AN: Alright, first things first: this chapter was going to start VERY differently, but I got an idea from EditorFin, and it sat in my brain and wouldn't let go. And it's a great idea, so you can thank her for that one. Honestly, it's a better start than what I had planned. Thanks, dude!
Alright, next! Uh...I lied again. There's going to be another chapter after this one to tie up this whole mess. I was going to include it in this chapter at first, but it started running really long, and the stuff I have planned for it is way too important not to give it proper room to breathe. So, the conclusion to that in a few days. Probably...Monday. Maybe tomorrow if I'm lucky. The chapter will be a bit shorter then they have been running as of late (I think) and I know exactly what's going to happen, so it should write itself. We'll see. After that, work on Blood of Mandalore. Apologies to those of you reading that one, I know, I know, I'm bad and awful, but it will be up next week! Promise!
Alright lovelies! I like this one and I hope you do too! Enjoy!
Chapter 30: Fire Across the Galaxy
"I haven't broken the Jedi yet," the Inquisitor said softly, his voice straining with tension, though he was certain the nuance wasn't captured by the communication channel. The subtle was always lost over hologram, which was just as well. He didn't want Tarkin to know how strained he truly was, how badly the Jedi had rankled him, how the nagging fear in the back of his mind persisted, no matter how hard he tried and it would not go away. "But I will. It is only a matter of time before the pain destroys him, and I have lots of time. The trip to Mustafar is nearly twenty hours, and I plan on resuming work when we are in hyperspace."
"I told you he was resilient," Tarkin drawled. "Is that why you are taking a break? To collect yourself?" A wry, thin smile spread across the Moff's lips. "Has the Jedi frustrated you, Inquisitor?"
"Not at all..." the Pau'an growled, his gaze drifting away from the hologram to stare out the viewport at the Executrix where Grand Moff Tarkin spoke to him from. While the Moff didn't have the Force, the man had hit too close to the truth for his comfort. "Out here, we are vulnerable to attack, and I will keep my vigil until we are safe in hyperspace."
"Very good, Inquisitor," Tarkin said. "We should be on our way shortly. We are waiting for the last of the TIE fighters to return from the sweep of the system. So far, they haven't found anything."
"That doesn't mean that something isn't there," the Inquisitor snapped. "Let us remember that Kenobi has an invisible ship."
"One that has been badly damaged," Tarkin said lazily. "No, if the Umbra were in range of the Star Destroyers, I would know."
"How," the Inquisitor demanded, his voice nearly cracking with panic, and Tarkin shot him an icy, disdainful glare.
"I would know," the Moff said harshly. "You need not concern yourself with how, just know that I know what to look for, and if the ship is near, I will know." He turned his nose up in the air. "Regardless, the ship was too damaged to have it fully operational by now. If I know Kenobi, and I do, he will be making upgrades to the vessel. It will be a few weeks at least before the Umbra flies again."
"We shall see..."
"We should be more concerned with finding the Ghost," Tarkin said with a roll of his eyes. "Perhaps Bo-Katan is correct about Kenobi. Perhaps she is wrong, but the Jedi's rebel friends will not abandon him so easily." The Inquisitor's jaw clenched, his sharp teeth grinding together. "What is it?" Tarkin asked, seeing the change in the man. "Do you believe Kenobi will be with them?"
"Maybe..." he mumbled, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart, but his breath shuddered, his heart racing with panic when he felt the Dark Side pulse with...grief. Loss. Unspeakable rage and a hatred so consuming it threatened to burn all in its path to ash. "I feel...something. A disturbance, something's coming..."
"As soon as the final TIEs report in, we will be on our way," Tarkin said briskly, clearly irritated with the Inquisitor's shaken confidence. "There is no reason why we cannot expect five Star Destroyers to defend a single prisoner from our maximum security cells. Do you believe the Empire to be so weak?"
"No, but I believe the Force to be that strong," the Pau'an snarled. "You are making a mistake in underestimating him."
"Oh, believe me, I do not underestimate Obi-Wan Kenobi," Tarkin said quietly. "There is a reason we have our best people working to destroy him, and there is a reason I called so many Star Destroyers to act as escort for a single man." The Moff's eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of muted anger spreading across his gaunt features. "Just because you do not see the trap does not mean one hasn't been set. Or are you so unconfident in your abilities that you believe some filthy insurgents can walk aboard my ship and steal a prisoner from under your nose?" His lips drew in a thin line, his displeasure clear. "Perhaps I was wrong to put my faith in you. Perhaps I should contact Lord Vader and tell him I do not feel you are up to the task."
"No!" the Inquisitor gasped, the panic that gripped him clear on his face. "No, that...is unnecessary. I will not fail again."
"See that you don't," Tarkin said, his voice low and menacing. "Failure will not be tolerated, and your Master is more strict on the subject than most." The Inquisitor looked away from the hologram, hie head bowed, and he quickly nodded his understanding, and Tarkin's stiff posture relaxed somewhat. "As I have said, the trap has been set. Admiral Thrawn helped devise it a way to deal with Kenobi's...unique talents. The Jedi has actually been very helpful on that matter." The Inquisitor's attention turned back to the hologram, his fears eased somewhat.
"I was hoping something would come from the data collected in his interrogation," he said sharply. "There must have been some reason to the state I found him in. No wonder your men could get nothing out of him, he could barely speak, let alone think."
"Yes, it is such a relief we have you to make up for our failures," Tarkin said with a roll of his eyes. "Hopefully you will have more success when we are en route to Mustafar. And if you cannot break him, Lord Vader certainly will."
"He certainly will..." the Inquisitor whispered, a shiver running up his spine. "What did Admiral Thrawn learn from the interrogation"
"Not enough..." the Moff dryly said. "He says there is only so much he can do without actually having a Force sensitive to study. Perhaps Lord Vader can be convinced to give him what's left of the Jedi when he's done with him." He shrugged. "Or perhaps Vader will simply give you to Thrawn for study, should you fail him."
"I will not fail," the Inquisitor growled dangerously, and a small smirk touched Tarkin's thin lips.
"I expect no less." The hologram flickered off, leaving the room in dim silence, and with a snarl of fury, the Inquisitor grabbed hold of the Force and slammed his fist against the nearby wall, the heavy durasteel buckling and bending under the pressure, a large, deep dent left in the wall, the metal so badly impacted it looked as if it may crack. By what right did Wilhuff Tarkin have expectations of him? Him?! Strong on the Force, a former Jedi awakened to the Dark Side and trained by the ferocious might of Lord Vader and the savage fury of Lord Maul, to be pushed around by this nothing man with no connection to the Force...it was unacceptable. It was insulting.
His fury quickly faded when he felt the nagging at the back of his mind begin anew, deeper and worse than before, like an itch that he could not scratch. It was...maddening, a frustration he could not ease, and though such a thing would normally make him wrathful, filled with hatred for the cause of the disturbance, now he felt only fear, panic in the dreadful anticipation of waiting, terror in the knowledge of what was coming. It was unfair, the weight of the expectations placed on him so heavy he could not move, the pressure so great he could almost feel his bones fracturing as they were crushed. All he needed to do was deliver the Jedi to Mustafar. All he needed to do was wait the short time until they left for the safety of hyperspace. All he needed to do was torture a man until the pain broke him, until the surviving student of Depa Billaba cried and screamed and begged for mercy, offering all his secrets if only to make the pain stop.
All he needed to do was keep an unstoppable Sith Lord from taking back what he considered his property. All he had to do was fight off a man that nobody had ever defeated.
