Title: Death Shall Have No Dominion
Author: The Duchess Of The Dark
Teaser: Alternative scenario of during & after The Phantom Menace
Rating: PG13 – no nasties in here, unless you count Darth Maul
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to The Flannelled One. I own not, you sue my regrettably pear-shaped English arse not. Karis Kavanagh, Lyxandra Nox & all other non-canon characters are mine.
Genre: Action/adventure and hints of more to come. For more dark fiction (not fanfic) visit my page at Illona's Place Vampires www.bloodlust-uk.com/helenmurphyfiction.htm
Archive: Yes, but ask me first, please.
Notes: Loved it? Loathed it? Tell me please... Third of many chapters! Unfinished…
Obi-Wan slung himself into the pilot's chair and quickly activated the ship's systems, helped by Anakin. Brightening from a muted amber, the illumination increased. The ship stirred around them as the hyperdrive powered up, various indicators altering. Behind him, the cockpit door hissed open and Qui-Gon strode in.
"I'm showing another ship in orbit," Obi-Wan reported. "It's moving to intercept. I don't know how, but it can detect us even though we're cloaked."
"It's the hyperdrive," the bearded Jedi surmised grimly. "This planet has nothing that uses a similar energy source, it wouldn't be hard to track. Deactivate the cloak, it's draining power, and get us off the ground."
The young Knight complied immediately, but with an air of reluctance. He knew they had to prevent their pursuer capturing Karis, which was clearly the intent since a droid armed with a stun weapon had been deployed, but was uncomfortable taking her off the planet.
"She may panic when she wakes to find herself in space," he commented softly as the ship steadily rose from the ground, angling sharply upwards.
Shifting his weight as the ship changed direction, Qui-Gon's gaze hardened, but he did not look at his former apprentice.
"She would have more cause to panic if she woke to find herself prisoner, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan did not respond, knowing he was right. Touching a pad, he increased the ship's speed, streaking cloud vapour momentarily obscuring the cockpit window as they soared through the atmosphere. Anakin looked to the Jedi Master, biting his lip before speaking.
"Master Qui-Gon, sir," he began. "What're we going to do? I know we weren't supposed to 'get involved', but we can't take her back now, can we? If we do, they'll get her."
"We shall do what we must, Anakin," Qui-Gon responded crisply. "The Force will guide us."
Slicing though the upper atmosphere, the silver ship emerged into space, solar flares reflecting rainbow spangled luminance from the burnished hull. Breaking orbit, it moved away. Anakin watched the sensors, wondering where the other ship was. He received an answer moments later when the deafening thud of laser fire rumbled through the structure of the ship, shaking the very floor beneath him.
"Shields down ten percent," Qui-Gon reported evenly.
"Taking evasive action," Obi-Wan responded.
Banking smoothly to the left, lateral thrusters firing, the teardrop ship swung out of the line of fire. Dangerously close, the attacking ship screeched overhead, momentarily obliterating the stars as it passed. Poised aggressively in space, it was a compact double epsilon-winged black ship bristling with armaments. Anakin heard himself suck in a gasp, the galaxy trembling as another crimson volley rocked the ship. He saw Obi-Wan's fingers seek out the targeting scanners, feeling the ship gather itself beneath him. Compressed bolts of intense streaking green emitted from either side of the cockpit, showing as crackling bluish explosions against the shields of the other ship.
"Shields down twenty three percent," Anakin cried before Qui-Gon could.
Veering back and forth, exchanging rapid salvoes of fire, the ships made move after counter move, matching each other time and again. A sudden audible warning pulse dragged the Jedi's attention from the battle.
"Shields failing," Obi-Wan announced, diverting power to bolster the faltering shields. "Master, we're outgunned, but we can outrun them."
The Jedi Master nodded agreement. Theirs was a small vessel without astromech droids to repair any damage. Faced with superior weaponry, the only choice was to run or risk the destruction of the ship. Fast and supremely manouverable, they could escape.
