Disclaimer: I intend no infringement on the rights of Lucasfilm and related affiliates by writing this fic. The Maker owns everything.
Summary: The Republic is in chaos. The Senate is in shambles. The Jedi are in hiding. And through it all, Qui-Gon Jinn will fight to prove that the bonds of love can conquer anything – even the Dark Side. But what happens if he's wrong? The final installment in the Jedi Trials saga.
Author's Notes: Congratulations to all who guessed correctly as to the identity of the OT character appearing in this chapter – Han Solo. The first reviewer to contact me with the correct answer was Elizabeth, but as I couldn't contact her (your email address wasn't working), the prize defaulted to the runner-up, Wuff. The prize was, I finally decided, getting to choose a species and name for a minor character in this chapter, so keep a look out for the character Wuff created – Sarassk the Trandoshan.
You also may have noticed that after I had decided to split up the two chapters to make them more manageable, I have now thrust them back together. I decided that had been a bad idea on my part, so here is the chapter as it was originally supposed to be read.
Turmoil and Sacrifice
By Kekelina
Chapter Three: Whispers and Fear
On the other side of the Core, a dark shape moved swiftly through dimly lit streets. Keeping to the shadows, this vile creature navigated the festering, seedy underworld of the Skids without so much as a whisper from his midnight robes.
Born from the night, he relished the seamy streets of Tyrena. Built on two sides of a river, it had been dubbed Corellia's "double city." One side of the river, closest to the famed Gold Coast, attracted the normal upper-middle class families who called Corellia home, while the other side lured the worthless, spineless, pitiful clientele that Darth Dementor searched for.
He was after one worthless, spineless, pitiful creature in particular: Juke Halar, an old criminal contact from his Jedi days who owed him quite a lot of favors. Unfortunately, the overgrown Kowakian monkey-lizard had disappeared from radar almost a year earlier, leaving the Sith with no way of contacting him. But no matter, he thought with a sly grin, one that made him seem, if anything, less human. Juke had forgotten that "Ol' Ben" knew exactly where his hideout was located.
It was time for a visit.
As much as Dementor hated to admit it, as much as he hated being dependent upon anybody – especially petty criminals – he needed Juke. That slimy, filthy, cowardly vermin was his only ticket to remaining hidden from the now-alert eyes of the Galactic Republic. His face was plastered all over the HoloNet, from the Core Worlds to the very edges of the Outer Rim. Warrants for his arrest had been issued; security had been increased on every planet a hundred-fold. The entire galaxy was on the lookout for him, and Juke Halar had the safe houses.
He relished the power he held, but he was not so ignorant as to think he could take on an entire galaxy.
His plan had failed…spectacularly, in fact. Instead of crippling the Republic, he had only strengthened it, and in so doing, strengthened its hatred of him. It was still running, even without its Senate and its hallowed peacekeepers.
Worst of all, Qui-Gon Jinn had escaped his grasp, as well as several other prominent members of the Order. If only he'd been a little bit quicker…spent a little less time talking and had just killed him.
But no, he had wanted Qui-Gon to know how much he had suffered; wanted him to see how spectacularly he had failed…
Then Yoda had arrived and saved him from his ultimate fate. But one day, Dementor promised, he would finish their duel, and there would be nothing to stop him from taking Qui-Gon's life.
A dark voice, familiar and frightening, awoke from fiery shadows. "You are weak."
Fear.
For the first time in a long time, Darth Dementor was afraid.
The Sith did not shy away from fear as the Jedi did. They embraced it, manipulated it. It was a tool.
A weapon.
And a powerful one at that.
It was intoxicating, sensing the fear of others. A high like no sentient-made drug or drink could produce. To watch them squirm under his commanding presence, begging for mercy, was more delectable than the sweet juice from a Barabel fruit.
He reveled in it.
In his power.
But he did not enjoy being the one afraid.
The Jedi had taught him to accept his fear and release it. Their lessons had failed him when he had needed them the most. Sidious had manipulated him with his own insecurities, played on the fears trapped inside his own mind.
Fear had turned Obi-Wan Kenobi into Darth Dementor.
And now it came to haunt him again.
His Master had returned from death. Sidious, whom he had personally burnt to a crisp, whom he had no doubts about his mortality, had returned from the netherworld of the Force to haunt his mutinous apprentice.
Oh, he couldn't see him, but he could hear him – his devious whispers in the back of his mind, simultaneously bolstering and degrading him at the same time until he was no more powerful than Sidious wanted him to be. He had always played those sorts of games.
He had always been greatly fond of games.
During his captivity, he would say something to give the weak, helpless, pitiful Obi-Wan Kenobi hope, only to crush it with burning evidence of the Jedi Council's devious plot a moment later. He had received an immense amount of joy from such sadistic games. Indeed, the day of the Jedi's honorary funeral, he had been overwhelmingly gleeful.
Somehow, it did not surprise the Sith that Sidious had found a way to torture him even in death.
Or was he really dead? They hadn't discussed it much, but his former Master had made reference to his old Master, Darth Plagueis, and his astounding abilities once or twice. Was it possible that Sidious could've returned and was coming after his apprentice for some belated revenge?
This, surprisingly, did not drive the spike of fear deeper into his chest.
He did not fear Darth Sidious's physical abilities, for he had already proven his superiority in that realm, but his mental finesse.
Consciously, he tightened his shields, but he doubted it would do any good.
Dementor made his way down a grimy alley full of broken landspeeder parts and rusting droid limbs. Clouds of dust were swept into the air as the hem of his midnight robes grazed the filthy duracrete. Creatures of the night scurried from shadow to shadow, their vile deeds gone unnoticed until the pale yellow of dawn cast its weak glow on the kingdom of nighttime terrors.