The Inquisitor lived his life in fear. Fear of his Masters. Fear of Lord Vader and his uncompromising, brutal expectations, the painful torture of his training, the chilling sound of his pendulous, regulated breathing and the unease of not knowing if his presence would bring new assignments to be completed, or pain because of some failure, some perceived slight, or for no discernable reason at all. Fear of Lord Maul and his unpredictable bouts of madness, his savage, vicious cruelty, his driving need to cause suffering in those he trained, the awful, awful pity he occasionally looked at his students with.
But even above them, what the Inquisitor feared most in this galaxy, was Darth Sidious, the Emperor himself. His Masters' Master, the sovereign Lord of the Dark Side. Failure with his Masters meant pain, lots and lots of it, but to fail the Master, for a failure to come to his attention, for a failure to supercede his own Dark Masters was a fate worse than death. The Inquisitor had never been subject to the Emperor's hand before, not like that, but he had seen the results on others. He had seen his own brothers and sisters of the Inquisitorius shattered at his touch, their bodies broken and their minds even worse, the spidering welts of Force lightning causing anguish long after the torture had ceased, the memory of his touch upon their minds sending them shivering and sobbing into corners. They were shells of their former selves, pale imitations of what they once were because they had failed the Emperor one too many times.
But then there was Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Negotiator. The Shadow King. All titles, all the pseudonyms of Darth Lumis, Lord of the Sith. The Inquisitor knew he was powerful, knew he was feared, though he had never truly feared him. What he feared was being in his presence to begin with and the inevitable defeat he would suffer at Lumis' hands when the Sith Lord came to interfere with his mission.. What he feared was his Masters' reaction to his failure. He was an insignificant to Lumis, a creature of so little power next to his own that it was barely worth the effort to harm him. Until he had drawn his attention, and he did draw his attention.
It hadn't been intentional. The death of Luminara Unduli was a necessity, one that Sidious and Vader ordered him to carry out, unbeknownst to him that it would put him in the sights of a Sith Lord. He had known about Lumis, of course. It was hard not to with the living embodiment of what it meant to cross him in the form of Darth Maul, a man who drifted between cruelty and insanity in the span of seconds, a man who was torn apart by his yearning to return to his torturer, a man who had been put back together by Sidious, but craved to be broken apart once again.
But despite this, Lumis had always been seen as something more of a pest than a threat, a renegade Sith Lord, a rebellious child who was best ignored, one who screamed for attention by stealing ships and causing mischief before he disappeared again, more irritating than damaging. He was dangerous, to be sure, but wasn't openly murderous, the deaths attributed to him more often than not collateral damage in his increasingly flashy attempts to make Darth Sidious hate Empire Day. Lumis' fight was with the Emperor, but despite his attempts to damage and destabilize the Empire, Lumis' attacks seemed almost...playful. The rogue Sith hated Sidious, no doubt, but something about his actions spoke of familiarity, a troublesome child who seemed content to watch their parent tear out their hair in frustration. Everyone else, Lumis seemed content to leave alone, unless they fit into his next attempt to humiliate his former Master.
Or unless he was personally crossed.
The Inquisitor didn't truly know what he was facing that day on the asteroid when he lost his fingers. He had unknowingly drawn the attention of Lumis, not just because of Luminara's death, but because he had touched the Sith Lord's new toys. The Lothal rebel cell. The Jedi and his Padawan, property of the Sith Lord, and the Inquisitor didn't know until it was too late. Until his guaranteed victory had been turned into a brutal massacre. Until he had tried to run, only to be easily caught and disabled before he even had a chance to fight.
Lumis' grasp was pain and pleasure, agony in the throes of orgasmic bliss, the Sith's voice soft and smooth, soothing and seductive, the gentle tones of a lover while he was tearing at his mind, setting his nerves on fire with agony as his thoughts were torn asunder. Each of Lumis' touches was a caress, light and alluring, forcing the Inquisitor's body to lean in to the Sith, yearn for more all while his mind was held in cold, shadowy hands and shattered, over and over again, painfully tearing through him not for information, but to inflict as much suffering as possible.
When Lumis had held his wrist tight in his grasp, forcing him to open his hand and expose his fingers, the cruel Lord sat deep in his mind and flooded his brain with pleasure so intense it coursed through his very being, in his blood and deep down into his bones, even as his nerves were on fire with pain, even as he watching in horror as his fingers were slowly, slowly disintegrated. Pain wracked his body, but his mind shuddered in pleasure, a confusing conflict of feelings that made the Inquisitor simultaneously want to run for his life and stay to be kept. And just when the physical pain became too much, the Sith changed the game, exchanging physical pain for physical pleasure and mental bliss for mental agony, never pain or pleasure, always both at once.
And that was the trouble with Darth Lumis. Darth Sidious ruled with terror, the fear of him alone enough to keep his subjects bowing before him and scrambling to do exactly as he wished. It was no secret what happened if he were to fail, and trying to escape was impossible. There was no place in the galaxy he could hide where Sidious wouldn't find him, no amount of begging that could make the Sith Master show even the slightest bit of mercy. They stayed by his side out of the fear of what would happen to them if their actions, their very thoughts were anything other than perfectly loyal.
But Darth Lumis was different. Lumis made his playthings want to stay, made them long for their torturer, made them crave the agony he inflicted. It was the strange pairing of pain and pleasure that did something in the Inquisitor's mind, made pain its own reward, and while he hadn't been in Lumis' care for long, he could feel the Sith Lord deep in his mind sitting, waiting, that amused, superior look on his youthful face, the fire in those golden eyes that glowed with seductive cruelty. He could brush it away, tune it out, but it was always there, and one look at Maul on his worst days, on the days when he wandered through the palace like he was lost, on the days he caught the Zabrak huddled in a corner with desperation in his eyes and muttering for his Master to save him from his fear, on the days he rubbed incessantly at the scarred bite upon his hand that Lumis treasured so dearly...
Those days served as a grim reminder of what he could become, and it filled him with fear so intense, so poisonous that even the Dark Side would not touch it. This was not the fear that transformed to hate and then to power. This was fear that sat hard and heavy deep within him, and no matter how hard he tried, it could not be banished. It rested within him always, a gentle nagging at the back of his mind, in the soft, accented whisper in his ears he sometimes heard in the silence of his meditations. Sidious ruled with fear, trapped his subjects in a cage of pure terror, but Lumis made slaves, made them ask, beg for the chains they wore, and that was far more frightening.
Still, on the asteroid after days of being alone, of suffering as he survived, the Inquisitor thought only of his Masters' displeasure, of what would happen to him when he returned, his mission an unqualified failure, the Jedi escaped, the rebels lost, and beaten and maimed by a renegade Lord of the Sith...he was an embarrassment, a disgrace to the teachings of his Masters, a shame to the Emperor he served, and the fear of them was the only thing in his mind as he fought for survival.
But now...
The Inquisitor shivered, grasping his arms against the cold chill that suddenly ran up his spine, gasping for breath as he began to hyperventilate in his panic. Kill yourself, Maul had said. End it all. He was afraid to die. More than anything, he was afraid to die. A great many things were worse than death, though the Inquisitor was willing to endure a great many horrors before it became too much, before death was less frightening than the fate before him. And still he heard it, Lord Maul's voice, over and over again, kill yourself, end it all. End it all before it was too late. End it before he became like Maul. The option was no longer available to Maul like it was still available to him. Maul's life was not his own, and it was not his to take. It belonged to his Master, and there was no escaping that, no matter how much the broken creature struggled for freedom. It was a warning, and a suggestion that the Inquisitor saw as almost kind. Kill yourself, before your life is no longer yours.