"Take us back through the rift," he instructed firmly. "Once we're through jump to hyperspace. By the time they emerge, we'll be out of pursuit range. We can bring Karis back later."
Before he had finished speaking, Obi-Wan had already tapped in the return course through the rift. The ship hummed beneath them, leaping forward to evade the sights of the anonymous attacker. Engines flashing blue green, it sped towards the glimmering irregular tear in space.
How much later? he thought to himself. You know as well as I that we can't leave her or bring her back without dealing with whoever is pursuing us. Be mindful, my Master, don't get too attached to this girl. Whatever she recalls in her dreams, she's not Lyxandra Nox. Her name is Karis and she has a life, friends and probably a family on Earth.
No sooner had he thought this when the ship began to tremble, snared by the immense gravimetric pull of the spatial rift. Like a lassoed eopie, the ship was dragged into the heart of the anomaly. Bracing himself against the vaguely unpleasant tingling sensation that preceeded entry, he watched the cockpit arc away like melted plastic as blackness reached out to claim him. Dimly, he heard the proximity alarm shrieking, telling him their pursuer was not far behind.
*
Consciousness came trickling back by painful degrees. First, an awareness of self, then a realisation that the self was connected to a body that ached in several places. Letting out a groan, Karis's hands came up to her pounding head. As she did so, her fingers encountered resistance in the form of a thick blanket. Rolling onto her side, her booted feet touched a solid durasteel wall. She stiffened, knowing that no matter how late she arrived home, or how drunk she was, she would never get into bed wearing her boots. Cautiously, she screwed open one eye to see a creamy buff wall, partially obscured by a corner of tan blanket draped over her head.
It wasn't a dream!!
Inhaling sharply, she sat bolt upright, narrowly avoiding bashing her head on the metal bunk frame. Sitting up so quickly was a mistake. The room swirled madly and she listed to one side, her spatial orientation scrambled. Strong hands beneath her elbows prevented her from tumbling to the floor, the narrow bunk creaking as someone sat on the side.
"Careful," a soft rich voice admonished mildly. "You're still suffering from the stun blast. How do you feel?"
Her vision slowly reverting from fuzzy double, Karis squinted as something pale beige and dark rusty brown swam in and out of focus. Gradually, it coalesced into a wrap-over tunic and robes she recognised as belonging to Qui-Gon. Realising she was clinging to his arms like a drowning victim, she pried off her fingers and raised her head.
"Where am I?" she muttered, grimacing at how loud and echoing her voice seemed.
Deft and remarkably gentle, his large fingers tipped her chin, expertly checking her head for lumps, abraisons and other signs of injury. Breath hissing between her teeth as jolting pain lanced through her head from temple to temple, she shut her eyes as he felt the vertebrae down her neck.
"You're onboard our ship… I gather that hurt?"
"Yeah, just a bit," she glared, putting a hand to her brow with a frown of discomfort. "That droid shot me, and seen as I'm not dead, I think, it must have just stunned me."
A look of complete consternation suddenly slackened her features, brown eyes darting, hands fluttering up. Sensing the cause of her concern, Qui-Gon caught her hands.
"Anakin is fine," he assured. "He wasn't hurt."
Karis slumped with relief, abruptly exhausted. Her eyes slid momentarily shut, then her chin lifted and she gazed steadily at him.
"I assume this whole thing wasn't a long and particularly frightening dream then," she observed quietly.
Blue eyes crinkling with mixed empathy, sadness and a tinge of regret, he nodded silently. Looking down at her hands, dwarfed by his own, the fingernails and tips coloured by a delicate scrim of ink and paint, he did not speak.
"There's something wrong, isn't there?" she said, making no attempt to withdraw her hands.
Qui-Gon's expression did not alter, impassive with Jedi calm perfected over a lifetime. Warm, callused where she held her pens, her fingers curled infinitesimally around his.
"What makes you think that?" he asked.
"Your eyes," she answered. "And your expression. You have the Jedi inscrutable face on. What is it?"
