A/N: Oh dear ones, it has been so, so long... I am so sorry. And first of all, I so dearly hope you, your families and friends are well out there. These are strange and difficult times, and we really need to work hard and grit out teeth like Jedi to get through these months - please know that, though I have been silent for very long weeks, I have never stopped thinking of you. Life has simply been too full, and I could not find enough calm to sit down and write this chapter, that has proven to be really, really difficult to flesh out. I hope it's worth the way - as usual, see you below! Meysun.
Storms on Pijal (Stars of the Darkest Night)
A Star Wars Fanfiction by Meysun
Oh, I got a letter on a lonesome day / It was from her ship a-sailing / Saying I don't know when I'll be coming back again / It depends on how I'm a-feeling
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Chapter Seven: Forgery
Pijal, outside Czerka Corporation's facility.
.
The drizzle was drenching Obi-Wan's hair, dampening the fingers of his left hand. He had wanted to discard his sling for his meeting with Czerka's chairman, but his elbow was still unable to stretch. Master Averross had managed to mend his ankle though, and his concussion was mostly healed.
Obi-Wan was feeling much better after a night of unbroken sleep, and had washed his hair thoroughly, scrubbing blood from his skull yet minding the surgical staples.
"Alley cat…", Master Averross had teased – and unfortunately, he had been right. Obi-Wan had finally been able to assess himself in front of a mirror – and had promptly tried to cover the impressive bruise and scar on his skull with his too-short strands, cursing the Padawan cut under his breath.
They had not heard from the Temple yet, and Master Averross had arranged a meeting with Czerka Corporation's chairman early in the morning. So here there were, getting thoroughly drenched by sprinkle that was rain in everything but name.
Obi-Wan curled his injured fingers against his chest, fighting a deep sense of unease he was unable to release fully into the Force. He had spoken to Princess Fanry's Captain, Deren – and the man had assured him that forest and city had been thoroughly searched. They had met in the room where Obi-Wan had been tended to by Lady Lamia, and Deren had been friendly, pulling still-silent Kira on his lap for the whole conversation, playing with the child's locks. He had evidently been a friend of her father's, and Obi-Wan had sensed worry, loss, and a deep sense of duty radiating from him.
Kira had refused to let go of him, clinging stubbornly to his neck and the man had sighed, dark eyes tired and sad.
"This conflict is hard upon our children", Deren had said. "They yearn to play outside, to feel safe again. May it end swiftly."
He had finally managed to free himself from Kira's arms, entrusting her to her mother, who had tried to coax her into getting her hair combed. The child, however, kept shaking her head, silently throwing a tantrum.
Don't want to – not you – don't want this – leave me 'lone – your braids never hold anyway.
Kira had been projecting all over the place and Obi-Wan had been unable to suppress a smile.
"Do you want me to braid your hair, tooka-doll? I am sure it will hold. Look at my braid. It is not coming loose, is it?"
He had always enjoyed helping Master Ti with the younglings, in the Temple, even after becoming a Padawan. The many layers of Jedi clothing were difficult to handle and he still remembered Master Ti helping him with his obi. Most of the younglings enjoyed those grooming moments, helping them to assess the Force through their bodies, and often ended up talking about their thoughts, joys and fears.
The thought had made his smile linger, and he had almost missed the inquisitive, childish voice projecting in the Force.
What's a tooka-doll?
"Oh. A tooka-doll? It is a soft, star-shaped little doll many children like to play with."
Do they look like you?
"No. Not really. But I have a friend at the Temple – he thinks they do. He thinks I'm as small and soft as them. But I disagree."
Kira had looked at him, dark eyes inscrutable, small brow knitted in thought. And then the little girl had snatched the comb from her mother's hand and handed it to Obi-Wan. She had stopped projecting, but she had allowed him to approach her and to start parting her hair.
She had stayed absolutely still as he had braided her locks, mindful of his injured hand, starting from her temples to weave them into a larger tress, and Obi-Wan had felt a strange sense of serenity permeating the Force – a rare moment of peace.
