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 Darths Maul & Sideous.
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... Fifth of many chapters! Unfinished… Okay, don't hate me when you find out who the 'baddie' is! He's such a great, woefully underused, under-explored character in the movie, that I simply HAD to include him rather than taxing my poor brain creating another original bad guy/gal. This may be a hackneyed plotline in fanfic, but it is done in a plausible, non-contradictory way that moves the narrative along (I sincerely hope!). Besides which, this is an Alternate Universe story! Tell me if you think using this ultimate bad guy (I think you've probably guessed who he is by now J
) detracts from the overall quality of the story.
*
There was something soft and body temperature warm against her skin. Sliding out an arm, feeling the sensuous whisper of silky material, Karis rolled over. Whatever was covering her felt delicious, as different from the thick, slightly rough weave of the blankets she had slept under for a week as sackcloth from satin. The fat pillow beneath her cheek was covered in the same material, suffused with a crisp, freshly-laundered scent. She could sleep for a week in such a bed.
Moving her feet just to feel the sheets stroke against her calves and ankles, she suddenly froze, remembering her last cognizant thought had been when she was fully-clothed and very frightened.
"So the sleeper wakes."
The voice was distinctive, a low, purring baritone that induced shivers of mixed apprehension and delight. A voice that could inspire deepest revulsion or a reluctant urge to do anything to hear it form words of praise. Wide awake, Karis leapt out of the bed, bumping against a wall. Pressing her spine flush with its comforting soldity, she stared about. Uttering a small cry of shock, she shrank back, green eyes huge and terrified at who she saw in the large, dimly lit room.
Reclining in a high-backed chair near the door, a black-robed shape with burning feral eyes, was Darth Maul. Gloved hands resting loosely at the arms of the chair, but within easy reach of the lightsabre shaft at his belt, he inclined his head, the minimal light picking up the points of his crown of horns.
"You may sit, you are perfectly safe," he grinned, exposing discoloured teeth. "For now."
He fixed her with his glittering yellow eyes, making no attempt to force her to comply. He simply waited, watching her like a leopard crouching over a small prey mammal.
"You're dead!" Karis burst out, scarcely aware of how ridiculous the statement sounded with proof to the contrary sat before her. "Qui-Gon killed you! You fell down the melting pit!"
Maul gave a slow, malicious smile, snapping forward in the chair, tattooed features tightening with vitriolic hatred.
"Don't believe everything the Jedi tell you!" he hissed, the word 'Jedi' loaded with rancour and a touch of reverance. "It suited my purposes for them to believe I had perished."
He stood up and crossed the room, halting within a respectable distance. Red and black face expressionless, he hooked a thumb through his wide belt.
"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the bed.
Shaking, Karis crept to the bed and perched on the outermost edge, hugging her arms to herself. Belatedly realising she was no longer wearing the clothes given to her at the Temple, she stared down at the long black sleeveless undertunic and tugged it over her knees. Returning to his chair, the Sith Lord eased himself into it. It was then Karis realised there was something wrong with the way he was moving. He was in pain, each step was more difficult than it should have been, his spine unnaturally stiff.
"Yes," he drawled, sensing her scrutiny. "An inconvenient legacy of my encounter with Master Jinn."
"I hope it hurts!" Karis snapped before she could question the wisdom of saying so. "I hope you're in as much pain as you put Qui-Gon through, you murdering bastard!"
To her immense surprise, Maul began to laugh, a ringing, full-throated laughter that seemed incongruous with his ghastly red and black tattooed features.
"Shout, scream, attack me if it makes you feel better," he laughed, clasping the arms of his chair and leaning forward. Abruptly sobering, his golden eyes narrowed. "Anger, hatred – both powerful tools of the Dark Side. I see the Jedi haven't deprived you of them yet."
Realising she was rigid with fury, Karis shrank back, gaze dropping. Feeling uncomfortably exposed beneath the Sith Lord's flame-eyed stare, she tugged at the hem of the undertunic again.
"Where are my clothes?" she demanded. "I'm cold."
Maul chose not to comment on the lie and gestured to the end of the bed. Sleek black pants and a slim-fitting overtunic lay on the jet sheets. Her boots stood neatly at the foot of the bed.
"I will not defile you with Jedi garments, their stink offends me," he announced. "You will wear those or you will continue to be cold."
Momentarily hesitating, Karis snatched up the pants and pulled them on, feeling inexplicably better now her legs were covered. She eyed Maul warily, wondering what he was trying to achieve, why he had kidnapped her. Picking up the overtunic, she shouldered it on and bent to retrieve her boots. All the clothes fitted perfectly. Turning to face the Sith Lord, she took a deep breath, shoulders squaring.
