Betrayal - Chapter 32The Consequences of Choice
Another stone thudded into place.
Anakin stood back, frowning down at the half-built wall. He'd been repairing the blasted thing for hours, using nothing but brute strength and primitive tools. The hand-sized laser drill had obviously been built in the last century and the other equipment was even older. The Bendu was short on supplies at the moment and everything that worked reasonably well had been given to someone else.
Windu had insisted on it.
The worst tools and the most back-breaking job at the Sanctuary - this was his punishment for attacking Kenobi. He wasn't allowed to use the Force either.
Damn the man for being stubborn as a bantha and damn the rest of them, too. He should be breaking Qui-Gon out of that blasted Temple prison of his, not building a wall that no one cared about. He should be helping the Bendu defend themselves against the Republic slime, not standing here thinking about how to fit stones together. He should be going after the demon in black and red that had been haunting his dreams, not bowing to Windu's idea of proper behavior in a Bendu apprentice.
The whole thing was nothing but poodoo.
A trickle of sweat itched past his mouth and he swiped it away, irritated. There was rock dust clumped between his fingers and a long scratch on the back of one hand, with a bright line of blood reminding him of mistakes made in the past few minutes. The heat did nothing to help his fraying temper.
It had been four days - four days of knowing that his Master was in pain, being tortured, maybe dying. It had been four days of Windu's platitudes and acceptance and his unrelenting insistence on letting Qui-Gon go to his fate without any chance of rescue.
It had been four days of nightmares and visions polluting the Force, his dreams full of fire-storm agony, trapped desperation, suffocating darkness. He'd woken up screaming every night.
Anakin Skywalker was sick of it.
Sitting down, he wiped his face with his sleeve. The afternoon had been beautiful if he'd cared enough to notice, but now the sky was growing heavy with threatened storms. Clouds were thickening and he could almost taste thunder in the air.
It matched his mood.
He'd known that he would face expulsion from the Bendu and possible a prison term if he'd tried to rescue Qui-Gon. Master Windu had threatened to turn him over the Naboo authorities if he'd reneged on his promise and tried to rescue his Master; Anakin knew that Windu meant every word.
That first night after his Master had been taken had been the hardest. He'd ached to go, but much as he'd told himself that he should defy Windu and leave anyway, even ignoring the threats of prison, the Force had made it abundantly clear that he was needed here. The compulsion to remain had only grown with time and he'd not been lying when he'd told Windu that he felt like he was being torn in two.
The problem was he didn't know why he was supposed to stay. It made no sense at all.
Bendu adepts were trained as well as the Jedi, maybe more so since they had fewer rules. They were on high alert with that damnable killer loose, too. If he were to leave Naboo and go after Qui-Gon, one less Bendu apprentice wouldn't make any difference for whatever was coming and he'd be able to rescue his Master from the Temple and bring him back to fight alongside the rest of the Bendu. Surely that was more important than obeying some kriffing Jedi edict.
He hated it - the futility of it all, the not-knowing and Windu's incessant reminders about duty and keeping his word to Kenobi. He hated it.
Looking down at the drying blood on his hand, he realized that he'd had enough - of everything. It was time to do something about it. He was going to go after Qui-Gon Jinn and nothing - not Windu nor the threat of prison nor the Force itself was going to stop him.
Starting to rise, he put one hand out, steadying himself and....
Between one breath and the next, the vision took him.
Shadows poured over the sun, a great churning mass of clouds that billowed bloody mist. As he watched, the wall, the Sanctuary, the mountains beyond, Naboo, the galaxy blackened into night - a color so deep that it pulled in all light, all life.
Somewhere in the dark, he could hear a small child crying.
Struggling to see, watching as the black roiled and pulsed, staring as the colors of the night fought for domination, he reached for his lightstaff, hoping to turn back the darkness before it was too late. But the weapon was gone, the silver cylinder left on Coruscant when he'd tried to rescue Qui-Gon and failed. He was unarmed, helpless to stop the darkness, defeated.
A pair of malevolent eyes now filled the sky.
There was a sneering hiss and then a great bark of laughter. The black shattered and crimson began pouring out over the obsidian night, droplets flung wide like bloody stars in a dark sky - mixing, merging, melting into the demon that had haunted his dreams, a tattooed monster in black and red.
The killer was standing before him, all sneered contempt, his double-bladed saber moving into an infinity loop of dried blood. The searing color blinded Anakin for a moment. When his eyes blinked clear again, he could see the madman still grinning, his face full of rotted teeth and anticipation. Behind him, mountains of mutilated bodies writhed and moaned. He could almost hear them crying for vengeance. Almost.
But the voices merged into desperation and then into the broken sound of a young boy's grief.
It was Ben, calling for Le'orath.
Frantic, Anakin stepped forward, hoping to find Ben and keep him safe. But he was trapped in the vision, helpless, unarmed, defeated by the choices he'd made when he left Naboo, when he'd failed to rescue Qui-Gon.
The scene changed again, color beating back the darkness.