And once he had finished, Kira had remained seated on his lap, small hands drawing out the shape of his knee through the fabric of his trousers – with light, rhythmic movements, joining him in the calm he was projecting.
The little girl had been in that half-dazed state children seemed to achieve when thoroughly relaxing, but suddenly Obi-Wan had felt terror grip Kira's Force-signature. She turned, abruptly throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his collar, stone-still with fear.
And Obi-Wan had looked up, and met Princess Fanry's steely, grey gaze.
She had entered the room, preceding Master Averross, and Kira was desperately trying to make herself even smaller against Obi-Wan.
Peace, little one. No one will hurt you. You are safe.
He had placed his arm around the tiny child, spreading his fingers across her back like a shield, and then he had bowed his head respectfully.
"Rael tells me you are to meet the chairman in an hour. Was your discussion with Deren satisfactory?"
She had been so cold. So fierce. She reminded him of the ravines on Ilum, of the high, frozen slopes in the crystal cave – unforgiving and piercing.
"Yes, your Highness. I am grateful for your efforts."
She has a big, big knife.
Kira's knees had been digging into his hips and Obi-Wan had projected a wave of comfort and reassurance, wrapping them around the child.
Shh, Kira. She cannot hurt you.
"You seemed to have found quite a friend", Fanry had said, voice low but without a trace of softness.
"Indeed", Obi-Wan had answered, quietly, and the Princess had faced him silently for a while, her pale, regal face unfathomable.
"Where are you from, Padawan Kenobi? You are no Core child, are you?"
Satine's shoulder, brushing against his as they sat quietly, in the cave, waiting for Qui-Gon to return. The feeling of her light locks against his neck. And her pointed voiced as she tried to guess, half-teasing but genuinely interested.
"Not Onderon. You're too light-skinned."
He had just shaken his head, heart skipping a beat because she had entwined her fingers with his.
"Try farther."
She had not guessed, in the end, despite Qui-Gon being away for ages. That day, she had kissed him for the very first time, and Obi had projected the answer in Satine's mind, as a mark of trust and devotion, when their lips had finally parted, arms wrapped around her slim frame, fighting back shivers of awe.
"I am Stewjoni, your Highness. But I hardly remember my home-planet."
Fanry had studied him a while longer, and Obi-Wan had kept very still, shielding Kira through the Force, trying to ease the fear he could still feel pulsing through the child's core.
"You could be Pijali. Memories can so easily be forged", Fanry finally said, voice very low, and Obi-Wan felt his cheeks colour slightly at what she implied.
"The Jedi Temple is quite thorough with our medical and personal history", he replied. "Master Che, who runs the Halls of Healing, makes sure to keep every Initiate's file as accurate as possible. I am afraid there is no secrecy to be found in mine.
- Stewjon it is, then. I confess I amused myself with the idea of a secret twin-brother, for a little while. Since you Jedi are so apt at understanding, though, I am sure you shall forgive me that little self-indulgence and forget my words.
- Most certainly, your Highness", Obi-Wan answered, carefully releasing his upset confusion into the Force, fingers splayed against Kira's back.
"And I shall take my leave, if your Highness permits it, for I have a pretty little girl to return to her mother's care, and a meeting to attend to."
Fanry had tilted her head in a gracious, but cold move of acceptance, and Obi-Wan had stood up, shielding Kira with his body as he walked towards Lady Lamia.
Stay with your mother, now, sweetheart, and wait until I come back – I promise you will be safe.
He had made sure to walk as slowly as possible, sending quiet tendrils of calm towards the child, and gradually, he had felt the small limbs loosen.
"Don't go out."
The whisper had been so low Obi-Wan had almost mistaken it for a projection, but for the small exhale against his neck. Kira's dark eyes had been wide, and she had clamped her lips back shut, almost defying him. But Obi-Wan had reached out, placing a stray lock back behind her ear, and had smiled at her – just as he had always smiled at nervous little Initiates in the crèche.