It was in this despicable, wretched spot that Dementor would find Juke Halar – perhaps catching the lazy, good-for-nothing Neimoidian at a hand of Sabacc, thinking he was perfectly safe from the likes of the great Darth Dementor.
How wrong he was.
With all the presence of the Sith that he was, Dementor burst into Juke's "secret" hideout, crimson lightsaber blazing, to stumble upon a very surprising sight: a rag-tag band of criminals of all different shapes and sizes lounged upon the worn sleep-couch and ratty chairs occupying the small interior of the hideout. Sabacc cards lay abandoned on the floor, while a rowdy game of dejarik consumed an entire corner. The air smelled suspiciously of spice.
At the sight of Dementor, the entire room burst out into a frenzied panic. Credits, weapons, and drugs were hastily shoved into pockets before the owners of such objects dashed disorderly for the many hidden exits in the back of the dilapidated quarters. None of the bandits tried to fight Dementor – apparently, they weren't that stupid.
A wicked grin grew at the sight of the chaos. The Dark Side of the Force sang with their terror, crashed joyfully like the rough waves on an ocean as their little hearts raced…
He Force-pulled a female Trandoshan to him and held her fast as she struggled against the Force. Trandoshans, far heavier and stronger than humans, were not used to being overpowered. They intimidated many by simply their height and reputation alone. This particular one was no exception; she cursed at him in a crude mixture of Dosh and Basic. He raised a solitary eyebrow.
"I didn't quite catch that," the Sith Lord intoned dryly. "Would you care to repeat?"
The Trandoshan obliged happily.
"Strong words for someone under my mercy. What's your name?"
She hesitated, as if thinking up a believable lie. "Sarassk."
"Sarassk," Dementor repeated slowly, rolling the foreign name over his tongue. She was glaring at him, her supersensitive eyes appraising him with a mixture of anger and fear. Well, she was certainly bolder than her cohorts, wasn't she? "Where is Juke Halar?" he asked, skipping preliminaries.
"Let me go," she commanded.
He narrowed his yellowed, decaying eyes at her, putting copious amounts of Force-suggestion behind his words. "Tell me where Juke Halar is."
"Eat Hutt slime."
Anger coursed through him, rushing through his veins quicker and more furious than blood.
"Let me go," she repeated.
A devious smile graced his lips. "As you wish."
A crimson shaft of energy pierced green reptilian scales. Sarassk dropped unceremoniously to the floor.
There was a disturbance in the Force as Dementor deactivated his lightsaber and muttered "Kriff!" He had not foreseen this kink in his plans. This would make it harder to find Juke. He would need more –
A rustle, coming from behind a stack of plastoid crates.
His anger boiled.
An intruder.
Moving with Force-enhanced speed, he reached blindly behind the crates and pulled out an angry, argumentative, eight-year-old Human boy. The youngling, a scruffy-looking child with shaggy brown hair and filthy old clothing fought in vain against the Sith Lord's grip, clawing at the firm hold with dirty fingernails and angry punches.
Having always detested pathetic life forms such as these (especially children), Dementor wasted no time in securing a Force-hold around the boy's thin neck. His youthful brown eyes widened in shock as oxygen refused to fill his lungs, and the boy sank to his knees, desperate to fight off his invisible murderer.
Dementor laughed.
"Obi-Wan…don't."
The voice shocked him so much that he immediately released the boy, who collapsed to the durasteel floor, gasping.
The Sith turned, half-expecting to see a flash of blonde hair or the glow of an electrum lightsaber. But that was impossible. She was dead – he had killed her, watched her last breath leave her body, sent her to be with the Force. That had been his doing.
The same as Sidious's death.
Was it merely coincidence that two of his victims had returned to haunt his waking thoughts? Or was it something else? For although this sort of trick could be expected from Sidious, Siri Tachi had never been that powerful.
"Look…I didn't…hear…or see…anything."
Dementor tore himself from his disturbing thoughts to gaze uncaringly at the boy, who had seemingly recovered and was rising.
"You saw me, and that's enough."
His lightsaber ignited with a familiar snap-hiss.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" the boy cried, scurrying out of the way of the dangerous blade of energy. "Can't we talk about this?"
Dementor didn't reply, but stalked his prey menacingly. The boy scrambled backwards over spilled alcoholic beverages and half-smoked death sticks. He picked up a blaster and tried to shoot, only to discover that its power cell was empty.
"I won't tell anyone about you!"
He watched the boy like a krayt dragon watches it next meal. Nothing he said or did would convince the Sith Lord to spare him.
Nothing.
"I – I know someone who knows where Juke is!"
Almost nothing.
Dementor narrowed his eyes viciously. "Speak."
The boy, sensing a reprieve to his sentence, began immediately. "There's this girl in Coronet – Tayss – down in the Blue Sector. She spends a lot of time with Juke. Shri – This guy I know says she was the last person Juke talked to before he skipped town."
The Sith digested this information. Here was his chance to find Juke. Surely, this "Tayss" knew exactly where Juke had been headed. Perhaps he was even still there.
"Are you sure?"
The boy eyed his lightsaber warily. "Bet my life on it."
"Good," he replied sinisterly. They would leave for Coronet at once. Though he was reluctant to go into the capital city – Coronet was crawling with CorSec – if the boy was telling the truth, Dementor would be off-planet soon enough anyway.
Besides, he had defeated the Chosen One. Should complications arise, a few security officers wouldn't be a problem.
But you didn't kill Qui-Gon.