Betrayal - Chapter 37

The Will of the Force

In the distance, someone was screaming.

Trying to breathe, his arm on fire, his mind reeling, Obi-Wan felt as if he'd been shredded, as if every nerve had been fried in an electrical storm. He lay there for a moment, disjointed, confused. He didn't know whether he should try and get up or sink back into the abyss. But he knew he had to do something or be someone or rescue…

Deep groans off to his left, and beyond his blurred vision, a voice rose in terror. A sharp hiss, an off-pitched whine cutting through superheated air. A laugh, pleasure-filled and obscene.

The screaming stopped - abruptly.

The sounds almost didn't register, almost seemed part of a nightmarish vision from someone else's universe, one he could ignore if he would just let it. Just let it go.

But between one shuddering, pain-filled breath and another, his confusion cleared.

Palpatine.

They had to take down Palpatine or Sidious or… it didn't matter what he called himself. He was a Sith Lord.

That line of thought crystallized into certainty. If he didn't find the strength to get up and confront that madman, he never would. He'd be the next sacrifice in a sea of bloodied corpses. And he had very little time.

Every movement was an effort but somehow he was able to lift his head and push himself into a half-sprawled confusion of raw skin and agonized nerve endings. It hurt to breathe, to think, to be; black spots threatened to tunnel into his vision and there was a buzzing in his mind. Or was it from a lightsaber blade cutting the air?

He tried to shake his head, bring focus back to his mission but that wasn't exactly a good idea. His sight grayed, the pain trying to pull him back into unconsciousness. But he couldn't allow it, not now. Instead, he used all the powers under his command, used the Force and his own stubborn will to shove it aside, to lock his damnable weakness behind durasteel walls. 

He found enough strength to twist upright, knees digging into the carpet, hands splayed wide to keep him from falling over. Ignoring the pain, he lifted his head and looked around.

Carnage shrouded the room. There were bodies everywhere, some moving, others still as death.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few had escaped the hideous outpouring of destructive energy and even now were fighting for their lives near Palpatine's desk. Red saber fire and a bright flash and then there was a line of blue energy.

Someone was fighting hard to push back the Sith's blade and the bark of effort was Sle'fey's. Obi-Wan couldn't see Master Xacor anywhere but Rostak's green saber was brilliant in the room.

The Jedi seemed to be winning, after all.

There was a flash of satisfaction in his chest. A Jedi was taught from early childhood to ignore such a self-absorbed emotion but Obi-Wan reveled in it. It felt good, for once, to know that their efforts had not been in vain and Sidious, Palpatine, Sith Lord, whatever that madman's name truly was, would get what he deserved.

But the balance could shift again, all too easily.

Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon had to be his first priority. Obi-Wan could not feel him in the Force. The currents were too filled with corruption to see more than shadows but he knew his master was alive; he knew it. Now all Obi-Wan needed to do was find him, and release him from the binders before it was too late. And then join with the other Jedi to bring Sidious to justice. All it would take was effort - and luck. 

He frowned, trying to get his bearings, trying to find Qui-Gon. His master had been further from the center of the firestorm than the others and half-shielded by the Senate guard when the attack came. That same guard was now a corpse, one among many.

One knee still pressed against the carpet, Obi-Wan balanced, struggled to get up. He needed to stand, the better to locate his master among the pile of bodies but before he could get to his feet, his eyes caught a glimpse of dark leggings and boots - they looked like Qui-Gon's, and the rest was hidden from view by the guard's large bulk. Beyond he could see Atel's saber.

Then, in a kind of nightmarish twist, the corpse began to move, writhing or was it a struggle to shove him aside somehow. Under the moans and another shriek of pain in the distance, Obi-Wan could hear Atel's soft voice. "Qui-Gon? Master?"

His chest burned with relief and he let out the breath he'd not realized he'd been holding. She was alive and from Qui-Gon's deep groan, it was apparent that he, too, had survived. It was more than he could have hoped for, more than he'd ever thought possible after the Sith's brutal attack.