"What do you want?" she asked as evenly as she was able. "Why have you brought me… where-ever the hell this is?"
The room was windowless, giving her no clue to the location or the time. It could be day or night, an hour since she had been forcefully removed from the Temple or a week.
"You are on my ship," Maul said, waving a hand.
Karis instantly knew this was a lie, resisting the mind-trick she felt pushing against her awareness; she would not be caught by that a second time. There was no telltale vibration of ship's engines, no sense of movement. Lyxandra had been on enough ships to know, and therefore she did too. A small quirk of Maul's red black lips at her disbelieving scowl told her it had been some sort of test.
"I sense Mistress Nox in you," he said softly. "You're changing, regaining her memories."
"Yeah?" Karis snarled, covering her fear. "Well just you wait until I remember how to use a lightsabre, pal! I'll put two holes in you for every one you made in me! Her!"
Maul laughed again, the quiet, accomodating laughter used to humour a particularly peevish child. Lacing his black gloved fingers he stared piercingly at her, reminding her she had just threatened a Dark Lord of the Sith, reminding her she was a comic book artist stranded in an alien galaxy.
"You're in no position to make threats. Even in this condition I need not remind you what I could do to Qui-Gon Jinn's unarmed, untrained poppet."
Karis felt cold, sitting on the edge of the bed and clenching her fists so he would not see she was trembling. His tone of voice was quiet, even conversational, but she had no doubt he meant every word he said. She wondered if she had totally lost her mind, daring to threaten a warrior as accomplished as Darth Maul.
"However," he continued. "That is not my intent. Fear is my ally, but only my enemies need fear me... and you are not my enemy."
Seeing her incredulity, her small flinch of fright as he stood and pressed a hidden button on a wall pannel, he stood back to allow her to see a viewscreen descending from the ceiling on a jointed mechanical arm
"Nothing I say will convince you, but maybe what you see will."
The viewscreen flickered momentarily, crackling and popping until the image snapped clear. Karis watched, recognising the broad silvery marble corridor and elaborate scrolled columns from the Royal Palace in Theed. Ungainly in their trailing brocade robes and tall headdresses, Nute Gunray, the Neimoidian Viceroy and his attaché Rune Haako waddled into the picture, earnestly talking. The image was soundless and as Karis watched, they moved out of view.
Moments later, two more figures appeared at the end of the corridor, gradually becoming larger as they neared what she assumed was a security camera. Both were cloaked and hooded, one in black, the other in Jedi brown. Moving swiftly and easily across the glistening marble floor, they stopped in the spill of pale golden sunlight streaming in through a huge multi-paned window. The black-robed figure reached up a gloved hand and pulled back the hood, revealing Maul's horned, tattoed head. He reached out and touched the other person's arm, who responded by clasping his hand and throwing back their hood.
Karis stared, emerald eyes huge and disbelieving, screwing great fistfuls of her tunic in her hands until the seams groaned. She watched as Lyxandra smiled at the Sith, a hand on his arm as they talked like they were old friends.
"No," she whispered, seeing Maul touch a finger to a lock of the Jedi Master's shining red black hair. "NO!!"
Launching herself from the bed in a molten haze of denial, she dived for the door. Maul caught her smoothly about the waist, his other arm locking around her throat as he easily dragged her back, kicking and fighting for breath.
"Look!" he hissed, clamping her chin in his hand, forcing her head about. "As you can see, Mistress Nox and I knew each other well. She knew the Republic is weak, in need of stronger leadership and that was enough common ground. I didn't kill her, Qui-Gon Jinn did – he put her down like an animal when she fought by my side!"
Burning tears starting in her eyes, Karis clawed at the imprisoning hand imprinting bruises on her jaw. She felt dizzy, lack of breath causing violet comets to dance across her vision.
"No!" she ground out, struggling as hard as she could. "No, no, no!"
Just as she thought she would pass out, Maul released his grip, taking her by the arms and steering her to the bed. Clutching her throat, she gagged and wheezed, forcing air past her abused windpipe. Staring through a shivering veil of tears, she swallowed hard as he sat on the side of the bed next to her, expecting at any moment to find a red lightsabre blade at her throat.
"Don't believe all the lies the Jedi tell," he growled.
"I-I remember y-you killing m-me," Karis choked, not bothering to correct herself. "I f-felt it!"
She flinched as his gloved hand cupped the back of her skull, fingers sliding through her short hair. Catching her breath in expectation of pain, thinking he was going to wrench back her head, she tensed.
