++++++++++
Walkar
Governor's Palace
++++++++++
The Simmians demand it, Jedi. Look outside. Bonadan's Governor raised the window shield from a control panel in his armchair. Down in the darkness, throngs of Simmians and Bondani alike crowded Walkar's main square threatening to riot.
Retaining the composure of her voice, Li'sarrow responded as evenly as possible. I do not believe they are fully aware of their options, or of the long term ramifications.
They've been informed alright and we must bend to the people... Governor M'ztka chuckled at the irony.
All they had to do was the original tissue samples and Mandalor would do the rest. Likewise, if negotiations remained as is, the Senate would have to lift the slavery tax because technically, clones are not slaves. Threats of secession had kept the Senate at bay thus far and the alliance with Mandalor prevented interstellar military advancement without declaring outright war, or that was how Trafalgar had so keenly put it. The Governor couldn't be more satisfied with the outcome.
The representative from the Republic, Kiltma, now chimed in, The Senate will never agree to this. Perhaps their is another, more profitable solution.
I don't think so. The people demand their freedom, the Governor added sarcastically, spreading his raven winged robe across the window.
Then we've done all we can, Chlak admitted and waited patiently for his counterpart.
Yes, you've done all you can, the governor agreed watching them leave as they nodded their heads in disappointment and mumbled their regrets.
After a few moments, M'ztka turned back around to look below and finally asked, Aren't you leaving as well?
Li'sarrow pressed her lips together firmly and disappeared.
++++++++++
Coruscant
Palpatine's Private Quarters
++++++++++
They are in a complete state of anarchy, Senator Palpatine. Governor M'ztka is no longer able to maintain control of his planet. The slaves are revolting and there is nothing he can do.
You have done well, Kiltma. The investors will have no choice but to acquiesce- to save what little they have left. I'll take care of the rest.
We are on our way back to Coruscant now.
Cutting him off, he made other plans. C3RX, get me Mandalor. While the droid opened the holo, Palpatine smirked to himself at the ease of such manipulation. The cards had been dealt in his favor since the beginning; it was just a matter of convincing people that what you want is what they want as well.
The well dressed Mandalorian spirited before him. I have been waiting for your call.
Good. It's time, Leo.
++++++++++
Walkar
Governor's Palace
++++++++++
She hugged the cold dagger to her breast, no longer bothering to conceal it for Walkar looked in a state of war. A hired team of Gammorean soldiers peppered the streets as random Bondani scrambled about the chaos. Fires had demolished a great deal of downtown, and shop windows were busted out, an open invitation to looters. All the Simmians were gone, or at least off the streets, and she didn't explore what might have become to the rest of them that didn't reach the clinic. However, none of this distracted her from her purpose.
Barging into the Governor's Palace proved simple, for a large hole gaped open in the entrance. Treading over the crackling glass, she ignored the shattered skylight swaying precariously from metallic threads, and moved to the lifts, prepared to take the stairs if necessary. Finding them empty and abandoned, though still in working order, she sailed up the hundred floors to his office.
Although logic told her the governor had long since fled, a feeling guided her to the bowels of his office.
While the familiar hallway showed none of the signs of war that downstairs displayed, she remained cautious nonetheless and unsheathed her dagger from her boot.
As if on cue, a stampede approached from around the corner. Most likely Gammoreans, she surmised, slipping into one of the smaller offices as the tremor rumbled passed. Peeking down the hall behind them, she noticed three bulging sacks bouncing off their backs, clucking with small electronic equipment swiped from the abandoned rooms. Looters.
Moving on, she stepped boldly into the Governor's office, uncertain if he would even be there. Working her way through the old conference room, she faced the round table overcome with an intense sensation. Li'sarrow had been here recently; she could almost smell her in the room. Slightly taken aback, she paused as a feeling of danger overtook her.
Don't go in there. Don't give into the hatred, Amelia.
Li'sarrow's voice took on an ethereal air.