Intuitive and naturally strong in the Force, despite the tendency for people from her planet to display a unusually high insensitivity, she waited for him to answer. Seeing a small frown cloud her forehead, Qui-Gon felt a momentary powerful reluctance to tell her.
"After you were stunned, we brought you to our ship and took off," he began. "We were pursued by whoever sent the droids and forced to leave the planet… there was a firefight."
Karis's eyes widened as she realised she was not only aboard a starship but in space. There was no trace of panic on her features, simply stunned wonder at the concept of blasting into orbit and beyond in a ship centuries beyond the reach of native technology.
"And?" she prompted. "What happened?"
Qui-Gon paused, mind retreating to re-examine events in recent history, trying to formulate an explanation that would cause least distress even though he knew there was no easy or painless way.
"First you need to know how we came to be here, on Earth. We came through a spatial rift, a tear in the fabric of space. We tracked you through it and emerged just outside your solar system… we have no knowledge of this region, it exists in a different time, a different dimension to ours."
A certain quality to her eyes told him she understood at least that much. Intelligent, with a rudimentary science-fiction fed grasp of temporal physics, she had realised Anakin's age placed events in their galaxy not long after Lyxandra's death on Naboo, making concurrent timelines an impossibility. Whether or not she believed she was Lyxandra's reincarnation was unclear. It was a delicate question better left to another time.
"The ship that followed us was heavily-armed, forcing us to retreat back through the rift. When we emerged, it followed." Qui-Gon stopped, drew a breath and continued. "As soon as it cleared the rift, it opened fire and sealed it. I'm sorry, Karis, but we have no way of reopening it. We had to jump to hyperspace to avoid being destroyed… I'm afraid we're unable to take you home."
Karis turned very pale, her lips thinning with shock, fingers tightening about his until her knuckles showed ivory through the skin. Tumultuous emotion raged behind her eyes, their dusky brown hue suddenly unnaturally bright and torrid. Reaching out a tendril of thought, Qui-Gon sought to ascertain her state of mind. Unconsciously withdrawing from the featherlight mental touch, instinctively throwing up a blank, shielding wall around her mind, she pulled her hands from his. Drawing her knees up to her chin, she wrapped her arms around her shins, instantly withdrawn.
Feeling tired and a painful sense of responsibility, the Jedi Master resisted the impulse to reach out and comfort her. He simply sat on the edge of the bunk, knowing he would not feel so keenly guilty if he had told the same news to anyone but her. A Jedi was supposed to live his or her life with remorse, without regret, knowing that nothing occurred by accident, that events were controlled by the Force. As much as they aspired to, any true Jedi would admit it was not always possible. In this instance he could not help feeling responsible for cutting her off from her home, life and family. If he had not decided to seek her out, it would not have happened.
She looked up, rich velvety brown eyes dull with heavy realisation, yet utterly tearless.
"You said you were followed through the rift," she whispered, voice thick. "Did you know someone was after me, is that why the Jedi Council sent you?"
Qui-Gon shook his head wordlessly, knowing that a lie now would ease her pain in the short term but not in the long. Like most Jedi, he lied when circumstances demanded it, when it was necessary for the greater good, but could not lie now.
"The Council didn't send me," he admitted, voice a quiet rumble. "I acted of my own volition, for my own reasons. We didn't know we were being followed."
She grew extremely still and turned her face to the wall, eyes squeezing shut with dawning comprehension.
"Be mindful of your feelings, Master Jedi," she said colourlessly. "They've caused enough heartache in both our galaxies."
A single tear trickled from the corner of her closed eyes, tracing a salty wet path down the side of her nose, running around the curve of her upper lip. Sensing how desperately she was fighting to come to terms with the fact she was trapped in an alien dimension, how her entire being strained to rationalise the knowledge, Qui-Gon reached out, unable to stop himself. It was something he naturally did without discrimination for anyone who was distressed, such was his sensitivity to the Living Force.