He could feel Lumis, not in the Force, but within himself, a shadowy presence deep inside his mind that simply was. It offered no words, no pleasure, no pain, didn't move within him, didn't alter his thoughts or manipulate him. It just sat, silently watching, observing, its golden eyes unblinking as they followed his every movement. If he focused, at times, he could feel the presence smirk in amusement, his mind filling with flashes of pain and pleasure in the memories of his blissful torture on the asteroid, his missing fingers a constant reminder of the Sith Lord's touch. And sometimes, sometimes, he could hear the smooth, hypnotic voice laughing, soft and sinister as a voice echoed in his mind, a breathless whisper calling for his submission to the Sith Master that had tainted him. Not in the crisp accented drawl of Lumis, but in his own voice.
It was enough to break him.
Perhaps the most frightening thing in the entire galaxy was Darth Sidious. Perhaps there was nothing else that could ever induce terror like him. But Sidious was in Coruscant, so very far away, and right now, at this very moment, Darth Lumis, a creature, a demon from the very abyss of the Sith Hells themselves, was standing just outside his door because the Inquisitor had been fooling enough to take his Jedi away from him. It was enough to chase even his most primal fears from him and fill him with a raging, persistent terror that far surpassed anything he had ever felt. Enough for him to even overcome his greatest fears in a desperate, final grasp at survival.
Swallowing hard, the Inquisitor ran shaking fingers over the holotransmitter's codes and knelt on the ground, his eyes shut tight and a pitiful whimper escaping his throat when the hologram flickered on, projecting the seated, hooded image of Darth Sidious before him.
It was almost as terrifying as being in the same room with him, a thing he actively took steps to avoid at all costs in normal circumstances.
"Grand Inquisitor..." the Sith Master said in a soft, rasping voice, his irritation obvious not just in his voice, but through the Force as well. "For what reason have you disturbed me?"
"Master..." he croaked, his throat suddenly dry, unable to bring himself to look at the Emperor. "Master, I need your help," he finally managed to gasp after he had swallowed to loosen his tight throat.
"Do you now..." the Emperor drawled, his tone thoughtful as he searched the kneeling man before him. "I understand that you have recently achieved a great success. Is there a...complication, Grand Inquisitor?"
"N-no, Master..." he began, wincing as soon as he said it. "I-I mean...yes. Yes, Master."
"Some trouble with your captured Jedi?" the Emperor asked, his voice equal parts amusement and malice. "I hear this one is young. Hardly old enough to have fought in the Clone Wars. Are you saying you lack the skill to manage a barely trained, unpracticed Padawan?" He scoffed slightly and leaned back in his throne. "Have you fallen so far as that?"
"No, Master!" the Inquisitor said in a voice tight with tension, finally looking up toward the hologram with wide, frantic eyes. "The Jedi has been dealt with, Lord Vader will have him by this time tomorrow."
"Then tell me..." Sidious said in a dangerously soft voice. "Why are we even having this conversation?" The Inquisitor took a deep breath and held it until he thought his lungs would burst, then let out a long, shuddering exhale as he looked up at the Sith Master.
"Master, it's..." His voice caught in his chest when his heart began racing, his fear increasing as he felt the Force begin moving like a swift and sudden current, something inside him feeling as though saying his name would summon him. "Master, this Jedi...we are given to believe that this Jedi belongs to Darth Lumis." For a long while, there was silence, the rushing feel of the Force he had felt a moment earlier suddenly stopped when the Inquisitor felt fingers snaking around his neck, the light grip slowly squeezing until his breathing was reduced to a thin wheeze.
"I see..." the Emperor finally said, the grip relaxing for a moment, but the touch remained, the feel of pure, physical fear prickling at his pale skin. "You believe Lumis is coming to claim what is his." Sidious pointed at the Pau'an, a ling, gnarled finger extending from the dark sleeves of his robe. "You believe he is coming for you for taking it."
"Yes..." the Inquisitor choked out in a thin, wispy voice, and Sidious leaned back and steepled his fingers.
"And what will you have me do about this?" The Inquisitor stared at the Sith Master, but he could say nothing. What did he want him to do about this?
"Master..." he started weakly. "You trained him, he's your student. Surely you are more powerful than him. I can think of nobody else that even has a chance at defeating him."
"So..." Sidious drawled. "You wish me to kill Darth Lumis for you?" He cackled softly and shook his head. "I'm afraid that is impossible, Grand Inquisitor." The Pau'an looked up at the Emperor, his eyes wide with fear. "Even if I wished to aid you, and I do not, you and I are separated by a great distance. By the time I arrived to save you, you would already be dead."
"M-master, if-"
"There is nobody who can save you, Grand Inquisitor," Sidious said slowly, his voice cold and hard, and the Pau'an felt fear swiftly grow into panic as he began hyperventilating. "Remember this. It doesn't matter what challenges you may face in the task you are given. Failure is not acceptable." A long, slow peal of cackling laughter echoed through the room, a malicious, cruel, amused thing, and with a gasp of sudden pain, the Force tearing at him like blades, like arcs of lightning blazing across his skin and leaving raw burns in their wake. He slammed his hand on the ground, his eyes wide with fear as he gasped for breath, and the room suddenly fell silent, the room left in pure darkness as the hologram was cut. As all the lights were cut. Gritting his teeth, the Inquisitor looked up and surveyed the room. Every light, every console, every flashing indicator was dead, the sudden flicker of the eerie emergency lighting flickering on. The Sovereign's power had been cut.
The Force was a turbulent storm, a wicked, sinister power that drew the Dark Side in a vortex toward a certain point, the power converted into raw energy in the eye of the storm before it was extended outwards. And for just a moment, the Inquisitor could see it. Standing in the center of the storm, the unaffected cause of the violent disturbance, was a pair of glowing gold eyes on a young, handsome face, an excited, triumphant grin on his face as he stared right at him.
Darth Lumis had come for him.
"Kanan!"
Hera rushed through the cut hole as soon as she saw the Jedi restrained against the vertical table, a small whimper torn from her throat when she saw his bare chest covered in large red welts and electrical burns. She stood before him, too afraid to touch the dazed, drugged man, her trembling hands caught by Obi-Wan as he stood beside her and gently moved her out of the way, taking off his helmet and tossing it to Sabine. Shaking his hands out, Obi-Wan lightly touched his fingers to Kanan's temple, the Jedi groaning softly as the Force was gently pushed through him.
"Ezra..." Kenobi whispered. "Stop pacing, you animal. It's distracting."
"They'll pay for what they've done to him!" the teen snarled. "If he doesn't wake up-"
"He is fine, apprentice," Obi-Wan said, glaring over his shoulder at the restless boy. "Now cease this foolishness before I send you out to keep watch with Cody and the droid." Ezra muttered curses under his breath, but this time did as he was told. Hera gently laid her hand on Obi-Wan's arm, scooting closer to him as she looked at the Jedi, the warm burst of concern and affection and love making the Sith Lord shiver.
"What did they do to him?" the Twi'lek whispered, laying her hand over Sith's that rested on Kanan's face.
"Do you really want to know?" Kenobi muttered, and jaw clenched tightly, Hera nodded. "Torture, like you'd suspect," he whispered, voice low so the kids could not hear. "Drugs. Lots of them...give me a moment and we'll have them flushed from his system." Hera was silent as she watched her lover's face, pain and struggle flashing across his features, the man gasping as his consciousness slowly returned, and when he opened his eyes, his expression blank and distant, she ran her fingers down his neck and chest, careful to avoid the burns across his skin.