He was standing by the half-finished wall. A roaring in the atmosphere and as he looked up, a spaceship, black and menacing hurtled downward, trailing flames and oily smoke in the afternoon sky, spreading shadows in its wake. It shot past the Sanctuary, so close to the ground that Anakin ducked instinctively. As he stared, the vessel changed course and streaked toward the Jinn farm. There was a shriek of overheated metal and he could smell seared meat. Malice filled the air.
As he watched, the soft afternoon light crystallized and shattered into dust.
Suddenly he was in Qui-Gon's barn, his lightstaff now in his hands, and the monster grinning at him. Anakin moved toward him, hoping to stop him somehow. His weapon was humming madly, wild discord and blue light streaking through the gloom. But there was a smear of red brilliance, then flashing agony in his right arm. As he flinched back, he could see his hand lying on the ground a meter away, still smoking, still holding onto his staff.
He looked down to see glowing skin and seared bone and the pain drove into him. He screamed at the agony, the sound tearing his throat. He felt himself toppling to the ground and then his belly was melted open with another stab of searing light. His voice shredded into bloody meat as pain and defeat gutted him.
He'd failed again. There was no one in sight. Mace Windu hadn't come with him.
His head swam, his eyes rolling back as he began to lose consciousness but before the darkness destroyed him, there was one last thing - a roaring wall of flame engulfing everything, a high-pitched wail that gurgled into silence.
And Ben was still crying.
The vision let him go.
Anakin stood there, chest heaving frantically, drawing in air as if he'd been without it for hours. He'd been screaming, too; he could feel it in his throat and the way his body hurt. There were bloody half-moon shapes in the palms of his hands where he'd clenched his fists so tight that the nails had cut into his skin. Every muscle in his body ached.
He stumbled back, sitting down on the wall, trying to make some sense of it all. He forced himself to take several deep breaths and he let them out deliberately, trying to slow his racing heart, trying to clear his mind.
The vision had been one of futures, different ones mixed up in a way that showed him the consequences of his choices. He'd gone to rescue Qui-Gon and failed; he'd stayed on Naboo and gone to rescue Le'orath and Ben alone and without backup and failed.
He knew now why the Force had told him to stay. He was needed here. He was needed at the Jinn farm. Ben had been crying as if his heart was broken and he recognized the high-pitched agonized wail at the end.
It was Le'orath.
Ben and Le'orath were in trouble, perhaps today, perhaps now. They were unprotected at a time when the Jedi killer was on the loose. He had to talk to Master Windu before it was too late. He had to make sure Windu came with him to the Jinn farm, and pleaded, insisted, forced if necessary, Qui-Gon's family to come back with them to the safety of the Sanctuary.
Now, it had to be done now.
Before it was too late.
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Anakin was never one to do things by half-measures. Dropping all pretense about obeying Kenobi's mandate or finishing that blasted wall when there were more important things to do, he ran over to the main building, desperate to see Master Windu.
He knew he'd have to convince the Bendu Champion to act quickly. It would be no small task but it had to be done and soon. Already he could feel the currents of the Force clouding with shadow. That could mean only one thing - that the killer was nearing the complex.
He could see that something was going on as soon as he neared the building. Janson and Denn and a couple of the other Agri-Corps personnel were moving equipment and weapons into speeders parked by the side entrance. Apparently, someone must have felt the same changes in the Force that he had.
Normally, a mission would be serious business but there would also be time for small talk and a few smiles before the Bendu had to leave. Now, they were working quickly - no discussion, no easy camaraderie. This was serious.
Pushing past them, he hurried toward Windu's office. He noticed that in one of the side rooms, several of the Bendu were talking rapidly to each other, checking on computer screens and vid feeds, muttering into commlinks.
They paid no attention to him as he rushed past.
Finally he arrived only to find Master Windu sitting at his desk, the calm center in a storm of activity. There was a crowd of beings around him, waiting patiently for answers. With each reply, they nodded and turned away, clearing the space for the next Bendu to ask their question.
Anakin did not have time to waste. He shoved his way forward over the quiet protests of the others. As he opened his mouth, Windu ignored his agitation, saying calmly, flatly, "Skywalker, I don't have time for your theatrics. I...."
Windu wasn't the only one who could cut through meaningless pleasantries. "Master Windu, the killer, the one I've been dreaming about. He's coming. He may be here already."
Obviously trying to maintain his temper, Windu growled back, "What do you think we've been doing? He's butchered two more and we're trying to make sure those were the last he'll ever kill. Now wait your turn."
"Two?!" Anakin realized that he might have been too late, after all. The anguish of it took his breath away. "Two... not Ben and Le'orath. Please, Master, not them."
Looking startled, Windu reached for the datapad that another of the Bendu - Anakin recognized him as one of Janson's friends - had shoved in his direction. "No, not them. The murders were on the other side of Naboo. They were discovered about two hours ago. The two Bendu had been dead for at least half a day."
He looked over the screen, nodded, apparently satisfied with what he'd read and gave it back to the man, saying, "Go to Otah Gunga. Take three guards with you and help Master Gallia and the others escort the children back here. No telling what that madman will do with innocents."