"You recall what the Jedi want you to," he murmured, voice a low velvet purr. "Manipulation of a confused, frightened mind is extremely easy, and you must have been very afraid."
Not daring to breathe, limbs manniquin stiff with fear, her heart clawing its way up her throat, she bit her lip as he tipped her face to one side with his index finger.
"I hurt you," he observed, touching the purple blue finger pad bruises studding the soft flesh of her cheeks and jaw. "Forgive me."
Hardly believing what she was hearing – Darth Maul, apprentice of the Dark Side apologising for inflicting bruises, hardly a serious injury, Karis cradled her aching jaw in her hands.
"You must be hungry," he said. "I'll be back shortly with something to eat."
Rising, he crossed to the door and tapped on it twice. It opened into the wall apperture with a faint hiss, revealing a pair of red-shouldered security droids armed with heavy blasters standing guard outside. As the door slid shut he glanced back at Karis, who was tremulously reaching towards the screen to play back the footage a second time. Grinning fiercely to himself, Maul strode away down the corridor, black robe swishing about his ankles. Things were going exactly as he planned; her fury and fear were beginning to turn to confusion, she was starting to question what the Jedi had told her. It was only a matter of time before she began to believe what he said. By the time she realised the deception it would be too late, she would have committed herself to him and the Dark Side.
*
"I've spoken with Masters Windu and Adi-Mundi," Qui-Gon announced. "The investigators have come up with little."
Obi-Wan watched his former Master pace the confines of the spire balcony, hands folded into the sleeves of his robe. The last time he had seen Qui-Gon Jinn so close to visibly agitated was when he had been wounded during a mission some years ago. He had hovered over his Padawan's bedside for days, politely questioning the healers, firmly insisting on overseeing all medical procedures and generally worrying in a reserved way. Too deeply engrossed in thought to appreciate the magnificent panoramic view of the mercury saffron sunset over Imperial City, the Jedi Master stopped and leaned on his palms on the balcony rail. Six days had passed since Karis had been kidnapped and they were no closer to discovering the identity of her abductor or where she was being held.
"The Force will guide us," Obi-Wan pronounced softly. "We will find her."
Qui-Gon turned and frowned, then relented, lips twitching in an affectionate smile as he dropped a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"Of course, Obi-Wan. I just wish the Force were a little more… expedient in this case. My patience is not what it should be."
His gaze shifted to the horizon, brows dipping in a renewed frown. He appeared to be thinking, mulling something over in his mind. Straightening, he turned to Obi-Wan.
"How did they find her so quickly?" he mused. "We were barely on Coruscant eight hours… the healers examined her, any droid tags would have shown on their medical scans… unless…"
"Unless?" Obi-Wan prompted, joining his former Master at the rail.
"Unless she was carrying a tag on her clothing. Do you recall, Obi-Wan, that she mentioned she thought there was something sticking through the sole of her boot when we landed?"
The young Knight nodded, remembering how she had fiddled with her left boot while waiting to see the Council. She had pulled at the tongue, stuck her fingers down the sides, wiggled her foot and made various barely audible sounds of annoyance and discomfort. He had put it down to nerves at the time.
"It's a possibility," he allowed. "It could be a bio-sensitive tag, activated by her biorhythms. If that's true-"
"We could trace it," Qui-Gon concluded with quiet triumph. "Do you still have the data chip from the droid?"
Obi-Wan nodded, catching his former Master's train of thought. He had kept an undamaged chip from a destroyed droid, thinking it would be useful to ascertain where it came from. If they were lucky, it would contain the identity frequency it used for its tags, thus enabling them to establish a connection trace.
"I'll contact a technician," he declared, already striding away. "We should know shortly."
Meeting Anakin, who was lingering in the cool marble foyer outside, Obi-Wan dropped a hand on his shoulder. The young Padawan looked up and grinned at his Master, he had been beginning to get bored. Lounging about waiting for the older Jedi had tested his patience, a virtue his Master had repeatedly tried to instill in him.
"We've a job to do, Ani. How does helping take apart a droid data chip sound?"
Anakin let out a small whoop and speeded up, a darted glance back showing Master Qui-Gon walking up behind them. Dropping back level with him, then hurriedly quickening his pace to stop himself being overrun by the Jedi Master's huge stride, he reached up and touched his elbow.
"We'll find her, Master Qui-Gon, Sir," he assured earnestly. "I dreamed that we would."