"Don't you touch me!" she hissed, slapping his hand away, suddenly blazingly furious. "You don't have the right! I'm not her and never will be, no matter what bloody dreams, memories or hallucinations are running around my head. And you can take your damned Jedi sympathy and stick it up your hyperdrive!"
Positively quivering with rage, hurt, confusion and frustration, she turned away, huddling into the corner of the bunk nearest the wall, cradling her aching head in her hands. Standing, robes sighing softly around his ankles, Qui-Gon headed for the door. Although he knew he was the nearest convenient target, the only outlet for her anger, the raw pain and accusation in her voice stung him more than it should have.
I know who you are, Karis, but I also know who you were…
Hesitating at the door, he looked back to see her curled in a protective foetal ball, looking vulnerable and far smaller than her height dictated. With an inward sigh, he left, leaving her to collect her thoughts.
*
Four hours later, Obi-Wan stepped into the compact sleeping quarters carrying a loaded tray. Lightening his step in case she was asleep, he approached the foot of the bunk. With a small involuntary start, she rolled over, eyes darting. Seeing who it was, she sat up, eying him with resignment.
"I thought you might be hungry," he said, placing the tray on the tiny metal table. "It's been some time since you've eaten."
She nodded and cleared her throat, slowly standing up. Clutching the struts of the bunk, she swayed dizzily for a moment, then regained her balance.
"Thanks," she said shortly, making her way to the table and dropping heavily into a chair.
Picking up the cup, she gulped down several mouthfuls of pallie juice, pausing to examine the bright ruby colour of the liquid. Settling himself into the other chair, Obi-Wan took a moment to study her. Short dark hair tousled about her forehead, she looked pale and slightly shell-shocked, which was to be expected after what had happened to her. Unused to relying on others, she struck him as a strong, independent-minded woman with something of a temper if roused. Her creativity reminded him of the artisans of Alderaan, who found something of interest in everything they saw. Despite her current situation, she was studying everything around her; the furniture, the weave of his tunic, the colour and consistency of the food on her plate. He could almost see her hands itching to take up pencil and paper.
Qui-Gon had returned to the cockpit after checking on her, even more reserved than usual. Taking one look at his former Master's eyes, at what lay beind, Obi-Wan had known better than to ask.
"This is really nice," she commented, breaking the silence. "What is it?"
"Pallie juice," he replied, resting his hands on his knees. He smiled briefly. "Anakin likes it, and so do I."
She smiled back, somewhat tentatively, and dropped her eyes to her plate. After some minutes of eating, she set down her fork and looked up.
"Well, Obi-Wan, you've had a good look at me," she observed with mild sarcasm. "Do you think you've picked up another pathetic lifeform, another of your ex-Master's pet projects?"
Holding her gaze steadily, Obi-Wan shook his head, leaning forward on his elbows.
"No," he said, accent crystal-cut, sounding uncannily upper class British to Karis's ear. "I won't lie to you, I was against looking for you, but it was something Qui-Gon felt he had to do."
Swirling the remains of the pallie juice around the beaker, Karis did not comment, but she had lost her air of defensive sarcasm. The dark shadows had deepened beneath her eyes, leading Obi-Wan to the conclusion she had not slept in the hours since waking from enforced unconsciousness.
"Don't blame him, Karis," he said earnestly. "In all likelihood whoever was pursuing you would have found you even if we hadn't. There are scientists from many systems studying the rift. The knowledge is there for anyone with sufficient technology and dactaris."
Leaning back in her chair, she took a deep breath, wincing as her head throbbed in time with the low hum of the ship's hyperdrive. She had listened to the subtle cadence of the engines for over four hours, concentrating on them to help settle her disorganised mind.
"I suppose I should be grateful that it's your ship I ended up on rather than that of whoever sent those droids," she allowed.
Setting down her cup, she hugged her arms to herself. Sensing she wanted to ask a question but was reluctant to, Obi-Wan tipped his chin.