"But Master, he'd have had time to get here. It doesn't take that long." Anakin couldn't keep the horror out of his voice.
He looked around the room at the others. Set faces, eyes and sensing appendages hard with determination, a collection of former Jedi, Agri-Corps personal and newer members of the Bendu and they were all focused on one thing - capturing the killer and making sure he would never kill again.
"Master, I'm sure he's at Qui-Gon's farm," Anakin insisted. He must have caught Windu's attention because he stopped, putting down yet another datapad, listening to him at last. "The Force sent me a vision and he was.... "
"Enough, Skywalker, enough." With a sharp frown and an annoyed glare sent in Anakin's direction, Windu picked up the 'pad again, nodded, handed it back to a waiting hand and the crowd decreased by one. An older former Jedi, one Qui-Gon had known well at the Temple, stepped up. "Ranze, take Le'tzel and Hwet with you and see to the perimeters. Skywalker may be right about the killer having had time enough to reach the Sanctuary. Turn on the forcefields and lock down the buildings. Have our Tatooine guests moved to a more secure location. I don't want anything or any one to get through."
When the three men left, Anakin thrust himself forward again, not willing to be ignored. "But Master Windu, what about Ben and Le'orath? They are in danger."
The other Bendu were frowning at him, clearly unhappy with his interruptions, but Windu only took another datapad, looked at it, made some selection and handed it back. Then he looked straight at Anakin, brown eyes dark with worry, saying, "We don't have time to gather everyone up at the moment. There are several families not on site who are vulnerable, not just Qui-Gon's family. We've notified them and I've sent everyone available to escort the ones willing to come here back to this location."
Windu looked down at a flimsiplast note that had been thrust into his hands while he had been talking to Anakin, nodded and pushed it to one side. It disappeared into the crowd and one more being left the room. "Le'orath has refused, saying that she's capable of handling it."
"She's as stubborn as Qui-Gon and you know it. If we go to her, I'm sure we could...." Anakin was trying desperately to get Master Windu to see reason. He had to, for Le'orath's sake and Ben's.
"I don't have the time." Windu snapped back and then taking a deep breath, rubbing one hand across his face as if to ease some pain there, he said mildly, "I have obligations to the Bendu, to the people who depend on us to keep them safe, Anakin. This facility...."
Anakin had had enough of excuses. At the moment, all he cared about was the two people who had been almost family to him for ten years. "Put Master Ranze in charge. He's been with the Bendu and the Jedi long enough to know what to do. Or Janson. He knows more about the Sanctuary and how it's run than anyone else." Windu started to reach for another datapad but Anakin was growing impatient with all the bureaucratic poodoo. His voice rising sharp, he said, "Master, she'll ignore me but she'll listen to you. I know she will."
"I don't have the time. You have my permission to go and see if you can talk some sense into her." Windu wasn't even looking at him.
"The Force sent me the vision for a reason. The killer is at the farm or soon to be. If I go alone, I won't be able to stop him. They'll die and me with them and he'll get away again." Anakin kept getting louder and it didn't help that the Force was telling him to go more urgently with every breath. "I've seen it."
"You don't know that for certain." The datapad clattered to the desk and Windu was frowning up at him, annoyed, immovable. "I have more important things to do than argue with you. You are dismissed, Skywalker." And he turned away.
"E chuta!" Anakin slapped his hand flat on the desk, a blaster shot of sound. "You are not listening. Listen!"
The room fell silent as everyone looked at him in shock. As Windu started to rise up, Anakin thrust his face forward, almost nose to nose with the Master, both of them glaring at the other. "The Force is telling me that the killer is at the Jinn farm or will be soon. You can hate me or arrest me or tell me to go to hell but listen to the Force. You are supposed to do that, aren't you? Or are you too blind with your obligations that you can't see the truth?"
"I've had enough, Skywalker." Windu was as angry as Anakin had ever seen him. "Enough of your tantrums. Enough of your temper. Get out of my sight before I turn you over to the Naboo authorities and let them deal with you. Jinn was too lenient with you and this is the result. Now get out!"
Anakin jerked back, suddenly and desperately afraid that he'd blundered this beyond all repair. He didn't care about himself but if Le'orath and Ben died because of his stupidity, he'd never forgive himself. "Master, I...."
"Out!"
A hasty whisper of apology and Anakin backed away and ran out of the room.
He was cursing all the way back to the armory, angry with Windu for being so blind and with himself for not getting the Master to see reason. He knew that if he'd been more mindful, if only he'd gone about it another way, Windu might have agreed.
Letting out a deep sigh, he realized that he was only lying to himself.
Mace Windu had always disliked him and they usually fought like boar-wolves whenever they had to work with each other. He would never have agreed to anything Anakin wanted, even if it was important.
Now he'd have to go to the Jinn farm alone and try not to get everyone killed.
"Kriffing bureaucrats. Kriffing Masters with heads up their...." Ignoring the others in the weapon's room, he was rifling through the stockpile, gathering up equipment, Force-cuffs and cortosis gauntlets and a couple of blasters just in case when a voice interrupted his tirade.