I am not afraid, Kira.
The child had gazed at him – and he had watched the look in her eyes morph from fear to something so close to adoration he had almost dropped her. Kira had not said a word, had simply climbed from his arms into Lady Lamia's. But the child's utter trust had stayed wrapped around Obi-Wan's heart.
Just as Fanry's coldness still twisted his gut, making him shiver in the rain.
"Ah, my dear Jedi… Allow me to wish you a warm welcome despite the dreary weather."
Czerka's Chairman was – for lack of a better word – the perfect product of Core-worlds' most ruthless business and marketing branches. Money permeated his expensive, carefully casual-tailored clothes, his short, trendy haircut and even the well-groomed stubble. His Force-signature was steely, and his shields quite strong for a non-sensitive, but Obi-Wan could still sense an active, smart and calculating mind. What was completely missing, though, was any trace of genuine feeling, reminding him oddly of those perfectly built Coruscanti skyscrapers made of iron and glass.
"Come in, please, come in. What can I get you. Caff? Cinnamon juice? Perhaps something a tad stronger?
- Caff", Master Averross answered, warmly, with a wink that made the chairman's artificial smile even broader.
"And for the young man here, Padawan Kenobi, if my memory recalls?
- Nothing, Chairman Cutlace, thank you.
- Always the reasonable one", Master Averross sighed, dramatically, electing a soft, perfectly ungenuine laugh from Cutlace – the hand the elder Jedi placed on Obi-Wan's shoulder was warm though, steering him expertly into the building, following the chairman's step.
They soon found themselves seated in exquisite leather-and-steel chairs, facing Cutlace's desk – the chairman affably placing a cup of deliciously smelling caff in front of Master Averross, taking one for himself, and insisting on pouring a glass of lemon-sprinkled water for Obi-Wan.
"So, Master Averross, Padawan Kenobi, tell me how I can be useful to you. I can assure you that none of the troubles here can be traced on our behalf. Czerka Corporation has been on-planet for over two decades now and has always tried to embody efficiency and care. You are welcome to visit the mines and the facilities and to consult several of our data – our workers are fairly treated, punctually paid and generally satisfied, as our semestrial studies will readily show you.
- Is the facility still running?", Obi-Wan asked, quickly scanning his glass through the Force, and taking a sip of water.
It was refreshing, refined and indecently expensive – Obi-Wan was reminded of the purified rainwater in Cadi and Jamal's canteens, and suddenly longed for the sky and stars and Qui-Gon so badly he had to place the glass back on the desk.
"At a minimal level, I am afraid. Our workers are afraid to come, naturally, after the recent riots and that incomprehensible, utterly unjustified attack on our supply ship. Those working right now are lodging at the facility.
- Pijali workers?", Obi-Wan asked.
"Barely, Padawan Kenobi. A lot of our workers are not planet-born – Czerka always searches to diversify our employee's career paths, and we frequently promote short contracts that allow our workers to stay for nine-months, maximally a year, before we allow them to be send to another facility where their competence and experience will be valued."
Thus, preventing them from forging ties, keeping control upon their lives and aspirations, and removing the troublemakers should they but stir.
Obi-Wan had no illusion whatsoever as to the fate of those 'not planet-born workers', but he carefully kept his thoughts for himself. Instead, he schooled his features into his most innocent expression, even allowing his eyes to widen slightly, like the coddled Core-child Cutlace imagined him to be.
"What happened to the people in the Leverage's holds?
- Poor souls", Cutlace exhaled in a perfectly executed show of concern. "The ship was stormed by Princess Fanry and her crew – do not ask me why, I cannot begin to fathom her reasons. These twenty people were perfectly legally employed workers – I can only assume the ship's captain assigned them to the holds when the attack began. The poor man lost his life, you see – blaster bullet in the head, along with the whole crew, quite dreadful… Their poor families…"
Cutlace had a small shudder.
