviously impatient to be gone, Xacor asked, "Anything else that we should know about?"

"Only that people will be killed tomorrow." Obi-Wan couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Yes, I'm aware of that." Xacor did not rise to the bait but a flash of shame seemed to cross his face before it  smoothed back into Jedi calm. "If there is nothing else, I will take my leave."

Obi-Wan's reply was biting. "You seem unconcerned."

Master Xacor straightened, lifting his head to meet Obi-Wan's gaze head-on. "Don't let your anger over our past manipulations blind you to the truth, Obi-Wan. We know Jedi will die tomorrow. But that is part of the sacrifice we are willing to make if we are going to bring down Sidious."

"So you would send a wounded man in to do your dirty work?" He all but snarled at the man.

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's gentle rebuke was ignored as Obi-Wan waited for Xacor's reply.

"Since you seem to be unaware of the fact, both Master Sle'fey and I are going with you." He nodded when Ob-Wan blinked surprise and then pressing the point, he said, "We also intend to shield Master Jinn as much as possible. However, our first priority must be taking Sidious captive and preventing him from destroying the Jedi." He glanced over to Qui-Gon. "And the Bendu."

He turned, facing Obi-Wan squarely. "Don't you agree, Knight Kenobi?"

The question was softly spoken, almost an afterthought in the way it was delivered but Obi-Wan felt as if he'd been punched. He couldn't breathe again and the memory of the last hours, the last days were a jumble of pain and shame and fury.

As much as Xacor and Sle'fey had twisted their truths, had manipulated and lied and sacrificed others for their own ambitions, the Zabrak was right. The Jedi needed to bring down Sidious before he could do any more damage. That had to be their focus, his focus - not this righteous indignation about how badly they had treated him or the way he felt about torturing Tharten but bringing a Sith Lord to justice. His own suffering was unimportant.

A Jedi Knight would know that. He should know that.

He finally understood just how poorly he'd been acting. He'd been holding onto his anger and his self-loathing, selfishly, stupidly, not as a Knight would but as a child having a temper tantrum when he didn't get his way. No wonder Qui-Gon and Atel were treating him so oddly,  with such gentleness and worry - and alarm. Anyone else would have abandoned him, would have given up waiting for him to come to his senses.

It was time to come to grips with what had been done to him, what he had done.

With a nod, Obi-Wan said softly, "Yes, Master Xacor, that must remain our first priority."

Qui-Gon looked at him sharply, frowning a bit, questions in his eyes. Atel was open-mouthed and then seemed to gather herself up, and sharing a glance with his Master, shrugged slightly. There would be time for talking and apologies later.

"I'm glad we understand each other, then." Master Xacor paused for a moment, then gathered up his cloak around him and then bowed to them all. "Master Jinn, I will send the message as soon as I can. Now if you all will excuse me, I have other duties." And with that, he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, there was stunned silence.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon was staring at him, looking as if he were relieved and confused at the same time.

"Master Xacor was right. We have to bring Sidious to justice. Everything else is secondary." He turned away, settling down into his bed. The taint of darkness still held him and he knew he would need to deal with it but it would have to be some other time - after Sidious was in custody.

"Perhaps we could try again with the meditation. It seemed to help," Qui-Gon said softly.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I think I've had enough for one day." When both his Master and Atel started to protest, he held up his hand. "I know that I need to come to grips with my actions over the past few days, that I need to release my anger to the Force." He could feel the dark emotions churning behind his heart, pulsing, fury demanding to be released but he refused to give in to it. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "But this... this will not be easy or quick. I need to come to terms with it in my own way and in my own time."

His eyes pleading for understanding, Obi-Wan murmured, "Please, both of you, let it go."

The two people he loved most in the galaxy, the ones he knew cared enough for him to go against his wishes if they thought they needed to do so, exchanged glances.

"Very well, Obi-Wan. For now. But I can't promise I won't try again." Qui-Gon leaned back, looking suddenly tired. It had been a hard day for them all.

Atel, too, was showing signs of exhaustion. The purple bruises on her face were a stark contrast to her pale skin. She looked as if she were going to argue, and then she must have changed her mind. She bowed her head, surrendering the moment. "If that is what you want. But I'd like to talk with you tomorrow if I could. To settle some things before...."

"We'll talk tomorrow, then." Shamed at knowing he'd not been the best of Masters, that he'd put those bruises there - a stark reminder of assumptions and grief,  he nodded. "Get some rest, Padawan."

"Yes, Master." Atel looked away, her teeth worrying her lip, her hands clenched together, white bone and sinew showing her anxiety. "Yes, I'll see you before we go. Sleep well, my Master." And she fled the room.

"A daughter in all but blood." Qui-Gon was watched the door slide shut. "She loves you, you know, as a daughter would."

As he closed his eyes, settling down to try and rest before the storm tomorrow, trying to let go of his own pain, Obi-Wan said, softly and full of regret. "I know. But it's not enough, for either of us."

To Chapter 32