Slowly turning to the double doors that lead to M'ztka's private office, the healer took firm hold of the dagger, and kicked open the swinging doors.
Swathed in the deep blue hues of the creature's den, she tiptoed inside. The electronic blinds spilt diagonal stripes of light upon the murky carpets, disoriented her momentarily. But it was a rustle of leaves that caused her to spin on her heal, and to her surprise, a well armed figure loomed in the doorway.
Anisse Nobel held the strung crossbow out before her, and eased her way into the room. You wouldn't believe what they are willing to pay for you.
Elia spun around, addressing her by her full name.
How clever. We bounty hunters go to a great deal of trouble to conceal ourselves. Like a silvery cat, it was her habit to toy with her prey before the butchery.
I'd extend a peace offer, but I know you wouldn't accept it. She alluded to the formal decline Qui-Gon made over the holo in response to M'ztka's offer. But why you refused baffled me because your fate would soon become theirs. She referred to cloning with an pretentious nonchalance.
You want my blood.
You have a particular gene Fianat Trafalgar is willing to pay a great deal for. The same gene that saved your friend, Thaum, the first time we met. How easy it is this time, when there are no Jedi to protect you... the bounty hunter smirked, eyeing her target closely even as she stepped nearer.
Elia followed the woman's eyes, a blazing cerulean against the blues of this room. Subtly backing away, the healer's haunches burned, prepared to spring at a moment's notice. I'm here for M'ztka. Where is he? the words were exhaled in a hoarse whisper for fear of disturbing the precarious tension that strung itself taut between the two.
Anisse stretched taller, but did not lower her weapon. He's there. Why don't you take a looksie?
As if understanding what she meant, Elia dared dart into the dark recesses of the room only to find M'ztka lazily slumped behind his desk, the steel feathered end of an arrow protruding as if a black bud had sprouted from his breast bone.
Understanding hit her all at once. She was not meant to kill M'ztka, but was drawn here for another reason.
She turned to face the attacker, who had now slithered closer. You've stolen what was to be -my- honor, huntress. I must sacrifice something else in it's stead, Elia remarked, cocking her head to the side, with a distant yet vengeful expression.
Unfettered, the healer's antagonist plucked at the trigger, a barbed arrow sailing across the room, but even before Elia could gasp in surprise, the arrow pierced through her breast. Sucking in the acrid oxygen, Elia dipped to the left, and swaggered slightly, justifying to herself that this was to be the sacrifice.
Still clinging to the dagger and choking on her own blood, she yanked at the bloody corsage embedded in her shoulder. Blacking out, she gagged on the pain as she slumped to the floor. Summoning upon the Force for reconciliation, she winced as the threads of life struggled to reconstruct themselves.
Anisse, stringing her bow for another shot, raised her weapon and took aim.
Shaking off the beckoning lips of unconsciousness, Elia started awake and flung her dagger at the aggressor, who staggered back as it sliced through the silvery leather.
Now surging with adrenaline and the Force, Elia pounced forward, kicking out at the crossbow in a such a way that rendered the injured antithesis nearly defenseless. But like a true warrior, Anisse whipped out a short concealed switchblade. Slashing out at Elia as she sparked back, the professional ripped the dagger out of her thigh and threw it across the room, grunting threateningly. Unintimidated by the injury, her eyes glossed over with intention, eliminating all fear of consequences. Charging the healer like a flaming bull, Anisse screeched with frustration as Elia flipped over her head out of her path.
Rushing to her weapon, Elia clutched it close to her chest, coughing through the reconstruction of her tissue. Catching her breath, she waited for the woman to turn around and attack again, fueled by fury. Slashing at each other, they bouted at close range, hacking, yet keenly deflecting the other's efforts.
Unsuspecting, a boot came up between the two, crashing into the healer's jaw. Dazed, she staggered back, taking a thick cut in the arm. But quickly recovering, she dropped to sweep Anisse' feet, and as she tumbled to her back, Elia stabbed down into the soft hollow of the woman's torso.