"The Princess' crew rebelled, however – attacked their own leader, if I got it right, and these twenty workers are now missing. Probably dead, or prisoners in the Pijali woods. I shudder to think of their fate, Padawan Kenobi. I can only hope the Palace comes back to sense and allows us to build a truce – and to conduct a thorough search party. In my opinion, someone has carefully misled Princess Fanry into thinking we were shipping slaves on planet – a ludicrous idea! – and has set her mind against us. Czerka Corporation has always had rather cordial relations with the Palace and would gladly resume them. As you do surely know, Padawan Kenobi, our company has funds, and would readily employ them into whatever means needed to achieve peace."
Obi-Wan forced himself to take another sip of water, the delicate lemon-flavour just as heady as the string of falsehoods leaving Cutlace's lips. It would have made Qui-Gon snort quietly in disgust, and Satine bolt in righteous fury.
What Obi-Wan was truly feeling, though, was contempt.
For here stood a man who believed everything could be bought and twisted with credits, and who was at peace with it. Here stood a man that was so imbibed with market-rules, auction-figures that he had, and would step over corpses without a real shudder. Here stood a man that had no excuse of ignorance, hunger or lack of education for his deeds – but who was ambitious enough to proudly embody them, not caring to lose himself along that bloody path.
I pity you, Chairman Cutlace. I truly pity you.
"You would drop the charges against the Palace, Chairman Cutlace?", Obi-Wan asked, voice soft, face still carefully schooled.
Cutlace opened his arms and smiled.
"My dear boy, I have been convinced from the very beginning that it was all a dreadful and terrible mistake. I want you to convey to the Palace that all options remain completely open. We want peace, Padawan Kenobi. Peace and prosperity for Pijal. We will gladly help Princess Fanry to get rid of those rebels spreading falsehoods, should she want our help. As Master Averross will tell you, we were strongly advocating the Assembly treaty that would have allowed Pijal to step into the Republic, and the relationship between Pijal and Czerka to be reinforced under the Senate's careful eyes.
- Most strongly indeed", Master Averross threw in – he was still donning his mantle of quiet amusement, but through the Force, Obi-Wan felt his sarcasm and distrust very clearly.
That lovely fellow here almost got off when he presented me with the first draft of that kriffing treaty.
Obi-Wan almost choked, and had to take another sip of water, trying not to cough, and failing miserably.
"Wrong pipe, eh?", Master Averross said, thumping Obi on the back and laughing quietly – this time his amusement was genuine, and Obi-Wan quietly decided that he would never, ever, be flustered by a bawdy joke or rude expression anymore.
If needed, he would listen to every single one Quin knew – he would read up whatever material was needed, if it was even possible to find such data in a place as pristine as the Temple.
I am not going to be sweet and innocent anymore. I am going to be streetwise, witty, sarcastic and in control.
Obi-Wan was still quietly seething in the Force as they left the chairman's office, and Master Averross was chuckling, sending small waves of truce towards Obi-Wan, his amusement only growing as they were slammed right back at him.
The rest of the visit was predictably uneventful. Czerka factories were currently functioning at a minimal level and the workers were too in awe of Cutlace and two Jedi to tell them anything else that what had clearly been drilled into them. Their eyes were dull and frightened, and their projection in the Force like flickering candles, small and vulnerable. Paper thin.
They spent another hour with the Chairman, were showered with facts, statements and guarantees. And all along Obi-Wan tried to probe the Force, searching for a disturbance, a clue… because he had the distinct feeling something was wrong – and yet there was nothing.
The rain had stopped when they finally left the main building. The ground was muddy and the barracks grey and forlorn looking.
"What is over there?", he asked the Chairman.
"These are warehouses. Full of containers. Most of them are empty.
- Might we have a look?"
Cutlace arched his eyebrows.
"I do not see what you could possibly hope to find there, Padawan Kenobi."
Pay attention.
The Force flashed its brief, sudden warning and Obi-Wan blinked, straightening under the heavy clouds, right hand hovering at his waist above his lightsaber.
"I think we should inspect them.