"Anakin, I could go with you."
"What?" Anakin glanced up to see Denn standing there, lightstaff in hand, looking both sheepish and eager. "Denn, why aren't you helping with the equipment?"
"I heard your shouting match with Master Windu. Most of us did. If you need someone to go with you, I'll go." Denn seemed determined to appear as if he could take on a demon killer by himself but all he did was emphasize how very young he was.
"You've only just finished saber training. This rsshak slime has defeated Temple-trained Jedi and Bendu." Anakin desperately needed backup but this kid wasn't it. It would only get Denn killed, maybe all of them killed. He shook his head. "I'm sorry but I need the best swordsman in the Bendu if we are going to defeat this killer. Since Qui-Gon is not here or Master Yoda, that means Windu. If he'd only listen."
Denn looked disappointed but also relieved. He said shyly, "I think Master Windu will listen if you asked him the right way."
"I did ask him." Anakin wasn't in the mood to hear how he'd managed to foul up everything - even if it was true.
"Yes, you did but your way. Shouting and demanding and impatient. Maybe you should plead instead of demand. Begging if it's that important."
Anakin stood there, mouth open, staring at Denn. The kid had no idea of what he was saying.
Begging was for the helpless - slaves whose backs were stripped with bloody scars or children so thin that they seemed to melt away into death while crying for food or boys watching their mothers being beaten or sold away. Begging was blood in his mouth and fists raised to strike him and fear in his chest. Begging was for the desperate, the hopeless, the dying. Begging was for the weak.
"I don't beg," Anakin said flatly. He drew back, turning away, looking for the final few items he'd need before he went to face the killer alone.
"Even if it means that Qui-Gon's family might die if you don't?"
Denn was too persistent, asking things that Anakin didn't want to think about. It didn't matter, though. Windu had said no. "He won't listen."
"Maybe not to you but he'll listen to the Force." The kid didn't know when to shut up. "If you remind him."
It was impossible. Windu had sent him away. To go back now and ask, even to beg, was impossible. Windu might just blow a hyperdrive and have him arrested. At least this way, he was free to go to Le'orath and Ben and protect them both, maybe get her to change her mind before it was too late.
"Denn, I...."
But the kid wasn't listening. He was looking at Master Windu.
While they were arguing, Windu had entered the armory, and was talking to a group of beings at the far end of the room. One large hand full of datapad and the other curled around a commlink, he looked stern and clearly unhappy.
"Master Windu," Denn called out, raising his hand and motioning him over. "Master, a moment of your time."
Windu's gaze flicked toward Denn, then as he saw Anakin standing there, a sudden frown cut into his face. Nodding to the others, he walked over to them, and ignoring Anakin, said, "Denn, I'm busy. It will have to be quick."
Denn smiled up at Master Windu and then pointed to him. "Anakin has something to ask you."
The Master's eyes narrowed and he looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. For a moment, he said nothing and then staring at Anakin, he growled out, "Did you put him up to this?"
Shaking his head, Denn said quickly, "No, Master Windu, it wasn't like that but I think you should listen to what he has to say."
His mouth flattening down to a thin line, Mace Windu glared vibroshivs at Anakin but nodded. "What is it, Skywalker?"
He knew he didn't have much time. Le'orath and Ben needed him to say the right thing, do the right thing. "Please Master Windu, I need you to come with me to the farm. The Force is telling me that the killer is there. He'll destroy them both and I won't be able to stop him alone."
He could see that his chance was slipping away. His contrite voice, his face earnest and pleading and still Master Windu was looking at him like a bug. He could almost hear Windu's reply snaking up his throat. It wasn't going to be enough.
Denn was right. He'd tried to persuade Windu his way and it wasn't going to work. There was only one thing left to do and much as he hated the very thought, their lives were worth more than his wounded pride or the shiver of memories down his back.
Going down onto one knee, his head bowed in surrender, he murmured, "Please, I'm... I'm begging you. Before you say no, ask the Force. Please, Master Windu, ask the Force."
He could feel the shock reverting around the room. The buzz of conversation died; even Master Windu said nothing.
With every beat of his heart, Anakin waited for the strike, for the sarcastic reminder that Windu thought he was nothing but trash and had always been nothing but trash, for the final words that would prove that even begging would never have been enough to get the Bendu Master to listen.
There was a sound of creaking leather and the clearing of a throat close by. Flinching back, he dared to glance up.
Master Windu was looking down at him in astonishment and then seeming to collect himself, he murmured, "Anakin, get up."
As he slowly rose, still bewildered by the lack of scathing reply, he was even more astonished to hear the Bendu Master say, "I have a few minutes before the first of the families arrive. I will seek the Force's guidance but if I get no indication of a problem with Qui-Gon's family, this discussion is over. Do you understand me?"
He could only nod. "Yes, Master Windu."
"Take five minutes to clean up. I'll be in my office. Come to me when you are done. I'll have an answer for you then."
Turning away, Master Windu didn't wait for him to reply. The Bendu was already speaking into his comlink and hurrying out the door.