Rolling out her grasp, Elia extracted the syrupy knife with her. The woman stared up at her, aware the fatal wound would demand her defeat, but with one last chance for life, Anisse kicked upwards at the healer, knocking aside, then hooked her muscular arm around her neck and squeezed.
The physical contact immediately lent her healing energy, and revitalized, the bounty hunter held onto her prey until it fell unconscious in her grasp.
++++++++++
En Route to Mandalor
Anisse Nobel's Cruiser
++++++++++
-Birds flocked about, pecking and nipping flesh off her body. She tried to run and swatch them away, but they were relentless...-
The pecking turned into bumping as she woke to a semi-conscious state. What originally appeared as darkness turned into a huge body sack. Losing her breath, she gasped as if she were under water or in the belly of some hungry beast, only to find a wide band strapped strategically across her mouth. Frantically thrashing about, her limbs strained against each other, but all four were knotted in a binding clip behind her back. Bucking back and forth, she twisted her wrists and ankles and knocked about in effort to breath, or somehow tear through the engulfing bladder.
After a panicked struggle, she drew in the Force and settled down into the unnecessary pain she caused herself, and in such quiet, listened to the muffled sounds beyond her captivity. Beneath her, she felt a warm metal purring and the frequent jolting of unstable terrain. The lack of voices suggested a cargo room.
Exploring the floor like an inch worm, she rocked back and forth until she nudged the perimeter of her confines. Rising to her knees, it seemed no more than smooth wall. Perhaps she was already in her sarcophagus. Sinking back down the floor, she plopped down against the hard metal. As if responding to the boney clatter, a voice rang out . Ah, ah, ah, not yet. It was Anisse Nobel, no doubt. She recognized the deep female voice immediately.
Reverting to a deathlike stillness, Elia wiggled her wrist in small motions calling on the Force for assistance, but she couldn't work the lock nor break the hold. Breathing heavily, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to visualize the lock, but to no avail. She was trapped.
After an incalculable time, Elia felt the ship prepare for landing, and touch down softly. I'm going to let you out now. If you try to escape, I'll shoot you in the heart and sell your remains to every cloning organization that will take you. Are we in agreement?
Elia's arms and legs slowly returned to their original shape, the achy pliancy easing its way to her fingertips. Pressing against the floor, she sat and ripped the adhesive off her mouth, inhaling a gluttonous breath.
Anisse barked a command to move, threading a leash around her neck and tying a blindfold around her eyes, before leading her out of the small vessel.
But where she was being taken, Elia had no idea. It was likely, she tried to rationalize, that she was being sold for her healing capabilities. Trembling, she demanded more control of her fear by disseminating her thoughts with facts, which in turn, she hoped would help her concoct a solution to this rather frightening prospect.
The sounds of a busy city flowed up to her, and the thin atmosphere suggested a great height. Thankfully, the winds of a landing platform subsided, and they traversed downwards a number of floors before exiting.
*
Anisse stepped into Curel's primary entrance with no hesitation. Devil's den or not, she would not be intimidated by this soft corporate woman.
Across the way, pounding the tiled entrance with her stiletto heals, Fianat did not appear happy to see them. I thought I told you to meet upstairs? she hissed.
I've got nothing to hide. Do you? Their antithesis towards one another was patent as they drilled each other's eyes. Blowing off the question, Fianat unhitched her hand from her hip and lead them to through the corporate labyrinth to a private lift. Touching the identity decoder, the matte chrome doors slid back and swallowed them up.
Down, down into the belly they went. Shaking for fear, Elia drew up her courage to ask where she would be taken.
Fianat did not bother with a reply, but merely glanced over to the other woman. Its looks like she nearly bested you. Although Anisse had healed neatly, the bloodstains had not been washed away. A purplish, brownish mess of color blotched her armor and a wide hole gaped from her midsection. Although she couldn't see the damage herself, Elia could feel her own brows pull back in evil pride for her work, but little good it did her now for she was still the captive.