"You don't have to worry about asking any questions, I'll answer them if I can."
Karis held her lower lip between her teeth, uncomfortable, then pressed ahead.
"What happened on Naboo after Darth Maul killed Lyxandra?" She shuddered, gaze returning to her dreams, then collected herself. "My publishers made me change the ending of the comic… I mean, I assumed you and Qui-Gon survived. I didn't dream what happened, I just felt you had."
Obi-Wan frowned, recalling the terrible hiss and stench of burning flesh as Maul plunged his lightsabre into Mistress Nox like he was gutting an animal, tattooed features alight with twisted triumph. Impaled on the crimson 'sabre, she had crumpled to the durasteel floor like a stringless puppet, her dark hair falling over her face.
"Qui-Gon lost control," he stated, suppressing a grimace as his memory flashed an image of his Master's face contorted with utter hatred. "Something I've never seen him do. He threw himself at the Sith, they fought and my Master killed him, ran him through and knocked him over the edge of the melting pit."
Falling silent, the young Knight looked at the table top, remembering how the energy shield had lowered just in time for him to run to his Master's side as he collapsed to his knees on the brink of the pit, preventing him from following the Sith into oblivion. Karis shivered and rubbed at her arms, hearing the frenetic, crazed clash of 'sabre blades at the back of her mind, the crackle of mutual bitter animosity.
"Hatred is the path to the Dark Side," she murmured, self-conscious at saying words previously confined to the pages of her comic.
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, not thinking it strange she should say it. "But he mastered his hatred, rid himself of it. It is his grief that concerns me now."
"It's why you came with him," Karis finished with sudden insight. "Because he still grieves and you're worried what he'll do."
Obi-Wan flashed a wry smile and folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe, a gesture it seemed was common to Jedi.
"Why were you not a Jedi in this life as well as the last?" he mused, blue eyes warm.
A ghosted smile passed fleetingly over Karis's lips in response and she speared a yellow chunk of something she asumed was a vegetable on her fork. It was surprisingly good, a little like parsnip, but sweeter. Obi-Wan came across as a young man who tempered his serious nature with touches of mischievous humour, more assured than the Padawan in her dreams, but still settling into his life role of Jedi Knight. There were only a few years difference in their ages, but she felt he possessed a spiritual wisdom she could never attain.
"What will happen now I'm stuck here?" she asked. "What effect will my presence have?"
The young Jedi considered for a moment, "We'll take you to Coruscant and consult the Jedi Council," he paused and frowned slightly. "Who won't be pleased, I can promise you."
"I didn't mean that, exactly," she corrected softly. "I meant what effect my being here will have on Qui-Gon."
Obi-Wan, realising he had misunderstood the question, lifted a shoulder in a minimal helpless shrug.
"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "It is unclear to me… My Master is a strong, disciplined man, a thoroughly consumate Jedi, but his weakness, if you can call it that, was always Mistress Nox."
Karis's fox brown eyes flickered, a perceivable wave of distress and anxiety radiating from her. Sensing she was worried about the possible repercussions of her presence on the Jedi Master, Obi-Wan allowed himself an inner sigh, but was also intrigued. She was in survival mode, thinking from moment to moment with regard to herself, but was concerned about the long-term welfare of a man she had only just met. Sitting in a somewhat uneasy silence as she finished her meal, the young Jedi Knight could foresee that the voyage back to Coruscant would be interesting.
*
Qui-Gon Jinn woke from a deep sleep with the indisputable knowledge that someone nearby was in a considerable amount of discomfort. Lying on his back with his hands loosely folded across his abdomen, he extended himself through the Force. He could sense Obi-Wan in the cockpit, who was in a restful-alert state, and Anakin sound asleep in the bunk above Karis. Swinging his legs over the side of the bunk, he padded quietly across the small room on bare feet.
A curled up hump beneath the blanket, only a tousled fringe of hair visible, she lay facing the wall. A light touch with the Force told the Jedi Master she was wide awake and in pain, both physical and mental.