Anakin took him at his word - for once. Whispering thanks to Denn, he smiled and sprinted off, looking for an available speeder to put the weaponry in and then a place to wash off the stone dust and dried blood on his hand. He didn't have much time.
He could only hope that Windu would accept what the Force was going to tell him, that he was willing to let others handle the situation at the Sanctuary and come with Anakin to the Jinn farm, that he realized that the killer was there or almost there and that they had to hurry. He hoped that it would be enough.
It was exactly five minutes later when he poked his head into the office. Master Windu was sitting at his desk, eyes closed, fingers steepled. Anakin could feel the movement of the Force in the air, the taint of terror coloring the currents in black and red blood as the Master searched for answers.
When Windu finally opened his eyes, Anakin knew what he would say. "Is the speeder ready? Weaponry?"
"Blasters, cortosis gauntlets, Force cuffs. A second lightstaff for each of us. Just in case. The speeder is out front, ready to go."
He had no time for satisfaction, only relief. With Master Windu there, it might be enough to defeat the killer and save the Jinns - if they got to the farm before it was too late.
Master Windu grabbed his lightstaff and his commlink, hurried toward the door. "You drive, Skywalker. It should shave off a few minutes." He was striding down the hallway so fast that Anakin was hard-pressed to keep up. "I'll be coordinating things with Janson over the commlink. Just in case this is a wild bantha chase."
Scurrying down the stairs and jumping into the driver's seat, Anakin said breathlessly, "Yes, Master."
"And Anakin?" As he climbed into the speeder, Master Windu said sharply, "Hurry!"
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The air was heavy with warning. Twisting grey clouds were billowing up over the mountains and tumbling down toward the farm, the storm moisture-laden, full of wild light and the distant sound of thunder. As Le'orath stared out the kitchen window, she saw a jagged spear of lightning hit the mountaintop and then crackle down the stony cliffs. The noisy afterburst rattled the back door; she could almost taste the ozone.
It was going to be a bad one.
She didn't know yet just how much damage the storm might do to the waiting crops but she tried not to worry. The fields were ripe for picking; a day, maybe two at most was all she needed. She'd arranged for additional field managers to come tomorrow for harvest. The droids she and Qui-Gon owned were adequate for gathering the biologicals but they needed constant supervision and she could not handle it alone.
Qui-Gon should not have left.
Shoving the thought ruthlessly aside, she tried to think of what to do next. There was so much. In her younger days, she would have been going full bore ahead but now with her son fractious and moody and the weight of her unborn child squirming in her gut, she didn't have the energy.
She should have been out looking at the fields, making sure everything was ready, checking on the droids, arranging for backup in case something went wrong. Why she was cooking a dinner for Ben and herself instead of attending to business was sheer madness. She should have reheated something, made the most of the time before the hectic harvest tomorrow.
Instead she was in the messy kitchen, preparing something elaborate, oil and flavorings and canisters scattered everywhere. It was something Qui-Gon would do for them, to prepare a wonderful dinner the day before harvest, and now she was doing it, just to prove that she could, to prove that she didn't need him, that she could do it all alone.
He'd left her and she'd be damned if that little fact would stop the tradition - even if it had been Qui-Gon who had started it.
For a moment, the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Qui-Gon Jinn - fool, idiot, beloved. Every beat of her heart and she grieved for him, wanted him, missed him.
Damn the Jedi and damn him for going with them.
A frantic shriek echoed in the house and she stopped what she was doing and listened, aching with the pain of it. She knew Ben was having dreams again. He'd been upset all day, hanging onto her tunics for hours, and she'd finally sent him back to his room for a nap. But it wasn't working. He needed sleep but his dreams had only brought him terror.
He was tired; they both were. She'd not gotten a lot of sleep in the past few days - ever since Qui-Gon had been an idiot and left with that snake Kenobi.
She was furious with her husband. Former Jedi or not, Bendu or not, Qui-Gon should have known better than to ignore all the warning signs. He should have hidden until that rsshak slime had left - Kenobi and that loathsome apprentice of his. She still did not understand why Qui-Gon had to be the one sacrificed to the Jedi scum. But he'd done the noble thing, damn his eyes, and now she was alone, fighting to keep herself from flying apart.
Another cry and Le'orath gave up trying to let Ben settle himself down. Wiping her hands, turning off the cooking unit so that nothing would spoil or solidify or burn while she was busy with her son, she started down the hallway to his room.
She didn't want to admit it but Mace Windu was right. She didn't have the experience to deal with Force sensitives, not in any way that was meaningful. She might be able to soothe hurts or send stern looks Ben's way or give him hugs enough to chase away his tears but she had no idea what to do with his visions. Qui-Gon had always handled it.
Now with that blasted husband of hers gone, it was up to her.
She had to accept that he might not come back. She had to accept that they might have to move to the Sanctuary for the time being, at least until she got her equilibrium back. After that, Ben could stay there during the day with the other children and come home at night. That way, she and Ben would still be at the farm when Qui-Gon came home - if Qui-Gon came home.