"Hera?" Kanan choked, his voice raw and raspy from hours of screaming, his hazy eyes struggling to focus on the woman as he slowly shook his head. "No...no, it can't...you can't..."
"I am, love, I'm here..." Hera said breathlessly, her voice quivering with emotion she did nothing to repress as she stroked the Jedi's face, the man leaning into her touch, a soft, grateful smile on his lips.
"I don't know if you're real or not," Kanan whispered. "But what I do know is I don't tell you enough that I love you..."
"That can change," Hera said, swallowing hard and smiling at the captive man. "We don't have to hide what we have, Kanan. I came too close to losing you, I don't want to have any regrets about this. About us."
"Force, I hope you're real..." Kanan muttered, closing his eyes and sighing when the pilot stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
"We need to get moving," Obi-Wan said, his hand passing through the air and the restraints snapped free, the Jedi falling into Hera's arms, the two stumbling as Hera struggled under his weight before Zeb rushed in to help, the powerful Lasat keeping the shaky, unsteady Jedi on his feet as he got used to standing his strength slowly returning.
"So this isn't some...hallucination?" Kanan asked as the others gathered around him, his eyes following Ezra as he fidgeted restlessly, a frantic wild look in his eyes, pale blue and glowing softly in the dim light of the room. Something was...off. Wrong. "You shouldn't have come here, none of you should have come," Kanan said, unable to keep the faint smile off his lips despite the danger and his growing unease. "But...I am so glad to see you..."
"Are you badly hurt?" Ezra asked quickly, the boy rushing forward when the Jedi shifted his weight and winced, quickly taking weight off the leg. "Can you move? Are you alright to escape? I swear, I'll make them all pay for what they have done to you."
That was it. The strong pulse in the Force, the disturbance he felt, the frigid chill of winter. Not the gaping abyss he felt within Kenobi, but something smaller, not nearly so powerful, but dark all the same, a flickering shadow cast by the light. The Dark Side flowed through Ezra, strong and tightly embraced, though not uncontrolled. Yoda had said Ezra was to receive training in both the light and the dark, exposure to both in the hopes that the familiarity would teach him how to control his natural leanings, would make the allure of the dark less tempting, but active use of the Dark Side was different, and he couldn't help but wonder what they had done, what they had sacrificed to get this far.
"I'm fine, Ezra..." Kanan whispered, the boy's eyes narrowing as he looked the Jedi over, and with a strong pulse of relief flooding the Force, Ezra sighed, a shuddering, weak whimper in his throat as his legs buckled, the anger washing away as his fear for his Master vanished, the strength of the Dark Side leaving him and replaced with exhaustion, his energy depleted far past his reserves. Heedless of his own weakened state, Kanan wriggled out of Zeb's grasp and knelt beside his Padawan, a hand on his back as the teen gasped for air.
"I feel sick..." Ezra whimpered. "And cold, why's it so cold..."
"Because the Dark Side is poison," Kanan growled, glaring at the Sith Lord by the doorway. "What have you done?!"
"I taught the boy the best way I know how to turn weakness into strength and fear into power," Obi-Wan said cooly. "He is no Jedi, Kanan, the fear for your safety rules him, and the task of extracting a highly valuable prisoner from the bowels of Grand Moff Tarkin's Star Destroyer is a daunting one, even for me."
"And you needed a Dark Side ally to accomplish that?" the Jedi asked, standing and striding on still shaking legs to the Sith Lord's side. "Kenobi, he's only a boy..." he whispered, and Obi-Wan felt the strong pull of the Jedi's own fear for his student, concern for the boy walking down a path he didn't understand.
"He already reaches for darkness, Kanan," Obi-Wan whispered back. "There is a reason the Jedi trained us from infancy, the training often fails as they get older. The attachments are too strong, the fear is too great..." He shrugged. "Idiot reasons, but to make Jedi the way you and I were raised to be, it must be so."
"And even then it may fail," Kanan said, looking pointedly at the Sith Lord. "I don't want him to be like you," the Jedi hissed. "I don't want him to be cold and cruel, I don't want him to suffer the pain you do, I want-"
"You want him to be happy," Kenobi finished. "I understand. But Yoda tasked us with raising him together for a reason. Acclimate him to fear, allow him to feel, get him used to the pull of the Dark Side through his emotions so he can use it or turn away as needed. He can't be a Jedi because the Jedi are gone, Kanan," he said, looking around the man to Ezra as Sabine helped him stagger to his feet. "We are making something new. Something stronger than what the Jedi had become."
"I don't know, Obi-Wan..." Kanan said, rubbing his arms as he shivered, his eyes on the teenager as Hera quickly examined the wound in his shoulder. "Look how sick he is. Ezra's a good person, he isn't mean for the dark..."
"Which is why he needs guidance, so he doesn't fall like I did," Obi-Wan whispered, drawing closer to Kanan so the man could hear him. "In all of us is darkness and light, evil and good. Great evil may be done in the name of the light, just as good may be done in the dark. The Dark Side and the Light...it is all the Force."
"...kind of like you?" Golden eyes shot to the Jedi, wide and suspicious as they searched him, and Obi-Wan tore himself away from Kanan. It didn't ease his fears, and the matter wasn't settled, but Kanan could feel Kenobi's care for not just Ezra, but for all of them. This Sit Lord wouldn't hurt them. Not now, and not ever. Besides, Kanan had his own attachments, things that he feared to lose, and since Order 66, he hadn't exactly been living like a Jedi either.
"Don't be ridiculous, there's no good in me, Kanan..." Obi-Wan said gently, and the Jedi smiled to himself when the Sith turned away from him. "We need to leave. Just be content in knowing that so long as I am here, your student will not be lost in the darkness."
"That so?" Kanan asked, a wry smile on his lips as he shrugged. "In that case, guess we'll just have to keep you around."
"Let's get ourselves out of here before we get sentimental..." Obi-Wan growled, but Kanan could see the slightest hint of a shy smile at the corner of the Sith's mouth. "Hera!" The Twi'lek quickly brought herself away from what she was doing and moved to the Sith Lord, her hand running lightly down Kanan's bare chest as she passed him, a small, suggestive smile on her lips that the Jedi quickly returned. "I'm taking HK and going to make Tarkin sorry he ever crossed me. He may not be on the ship, but he doesn't have to be for me to wound him." He shrugged. "And there is someone on the ship who has been aching for my attention. I would be a poor guest indeed if I didn't pay my respects to our host..."
"You're going after the Inquisitor?" Ezra asked in a thin voice, and the Sith nodded. "Please...take me with you. What he did to Kanan, I...h-he can't be forgiven."
"And he won't be," Obi-Wan assured him. "You've done your part admirably, apprentice. We couldn't have saved Kanan without you. Now trust your Masters handle the rest." Ezra looked between Obi-Wan and Kanan, tried to summon the anger he needed to be strong, be useful to them, but the fear was gone, and with it, the anger. Kanan was safe. That was all that mattered. Slowly, Ezra nodded, and allowed Sabine to help support him.
"Cody!" Obi-Wan called, his hand extended and all the lightsabers flying off belts and out of hands to float before the Sith. The clone peeked in from his guard post at the door. "I'm taking the droid to finish up the business I have here. I did make Fulcrum a promise about freeing the Spectres up for their work in the rebellion. Guide them to safety, my friend," Obi-Wan said, tapping Shaak Ti's lightsaber, and the weapon drifted to the clone's hand.
"I won't fail you, brother. They'll be safe in my hands."
"I know they will be. Ezra." With a flick of his hand, the teen's weapon floated to his hand. "Reaching for the Dark Side now is ill-advised. Too much too quickly and it will tear you apart. I know you want to help, but you do not need the Force for that. In the very likely scenario that the path we took here is no longer accessible, cut a new path. Understand?"