"Karis," he murmured. "You should have told me you were in pain."
The blanket rustled softly as she rolled over and inched it down with two fingers, eyes moist and shining in the dark. For some reason, he made her nervous. The only people he was accustomed to inspiring nervousness in were enemies and young Initiates overwhelmed by his height.
"I didn't want to disturb you," she whispered, mindful of Anakin asleep in the top bunk. "You looked tired."
Qui-Gon sat on the side of the bunk gingerly. The regulation beds were not designed for someone of his size and tended to groan alarmingly. Two days had passed awkwardly. He had sensed her anger gradually dying away, but she had not yet felt able to talk to him. Obi-Wan seemed to get on with her better than he did, but it was Anakin she had taken to the most. The young Padawan had spent hours happily talking to her, answering her questions and giggling loudly when she said things he found funny. The previous night, Obi-Wan had come looking for his apprentice, only to find him asleep with his head in Karis's lap as she stroked his fine blond hair.
"I'm getting old," he said without a trace of self-pity, risking turning back the edge of the blanket from her face. "Does your head still hurt?"
Karis nodded wearily, rubbing her chin as the edge of the blanket tickled it. Pushing back a stray lock of dark hair, her eyes narrowed, fingers seeking the bridge of her nose.
"The stun blast should have worn off by now," the Jedi Master observed. "It could be the effects of the rift."
Suppressing a sigh as her eyes throbbed in time with her head, Karis gave a short, humourless burst of laughter.
"Whatever it is, it's not pleasant, but I'll live."
Ignoring the veiled hint to leave her alone and go back to bed, Qui-Gon fixed her with his remarkable blue eyes. She was in more pain than he had previously thought, more than when she had woken from the stun blast. This struck him as odd as the mild concussion and headache associated with a heavy stun faded within a day or two. Her capacity to withstand pain was higher than normal, but a lack of sleep and her extremely unusual situtation had eroded that ability.
"Sit up," he instructed. "And we'll see what we can do to remedy it."
Momentarily hesitating, Karis did as she was asked, sliding her legs over the side of the bunk. Her posture was uneasy and a little defensive, back straight, knees pressed together, arms held close to her body.
She's not sure if she trusts me, Qui-Gon realised.
"I want you to concentrate on the pain," he said softly. "And visualise it leaving you."
Looking doubtful, Karis closed her eyes and centred on the constant dull throb making her head feel like someone was trying to kick their way out from the inside. She almost started when the Jedi Master's hands settled lightly on her head, but kept her eyes shut.
I'm jumpy as a frog in a blender, she thought. Nobody's had that effect on me for a good while.
Almost immediately, she felt a deep, relaxing warmth begin to spread through the crown of her head, seeping into her neck and shoulders. The pain started to receed, washed away by soothing waves of healing heat. Tiny pulses flared at the sites of the worst discomfort; behind her eyes, at her temples and the base of her skull.
"Are you using the Force?" she breathed after a few minutes, feeling her ramrod stiff spine soften. "That feels so much better."
"We're both using it," Qui-Gon said, beginning light circles on her scalp with his fingertips. "You have a natural affinity for the Force."
Unable to help herself, Karis sighed, her head drifting to one side, immersed in the wonderful sensation of warmth and the gentle massaging movements of his fingers. The pain in her head had virtually disappeared, but she found herself reluctant to tell the Jedi Master in case he stopped whatever magic he was working. His hands moved to her shoulders and the nape of her neck, transferring the healing warmth to the muscles she had jarred when she was hit by the stun blast. Karis felt the tight knots easing, the tension and aching stiffness melting away until her back felt like spaghetti.
God, he's good at this, she thought, trying not to think too much about how pleasant it felt. I wonder if he does it for everyone?
Hearing a small inner voice telling her he probably did not, that Jedi healing abilities were reserved for more serious injuries than a simple splitting headache and sore muscles, she felt a self-reproaching pang beneath her ribs. Reminding herself of what she represented to him, of what he could not help but see despite a Jedi's famed objectivity, she opened her eyes and turned to look at him.