The thought caught in her throat, and for a heartbeat, she couldn't breath for the pain of it. But then she deliberately straightened, throwing her head back, shoving the grief away. She had to stop thinking about how much she missed him, how much she feared that he'd never come back and focus on her more immediate problem - Ben.
As if on cue, she heard a whimper and her heart broke all over again. Qui-Gon had always known just what to do when Ben got like this and now all she could do is stumble around and hope for the best.
Quickly she opened his door and looked inside. Ben's room was in half-shadow, curtains drawn and a small glow lighting his bed. Although sweaty and thrashing about as though fighting something, Ben was still asleep, his little face rigid with nightmare. She sat down next to him and stroked his hair, trying to wake him up.
She didn't want to startle him. Last time he'd had a bad dream, one of his toys had flown at her head; luckily she was quick enough to avoid the blow but he could use the Force, even if it was sporadic. Thankfully this time, she didn't have to duck but as Ben came out of the nightmare, he clung to her, crying as if his heart would break.
It tore at her to see him in such pain. She couldn't ease his fears but she tried, sitting there holding him, rubbing gentle circles on his back and whispering of how much she loved him, how they would always be together.
That only made him cry harder and finally she stopped talking, humming a song from her own childhood instead.
Finally with many hugs and smoothing his wet face with her hands, rubbing his nose with a soft cloth to clean up the crying mess, she was able to get him quieted down to understand what he was trying to say.
"Mama, the bad man is coming." His eyes were huge in the darkness and he was shivering. "He's coming. We have to hide."
"Sweetheart, it was just a dream. You must have heard the thunder. There's a storm coming and sometimes it rattles the door." She frowned down at him, concern for him. She was at the end of her rope. She needed to talk to Mace and see what could be done.
Sometimes, especially now, she had to wonder how the Force could be so cruel. He was just a little boy.
"Mama, he's coming." Ben was growing more agitated by the moment. "The bad man."
"Ben, tell you what. We'll go see Master Mace, okay. At the Sanctuary." She was alarmed. He'd never been this upset before, even when Kenobi showed up. "Maybe stay overnight. The kids should be back from their trip by now. I know you'll like that."
Nodding vigorously, he jumped up, tucking his prized toy bantha under one arm, and pulled her toward the door. "Now, Mama, let's go now."
She let him drag her out toward the back, to where the speeder was kept, all the while thinking that this had become surreal. It had gone from a simple child's nightmare to a furious escape from the serenity and comfort of her home. Ben was terrified and his fear had filled her with unease.
It couldn't be real. It was only a dream, wasn't it?
Her son stopped suddenly, turning black eyes toward her. "He's here, Mama. We need to hide. We...."
"Ben sweetheart, there's no one here. I didn't hear a speeder come up." He was shivering again and frantic. She knelt down and rubbed his arms, trying to calm him. "It's all right, Ben, it's all right."
He looked as if he were going to cry again. She gave him a quick hug and looked at him very seriously. "But just in case, I'll need a weapon, right? There's a blaster in the kitchen. I'll grab it before we leave. I promise." She paused, trying to shake the sense of dread that seemed to be growing with every heartbeat.
Feeling as if some terrible thing was breathing down her neck, she looked over her shoulder for a moment. But there was no one there.
She felt off-balance. She could hear the rattle of windows and the scrape of those blasted vines that Qui-Gon liked so much beating against the house. Outside, she could see that it had darkened considerably and there was a flash of lightning close by. The boom that followed told her that they would need to leave soon if they wanted to avoid getting caught in the storm. It was coming up fast.
But it was just rain and wind and electricity, nothing more, nothing to be concerned about.
Berating herself for being so frightened over a little wind, she stood up, and sent him an encouraging smile. "Daddy says that I'm a good shot. That's how we got your stuffed bantha. Remember? My bull's-eyes at the fair?" But instead of a childish giggle, all he did was hug the toy tighter and tug at her hand again, pulling her toward the kitchen and the speeder beyond.
"Mama, now. Go now." She let him drag her, anything to keep him from becoming more agitated.
He wasn't the only one that was worried, though. Something was wrong. She could feel it.
Qui-Gon had always been fussing with her, hounding her to go with her instincts. They'd had long discussions about it but it was a Force technique and she hadn't paid as much attention as she should have. Now she wished she'd listened, wished with every fiber of her being.
"Listen to me, Ben. I don't think anyone is here but if there is...."As they entered the kitchen, she let go of his hand and went to the cabinet where the blasters and a couple of vibroknives were kept.
She found the one she used in target practice, the one she was most familiar with. Checking the blaster's charge, all the while trying and failing to keep the growing panic at bay, she said, "I'll take care of him. You stay back."
"But Mama, Daddy wouldn't. He'd help you." His eyes were huge and liquid with unshed tears.
"Yes, sweetheart but Daddy's a lot older than you and bigger, too. Besides, I can fight much better if I know you are safe." She frowned down at him, saying sternly, "Promise me."
The wind was rising fast. She could hear the windows shaking with the force of it; the front door made a kind of whooshing noise as if someone had come in and forgotten to close it. It did that sometimes during heavy storms. She knew that she should go and make sure everything was latched down tight before they left.
