SCARY-SUE

by ardavenport

- - - Part 2 - - -

" - - - er-vate."

Obi-Wan recognized the voice. Flat feminine tone. Moderate. Average. Human? But he had heard it differently. Not spoken as it was now. Shouted.

Eyes opening wide, Obi-Wan stared up at a blue, ruffled curtain above.

It was the same voice he had heard just before. . . . .

Head turning to either side, he saw no one. But. . . . .

. . . . he was being watched.

He lifted his head, but restraints held him down, pinning his body, sinking him into a soft yielding padding. Thick pink cords over his chest held him down and looped around his naked arms and wrists holding them away from his body. More cords held his legs down, above and below his knees and around his bare ankles, spreading them shoulder width apart.

His lightsaber was gone. And his clothes and boots. He only wore pants. He saw nothing familiar around him.

His head fell back, sinking into a soft pillow.

He had been stripped, disarmed, searched. . . . and examined. Thoroughly. He could feel it. He had been touched, breathed upon. Everywhere. Even his hair. His Padawan's lock had been untied and combed flat on the back of his head. His long thin braid trailed over his shoulder onto his chest.

Looking all around him, Obi-Wan saw a windowless room with smooth walls, patterned with faded leaves and flowers, and various pieces of wooden furniture, all darkly polished and ornately carved with curls and intricate shapes. Shaded lighting units stood on some of the tables, dark shadows under them. A wavering yellow light illuminated the shadows from the far side of the room and he heard the crackling of a tame fire. But the largest furnishing seemed to be the enormous square sleeping platform he was tied down on. Tall carved posts at each corner held up a canopy overhead, frilled with lacy curtains with blue and black ribbons.

Obi-Wan tested his bonds, thinking that he would just wiggle out of them, but they seemed to hold him fast no matter which was he twisted or pulled. Though he felt no hard core to them, they always contracted and tightened just enough to keep him in place, yielding to him a little, smooth and frictionless, but clinging and strong. Almost alive.

Closing his eyes, he searched in the Force for a locking mechanism, but found none at all. His bindings twined down around the frame of the sleeping platform. He felt the Force, pulsing strongly inside him, but outside him. . . . .

His mind clear, Obi-Wan sensed the Force moving sluggishly around him. Weak, lethargic, dim.

His eyes snapping open, he gasped in air, realizing that he had been holding his breath. He had never, ever been in such a place, where the Force itself could be so affected. He had always believed that this was impossible, that if the Force flowed weakly, it was the focus of the Jedi at fault. But Obi-Wan did not feel weak or distracted. His heart beat strongly in his chest. Pounding too fast. He breathed deeply to calm an emerging panic.

His head jerked up, his eyes catching a motion on his right, in the shadows past the curtain and one heavy canopy post.

Qui-Gon. . . . . ?

But his Master was not there. Obi-Wan could not feel his presence. Anywhere. Nor could he even sense the living world of the planet. He took another calming breath.

"Hello?" he called out. He heard movement now, cloth against cloth, the sound of hesitation.

"Hello?," he called again. "Is anyone there?" he asked though he knew well that there was. Someone small and uncertain. Human. Afraid. Excited. Female.

An eye peaked around the curve of a curtain drape, bue like the velvety covering under him, like the curtain and the padding on the chairs in the room. Long, wavy brassy blond hair hung down on one side. She slowly revealed herself. Smooth face, pale skin. Young curvy body. Square jaw with lips pressed together. A long deep blue tunic covered her from neck to floor; close fitting sleeves covered her arms leaving only her hands visible. Blue and purple jewels glinted from golden rings on her fingers.

"Hello," Obi-Wan greeted her with a smile. "I don't suppose you can set me free? It's a bit uncomfortable being tied up like this."

"I - I'm not supposed to let you up. My Master would be angry with me," she stammered shyly.

Lie.

Though sluggish and unresponsive, the Force still revealed the essence of her true sentiments to him. She knew more than she said. She controlled more than she said. And wanted to conceal her intentions from him.

And her voice had been the last thing he had heard before waking up in this strange room.