"I'm sorry I screamed at you the other day," she apologised. "It was wrong of me."
The steady rhythm of his fingers did not falter, teasing out the smallest stubborn areas of tension and discomfort. Faint creases appeared at the corners of his eyes in a subtle smile that did not quite reach his mouth.
"I deserved your anger and blame," he murmured. "I am responsible."
"I thought the Force dictated events?" she said, an eyebrow quirking.
This time he did smile, amused at having the Jedi doctrine thrown back at him. Dipping his head in acknowledgement, he continued to massage her shoulders, despite sensing her pain had all but disappeared. The Force healing seemed to have broken down a barrier, extinguished her hostility.
"Ultimately the Force governs everything in the universe, but we must each act as we see fit and accept the consequences."
Karis chuckled quietly, the first time he had heard her laugh since she had come aboard the ship. It was a soft, genuine laughter, devoid of the sarcasm she often used to mask her fear and uncertainty.
"Always the teacher, Master Jinn," she observed.
"Force of habit," he agreed solemnly, seeing her lips twitch in an almost-smile at the pun.
She sighed again as his fingers found a tender spot at her right shoulder, eyes slipping shut. The adrenaline that had propelled her through the last few days in a permanent state of medium grade anxiety was running out and she was thoroughly exhausted. In a short space of time, her head began to nod. With each movement of the Jedi Master's hands, she slipped a little further one side, relaxed, half-asleep and utterly unaware that she was moving. Gradually, she leaned into his shoulder, her head resting naturally at the hollow of his collarbone.
Thinking she was asleep, Qui-Gon stopped and withdrew his influence on the Force. Sitting quietly in the dark, supporting her weight in the crook of his arm, he simply listened to her breathe, feeling it warm against the side of his neck.
"I remember the last time you massaged my back," she murmured drowsily, her tone and accent different, vastly more intimate, somehow older. "I've missed you, Qui."
The Jedi Master stiffened, as close to startled as he ever came. The only person who shortened his name like that was Lyxandra, and then only in private. For the duration of a sentence, the human woman's voice had altered, taking on a familiar musical roundedness.
"Karis?" he asked, sensing a infinitesimal shifting in the Force.
"W-what?" She sat up, confused and groggy.
"Do you remember what you just said to me?"
She shook her head, bewildered. "No, I must've fallen asleep."
Suddenly, she hissed with pain and clutched at her temples, eyes crumpling shut, lips drawing back over her teeth. Her head bobbed down to her knees and she swore vehemently, or at least Qui-Gon assumed she did, because although the words were unfamiliar, the tone was unmistakable. Concerned, he flicked on the small light on the underside of the bunk. Catching her wrists, he lifted her head and tipped her chin with his index finger, a quick pulsing in the Force dancing across his senses. Even before he looked, he knew what he would see. Staring silently, he drew on his reserves of focussed calm. Pupils contracting to pinpoints in the light, Karis blinked, her eyes an impossibly vivid, beautiful emerald green.
*
"There's no doubt," Qbi-Wan stated, watching a rapid series of figures scrolling across the small console screen. "Her midi-chlorian count is increasing exponentially."
Qui-Gon looked at the readout, comparing it with the one taken the previous day. His former apprentice was right, there was a marked increase in the level of midi-chlorians in Karis's blood. The concentration had passed the threshold where a sentient lifeform was considered to have Jedi traits three days ago. They were a day and a half from Coruscant and facing the Jedi Council. Via long-range communications on a secure channel, he had spoken with Master Yoda. The tiny ancient being had listened without comment, but Qui-Gon could read concern and dismay in his wizened green countenance. They were to report to the Council Chambers at the first possible opportunity.
"Any other changes?" he asked curtly.