But as she turned back to do just that, something stopped her - Ben tugging at her hand or the cold chill shivering down her back, some sixth sense that told her things were not right, that maybe they had run out of time.
Le'orath looked down at Ben, putting her finger to her lip, indicating silence. He nodded, looking brave and so very young. She motioned him toward the back door.
There was another clattering sound near the front of the house and a soft creak of floor-boards in the hall.
She froze at that. She'd complained to Qui-Gon about it several times but he'd never gotten around to fixing them. Even the lightest step on some of the loosened boards made noise - as they were doing now.
Someone was in the house, someone uninvited.
As she backed up, she flipped off the safety on the blaster, pointing it toward the kitchen doorway - and heard a chuckle, low and mocking.
"So fierce." The voice was grating, almost husky with venom. "Little mother, you may give me some sport after all."
Shivering, trying desperately to listen for clues as to where he was, she could only hear the sharp scrap of trumpet vines thrashing in the wind and the rattle of windows. She could not even hear the floor-boards creaking any more - which meant that he was either in one of the rooms off the hallway or near the back of the house and them.
Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the blaster. "Come out where I can see you."
There was a distant boom of thunder and on the heels of it, he said, "I can see you well enough, harlot. Your pup, too. Too bad Jinn isn't here to watch his family being slaughtered." There was another low chuckle. "It would be instructive."
Kriff, he's insane.
Panic edged up her throat, the fear threatening to strangle her but she shoved it aside. Le'orath knew that she had to remain calm; she had to think clearly. She had to protect Ben at all costs.
She didn't have the luxury of relying on a hero to come to her rescue. Her hero had left with the Jedi. She would have to be the strong one if they were going to survive this. But she swore that if... when Qui-Gon came back, she was going to kill him for leaving them alone to deal with a madman.
"Strong words for a coward that lurks in the shadows," she shouted back. There was no response.
But when another gust of wind sent the trumpet vines battering at the walls and filling the house with noise, she whispered softly, "Ben, sweetheart, is there anyone else here? Anyone at all?"
Her son grew still for a moment and then looking up at her, hugging his stuffed toy to his chest for comfort, his little face pale and drawn with fear, he said, "No, Mama, just him. He wants to hurt us."
In some ways, that was a relief. That meant that she only had to deal with one crazed killer. She didn't think she'd be able to protect Ben if there were two. In fact, she might have problems with one. She wasn't that good with a blaster.
"Listen to me, sweetheart." She began to edge toward the back door, keeping Ben behind her, trying to keep her hand steady and the blaster pointed straight out into the hall as she eased her way back. Softly, urgently, she murmured, "When I tell you to run, you run and hide. Right away." He tugged at her tunic, trying to get her attention but she remained focused on the doorway. "Don't wait for Mama to catch up. It's very important. I won't be able to fight and keep you safe at the same time."
"Mama, no. I don't want to." She could hear the terror in his voice and the reluctance to leave her but he was just a little boy and vulnerable. She had to get him away from the threat before it was too late.
"If you don't run, you might be making it worse. Promise me, Ben."
There must have been something in her face because although he looked rebellious, he nodded solemnly and whispered, "Yes, Mama."
And then it was too late to say anything else. A sound, both familiar and terrifying, echoed in the hallway just outside the entrance to the kitchen - the distinctive snap-hiss and low hum of a lightsaber blade.
They were in trouble.
A black-clad figure, face tattooed in black and red swirls, a Zabrak from his horns, walked casually into the kitchen, a long-handled lazer-sword snarling red death in his hand.
It was the demon from Ben's dreams.
"Yes, Mama," he sneered, mocking her son's frightened reply. His yellow eyes gleamed hatred as he stared at them both.
For a moment, she stood there, stunned. Le'orath hadn't really believed Ben, thought his visions were the nightmares of childhood. She'd had bad dreams, too, when she was his age. And she'd heard Qui-Gon passing off dreams as things that faded with time.
This nightmare wasn't going to fade.
Terror was clawing at her now, and within her, the unborn child moved sharply. It was almost as if the baby could sense the evil in the room. Without thinking, her free hand rubbed circles over the swell of her stomach, trying to calm her fraying nerves and ease the pain. She was afraid enough to keep the blaster pointed straight at the Zabrak.
His eyes flicking to her stomach, his smile grew wider. "Little mother."
She tried not to tremble at the venom in his voice. She knew she'd have to be strong for Ben's sake.
He took another step toward them, twisting the saber into an infinity loop as he moved. It would have been beautiful in other circumstances, a great globe of brilliant red light, but now it only heated the air with dread.
Pushing Ben behind her, shoving him toward the door and escape, she said loudly, "Another step and I'll shoot to kill. If you leave now, I won't file charges or send the Bendu after you."
His answer was simple.
He grinned, death's-head amusement, and an instant later, his lightsaber doubled in length, turned into a lightstaff, twin blades of blood-red destruction. He spun it around again as he sauntered toward her, taunting her with his smirk and his hate-filled eyes, daring her to shoot. As he got closer, he made sure that he cut through cabinets and crockery and flooring, sowing destruction in his path. There was acrid smoke in the air and as he sliced through a vase filled with flowers, it exploded in the heat, sending half-melted shards and smoldering blossoms everywhere.