Qui-Gon did not comment, but smiled briefly, a smile that did not quite reach the steely blue of his eyes. Anakin knew that he was simply relieved to have something to do, something to contribute. Sitting around was not the Jedi Master's attitude, he was a man who preferred to take action whenever possible. Grinning at the prospect of getting his hands on something technological, Anakin sprinted ahead to join Obi-Wan, his head full of intricate circuit traceries and fluctuating frequencies.
*
"Tell me about your Master," Karis asked, the question that had been bouncing around her head for the past day finally popping from her lips. "You have no Padawan braid, but you're still an apprentice."
She inwardly winced as Maul visibly bridled, feral gold eyes burning a yellow shade brighter than before. It appeared she had touched a nerve, that there was a point of contention between the Sith Lord and his Master. She had woken from an afternoon catnap the previous day to find Maul talking quietly to a mobile holoset communicator just outside the open door, unaware she was listening. Easily exhausted, she often fell asleep mid afternoon, despite fighting to stay awake. Peering out from beneath her lashes, she had watched as he conversed in hushed, deferential tones with the spectral blue holovid image of a sonorous-voiced older robed man, his features obscured by shadow and his raised hood. By the respectful bow the Sith gave when he ended the communication, she had surmised he had been talking to his mysterious Master.
"My Master is a great man," he rasped. "A man of influence and position within the Republic."
Instantly, Karis ran through a mental list of important figures in the Republic she had compiled before she had been snatched. Sensing her mind working, Maul grinned and poured a little more fragrant Corellian nectar into her glass. A delicious fermented fruit drink, she had commented it reminded her of peach Schnapps and lemonade, which he assumed were Earth beverages.
"When do I get to meet him?" she asked, shifting position in her padded chair and taking a mouthful of nectar.
Maul shrugged dismissively, brushing against her mind to ascertain her motives for asking the question. He sensed curiosity, a light phantasm of fear and a sense of calculation. She was probing him for information, beginning to engage in verbal and psychological chess, move for countermove. It was becoming more difficult to sense her emotions as her transformation progressed. Physically, her skin had undergone a slight tone change and her hair had begun to darken from burnished brown to crimson jet. She was significantly less afraid of him, though he could not be sure if this was due to growing trust or regaining her Jedi equanimity.
"When I decide you are ready," he answered nonchalantly.
"Groomed and moulded in your own image, eh?" she murmured acerbically. 'And what makes you think you can do that, Sith?'
Alert to her moods, Maul's yellow eyes snapped up at the amused contempt and defiance of her verbal and telepathic voices. She looked questioningly back at him, unaware she had spoken. There had been numerous instances of this, bursts of Mistress Nox's personality breaking through. They made her unpredictable and potentially dangerous. He had not observed her for long enough to know if her own personality was disassembling as the memories returned, but hoped to turn her while she was still suggestible.
Softening his pentrating stare with a sly smile, he was rewarded as she almost smiled back, then checked herself. Karis Kavanagh was a strong woman, Lyxandra Nox stronger still, a formidable combination by any standards. But Karis was adrift in an alien dimension, so far from her home and life that they may as well have never existed. She was alone with nothing to cling to, no point of reference. Maul had conveniently placed himself in that void, offering something to grasp with both hands to stave off the fugue. Much as she tried not to, she was gradually ceasing to resist.
"No, in Lyxandra's image," he corrected. "Don't fight it, Karis, embrace it – it's who you are now. Be all she was to me."
She did not reply, but a frown shadowed her jade eyes, the quick mind animating them running through the manifold layers of meaning attached to the utterance. They were sat facing each other in the middle of the room, a small mechanical table bearing a tall crystal decanter filled with shimmering absinthe green nectar between them. The table, which was a simple service droid, would trundle discreetly between them as it sensed a hand reaching out. Maul watched as she sipped her drink, raising his own glass to his red and black lips.
Karis swallowed the nectar, feeling the afterburn warm her throat and belly as it went down. She had no idea exactly how alcoholic it was and decided to moderate her intake. Getting drunk in the company of a Sith Lord was not advisable. She watched Maul watching her, taking in his relaxed posture, how he had stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. He reminded her of nothing so much as a resting panther, black, golden-eyed and watchful, generating a false impression of lazy indulgence. His lips twitched in amusement, causing an involuntary jolt in the pit of her stomach. Heavy-lidded, his tawny eyes tracked the progress of her glass to her mouth, followed each movement of her throat as she swallowed.