He wondered if there really was a 'Master' for her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said agreeably, playing along with her pretense. "Can you tell me why I'm not allowed up? I have a Master, too, and I need to contact him."

She shook her head, her long hair waving from side to side. Then she brushed it back behind her ear on one side, a nervous gesture. She feared being found out, which seemed odd to Obi-Wan since he was so thoroughly bound. The same unworldliness that he had tasted outside on the planet thickened the air and clouded the Force in this place. She was of the same substance.

"Are you allowed to tell me your name? Mine is Obi-Wan," he offered.

A hint of a smile touched her lips.

"I'm. . . . . Susan," she answered. There was more to her name, but he doubted it would mean anything to him. He had never seen her before.

"Susan," he repeated. "Can you sit at least and tell me who you are. Or tell me why I am here? What your Master wants with me?"

Her blue eyes darted to a chair by a darkly ornate desk. She moved sideway to it and sat down on the edge of the seat, her hands pressed down in her lap.

"I don't know what my Master wants with you. I've just been told to. . . .care for you while you're here." She looked embarrassed. More importantly, Obi-Wan sensed that she really was embarrassed, but her thoughts tumbled around many things hazy and indistinct to him.

"Oh. Well can you at least let me sit up? I'd be so much more comfortable if I could." His eyes locked on hers, his thoughts fixed on how much better she would like to see him sitting up. "I'm sure your Master won't mind if I'm just sitting up." But the Force hardly stirred, not connecting to her at all. But her eyes widened with surprise.

She had felt something.

She bolted to her feet.

"I have to go," she said hastily, averting her eyes from him.

"Wait!" he said. Too quickly. Diffused as it was, his attempt to influence her collapsed.

"I have to go," she almost apologized, the skirt of her long tunic rustling around her legs as she quickly went to a wall and touched the frame of a picture of green fields and blue sky, tilting it to the side. A section of the patterned wall silently swung out.

"Wait!"

Her eyes darting to him and away, she disappeared behind the section of wall. It swung back into place with a soft click without leaving even a visible seam to show where it was.

Frustrated, Obi-Wan's head fell back on the pillow and he tugged hard on his bonds. They tightened, flattening around limbs and across his bare chest until he relaxed again. Having relieved his impulse for some - - any - - action he turned his senses inward. To himself and the Force.

His mind still, he perceived the Force infusing his body with its vital energy, but beyond the limits of his flesh it felt murky and strange with the same flavor that the had first detected on the planet. It tasted stale in the back of his mouth though he knew that was only his interpretation of it. No better or worse, the life-energy of this place differed fundamentally from his own. The otherness surrounding him clashed with his own inner senses, the mis-match producing the feeling of an oily film wherever his body touched it.

Going further inward, he looked for ways where the Force and this semi-Force were the same where he could access it. . . . .

A soft click immediately brought him back to the room of his confinement. The section of wall had opened and a long ear near the floor poked out from behind it.

Obi-Wan started. Master Yoda. . . . .?!

But the creature that emerged had long arms and legs and bulging globe-like eyes, dashing Obi-Wan's sudden, irrational hope.

Carrying a silver container with a handle, a white cloth and a tube, it shambled over to him and hopped up onto the side of the sleeping platform he lay on. Even with his senses through the Force dulled, the fear emanating from this creature surprised him. This being lived with misery and fear for every moment of its existence. A ragged, miserable dingy rag tied around its middle covered its lower body, but otherwise it was naked. Aged, grayish-green flesh wobbled from a jowly face and hung from stick-like legs and arms. A cloud of white fuzz drifted around the base of the being's skull.

"Mistress," it said in a high-pitched, yet distinctly male voice, "has ordered Flekky to see to her guest's needs. If guest needs to relieve himself."

'Flekky' held up the container and length of white tubing apologetically.

Treacherously, Obi-Wan's bladder immediately demanded attention.

"I'd rather be let up to do that," he answered honestly. But Flekky sadly shook his head, his long Yoda-like ears waving with the motion.

"Mistress has forbidden that," he squeaked.

"What does the Master say?"

Another head shake. "No, Master. Except for you. Just the Mistress," he answered, confirming Obi-Wan's suspicions.