- Padawan Kenobi, with all due respect, I…"
The soft crackle of Obi's commlink interrupted him and, as the Force around them seemed to intensify, Obi-Wan heard Quin's familiar voice rise from the commlink.
"Obi… It's me. We've got a signal. It's… wait."
Quin stopped in confusion, but Obi-Wan already knew.
"It's a few feet away from you."
Oh Force.
"Thank you, Quin."
- Obi…"
But Obi-Wan was already running towards the barracks, paying no attention whatsoever to Cutlace's shouts behind him, or the mud sloshing high on his boots. His commlink was still crackling and he shut it off, summoning his lightsaber into his right palm – and he was ready to fight as he Forced the door open, blade gleaming bright and blue above his head.
"Kid, slow down", Master Averross voiced, behind him, but Obi-Wan knew, he knew that signature, that dark, blood-red, velvety presence in the Force, he should have recognised it straight away when she had fired at him, because it was her, it was her…
And so, when she jumped at him like a cat, leaping from the roof of a steel container, Obi-Wan was ready.
He summoned the Force from the deepest fibres of his being, letting its current flow through his limbs, even that silly elbow that would not stretch but that had to, and he parried Rose Cimber's first row of blaster shots – their sound like thunder in the cold, seemingly abandoned warehouse.
"My goodness, aren't you a sweet, sweet one?", Rose Cimber purred, aiming at Obi-Wan's chest, laughing when his blade parried her shot, lips pouting in mock concern.
"Where is my Master?", Obi-Wan asked, chest heaving but voice calm.
He knew her file almost by heart. Ever since those terrible dreams in which she had featured, when he had been just a few weeks into his apprenticeship, forced to let Qui-Gon go alone on a mission on Hosnian Prime – where Rose Cimber and her accomplices had attempted to kill Chancellor Valorum.
He knew she was an assassin, well-schooled in poisons as well as heavy weaponry, who had sworn to make Qui-Gon pay for her capture five years ago. She had escaped a few months afterwards, and ever since they had both been wary of her – but Obi-Wan had never met her so far.
"Funny, sweetheart. Funny how you all care."
She was venomous. Seemingly beautiful, but repulsive in the way her perfect body seemed to sheet only hatred and poison – and Obi was reminded of the horrible, horrible feeling of those nightmares he did not understand, of the darkness and danger he had sensed, without being able to frame them.
"And who's that handsome one here?"
Master Averross had positioned himself at Obi-Wan's side, igniting his lightsaber. It was blue, like his, and to his surprise, Averross slid into the graceful, yet attentive Makashi stance, body poised like a dancer.
"A delighted admirer", Averross answered, with a small bow, and Rose Cimber let out a shrill, boisterous laugh.
And then she charged at them. She fired a round of blaster-shots at Obi-Wan, then she pulled out a vibroblade and began slicing at them.
Obi-Wan deflected the shot, then the sharp blade aiming for his face – and then his feet moved on their own volition, and his grip on his lightsaber slid, as he switched from Ataru to Soresu, left arm perfectly stretched in the Force, despite the broken bones, hand anchored in the Cosmic Force as his right arm parried blow after blow.
Master Averross nodded, through the Force, and Obi understood, taking a small step back. He went on deflecting Rose Cimber's shots, sending them back at her, forcing her to spin and swerve, breaking her balance, until Master Averross was able to slice the vibroblade from her hand.
"And now, dear one, lower that blaster", Averross said, pleasantly.
Rose Cimber fired straight at Obi-Wan's chest, the shot easily deflected hitting a metallic beam with an ominous ring.
"Must you be so difficult?", Averross sighed, winking at Obi who promptly used the Force to pull the blaster from her hand, projecting it away from them.
She was defeated, and yet she only smiled at them.
"You get me. For now. As you already understood, my employer is wealthy.
- Go, kid", Averross said, his eyes never leaving her face. "Go and find that Master of yours."
Obi-Wan switched his lightsaber off and ran towards the furthest container, a huge metallic cubicle with a chained door. He Forced it open once more, letting the door slide – and could not repress a gasp.