Each time he spoke it made her stomach clench, she had grown to anticipate his deep, feline baritone shaping the syllables of her name as he arrived each morning with breakfast. Always he watched her eat, observed her, how she breathed, spoke, her every movement. At first the scrutiny had unnerved her, left her feeling violated, but it had begun to pass. He would sit back and talk at length, painting a picture of a weak, corrupt Republic and how Lyxandra had come to share his point of view. He had arrived mid afternoon, the table droid spidering in at his back bearing a plate of sweet marzipan-like delicacies, two flute glasses and the decanter of Corellian nectar.
He's trying to seduce me, a lucid, unbefuddled corner of her being realised. And not just to the Dark Side.
A strange breed of dull horror mingled with unexplainable delight filled her as she realised just how far he had insinuated himself, how willing she was to allow him his way. Though far from handsome, with his fearsome tattooed countenance and spiked keratin ring of horns, his aura of disciplined menace and dark chocolate voice was dangerously attractive.
"Quite a stroke your Master pulled," she observed, desperate to cover her unease. "Sending you right into the heart of the Jedi Temple."
Maul nodded, "Yes. Their security was no match for me, as my Master predicted."
Setting down her glass on the table droid, Karis stared at him. There was something suspicious in his voice, the manner in which he responded so quickly. Adept at lying, at weaving vast tapestries of deceit so complex they became realities in their own right, he nonetheless betrayed himself. Her mouth fell open, fingers curling around the armrests of her chair.
"He doesn't know, does he?" she whispered with sudden clarity. "Jesus Christ on a moped, you've done this without telling him, haven't you?"
The Sith Lord said nothing, but his gloved fingers tightened on his glass. Loud in the wordlessness, the fragile flute glass shattered, crushed shards tinkling from between his fingers to pepper the floor with glittering sharpness. The table droid droned forward, a small vacuum nozzle emerging from its underbelly to suck up the broken glass.
"Yes!" he growled fiercely, brushing fragments from his gloved fingers. "I have defied my Master."
Nearly trembling with emotion as he made the admission, he leapt from his chair, red black features tightening with pain at the sudden movement. Seizing her by the arms, he hauled her upright, almost lifting her from her feet.
"Do you see what you have done?" he demanded harshly. "I have disobeyed a Sith Master for you!"
"You're hurting me!" Karis gasped, heart tripping madly at the violent tempest building behind his yellow eyes. "Stop it!"
Easing his flesh-numbing grip, he swept her close, her palms crushed against his chest as she brought her hands up to push him away. Trembling, Karis stared up at him, feeling his heart thumping beneath her palm, the hard musculature of his torso.
"Do you see?" he repeated softly, voice a tone above a whisper. "Do you see what the Jedi stole from me?"
Clamping the fingertip of his right glove between his teeth, he pulled it off and dropped it. Like his face, his hand was tattoed scarlet and jet, the unmarked skin of the palm almost black. Stroking her cheek with his knuckles, he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, sighing as he touched her skin with his fingertips. Frozen in place, mesmerised by his fiery amber eyes, Karis shivered, but was unsure whether it was with disgust or pleasure.
"Please…" she protested faintly as he tipped her chin. "I-I c-can't."
Maul guided her face closer, seeing the conflict raging behind her eyes. The battle was nearly his, her resistance was almost spent. She was so close to succumbing, needing only the smallest of nudges in the right direction. All he had to do was provide her with a reason to trust him, and there was nothing better than appealing to the need for a mate.
"Why?" he asked, lips almost touching hers. "You think I can't sense your feelings? Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you."
She was rigid in the Sith Lord's arms, but as he tilted her face, he felt her begin to surrender. Her journey to the Dark Side and to him was underway. Seeing her unconsciously hold her plump lower lip between her teeth, pink tongue darting out to moisten it, he momentarily felt his self-control waver. He had hated and desired Lyxandra Nox on sight, which had only served to heighten his need to kill her and Qui-Gon Jinn, who was clearly her bondmate. Now he had the chance to have her as she would have been if she had turned; a Force-trained warrior to fight at his side, a mentor, a lover. His Master would forget his rage when he presented him with the reincarnation of a famed Jedi Master who was willing to serve and obey the Dark Side. A trinity of Sith could extend their reach to the Outer Rim and beyond. Pulling her closer, he moved in. Shrilly announcing its presence, his comlink shrieked at his belt. The spell broken, Karis stiffened and moved away, looking shaken. Irritably snatching the communicator, Maul thumbed it on.
"Yes?" he snarled.
"Sir!" the mechanical, metallic voice of a battle droid filtered from the tiny speaker. "There are intruders in the building, three guard posts have been overrun-"
The transmission died in a cacophony of whining blaster fire and loud static, punctured by the unmistakable musical hum of lightsabres and electrical crackle of decapitated droids.