"Yeah, perfectly," Ezra said, his hand closing around his saber. "I can do that."
"Sabine, you're the forward scout." He pressed the darksaber to her, and she hesitantly took it out of the air. "If things look too difficult up ahead, blow up the corridor, buy some time for Ezra to cut a new way."
"Oh, I think I can manage that," the Mandalorian said as she ran her fingers along the explosives on her belt.
"Zeb..." The Sith paused, regarded the Lasat as his back straightened with the tensing of his powerful muscles. "If it comes down to it, knock some heads in."
"Oh, I like this guy," Zeb said, cracking his knuckles. "I think the Sith finally speaks my language."
"Hera..." Obi-Wan smiled softly at the woman. "All you need to do is fly us out of here. As soon as you get to the hangar, steal a ship and get out."
"What about you?" the pilot asked, and Obi-Wan shook his head, reaching out and grabbing one of the two sabers left floating before him and clipping it to his belt.
"Don't wait for me. I can't blow up the ship until you are safely off it." He was met with wide eyes and slack jaws, and Obi-Wan could do nothing but roll his eyes. "Oh, what?! I said I was going to get at Tarkin, didn't I? What better way to do it than by destroying another of his personal ships? And his flagship to boot. It's too great of an opportunity, I can't pass it up!"
"You want us to leave you behind?" Ezra gasped, shaking his head. "No, I can't do that. We can't do that. It's like losing Kanan all over again."
"Foolish boy..." Obi-Wan scoffed. "I've no intention of dying. Trust me, I'll be off the ship before it goes down." He pointed to Hera. "You keep me updated on your status. If anything goes wrong, if there are any changes, I want to know about it."
"Alright," Hera said quietly. "I trust you, Obi-Wan."
"Just get clear as quickly as you can. One of those Destroyers is a Chimera, and we can't figure out if it's the Chimera. I don't want to escape only to be captured again." The pilot nodded, and Kenobi turned to Kanan and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" The Jedi slowly nodded.
"The bastard took my lightsaber. And my shirt." He frowned and tucked his hands under his arms, his skin raising in small bumps between the welts and burns. "I wouldn't mind too much, but I like the armor I had on the arm, and...damn it, it was my favorite shirt."
"Understood," Obi-Wan said quietly as he pressed the remaining lightsaber, the blue bladed weapon he had used as a Jedi, into Kanan's hand. "I'll get them back before I leave." He took a deep breath and examined the Jedi before him, felt the Force, calm and serene and strong, not the presence of a Jedi Padawan lost and forgotten in the shadows of the Empire, but that of a Jedi Knight. A real one, not the pitiful facades that existed in the twilight of the Republic, and it was a thing of beauty.
"Got directions for me, boss?" Kanan asked as he clipped the saber to his belt, and the Sith chuckled softly and closed his eyes.
"I don't. Do what you do best, Kanan Jarrus. Trust in the will of the Force, and there isn't anything that can stand in your way." Obi-Wan held out his hand, and Sabine quickly rushed forward to hand him his helmet, his eyes roving over the assembled group. "Alright. I'll see you all when this is over. May the Force be with you, my friends." Obi-Wan slid his helmet on his head, pulled up the hood of the robes integrated into the armor, and walked out the door, the assassin droid falling in step beside its Master as they ran down the corridor opposite where they entered from.
"We should get moving as well," Cody said, looking out into the hallway and peering down the long, dim corridor. "Everyone keep close. We aren't going to move quick, we're going to move safe. Syndulla, is your comlink tuned to Kenobi's?"
"Already done, Cody."
"Excellent. Wren, you take point. Don't wander far."
"Right," the Mandalorian said, taking her blasters in hand and darting out into the hallway and vanishing into the dark of the room beyond.
"Alright. Orrelios, take up the rear guard, I've got the front. Follow me." Slowly, the group stepped out into the hallway, weapons in hand as they crept down the hallway. They didn't get far before a loud, ringing explosion echoed down the hallway, the groaning of metal warping following the swift ringing of footsteps as Sabine came sprinting full speed toward them.
"Don't talk, just run!" Sabine shouted as she blazed past them, and Zeb scooped Kanan and Ezra up under each of his arms and ran after the speedy Mandalorian, Hera and Cody following closely behind. When they came to another sealed door, four lightsabers ignited at once and drove through the thick door, Zeb and Hera standing guard while the others made short work of the obstruction. As soon as the hole had been cut, they all rushed through a security room, a hundred surveillance monitors dead from the Sith's electric surge. They vaulted over desks and counters to swiftly reach their target, and as soon as they had passed underneath the open doorway to the halls beyond, Sabine threw three of her explosives into the room, the magnetized charges flying to stuck to the walls, the increasing frequency and pitch of their beeping detonation sequence following them down the hall until it was consumed by the loud roar of the devices detonating.
Ezra guided them down the winding corridors, running beside Cody as he directed them to duck into branching hallways and subsidiary rooms, their lightsabers cutting quick paths through the walls into other parts of the ship, frantic patrols of stormtroopers swiftly torn through by the raging Lasat as they ran across them. When their way was clear, they ducked into a smaller hallway, and Ezra took his saber in hand and began cutting through the floor. He kicked the piece out and dropped into the small space filled with wired and tubes and piping, the inner workings of the ship, the green lightsaber spinning around him and quickly cutting it all to pieces before he drove the blade once again into the ground, cutting out another piece just below the opening above him, a clear path to drop down into the lower hallways.
Ezra stood below to catch his companions with the Force as they fell, easing their landings as they dropped down from above. As soon as they were all together again, they sprinted down the hallway, following the straight path through the ship and turning into corridors that would take them to the hangar. They cut the sharp turn into the next hallway when they saw another group of stormtroopers further on their current path, and skidded to a quick and sudden halt when a sinister hiss reverberated in the air, followed by the thrum of a red lightsaber as they looked into the furious eyes of the Grand Inquisitor.
Kanan's blue blade ignited in his hand, the Jedi confidently stepping forward to place himself between the Dark Side acolyte and the people he was sworn to protect, a bulwark against the storm of hate and rage and fear that was the Inquisitor. He felt...calm. Ready. The Force pulsing strong and even within him, the swelling surge of strength he felt drawn from his need to defend these people, his family, his friends and loved ones, his weariness and fatigue banished in a wash of warmth and comfort. He wasn't afraid, not of losing the people behind him, not of losing his own life, and certainly not of the creature before him. All he knew was what he must do, his goal clear, his senses focused, and the Jedi slipped in beside the Force, breathed it as he breathed the air around him, and listened to its call, following its will to this moment, right here, as it was always meant to be.
He locked eyes with the Inquisitor, and in those blazing yellow depths, all Kanan saw was abject terror.
"Go, all of you," Kanan said to the people behind him. "Get to the ship and get out of here."
"Not without you," Ezra said, rushing forward and lighting his own weapon. "The reason why we're here was because you sacrificed yourself before! I won't allow it to happen again!"
"We are not leaving you, Kanan," Hera said firmly. "I lost you once and I am not losing you again, and certainly not like this."
"Yeah, sacrificing yourself to save us during your own rescue is about the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Sabine said, her weapons raised.
"I am not sacrificing myself," Kanan said, his voice strong, even and confident. "I've no intention on losing. Not this time."