As the numbers on the scrolls counted downwards, into the negatives, Anisse wondered if the doors would fold back onto the fiery flames of hell itself. But instead of heat, they were immediately swamped with a block of cold air. As if permeating the walls, Elia's body stiffened, though in contrast, Fianat swayed her angular hips with comfort and confidence. Anisse, instantly nervous about this tactic, became watchful and less talkative. Taking a cleaner hold on Elia, she slipped off the girl's blindfold and pressed her in the lead.
The long hall seemed to be filled with a frost for when they breathed a transluscent mist arose from their words. At the end of this narrow walkway, the silver river fanned out into an intricate lab, complete with live labor. So this is where I am to spend the rest of my days, Elia droned.
If you're lucky, Fianat answered as she touched the identity scanner to allow them access to the actual labs. There's always the dirt patch outside. And before an objection could be made, Fianat pulled a saringe from her lab coat and stabbed it into the healer's neck, a warm feeling flooding throughout her veins.
A tall greenish man with two sets of arms greeted them at the door, but the formality was not returned. Clearing his throat, he suddenly became very quiet and led the captive into another glass closed lab, leaving the two women behind.
Logic fading quickly, Elia was lead to a ten by ten closet and directed to rest on a makeshift cot. Wek was gentle with her though even as he prepared to withdraw her blood by swabbing her arm with cotton. She tried to lurch forward, but her body was unable to respond with any agility. Vicadin, she surmised fighting to retain her thought processes.
Just rest. There's no use trying to escape. The doors here are constantly locked, and you need a retinal scan to get through or you get a radioactive flash that will kill anybody before they leave the building.
What if it's a mistake? she slurred, lying back on the cot as they room began to play tricks of vertigo.
We don't have mistakes like that around here. Buckling in her leg and arm braces, he rolled the coat rack of twisted tubes nearer her cot, and inserted a tube into the clear plastic bag that would hold her blood.
It took great effort to shape the word as the rest of the sentence was lost to a tired muffled.
The more blood we draw, he explained in small effort to distract her from the prick of the needle, the faster your body will produce more.
What are you going to do when you drain me dry? she chuckled the words lightly, her eyes rolling in the sockets uncontrollably.
We will have already begun cloning.
But what will you do in the meantime, until they are ready, I mean? You can't speed the growing process? Although she heard the sarcastic tone dribble out, this was not a question to which she really wanted an answer.
We are attempting to crossbreed the DNA with faster growing creatures.
She snickered even as the water drizzled from the corner of her eyes.
Just remember, Wek pet her forehead gently just before he began drawing her blood, your blood could save thousands of lives for thousands of years. Your life is far more beneficial as a donor, than as a healer.
Elia sensed him leave, then lopped her head to the blank white wall listening to the pump lean back and forth like a seesaw. She let the squeeze ball drop onto the floor, and tried to sit up, but the restraints were tight against her elbows. Kicking her legs gently, she knew there was no use trying to escape.
It would have been easier to give into sleep, but she was distracted with too many thoughts. Since she hadn't seen daylight, it was impossible to tell how much time elapsed since her capture. She worried about the other healers, if they had made it to Coruscant, and prayed they weren't too worried. She had to believe that Li'sarrow would keep looking for her, or that somehow, someway, the Jedi would find her.
How could she be so stupid? She was not a Jedi Knight, and her pride and anger had driven her to fight an unconquerable duel against the master bounty hunter. Passed the humiliation at such a defeat, she feared what lie in her future. Was she to be merely a lab pet, or did some worse fate await her as they experimented.... she trembled at the suggestion, curling up into a tight ball.
Solitary confinement left her rolling back and forth on her cot twisting her hands trying to shake off the self-hatred, self-pity, and powerlessness. The image of deformed fetuses floating in glass jars overwhelmed her thoughts, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't stop herself from transposing her face onto those little victims. Burying the side of her face in a sterile plastic pillow, the tears ran hot against her face, her nostrils drowning with mucous, until she she opened her mouth wide and gasped through the pillow. Pressing her face into its darkness, she wished she had been smarter, had thought through the consequences more thoroughly, had not been so idealistic, and begged, begged, begged for forgiveness, and that someone would save her. What did she have left? The Force? She felt empty of it; it had gone away, she pushed it away being selfish.