"Jedi!" Maul spat, lips skinning back over his teeth.
Whirling around, he grabbed Karis by the wrist, pulling her across the room. Smacking at the door release, he dragged her through into a wide, bare grey corridor which was empty except for a scattering of security and battle droids.
"They'll not have you," he hissed, motioning the stationed droids to cover the end of the corridor. I'll kill you first!
Towed along by the inescapable gloved hand clamped to her wrist, Karis ran after the Sith as he sprinted away, black robes swirling in his wake. As he ran, he tapped at his comlink with his thumb, signalling the computer onboard his ship to begin takeoff procedures. The faceless, undecorated corridors sped past in a silver grey blur, lit only by starkly blue artificial light. There were no windows, no visible exits, nothing to indicate where the building was or even what floor they were on. All Karis knew was they were going upwards, towards the roof and Maul's waiting ship. She had seen him contact the Interceptor and knew that if he got her onboard and they took off there was little chance anyone could successfully track them.
Confused in body and spirit, she allowed herself to be pulled along, not resisting in any way. She looked at the Sith, at his ivory yellow horns and tattoos that indicated danger as surely as any warning colouration of fur, feathers or hide in nature, felt his hatred for the Jedi radiating from him in palpable waves. Three more corridors passed in a faded monochrome blur, featureless junctions broken by turqoise oblong lights set into the ceiling.
Maul felt a sudden resistance as she stopped, the pad of her chunky boots falling silent. Raising her head, emerald eyes peering through a dark fringe, she looked at him.
"I can't do this," she stated.
"Now is not the time to play games," the Sith growled, tugging at her wrist, trying to coerce her into moving but prepared to knock her out and carry her if need be. "Do you want the Jedi to catch you, do you want to die for a second time?"
His question remained unanswered as the corridor mouth exploded with deflected blaster bolts, red zinging lines of destructive energy thudding into the walls, rebounding from the ceiling. Severed, the muzzle-like beige head of a battle droid tumbled into view, closely followed by a pair of tottering disembodied legs that clattered noisily to the floor. A single shot rang out, answered by the hissing crackle of a lightsabre thrust through the innards of a droid.
'Sabre humming neon green at his ear, Qui-Gon Jinn stalked around the corner, blue eyes icy and determined. With a single glance he ascertained what had occurred, sensing the tangled, fraught state of Karis's psyche. Joining him moments later, Obi-Wan stood at his former Master's side. Two halves of a perfectly compatible fighting unit, the two Jedi stood en garde facing the lone Sith. Any shock they felt at seeing their enemy alive and well did not show on their faces. The fact they had seen Darth Maul tumble into the melting pit, a smouldering hole through his breastbone, did not matter. At her back, Karis heard the double ignition of a twin-bladed crimson lightsabre.
"Karis." She heard Qui-Gon's lilting voice as if from a great distance, firm and commanding. "Step away, come with us."
Mocking and vitreolic, Maul's laughter filled the metal corridor, a short, humourless expression of disdain. He took a step forward, twirling his 'sabre, but Karis knew he was reluctant to face the Jedi in his depleted state. Still recovering from his last encounter, his chances of winning were slim.
"Remember," he purred. "Remember what he did to you?"
The battle would not be won by the superior swordsman or the more adept at mind-trickery; the war was being raged inside Karis's head. Fighting swiftly rising panic, she stared wildly at first the Jedi, then the Sith, gaze skipping between the two. Red and black lips curled back aggressively over his teeth, Maul stared past her at the Jedi, knees slight bent, back braced, ready to leap into action. Holding back was clearly something he was not accustomed to, impatience revealed in the way he bounced on his toes. Whatever held him in position was increasingly tenuous in the face of his hatred for the Jedi.
Looking at Maul, how he was poised serpent-like, a study in coiled muscle and pent-up venomous hatred, she turned her gaze to the Jedi. Shorter by head and shoulders than his former Master, Obi-Wan's gaze was fixed on the Sith, the usual glint of promised mischief gone from his eyes. She knew Maul had noticed the absence of his Padawan braid and felt an increase in his animosity towards the young man. While he remained an apprentice, the despised Jedi was now a full Knight.
Shifting her attention to Qui-Gon, she sensed the stoicism radiating from him. Features composed, almost eerily so, the only indication to his feelings was the dark indent between his brows. In a sudden flash of clarity, Karis realised he did not hate Maul, he was an enemy to be fought and defeated, but not hated. Any hatred he may once have felt, he had mastered and rid himself of. Turning his head so their eyes met, cobalt blue and emerald green, Qui-Gon held her gaze. Fighting a strong momentary urge to look away, Karis felt his sincerity, the unmitigated honesty of his purpose.