"It'll be easier if we just take him together," Zeb growled, his bo-rifle raised, the high whine of it charging sounding through the air, and before Cody could stop him, the Lasat fired, the purple bolt of energy screeching through the air toward the Inquisitor, and the swift thrum and sharp hiss followed as the plasma energy was knocked back directly at Zeb, saved last second when Kanan's blue blade cut across the shot's trajectory and knocked it back toward the stunned Pau'an. The Inquisitor recovered just in time, his blade arching to catch the redirected shot, sending it back toward the Jedi, only to have the blue saber deflect it back once again.
Ezra quickly backed away, watching in awe as the Jedi and the Inquisitor sent the purple bolt bouncing back and forth between them, the sabers weaving trails of light through the air with their blinding speed. The lightsaber was suddenly snatched out of Ezra's hand and a hard grip on his wrist pulled him off balance, breaking his focus on the combatants between them, and though he tried to pull away, eager to be ready to rush to Kanan's aid when he needed him, Cody wouldn't let Ezra go.
"So help me, have you not fought enough kriffing stormtroopers to know that shooting at a Force sensitive is idiotic?!" Cody snarled, throwing Ezra toward Zeb, the Lasat dropping his weapon to catch the teen. "The next person that shoots at a Force sensitive trained to wield a lightsaber, I will kill myself to spare you the humiliation!"
"We have to do something!" Ezra cried, breaking free from Zeb and rushing toward them, but he was quickly stopped by the clone.
"Yes, we're going to do what Kanan said and we're going to go," Cody growled. "You'll just get in the way, and he's doing fine on his own."
"But..." Ezra began, biting his lip as he struggled to grasp at any one of hundreds of objections he had. "But the ship-"
"Don't worry about me," Kanan said, his focus held firmly on the Inquisitor as he beat back the plasma bolt. "I'll catch a ride with Kenobi." The Inquisitor's eyes widened, the surge of fear so strong within him that Kanan could feel it in the Force, could see his chest spasm as he struggled to breathe, could almost hear the sudden racing of his heart. The Pau'an's focus was torn from the moment just long enough to make his saber waver in a trembling hand, the purple bolt striking the blade at an awkward angle and sending it striking hard into the ground beside his feet, hissing a curse as he swiftly moved his foot out of the way. It wasn't much, but it was enough, and the moment Kanan saw the shot racing toward the unstable blade, he pressed off the ground and bolted toward the Inquisitor, his weapon sweeping in a wide arc and striking at the unbalanced foe.
The Pau'an recovered just in time to block it and was quickly forced on the defensive by the relentless Jedi, the strikes coming not hard, but dangerously fast, in swift cuts and precise stabs and perfectly timed counters that kept Kanan on the offensive. It was a vastly different style from the one the Inquisitor had seen in the Jedi before, once only practicing the defensive, close quarter Soresu of his Master Billaba, but what he was doing now looked almost, almost like something one would have expected from a student of the late Darth Tyranus. Or someone who was very close to him, trained with him long enough to pick up the basics of his style.
"Let's go, Bridger!" Cody snarled as he grabbed Ezra's arm and ran with the protesting boy in tow. "Jarris is going to be fine. This isn't a sacrifice, its tying up a loose end. Trust him." Ezra started to protest, but even now could feel Kanan's resolve, his focus, his determination. This was different than before. Before, Kanan had been afraid, sad, filled with selfless love for the family he was saving. This time, Kanan was going to win.
Ezra nodded as he ran faster, cutting around the corner and allowing the two combatants to disappear from sight as they sprinted toward the stormtroopers that had tried to avoid before, the green lightsaber flying to his hand and igniting as he batted bolts out of the air and charged at the line beside Zeb and Sabine, Cody and Hera hanging back to pick them off at a distance. Kanan had his mission, and Ezra had his. All he could do was complete his own task and have faith that Kanan would do the same.
"Contact Kenobi," Cody said to Hera after Zeb had finished almost single-handedly savaging the Imperials to death, the group falling into line as they rushed through the halls. "Make sure he knows about his new passenger."
"Right..." Hera muttered, grabbing her comlink and calling the Sith Lord, and Kenobi answered right away.
"Have you already made it to the ship?" Obi-Wan asked when the call was connected. "This is taking longer than expected, do you have any idea how many shirts there are down here in storage?"
"...are you actually looking for Kanan's shirt?!" the Twi'lek snapped, and Kenobi hissed softly, a gentle admonishment of her disapproval.
"He said it was his favorite, Hera, what would you have of me?"
"He can get a new shirt when we are safe!"
"His favorite, Hera." The Twi'lek groaned, her lekku squirming in aggravation. The Sith had a strange way of organizing his priorities.
"There's been a change of plans," she said quieter than she intended, her voice trembling slightly. "Kanan's going to fly out with you."
"Ooh, I'm really not going to like this, am I?" Obi-Wan asked, his tone almost flippant if not for the undercurrent of tension that she managed to detect.
"Probably not..." Hera said quietly. "We ran into the Inquisitor, Kenobi, Kanan's..." She swallowed hard, the fear that she had repressed suddenly bubbling up. "Kanan's fighting him, Obi-Wan."
"Alone?" the Sith asked calmly, his tone helping to ease Hera's mounting anxiety.
"Y-yes..." she said, her eyes focused on Ezra as the boy drove his saber into another blast door. "None of us wanted to leave him, not after what happened on Lothal, but he wanted us to get away. He seemed...I-I don't know, Obi-Wan, the things I saw Kanan do today...I've never seen anything like it." There was silence, heavy and uncomfortable, and Hera clenched her jaw tightly, imagining how furious the Sith Lord must have been. "S-so..." she said in an effort to break the silence. "So he's flying out with you. Y-you're just going to have to pick him up after you help him." Again, there was silence, not even the sound of breathing or background noise heard over the device, and the Twi'lek had to check to make certain they were still connected.
"Understood," Obi-Wan said calmly, not the slightest detection of the expected anger in his voice. "Fly well, Hera. Do not be troubled. Kanan is safe with me." Before she had a chance to say anything, the com cut, and with a sigh, she pocketed the device. She brushed aside her worries and focused on the other lives that were resting on her ability to maintain a cool head. Above all else, as she had always done, she believed in Kanan.
He was right. This was a test.
Obi-Wan stood high above the Star Destroyer's reactor core, leaning against one of the many control towers, a web of bridges and platforms beneath him linking all the towers together to form the control matrix that managed the ship's powerful hyperdrive. The reactor core hummed with energy, blazing white at its center and pulsing out into light blues, though the bridges far below his position were lit with blue and red as lightsabers clashed and sparked, a savage, deadly, beautiful thing, one that Obi-Wan had participated in many times himself, but rarely had the chance to watch.
Before this mess started, before the attack on the Sovereign, before Kanan had been captured, before the assault on Lothal, Obi-Wan had felt something in the Force, something bold and insistent, not quite a warning, but a declaration of things to come. This was a test, though Obi-Wan had wrongly assumed the test was for him. No, this test was for Kanan.
The Force was holding him back, a gentle hand upon his shoulder that would not allow him to interfere, a test meant for the Jedi, not for him. Kanan had never advanced past the point of Padawan, a student lost in the world with no Master to turn to, one who had found himself in possession of a student of his own, and suddenly, Kanan Jarrus had something to prove, not just to the galaxy, but to himself. This was...his Trial. The sacred test the Jedi once used to pass their young into adulthood within the Order, one that recognized their strength, their commitment, their oneness with the Force, and now, the Force itself was administering the test to the Last Padawan.