Still balanced on one knee, he reached over, pulling at the guard's dead weight. It was a struggle. The body was caught on something and as he yanked hard, the corpse finally slid off. There was a soft wheeze and, as Qui-Gon struggled to sit up, his master whispered his thanks. Atel sent Obi-Wan a relieved look and turned to remove Qui-Gon's binders.

Somewhere behind him, there was a cackle of insane laughter and a wail of saber song. Too close but Sidious was shouting obscenities and there was a tangle of screams and snarls and the sharp spit of lightsaber battle.

Obi-Wan knew he had to get up. He was too vulnerable like this, kneeling on the carpet; his reactions were sluggish and weak. He must have been more injured that he'd thought. But Qui-Gon looked worse, the shredded tunic and the char of an energy bolt blackening his shoulder. Atel clutched one hand to her chest, luckily not the saber hand but it needed medical attention and she was pale with shock. But there was no time for healers.

"Take this." Reaching to his belt, he unhooked Qui-Gon's lightpike and shoved it into his hands. The older man would need it once the binders were off and his sense of the Force returned and Obi-Wan didn't know if he'd have another chance to give it to him once he'd entered the fight.

Qui-Gon nodded, blinking at the weapon in his hand, seemingly puzzled by it. It was worrisome. Perhaps there was head trauma on top of his other obvious injuries.

Before he could say anything else, Atel looked past his shoulder, her eyes widening in alarm.  "Master!"

There was another bright flash of red light. Obi-Wan jerked back, getting to his feet just as a head bounced past, black blood spraying a gory trail.

Knight Rostak's skull split apart on impact.

Obi-Wan's saber was already lit when he wheeled around. That bit of inattention had almost cost Obi-Wan his life and he wasn't about to make the same mistake again. Confusion, the agony of lifting his shoulder, trembling from too much too soon, somehow he gathered strength enough to push it all aside.

He swallowed hard. He could now see that Master Xacor was slumped over the desk, either unconscious or dead. The other Jedi were scattered, unmoving in the wreckage, some of them in pieces.

But Sle'fey was still fighting the rsshak slime. Alone. Battling back and forth, Jedi and Sith, a blur of red and blue energy that cut into his vision.

Through it all, he could feel the Force, a roiling sea of black ooze and grief, intense flashes of brilliance amidst corpse shadows, a chaotic mixture of light and darkness. He'd used and obeyed the Force all of his life and now it was tainted beyond anything he'd ever imagined, Sith-corrupt. He could hardly bear to touch it.

But it would be madness to refuse.

As he leaped forward, hoping to help Sle'fey, he didn't have time to wonder who else had survived or who had died. While he was acting like a crècheling, hovering over those he loved, he had been ignoring his duty. Precious moments he could have used to help bring down Sidious.

Selfish, selfish fool that he was.

"Ah, Kenobi." The Sith laughed again, mocking, cruel, utterly sure of victory – and sent a great swipe of sick brilliance toward him. "Good of you to join us."

Filthy rsshak slime.

Fury flared in his gut but he ignored it. Now was not the time for thoughts of revenge nor would it help him in the fight with that corrupt grub-worm. Survival first, then he would see about bringing Sidious down.

Obi-Wan wheeled backwards, trying to avoid the Sith blade. But under his boot, there was something soft, a hand or perhaps entrails and he slipped. His balance unsteady, his arm flared in pain as he pulled at muscle and half-healed bone; his skin was intense with plasma burns.  Luckily, Sle'fey was still there or else he would have been skewered.

 

He would have whispered his thanks if he had any breath to speak.

Instead, regaining his footing, he kicked behind him, desperately trying to clear space. The sprawl of bodies, Jedi, guards, Senate lackeys, was scattered around the room, broken dolls, once living beings but now just bloody obstacles in his path. It was difficult to defend himself with so much pain in the Force pulling at him; his focus kept wavering. Yet Sidious seemed to be reveling in the darkness, growing stronger and more confident with every passing moment.

Then there was no more time for thought. Sidious was a consummate swordsman, using every trick Obi-Wan had been taught and a few he'd never seen before to put both Jedi on the defensive.