"Well," he replied, speaking carefully, reasonably, "if I'm the Master, then I'm sure that Mistress would want you to untie me. In fact, she'd be terribly upset with you if you didn't."

Flekky trembled, apparently very fearful of 'Mistress' being upset, but Obi-Wan's weak attempt to influence him failed completely. Under normal circumstances, Obi-Wan felt certain that this subservient being would be easy for him to influence, if he could just manage the discordant flow between himself and his surroundings.

"Mistress would be very angry with Flekky if he let her guest up. Mistress has prepared everything very carefully."

Flekky suddenly covered his mouth. "But Flekky is not supposed to speak to her guest!" He suddenly raised his skinny arm and brought the silver container down on his head with the sickening sound of hard metal on skull. "Flekky. . . . must. . . . not. . . . be. . . . bad," he said, punctuating each word with each loud thunk.

Speechless to witness this extreme self-flagellation, Obi-Wan stared at the poor creature. Cross-eyed, Flekky offered the container and tube again.

Obi-Wan only fleetingly thought of urinating in place on the sleep platform to force 'Mistress' to let him up, but he was not nearly that desperate, yet. And he dreaded what Flekky would do to himself if he did. He politely accepted.

Flekky hopped close to his lower body, found the fly opening of his pants, attached the close-fitting tube and then scampered over the side of the platform with the other end of the tube to allow Obi-Wan to fill the container, which he did. Once finished, Flekky hopped back up, detached the tube, wiped everything with the cloth he carried, which was damp and florally scented. Then Flekky tucked everything back into place and jumped back to the floor. Collecting the cloth, tube and container, Flekky went back to the concealed door, which had closed behind him. Obi-Wan watched with interest.

Flekky, too short to reach so high, even with his long arms, pointed a long bony finger at the picture frame.

It tilted.

Obi-Wan tensed and pulled at his bonds as Flekky left, the door swinging shut behind him, the opening vanishing into the wall again. Falling back into the soft padding and pillow that bulged all around him, he stared up at the shadowed blue canopy above and tried to assimilate what he had just witnessed.

The Force was there and accessible, but strangely masked from him by the different flows of this world. He just needed figure out how he related to it.

He looked to either side of him. Aside from the carved furniture and patterned walls, he saw several cabinets and shelves of ornaments of no obvious practical use. He settled on a small rounded one on a table next to a lighting unit stand. It appeared to be a stylized representation of a fat animal with rotund pale pink body, short legs and flattened snout, with a little hat on its head and green bow around its neck.

Relaxing his whole body, breathing deeply, Obi-Wan flexed his hand, the palm open wide and welcoming for the little animal ornament.

Nothing happened. It remained cheerfully under the light, its painted lips grinning broadly.

This was expected. Obi-Wan concentrated on what he felt as much as calling the object to him. The Force outside his body remained sluggish and . . . . . alien.

Obi-Wan never imagined in all his years of Jedi training that he would ever think about the Force that way. He needed no other confirmation that he was somehow in a different world. A different galaxy? Another reality? He could not imagine how this could happen, but he did not dwell upon the impossibility of his situation. It was what it was.

Unfortunately, if he was so far away from his own world would Qui-Gon be able to find him? This thought distracted his concentration. Qui-Gon had sensed the same disturbance in the Force. He would look for him. But could be follow? Cross the black void? Could he survive it? Would that path even still be there?

Obi-Wan cleared his mind, banishing the useless speculation. Qui-Gon would try to find him. He would concentrate on being as ready as possible for any rescue led by his Master. Obi-Wan's attention again narrowed to the pink animal ornament again. He closed his eyes, seeing it through the Force alone. Small, round, hollow. But the image wavered randomly, confusing it with other things in the room, sometimes becoming a bulging many-pointed mass that made no sense to him. He lacked the proper focus.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan flexed his hand, now sore from being held rigid for so long, waiting for the ornament that eluded his grasp, only a few steps away. The tension told him how badly attuned he was to his surroundings. A Jedi used lightsaber, body and especially hands to guide and be guided by the Force. But it was different here. He was missing something.

Movement caught his attention again.

- - - to be continued - - -