Obi-Wan would have thought he'd be more uneasy about standing back and watching his Jedi battle with a man he had never defeated, but the caress of the Force was soothing, not the dreadful, blaring warning he felt when Sundari was attacked, nor the snarling fury of the Dark Side when Anakin Skywalker - Darth Vader - had arrived on Mustafar. Now, the Force was more like a mother easing the fears of her anxious child, a treasured friend that stood silent and comforting at his side. Despite the battle raging, despite the fear and the panic of the Imperials on the ship, the Force was calm and still, in the hands and as one with the Jedi that fought below.
No, the only thing exhibiting any anxiety at all was HK-47, the assassin pacing back and forth, its sensors trained firmly on the combatants below, its sniper rifle primed and ready to shoot on command. The droid was wearing Kanan's yellowish green long sleeved shirt, a stark, glaring contrast to HK's blood red body, and the Jedi's arm and shoulder armor was strapped tightly on the mechanical over its own armored outer plating. It was, in short, the most ridiculous thing Obi-Wan had ever seen. Ever. And he had seen Quinlan Vos attempt to seduce his rancor on a bet with Barriss.
"Quarry: when do we get to shoot him, Master?" HK asked tightly.
"Who is the him in this context, HK?" The droid stopped pacing, looking at the Sith for a moment as it processed the question.
"Contemplative: I do not know, Master. Whoever you wish it to be, I suppose."
"A good answer, under normal circumstances," Obi-Wan said softly. "Truly, I appreciate your thirst for murder, but this is not a normal circumstance, and you may not shoot anyone until you can tell me which one you're supposed to be shooting."
"Response: the meatbag, sir," the droid chirped. "We shoot the meatbag."
"Very good, HK," Obi-Wan drawled in a flat voice. "You don't get to shoot anyone."
"Despair: you are cruel, Master. Normally I would drown my grief in executions, but you have denied me even that."
"You are a servant of the Sith, HK. Suffering is a part of the deal."
"Quarry: when do we get to blow up the ship?"
"Not until that meatbag down there is safe in my care." The droid looked over the edge of the platform down at the fighting pair.
"...which meatbag?"
"Take your pick, HK." The droid's gaze slowly drifted between the calm, serene Sith Lord and the combatants below.
"Defeated: we are never getting out of here, are we?"
"Not if you blow up the ship in your boredom, no." With an impatient groan, HK-47 began pacing again, and Obi-Wan watched the blaze of lightsabers far below as the men struck against each other, the Inquisitor striking the other end of his lightsaber and activating the grip, the blades spinning rapidly on the circular hilt the moment he managed to put some distance between him and the Jedi. The sudden change forced Kanan to back off, the advantage of the offense he had maintained until now lost, the Inquisitor pressing forward furiously when he saw the Jedi slip back into his natural Soresu. He knew this style, studied the Master that had taught him, knew all the tricks of the style. It was over. The Jedi could not win on the defensive.
The spinning blade beat relentlessly against the blue, the hard strikes keeping the Jedi from reclaiming his balance, and he was forced to retreat, the blade held stationary and angled downwards to allow the red saber to strike and slide off, only to strike again less than a second later, assisted by the mechanical rotation. As Kanan backed down the walkway, the Inquisitor swung the double sided saber around, the rotating blades slicing through the air with a loud, humming buzz, the Jedi only narrowly avoiding the blades as they circled high and low, the Inquisitor's athleticism returning with his confidence, his step certain and steady as he slipped into the more comfortable position of aggressor, the hunter, the predator, the Jedi little more than pray as he retreated.
It required all of Kanan's focus to maintain his footing as his advantage was lost, the Inquisitor's previous fear fading as anger and frustration asserted itself, the Pau'an lost in the throes of combat, the thrill of the hunt, and the smell of blood, the other predator on the ship forgotten as the Inquisitor fell into the moment. His moves became fluid, graceful, athletic and dangerously precise, the effortless rotation of his spinning blade a technological advantage the exchanged precision for brutality, the number of strikes the man capable of inflicting simply overwhelming. The rotating blades appeared no more than a disc of light they moved so quickly, and even with his sharp reflexes, the sudden ferociousness of the assault left Kanan feeling off-balance, and each powerful flurry of strikes made it more and more difficult to center himself.
The Inquisitor lashed out high and low, crouching and jumping and spinning as the red clashed against blue, showers of sparks flying off the blades in a continuous stream, the reckless blades cutting gouges in the metal of the thin walkways, and with a deep breath, Kanan filled himself with the Force and pressed back. His attacker slid back, sharp teeth grit in a vicious snarl, his boots skidding against the ground as he pushed back and threw himself again at the Jedi. But it had been enough. The momentary break, the split second Kanan had been given the space to breathe allowed him to regain his balance and his focus, the Force rushing into him as a dam deep within him seemed to break, filling him not with strength, but with clarity.
It was not what Kanan would have asked for from the Force. He would have asked for a second wind, a new burst of speed, a surge of strength, something akin to the raw, fearsome power Kenobi commanded with graceful ease, but instead, he saw, looked at his furious opponent and understood, heard the whispered breath of the Force speak to him, calm and soothing as it told him what to do. It was as if the Force wasn't just within him, surrounding him and binding him to everything as the Jedi always taught, but as if it stood directly beside him, the brush of its hands upon his sending shivers up his arms as it guided him, an ally and a friend, a constant companion, a living, breathing thing unlike Kanan had ever felt before.
When the overwhelming fury of the Inquisitor struck against him again, Kanan slipped into his defensive Soresu once again, this time not to defend, but to assess and analyze, his footwork slightly altered, the angled movements of his blade changed, shifted, optimized by his new teacher for precision counterattacks, critical strikes made to end fights when the moment was right. It was more effortless for Kenobi, of course, but with the Force guiding his movements, Kanan saw not the deadly arching slashes of the furious Inquisitor, but his useless left hand. He didn't see his athletic ferocity, just the way he stepped and moved to compensate for the shifts in his body weight to keep his balance, the result of being forced to rely solely on his right side of attack. He no longer saw the blaze of the red, rotating blades, instead his focus was drawn to the much slower, more manageable hilt on which the blades spun.
The change in the Jedi was subtle, but the Inquisitor saw it immediately. It was still Soresu, but it was somehow simpler, and in becoming so, was more refined, more elegant, more perfect. The movement of his feet, the position of his elbows, the angle of his blade, all of it shifted, all of it adjusted to accommodate this new style. The Inquisitor didn't realize the true danger of this change in the Jedi until he slashed downward with the spinning blade and quickly changed directions, spinning into the shift upwards as he struck against the retreating man again, only to have the tip of the blue blade quickly follow the rotation and effortlessly slide between the spinning red sabers. The rotation caught the Jedi's weapon with his own, the blade shooting up and around, and the Inquisitor realized the severity of his error just in time to swiftly draw his head back, the quick reflex saving his life, but he was not fast enough to prevent the tip of the Jedi's lightsaber from slashing up across his face.
The Inquisitor staggered back with a cry of pain and outrage, his fingerless hand flying to cover the burning gash that cut from his jaw diagonally up his face to the top of his high brow, just barely missing his eyes. Pain and rage rushing through him, the Inquisitor lunged at the Jedi with a feral howl of fury, the spinning blades cutting swiftly down, striking the metal walkway when Kanan flipped over the Pau'an, landing behind him and swiftly moving on the offensive, the Inquisitor backing up quickly and blocking the swift assault, the narrow walkway opening up to the wide platform surrounding the control tower.
A new surge of pain and hate flooded the Inquisitor, and he struck his blade against the Jedi's with all his strength, hoping to throw the man off balance so he could regain the offensive, only to have Kanan spin with the hard strike, moving with his deflected blade and effortlessly stepping back into the defensive stance he assumed before. The same dangerous defense that had nearly cost the Inquisitor his life. Pain motivated him to move faster than before, intent on ending the Jedi before he had a chance to inflict more damage upon him, his wild, ferocious strikes deflected off the blue blade and striking the consoles and instruments built around the tower, electronic sparks and hisses filling the air as they continued to clash.