Sle'fey shoved his blade high, obviously hoping to catch Sidious unaware but the Sith twisted around, using his saber to push him back. Obi-Wan stepped forward, fighting to give the Bothan master enough time to regroup, while he tried to figure out a strategy that wouldn't end with all of them dead and Sidious triumphant.

Qui-Gon was shouting something, but Obi-Wan couldn't take his focus away from the battle enough to listen, not for an instant.  Instead he pushed himself further, trying to bring the Sith Lord down before anyone else got killed.

The air was ablaze with power. Obi-Wan's blade painted lines of blue fire in the growing shadows but Sith red was present time and time again, constantly on the attack. Blocking, parrying, going high and then low, his frustration, his exhaustion grew with every blow. He needed help and soon.

Another stumble and he could feel the Sith blade heating his skin as he twisted aside. That had been too close. A few millimeters to the right and Sidious would have ended Obi-Wan's life.

Blast him, where was Sle'fey?

From somewhere behind him, he could hear a weapon powering up. Qui-Gon's distinctive lightpike. It was too soon. His master would never be able to defend himself against a Sith without the Force to guide him. But Obi-Wan didn't have time to argue. He could only push Sidious back and hope it would be enough. 

The Sith Lord must have realized how vulnerable Qui-Gon was. He stepped up the attack, trying to get to his master. A blur of red death in his hands, a feral smile on his face, he seemed exultant, almost euphoric as if he knew Obi-Wan would be helpless to stop him. 

But then things only became worse and worse. Another shout and Atel was there.

Blasted girl. She wasn't ready to battle a Sith Lord, no matter how adept she'd been in the training rings. She hadn't the experience and now she was trying to protect them both.  She'd only get herself killed.

With all the impetuousness of raw youth, she leapt forward ahead of Qui-Gon, shouting hoarsely, blade at the ready. "I won't let you hurt him. I…"

"Little fool." Sidious sneered, already waiting for her attack. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a wave of Force energy cresting toward her, throwing her into the air. Qui-Gon had just enough time to catch her and they both went down in a tumble of limbs and silenced lightsabers at the far side of the room. 

Obi-Wan seized the moment, sliding his saber blade up the line of red light and singeing Sidious's forearm. There was a sharp hiss as the Sith jerked back. As he stepped forward, trying to press his advantage against the Dark Lord, Sle'fey was suddenly there again, hounding Sidious, keeping him off-balance.

As he roared toward them, rage swept across the Chancellor's face.

He was everywhere, red saber battling against blue blades. The brilliant light seared into Obi-Wan's vision; he tried to blink away the pain, struggled to focus on battling the Sith. Somehow the area around their feet was free of bodies and Obi-Wan didn’t have to worry about stepping on soft corpse-flesh but trying to keep from getting killed was taking all his concentration.

Worse, the agony in his shoulder had returned. It was making him sluggish, distracted. He didn't know how long it would be before his focus collapsed and his life ended with the turn of a lightsaber blade.

"Master!" The sound of her voice filled him with dread.

It hadn't been enough that she'd been flung aside, out of the line of fire. Now, Atel had scrambled back somehow, over the pile of corpses, and was ready to defend him, ready to take down the Sith Lord, danger be damned. Sweeping her lightsaber back and forth, threatening Sidious's flank, she was daring that monster to go after her.

Obi-Wan couldn't allow it. She would be cut to ribbons.

Before he could say anything, do anything to make her back off, in that instant, Qui-Gon was there again, a bright light in the Force at last. Off to one side, just at the edge of his vision, Obi-Wan could see his old master struggling toward them, limping badly but with lightpike at the ready, hastening to meet the threat. Injuries or no, he knew that Qui-Gon would join him, even if there were no chance for victory. But at least he had the Force to guide him this time.

When Qui-Gon slotted into place next to him, Obi-Wan knew that the Dark Lord of the Sith was trapped at last. Four lighted sabers surrounding the scourge at the center of the universe.

Darth Sidious.  

Everything stopped and in that breathless moment, there was a crystalline stillness, as if they were waiting for the storm to break and tear them all into pieces.