Obi-Wan nodded, blue grey eyes moving back and forth as he consulted the screen. He pressed a key, calling up a fresh influx of information. Unconsciously, he tugged at the hair behind his right ear where his Padawan braid had been. A habit from childhood that had never entirely left him, he tended to do it when concentrating.
"Yes, her genetic structure is altering." He pointed to the screen. "There's a new DNA sequence developing in perfect symbiosis with her own. I'm not a scientist, but I think it's what caused her eyes to turn green."
The Jedi Master was silent, studying the readouts. He knew what Obi-Wan meant, but had not voiced aloud. She was changing. A day previously he had found her perched on the top bunk, Anakin at her side, reading Corellian tone poems aloud from a datapad. Anakin had been engrossed, not realising that at the beginning of the voyage the Republic numerical and alphabetical system had made as much sense to her as random doodles made by a child.
When Qui-Gon had asked her how she felt, she had looked thoughtful and said she felt better than she had, but odd in an indescribable way.
"I don't know," she had said, giving a puzzled shrug. "I feel like there's a million things going on inside me, psychologically as well as physically."
Her eyes, now bright jade jewels, had darkened, her fingers coming up to press gently against the lids as if to probe for answers. Abruptly, she had seemed troubled again.
"I know things there's no way I should," she had confided. "I can read all those symbols, which I couldn't before. I know most of the controls of the ship, and I've a pretty good inkling I could take apart your lightsabre and put it back together blindfold."
Her eyes, all the more arresting for their changed hue, had dropped and she bit her lip. She knew she was changing, altering on a fundamental level, and it frightened her more than she was admitting.
"I'm remembering," she had said in a hushed, almost disbelieving tone. "I read things and I know I've read them before; I found myself correcting Anakin when he was showing me an exercise Obi-Wan had set him. I just knew he was doing it wrong… Qui-Gon, what's happening to me?"
Qui-Gon gave a small, inner sigh, knowing what was happening had much larger implications. It would explain why whoever had pursued them was so keen to prevent them from returning through the rift.
"She's reacquiring the memories from her previous life," he said calmly. "And her former traits, both genetic and Jedi."
Studying the readouts, Obi-Wan glanced up at his former Master, compact features washed ghostly by the blue luminance from the console. Though neither man was a trained scientist, they both knew enough to come to the same conclusion.
She's turning into Mistress Nox, he thought. This certainly complicates the situation.
"Master…" he began.
"Yes, Obi-Wan, I know," the Jedi Master cut him off. "We must be careful, her psyche is fragile, she is vulnerable and open to influence."
"That's not what I meant." Obi-Wan met the older man's steady gaze. "How do you feel?"
A sudden surge of pain washing through his eyes, Qui-Gon turned away, features in profile against the blur of hyperspace outside the transparisteel bubble of the cockpit.
"There is nothing I would like better than to have Lyxandra back," he said, voice low and harsh with controlled emotion. "But how can I welcome it if it means the loss of another, of Karis?"
Standing, Obi-Wan crossed to his mentor, laying a hand on his arm. He understood his conflict, the desire to be reunited with his bondmate clashing with a Jedi's respect for all life. There were not many things Qui-Gon Jinn had come across he could not resolve, negotiate, heal, fight or bring closure to. Aided by a Jedi's innate ability to read people, to sometimes glimpse the future, he could often predict the outcome of a situation or know instinctively how to deal with it. This time he could not.
"We don't know that's what will happen," Obi-Wan reasoned. "Her DNA is developing new traits without destroying the human characteristics, it may be the same with her memories. She could regain all Mistress Nox's memories without losing her own."
The Jedi regarded each other, both knowing nothing was certain. What was occuring was outside their combined realm of experience. It was unheard of for an adult's midi-chlorian rate to suddenly alter, and almost without exception claimed cases of reincarnation proved to be frauds engineered for profit. The prospect that a young human woman with no training was physically and psychologically changing into an alien Jedi Master with decades of experience raised countless questions and concerns. All of which the two men knew would be addressed by the Jedi Council.