It only took a moment for the Inquisitor to see the Jedi's elbow raise, his blade pulled back out of the way of the red strikes as he slashed downwards, leaving the man's bare chest open, and with a wicked grin slashed upwards, his eyes widening as he saw too late the Jedi's weapon thrusting forward, not at the blades, not to block or perry, not to stab into his exposed side, but to slide within the circular ring around the hilt of his lightsaber. He could not stop his powerful swing, was too slow to react, and the Inquisitor watched in horror as his own momentum forced the Jedi's lightsaber to slice through the hilt of his weapon, the red blades flickering off with a hiss as the bisected lightsaber clattered to the ground. A swift push of the Force and he was sent flying backwards, striking the railing surrounding the platform, and when he looked up, Kanan Jarrus stood with his blade pointed at the Inquisitor's neck.
It was over.
"Do it," the Inquisitor said quietly. "Finish me, put an end to this."
"I don't need to," Kanan said, his blade retracting and he clipped the hilt to his belt. "I've won. You are no threat to me."
"You can't do this!" the Inquisitor said, his voice shaking and high pitched with panic, the weight of his failure hitting him hard and filling him with fear that knotted deep in his gut. When Vader didn't get the Jedi, when he found out it was his fault, when he learned that he had failed to beat the Jedi, not even a proper Jedi Knight, but a Padawan...
"There are things worse than death, Jedi, and you are condemning me to it!"
"You have done that to yourself!" Kanan snapped. "It isn't my place to judge you."
"Perhaps not..." said a smooth, accented drawl from behind Kanan, and the Inquisitor's eyes widened in fear as Darth Lumis approached, his golden eyes blazing with hunger and excitement, a predator high on the smell of blood in the air from its wounded prey. "But it is my place..." He laid his hand on Kanan's shoulder, the Jedi sighing heavily in relief. "Kanan Jarrus. You are magnificent."
"Please tell me you didn't stand around watching me fight," Kanan said tiredly, groaning and rolling his eyes when Kenobi grinned. "Oh, that's fantastic. I could have died!"
"I couldn't bring myself to interfere with such beauty, Kanan, I was transfixed!" Obi-Wan drawled, a coy smirk on his face as he ran his fingers along the Jedi's jaw. "I had forgotten what falling in love feels like, I'm so glad it was you."
"Mm, you're going to have to fight with Hera over that one..."
"Oh, darling, you know I only fight battles I know I can win..." Obi-Wan drawled, patting the Jedi on the chest as he walked by him. "I've no chance against Hera, not when it comes to you." He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Kanan, a soft, almost gentle thing. "It'll have to be unrequited, I'm afraid."
"I can live with that," Kanan said with a shrug. "By the way, I need a ride off this ship. Can I catch one with you?"
"Of course," Obi-Wan said, a light, easy tone in his voice despite the feral hunger in his eyes. "I accept payment in sex."
"Meet you in your room when we're safe," Kanan drawled, a lazy smirk on his face as he winked at the Sith. With a wicked grin, Obi-Wan turned his attention to the Inquisitor, the man on his knees and trembling as he hyperventilated, all strength leaving him as fear keeping him paralyzed to the spot, the Force itself abandoning him as the Sith Master approached.
"Hello, sweetie..."
"D-darth Lumis..." the Inquisitor squeaked, and Kenobi shot him an admonishing look.
"Now, now, is that any way to speak to me? Come now, do it right."
"Master..." It was completely involuntary, torn from his throat without his consent before he could stop it, and in the Inquisitor's mind, he could hear Maul's words echoing over and over again, drowning out all else. There were things worse than death. All the things he faced were worse than death, because in ever direction, no matter which way he turned, he faced the judgement of the Lords of the Sith. Vader, Maul, Sidious, Lumis, all four surrounded him, on all sides but beneath him. His fear finally turned into the need to get away, and he scrambled back as Lumis drew near, frantic and desperate as he looked over his shoulder at the hyperdrive reactor far below them.
Kill yourself. End it all.
Swallowing hard, the Inquisitor tore his attention away from Lumis while he still could, and clinging tight to his fear of what lay before him for his failure, he launched himself over the railing, eyes shut tight as he plummeted toward the reactor core. It was liberating, a rush of relief as the tension in his body released, the pit dropping out of his stomach when weightlessness took over him as he was surrounded by the Force, and with a sigh, he opened his eyes to watch his end finally come...
Only to find himself staring into amused, savage golden eyes, his body held suspended in the air before the Sith Master.
"Did you truly think you would have it that easy?" Darth Lumis whispered with gleeful malice. "Did you really think I wold allow you to escape my judgement? Did you really believe you could get away with what you have done to my rebels?" The Inquisitor hung his head in defeat, dry sobs wracking his body as hopelessness and despair filled him.
"...no, Master..."
"You are going to live for a very long time, sweet thing..." Lumis drawled, caressing the Pau'an's cheek, his thumb digging against the raw burn, and the Inquisitor howled in pain, writhing futilely against the unbreakable grasp of the Force. A cruel grin on his face, Obi-Wan whistled sharply, and from the top of the tower, HK-47 dropped down, landing with a loud clang upon the platform, the droid righting itself and looking at Kanan, and with the long-sleeved shirt, the unnecessary shoulder armor, and now with the addition of Kenobi's horned helmet sitting crookedly on the top of its head, Kanan could barely keep a straight face.
"Information: Jedi Jarrus," the droid declared. "I am very disappointed in you." It pointed toward the Pau'an. "That is not how you kill a meatbag."
"And that is not how you wear a shirt," the Jedi said. "Honestly, Kenobi, I'm surprised he doesn't offend your sense of style."
"Believe me, the offense has been noted," Obi-Wan growled, his hand tightening into a fist, and with a groan, the Inquisitor's eyes rolled back in his head as he was forced into unconsciousness and slung over the Sith's shoulder. "HK. Destroy the reactor core. We're done here."
"Excitement: this is why I love you, Master!" the droid chirped as it pulled a large, intimidating weapon off its back, a low thrum becoming a high whine as the weapon charged, and Kanan slowly backed away from the droid to stand beside Kenobi.
"Are you ready to run, Kanan?" Obi-Wan asked, and the Jedi nodded swiftly.
"Ready as I'll ever be. How long do you think we'll have?"
"Star Destroyers are tough ships," Kenobi said with a shrug. "Even when the reactor blows, we'll have a few minutes. More than enough time to get out."
"Aren't you going to kill him?" Kanan asked, pointing at the unconscious man on the Sith's shoulders.
"Death is a mercy, Jarrus, and it's one I don't grant often. And I feel he may yet be of use to me..." His eyes on the droid, Obi-Wan backed toward the walkway. "Ready to run, Jarrus?"
"Faster than you, Kenobi."
"Oh, I sincerely doubt that..." Obi-Wan scoffed, returning the Jedi's devious grin. The weapon ready, HK pulled the trigger, the force of the firing beam pushing the droid back, its feed skidding across the metal platform and sending a shower of sparks into the air. The concentrated particle beam struck the core, the pulsing bluish white turning red with heat as it overloaded, and a powerful pulsing surge shot up the tower as the core detonated, and the droid, the Jedi and the Sith carrying the unconscious Inquisitor sprinted across the walkways toward the exit as the world around them filled with smoke and flames as it collapsed.