'Maul has fed your confusion, tried to use your anger to serve the Dark Side. Feel, Karis, don't think – trust your instincts.' The Jedi Master's telepathic voice filled her mind, supportive and enviably calm.
Struggling against a sudden resurgence of confusion, differing thoughts and insidious things whispered by Maul clamouring for supremacy, she felt something snap inside her. Abruptly, she felt strangely composed and sure of the truth for the first time. Her head turned, the blue electric light painting violet bars across her darkening hair, fingers curling at her sides.
"Karis…" Maul hissed, sensing the change, the subsidance of her mental state into something approaching serenity.
When she ignored him and took a step towards the Jedi, he realised he had failed. With a snarl, he surged forward, hooking the haft of his lightsabre beneath her chin to drag her back. Crushed against his chest, the deadly hum of an ignited 'sabre blade scant centimetres from her throat, Karis fought the onslaught of terror, drawing on her newly-discovered calm.
"Stay back, Jedi!" the Sith warned, taking step after step backwards towards the elevator that led to the landing pad and the waiting Interceptor. "Or her blood is on your hands for a second time."
Pressing slowly forward, 'sabres at the ready, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan waited for an opportunity as Maul inched away, all the time aware he could fetch off Karis's head by flicking his wrist. Bent over backwards, stepping on her tiptoes to avoid being dragged by the neck, her green eyes were muddy with controlled fear, her throat working convulsively as she tried not to breathe too deeply in case the crackling red 'sabre blade kissed her windpipe. Willing her to be strong and to resist the natural instinct to panic, Qui-Gon sensed a small, almost undetectable fluctuation in the Force. Intently focussed on the near future, on anticipating when the other would strike, neither the Sith nor Obi-Wan noticed it.
The pinched tenseness of fear evaporated from Karis's features, eyes sliding right, two luminous emeralds in the dull purplish corridor lights. Her hands flew up to grip the lightsabre shaft at her throat, legs lifting smoothly from the floor as she boosted herself up. Using the shaft and Maul's weight for leverage, she flipped over his horned head to land in a perfect crouch at his back. Her right hand snapped up, chin lifting, eyes narrowing with concentration. The Sith staggered and almost lost his footing, thrust forward by a powerful Force-push.
The instant she had moved, the Jedi closed in. Dropping to one knee, Maul brought up his 'sabre to block Obi-Wan, blue white sparks flying from the impact. Leaping to his feet, he was met by Qui-Gon's green blade striking hard, once, twice, veering off and sweeping back to clash against his own. The unremarkable grey walls danced with the crackling, scintillating blaze of lightsabre against lightsabre, the sound so different to that of deflected blaster bolts. Three participants in a lethal dance, they spun, swooped and wheeled the length and breadth of the corridor.
Jaw set, eyes terrifyingly intent, Qui-Gon drove in, decades of experience lending him an advantage over the Sith's youth. Chartreuse green against bloody crimson, his 'sabre screamed as he wheeled about to block a stabbing blow from the Sith's second blade. Lightsabre skittering down the length of Maul's blade, the corridor bleached out by the resulting white hot luminance, he flew back as he received a driving kick to the chest. Covering his former Master, Obi-Wan leapt in, meeting the Sith blow for blow, 'sabre raising sapphire sparks.
Karis watched the proceedings calmly, slowly getting to her feet. Some part of her was inwardly screaming, terrified the Sith would injure or even kill either of the Jedi. She jumped as Maul's shrieking red blade narrowly missed Obi-Wan's head, clipping the sleeve of Qui-Gon's tunic as it passed, filling the air with the smell of scorched material and skin. Obi-Wan was too young to die, barely knighted a year, still with many years ahead of him. The prospect of staring down at Qui-Gon Jinn's lifeless form, robbed of his quiet strength, at sightless unblinking steel blue eyes and a mouth that was too rarely graced with a smile, was unbearable.
Each combatant gifted with Force-prescience, able to see moves before they occurred, the battle continued at a preternatural speed. Perfectly in tune with each other, always correctly anticipating moves, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fought side by side, using each other's strengths and compensating for weaknesses. Making full use of his two red blades, the Sith thrust and parried, seeking any openings or lapses in concentration, aiming for vital organs. Slowed by his treacherous body, still suffering from the wounds he had garnered during his last meeting with the two Jedi, he was barely able to hold his own. Had his enemies not been Jedi, he would have easily dispatched them with his usual efficient cruelty, but the Force had decreed otherwise.