He was insane. It was also very clear that he wasn't going to give up, not even with a blaster pointed at his face. She couldn't wait any longer; it was getting more dangerous by the moment and she had to think of her son and her unborn child.
Le'orath took a deep breath, and as she shouted for Ben to run, she fired off several shots, straight at the Zabrak.
There was a blinding flash. In the heartbeat that followed, she felt the blaster bolts flying past her head and more distantly heard the sound of the back door closing. When she could think again, she realized that Ben was gone. He must have listened to her after all.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the curtains by the window were starting to smolder. The Zabrak had used his saber to deflect the energy bolts back in her direction. It was precise, too. The returned fire had not touched her but there was a halo of black smudges and burning embers in the wall behind her. Ben's 'bad man' knew how to use a lightsaber and use it well.
Le'orath realized that he must have been the one the Bendu were hunting. She'd heard Qui-Gon talking about lightsaber burns and desecration, about how the murderer had played with his victims before they died in agony, about how they thought whoever had done it was well-trained in the Jedi arts.
Now, in this moment, she had come face to face with the killer and she wasn't sure she would survive it.
Something of her terror must have shown in her eyes. Black and red tattoos creased into a smile and as he twisted his double-bladed saber around again, he said smugly, "I'll find him, little mother. Find him and gut him before your eyes."
He took a step closer, his yellow eyes gleaming with blood-hunger. "I think I'll enjoy it, too. More than I thought. He's so bright in the Force."
Kriff.
She backed up, her blaster still pointing at him, useless though it was, and now she had no place to go. The counter was behind her and the door close but she doubted that she'd make it outside. This monster had proven he was adept at saber techniques, as fine as she'd seen from most of the Bendu. She could only assume he could use the Force as well.
She was trapped but he wouldn't take her without a fight.
Narrowing her eyes, she growled, "Not my son." Then she began firing at him, round after round, hoping to find some gap in his defenses.
It was futile. He batted the bolts back toward her with ease, his smile widening into a macabre grin as she tried desperately to drive him away. It was almost as if he was enjoying the moment, savoring her terror.
Around her, she could hear the sound of breaking glass, the sizzling energy hitting walls and curtains and cabinets. She could smell something burning, too but she didn't dare turn around. She had to focus on the madman before her and either kill him or try to find some way to escape before it was too late.
The problem was that the blaster was starting to make a whining sound, typical of an overload but she couldn't stop now. She had nothing else, no other means of defense. Hand-to-hand techniques wouldn't work against a lightstaff and she was too awkward with her pregnancy in any case.
Sauntering toward her, snickering as she pushed her blaster past maximum, carelessly batting away the bolts, he got within a meter or so when her luck finally ran out.
The blaster gave a final off-key growl and died. For a few seconds, she kept pulling the trigger, hoping that it was a mistake somehow. Then she threw the useless weapon at him and stumbled sideways, frantically looking around for some kind of weapon, knives or jars of food, anything to keep him at bay.
The red blade swept past her, cutting off her escape route as the lightstaff melted down into the countertop next to her. As Le'orath jerked back, he pulled up the other blade and cut into cabinets near her leg.
The heat, the smell of burning duraplast, the black terror was almost overwhelming.
He gave a little laugh, his face mad with craving, and then he leaned in and breathed softly, "Little mother, time to play."
Then there was no more time, no more existence outside the pain.
All along the outside of her arm, he drew a line of fire that boiled and bubbled through fabric and seared into her skin. She shrieked and tried to skitter away but he was there, watching with blood-hungry eyes as the heat burned through her tunic and began melting into her flesh.
Agony piled onto agony as he painted
her skin with fire. Leg, arm, under her chin, one hand, then the other
until her universe became a red-blistered mass of heat and scalded skin
and screaming, always screaming. Blood poured down her throat as her voice
gave out and there was only a raw-husked stutter. But it didn't matter.
Her life, her loves, her very existence was focused on one thing - the
blistering agony of blackened, still burning flesh. Her vision greyed and then turned bloody as she lay crumpled to the floor. She just wanted it to end, begged him for it, anything to stop the pain.
Then he stopped.
Drawing a ragged breath, her mouth pulled tight as she tried not to whimper, one small part of her could still hear him.
"It would seem our time nears its end." He snickered softly, "Your rescuers are coming closer and I still have to kill the boy."
Opening her eyes, her vision full of black and blood-red, she could see him staring down at her. He was smiling, satisfied, satiated.
"But when I'm done with them, we'll finish our conversation. If you live that long...."
Too weak to move, she watched as he brought his lightstaff down, a blur of red light. One part of her almost admired the color but in the next instant, she knew only the fire-roar of pain broiling across her belly. Her lungs were ablaze, every nerve shrieking agony as he shoved his saber into her gut.
"Wait for me."
And then it all faded to black.
To Chapter 33 |