"Oh, Master…"
Qui-Gon was unconscious, hands chained above his head to the ceiling, knees sagging and head lolling on his chest, his long, matted hair almost touching his obi. His right wrist was wrapped and bloody, he was breathing very slowly but most of all, Obi-Wan could not feel him properly in the Force.
Obi-Wan ran towards him, cupping his Master's pale and lifeless face, and immediately noticed the Force-collar digging into Qui-Gon's neck.
"Hang on, Master…", he whispered, trying to take as much of his Master's weight, placing Qui-Gon's face against his shoulder, wrapping his uninjured arm around his waist.
He lifted his other hand and Forced the locks around Qui-Gon's wrists open – bracing himself in the Force when Qui-Gon collapsed against him, sliding his Master gently on the ground.
He was so cold. So heavy. Were it not for the quiet breaths he could see leaving Qui-Gon's lips, his Master almost felt like a corpse. It made Obi-Wan almost sick with worry, but there was no time to waste, and so Obi-Wan quickly discarded his cloak, and outer-tunic, folding the tunic under Qui-Gon's head, covering his Master with the cloak.
He placed a knee against Qui-Gon's chest, and a palm against his shoulder, gently channelling the Force towards him. And then, very slowly, he began unlocking the Force-collar, inch by inch, so as not to overwhelm his Master as the Force was returned to him.
Obi-Wan was trembling by the time the collar was finally off, and Qui-Gon's presence fully back in the Force. His Master had trashed violently despite his efforts, and there was no way Obi would be moving his left arm any more that day, but Qui-Gon was there, Qui-Gon was alive albeit unconscious and it was all that mattered.
"Force, kid. Did you remove that collar yourself?"
Obi just nodded, hand moving towards Qui-Gon's brow, gently carding through his strands as he probed their bond. His Master's senses were muddled by deep exhaustion, hurt, dehydration and something else that could only be a cocktail of drugs – but he was there.
"He needs water. And care. He's injured. I'll stay with him."
Master Averross' eyes softened as he placed a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder, quickly scanning him through the Force.
"She's neutralized. Taken away to the Palace's prison as we speak. I called for the Blackguards and for a medical team. They should arrive very soon. You shouldn't have taken off the collar without me, look at…
- I'll stay with him", Obi-Wan repeated, almost in a whisper, and Master Averross took his cloak off, wrapping it around him.
"Yeah, kid. Got it. You stay with him. And I with the lot of you."
Obi-Wan just nodded, hand still firmly fisted into Qui-Gon's tunic, eyes never leaving his face, determined to shield and protect him – always, always.
At your side, Master. At your side.
Obi-Wan breathed out, finally, his pattern matching Qui-Gon's as he calmed down in the Force, finally feeling whole again as their bond awakened.
And above them all, the rain started once more, thundering down the steely roof like drums of warning.
A/N: Soooo, Pijal's chessboard is *finally* laid out, and you know all the protagonists now! As said above, this chapter was very hard to write - because for me it's very difficult to write stories with a "mystery plot". I'm so, so curious about what you think - I can't tell you anything, just that it's complicated and that things are starting to get unveiled in the next chapter. I initially planned two more chapters, actually I might add a third, we'll see how it gets. Anyway, what I promise you is that it won't take a month to write the next chapter - probably just a week (I hope). One thing is sure, if we are confined for a longer time again, I'll keep writing and this time, to stay on schedule, I'll stick to not-much-plot-just-emotions-and-musings-about-characters :) :).
Oh, and one more thing : of course Chairman Cutlace is the caricature of an ultraliberal - he's not supposed to embody people working in sales/marketing/business whom I absolutely respect. Nevertheless, he embodies values that can unfortunately be found in real life and that can truly crush people, so... that was my quiet way of saying "none of that" through my Obi.
Please take care dear ones. I wish you so much light and courage for the weeks ahead - thank you for being there and making life a bit more dreamy! Much much love, till very soon, Meysun who's so glad to be back.