Blocking an opportune downward attack from Obi-Wan, the Sith failed to stop the wailing sweep of Qui-Gon's green blade. Sighing past his former Padawan's shoulder, aiming for the unprotected middle torso, it sliced through Maul's black-clad arm as he came about to try to fend off the blow. Severed at the elbow, his right arm dropped to the floor, the fingers of the hand still twitching spasmodically. Bellowing with pain, he stared at the clean stump, staggering back as the Jedi moved in.
Wincing as she looked at the limb lying on the floor, bloodless as a droid part due to the cauterising effect of a lightsabre blade, Karis heard a thunderous metallic sound in the corridor behind her. Two man-high mechanical nightmares, blunt noses tucked into armoured tails as they rolled, were heading straight for them. Unfurling from their armadillo balls, putting down jointed arachnid legs, twin blaster barrels snapped into position. With an audible pop, impenetrable silvery shield bubbles formed around them, dulling the glow of their three red targeting nodes.
"Destroyers!" she screamed, no longer questioning how she knew what they were.
Eyes widening as they reared up before her, she threw herself to one side as they opened fire. Quickly retreating to the shelter afforded by the destroyer's shield generators, Maul bared his teeth at the Jedi, chest heaving, his remaining hand brandishing his 'sabre defiantly. Ducking down low, Obi-Wan bobbed and zigzaged until he reached her, covered by Qui-Gon who deflected blaster bolts.
"Time to go," he gritted, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet, blue 'sabre flashing out to stop a bolt that got too close to her head.
Rolling in behind the two destroyers, three more uncurled, shields bursting into life around them moments after they began to fire. Pointing with his lightsabre, features contorted with undiluted hatred, yellow eyes aflame, Maul stepped back to behind them. He knew if not for the timely appearance of the destroyers he would be dead. Despite his great discipline and command of the Force, he was in pain. His old injuries throbbed mercilessly, inflamed by exertion, and where his arm had been was liquid agony.
"Kill them!" he roared, the corridor lights reflecting purple black from his tattoed skin. "All of them!"
Deafened by the ringing report of blaster fire, Karis ducked as a bolt zinged past her ear. The pungent scent of burnt hair reached her nostrils, fingers coming up to touch a singed matt scant millimetres from her left temple. A stray blaster bolt ignited lubricating fluid leaking from a decapitated battle droid, causing turbid smoke to fill the corridor, swirling around the jointed legs of the destroyers and the Jedi's boots. 'Sabre singing furiously back and forth to fend off a continuous torrent of blaster bolts, Qui-Gon looked to his former apprentice.
"Obi-Wan, signal the transport," he called above the whine of energy weapon's fire.
"Yes, Master!"
Finding herself at Qui-Gon's side, his huge hand clamping onto her shoulder to push her behind him, Karis dropped down and snatched a blaster from a fallen droid, suddenly struck with a need to be armed and useful. Bringing the heavy weapon up, she took aim and squeezed the trigger, feeling it kick back against her shoulder. Coughing a little as she breathed in a lungful of acrid smoke, wiping her watering eyes on the back of her hand, she aimed squarely for Maul. Even one-armed, the Sith was no easy target. He deflected the bolts into the wall and back at her, teeth bared in a savage grimace. Taken with a sudden idea, she thumbed the switch on the blaster, changing the setting to stun. If they could capture Maul, it would lead them to his elusive Master. Her first shot went wide, pinging from the shield bubble of the destroyer nearest to Maul.
"Karis," Qui-Gon rapped out, forehead sheened with sweat from the fight. "It's a stand-off. We'll never get past those destroyers. Forget the Sith."
Cursing under her breath, but realising the Jedi Master was right, she turned and let loose a final volley as the destroyers began to advance in formation, crab-walking on ungainly tripod legs. Standing erect and uncowed in the midst of the killing machines, legs planted slightly apart, Maul grinned as he saw the green bolts zipping towards him, 'sabre spinning up before him in a scarlet blur. Skin tingling like she had been stroked with feathers, every nerve ending shrilling with foresight, Karis knew what was coming. She saw the deflected bolt shrieking towards her, faint traceries of air streaking in its wake. Time seemed to slow as she ducked, but as she did so she knew she had not been quick enough, knew that neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan would be able to block it, engaged as they were fending off the destroyers.
Great, she thought disgustedly. I seem to be spending a lot of time unconscio-
The bolt hit her. Conscious thought, the scorched metal stench of the corridor and the bright crimson filigree of looping blaster fire faded as oblivion reached out with greedy arms to claim her. Humming blackness.