Palpatine stood there, lightsaber tip pointed down toward the ground but not off. Looking around, he shrugged and a gentle smile, so grandfatherly, so understanding and mild, resurfaced. "My friends, we seem to be at an impasse."

Obi-Wan was livid. The man was a consummate actor. How he could stand there, cool as water, and act as if they were merely having a minor disagreement was beyond his comprehension.

"Chancellor Palpatine, you are under arrest for the murders of Master Xacor, Knights Rostak and Derst and complicit in the deaths of several Senators as well as members of the Jedi Order and other innocents in this room. I suggest that you submit." As he spoke, Sle'fey's fur was raised high, swirling madly with fury; Obi-Wan had never seen him so distraught but his lightsaber blade was steady and his voice was cold. "I… would delight in killing you here and now. Please - give me an excuse."

Palpatine’s smile turned reptilian, triumphant, looking as if he held the upper hand and this was nothing but an inconvenience. "I am appalled at the insinuation, Master Jedi. It was self-defense, not murder."

"While Zak was barely conscious and unable to defend himself, you gutted him and left him to die. Master Zak Xacor." Sle'fey's expression frosted into ice. "He never had a chance. So don't bother lying, Chancellor."

"He was scum." A low rumbling sneer and Sidious was staring at them all as if he were about to crush them under his boot – and enjoy it. A predator toying with prey. "Hardly worthy of my notice. An insect asking to be obliterated."

Looking furious enough to forgo any pretense at justice, Sle'fey's claws tightened on the lightsaber hilt and there was the slightest tremble in the blade but he only said, flatly, "He was the finest Jedi I'd ever known and my friend."

"Finest?" Looking around at the four of them, Sidious laughed, a delighted, mocking sound. "His skills were pathetic at best. Jedi standards must be quite lax for him to have become a Master." Then his mouth quirked upward, his eyes sharp with disdain. "Unless you trained him, Sle'fey. That would certainly explain his inability to…."

Sle'fey didn't give him time to finish. Bringing his blade a few centimeters closer to Sidious's skin, the threat was clear. "The saber, Chancellor. Last chance."

"Surrender, to you? A Bothan rodent, not worthy of licking my boots? I think not. And as for the rest of you…."

Blackest poison jetted out into the Force, clouds of shadow and pain and despair spilling out into endless night. A thousand agonies, echoing over and over until it seemed to fill the universe. Obi-Wan felt rather than heard the Force command Sidious sent out but as he thrust his saber forward, hoping to destroy the Sith before another moment could pass, something shoved into him.

A hand, torn and bloody and behind it bodies began to rise and weapons the dead guards had held, decorations and the shattered remnants of sculpture. It was as if the entire room was a cyclone of disemboweled corpses and the debris of Sith hatred. Moans grew as those who could still feel pain, were still alive, were used as bludgeons against the Jedi.

It was utter madness and through it all, profane laughter echoed triumphant in the Force.

A deep whimper sounded as a half-dead body tumbled past. Bile rising in his throat, for just an instant, Obi-Wan struggled with the knowledge that he'd have to kill innocents to get to Sidious and take him down.

There was no choice.  The Sith Lord had to be destroyed or he'd send the galaxy into darkness for all eternity.

As another body clipped Obi-Wan, he staggered back under the onslaught. Charred hands clutched at him, and there was an agonized cry for help. He didn't recognize the man. He only knew that his fingers were caught on the gold bullion of a shredded vest, were roughened against the sharp edges of gemstones, and the blood-bruised face looked familiar somehow.  He didn't think to ask his name, didn't have time to show compassion for the wounded; instead he just shoved him aside, reached for Sidious instead.

Qui-Gon was already there, slashing first at bloody meat and transparasteel shards and then battling Sidious. The Sith's saber was stark against green and, with a great shove, Sidious forced him away.

Atel jumped into the breach, trying to cut across his legs, apparently hoping to bring him down but another body slammed into her and she fell back.  But not for long. As Qui-Gon began to recover, Atel was there again, her blade clashing with the Sith blade, a brilliant flash of light painting her face crimson.

Splattered with blood, Sle'fey seemed tireless, relentless, trying to get in hit after hit while Sidious battled them all. But it was superficial damage, nothing that would end this conflict. The rich tunics that Palpatine wore were only singed and the few shallow lines of seared flesh did not hold the Sith Lord back.

Blast it all, Sidious was too fast for any of them.

As Sle'fey retreated, a stark line of burn across his fur, Obi-Wan shoved into the fight. His arm was on fire, the pull of muscle and half-healed bone almost unbearable but he refused to allow anything to come between him and that madman.

It was almost his undoing.

Extending his blade, the pain flared up abruptly, sending a sheet of agony across his chest and down his back. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything. Spasming, muscles torn from overuse, he curled inward slightly, and it was enough to signal the Sith that he was vulnerable, that he could be struck down with a single blow.

Sidious moved in for the kill.

"Look out!" Atel was screaming, jumping in front of him, protecting him, her saber blazing, all fire and determination. A warrior, a guardian, an almost-daughter protecting her father from harm. A Jedi.

It wasn't enough.

Mouth pulled back, a smile on his face and insanity in his eyes, the Sith Lord looked triumphant as he shoved his lightsaber into Atel's chest and out through the back.

No, no, no, no…. NO!

Bright death in a single blow. The rsshak slime didn't even bother to pull it straight out, just slashed through flesh and bone, Atel a melted doll collapsing away and no longer a threat. Sidious kicked at her ruined body, stepping on one outthrust hand and began jabbing death at Sle'fey and Qui-Gon Jinn.

Struggling for air, her face agony-etched, she stared up into Obi-Wan's unbelieving face.  

Blinking away at vision gone blurry with grief, shaking his head in denial of everything he’d seen, he looked away. He couldn’t bear seeing her like that, couldn’t bear to watch her gasping out her last breath - whispered, horror in his throat, "No, it can't be."

It was all his fault and he couldn’t think about her looking up at him with such devotion. He didn’t deserve it or her.

Somewhere in the room, under the sharp hiss of sabers battling and groans of the dying, there was a deep self-satisfied laugh. Sidious, it was Sidious reveling in Atel's death, delighting in it. And Obi-Wan couldn't... he couldn't….

The world went red.

Snarling madness, he turned, searching for Sidious amongst the carnage of broken bodies. He wanted desperately to crush that knowing smirk into the back of his braincase, pulp rising out to splatter the blood-red carpeting. He wanted Palpatine, Sidious, that sneering monster, to die in a thousand ways and through a thousand lifetimes for what he had done and Obi-Wan wanted to be the one to make it all happen.

"No, Obi-Wan. Stop!" He didn’t listen to Qui-Gon’s hoarse desperate plea. He didn't react to anything but the thought of Sith flesh melting under his blade.

It was impossible but the Sith seemed to grow stronger as Obi-Wan’s fury grew. Almost as if Sidious was feeding on his anger.

Ignoring the warnings, ignoring the feeling of malice and corrupt satisfaction coming from that filthy grub-worm, Obi-Wan brought his saber up, slashing sharply through the heated air. He missed Sidious's head by a hair's breadth.

But as he lunged in to try and take the Sith Lord out again, he nearly skewered Sle’fey. Too close. A flash of startled eyes and white fur and Obi-Wan backed away.

Qui-Gon’s blade went low, aiming for legs and vulnerability but Sidious was impossibly fast. There was only so much space and they kept getting in each other’s way as they tried and failed to take out Sidious.

Looking down, his glance swept past Atel’s pale face and grief stabbed through him again. Swallowing back the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him, he poured more and more energy into the fight, his blade too fast to see, the tangle of sabers a brilliant blur of red and green and blues, the after-glow blinding him as he pushed and pushed.

Ignored Qui-Gon, ignored Sle’fey, ignored everything but taking down the Sith Lord.

Finally, finally, Sidious was beginning to tire. A slip and Sle’fey’s blade did more than nick the skin, scorched a trail of fire down the Sith’s arm. Qui-Gon took advantage and went again for the legs, cutting through almost to the bone before the Dark Lord spat his outrage and started to collapse.

Obi-Wan saw his chance, put everything of frenzy and fury and hopeless grief into one final effort and lunged true - stabbed through flesh and bone and black blood.

Into the heart of the Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith. 

Looking almost surprised, his eyes glaring hate-yellow, Sidious fell back, his body sliding off Obi-Wan’s blade. Still intact, still alive but not for long.

The Force was suddenly filled with fury, a thick profanity of pain and hatred so vast that it seemed never-ending, corruption mixing with icy revenge, loathing and putrification and the shadows of madness, darkness billowing black and more black, stealing all light. And shattering through it all, the screams of a thousand, thousand tortured beings, high-pitched wails that grew and grew and grew until it seemed to fill the universe with their cries.

Taken aback, he didn't see Sidious lifting one hand toward him, sending a blaze of blue lightning crackling across the air and into Obi-Wan’s chest.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel his body convulsing in shrill agony, every nerve writhing in a fire of such unimaginable pain that it was almost pleasure. As he fell to his knees, Obi-Wan struggled to retain control, not to slide into the relief of unconsciousness, no matter how much he wanted it. He had to make sure Sidious would never hurt anyone ever again.

There was something, something he realized later was the sound of a lightsaber blade’s angry hiss. But by then, he was too far gone to care. Unable to do more than collapse into a tight ball, Obi-Wan did not even see the blow that took off Sidious’s head. He only knew that the blaze of Sith lightning was suddenly gone and he could breathe again.

The relief from pain was almost a torment. He lay there, trembling and exhausted and thoroughly numb, watching as Sidious’s sneering face came to rest against Sle’fey’s boot. There was blood and bone still steaming from the remnants of a saber blade before a cloth dropped over the gore but Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to care.

"Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, can you hear me?" Qui-Gon's soft voice sounded worried.

It took nearly all of his strength to look up into his master's worn face. The man looked ill, his tunic charred, a shoulder wound open and oozing. Qui-Gon was trembling, too, but at least he lived. He lived.

So many others had not, so many and she… he did not want to think about it but at least he should gather up the courage to go to her, watch over her body until it was time.

Ignoring Qui-Gon's question, he turned over, still hunched, still aching from the battle to end Sidious's life. Forcing himself to move, he rose up a bit, kneeling on that hard, red carpet, so full of blood and entrails and the remnants of death; he didn't have enough energy to stand but at least Atel's body was not far away. He could crawl to her and wait there until they took her to the Temple.

Qui-Gon must have understood. A hand offered and quickly withdrawn when he shook his head. His master didn't push to help him up, just seemed to accept that Obi-Wan was on the remnants of ragged strength, on the edge of despair. Qui-Gon walked slowly beside him, and didn't say a word.   

She laid there, her face untouched but the ruin of her body was plain. A bright bubble of blood rose in her open mouth and her eyes were half-closed. She looked more at peace than he'd seen her in a very long time.

Another bubble and she was breathing, shallowly, impossibly still alive. "Atel? Atel?"

She was a dim spark in the Force and he knew she only had a few moments more. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, his almost-daughter, how much he'd hoped for them to remain connected even when she went off to do her own missions. He wanted to say so much but all he could do was rasp out, "I should have listened."

A small frown, her mouth grimacing in pain. "Master? I…"

And then she stopped. Eyes glazed over and there was silence and then the sound of last breaths, and the look on her young face as it melted into death.

Obi-Wan could only stare and watch her change into a shell, all light and life gone, knowing that he was powerless to prevent it. Leaning forward, he reached out and closed her eyes for the last time. "My fault, Atel, my fault. I should never have come back."

A large hand on his shoulder and then Qui-Gon was kneeling beside him, mourning, too. His voice was harsh with remorse. "It is not your fault. It is mine."

Too much, too much for him to cope. He was sick of death, sick of life, sick of faults and mistakes and the knowledge that he'd never see her again. His gangly, shy girl.

He curled inward, leaning his face against the carpet. Ignoring the agony of burnt skin and the pull of over-extended muscle, ignoring the smell of death and the soft moans of those still alive, ignoring everything except loss and endless grief, Obi-Wan wept.

To Chapter 38