And even if she had killed M'ztka herself and wound up in the same predicament, would she still be regretting her sacrifice, now that she was just beginning to understand how much it would cost?
But Something had already saved her traversing down that Dark Path. Someone had been watching out for her, to prevent her from becoming a cold blooded murderer...
But perhaps that was what she was paying for now, the lives she took in the Nimitz, but if that was case, may her own death be quick and merciful, just as theirs had been. At least their might have been some self-satisfaction that her loss was to the benefit of others.
++++++++++
Blavnor, Mandalor
Curel HQ
++++++++++
The grounds were highly guarded with electronic equipment, making access to the highrise difficult. Obi-Wan sighed as they counted the twentieth surveillance cam on this side of the building.
Besides the fact that Fianat Trafalgar was lying to them, something else seriously plagued him. He hoped the healers had made it off Bonadan successfully, and that Elia was with them. Something told him she was somehow connected to this place, though he had little reason to think so. Running his hands through his hair, he scanned the side of the building with frustration.
What is it?
Qui-Gon frowned when his padawan pretended not to know to what he was referring. You're distracted.
Obi-Wan hung his head and took a deep breath. He didn't want to verbalize his discomfort for fear that it might generate more anxiety, so he swallowed it back down with an apology. This was not appropriate Jedi behavior. I'm sorry, Master. I feel strange about this place, the words came out with the vagueness he was looking for. The direct look to his master was a clear indication that he was not interested in pursuing that conversation.
Now that evening had covered its raven wings over the Blavnor, the two Jedi used its blackness to cloak themselves in the building's shadows. Skirting the building, they checked the ground floor for open windows, or some alternative form of entrance, but the windows remained strategically placed a number of floors up. However, to their benefit, it seemed the office residents were comfortable with this degree of security, and they spied a number of open shutters. Using their cable launchers, they breezed passed the glassy surface that reflected little more than the moon's eerie glow. With plenty of cover from nearby edifices, both predicted there was more safety in traversing upwards than breaking in along the ground level, for security would be less likely to look in this direction.
Hanging from their lines, Obi-Wan gently slipped his fingers alongside the rim of the screen when Qui-Gon stopped him. It may have a security sensor. Let's cut through along the seam. The older man gently sliced through the miniscule steel threads with this lightsaber and peeled it back. Slacking his cable, he hooked his legs over and dropped in.
Allowing his eyes adjust, he heard some shuffling in the room followed by a squawk. Sitting on the desk above him, was a covered birdcage with some very real residents. Obi-Wan overheard the flapping raucous and peeked in as he wrapped in one leg when a soft glowing grew outside the door. Unwilling to risk it, Obi-Wan activated his cable and shot up the building while Qui-Gon squeezed his large frame underneath the bird's desk just as the door slowly creaked open and flashlight pierced the darkness.
Cawing and flapping frantically again, the bird rocked in its cage and the guard jumped out the door. Cursing to himself, he peered in one more time with a quick swipe of the spotlight, then left. Wiping at the drop of sweat that trickled down his sideburns, Qui-Gon deducted that there was a minimum of one guard per floor for one to just happen to be passing by. Scooting out of the tight spot, he moved out of the way as his growing apprentice flung his legs over through the screen without disturbing it's rim.
They could have surveillance cams in the offices as well the halls, so let's keep to the shadows, the older one ordered as he guided them to the door. Although the guard was no where to be seen, there were few places to hide in the broad hallway, and one wrong turn could render them without cover.
Realizing there was not much of an option, they entered the hallway and stepped inconspicuously towards the back of the building where they came upon a mail room of sorts littered with packages. Relieved to no longer be exposed in the primary hallway, they followed the maze inwards. Hopping over the front desk, they worked their way back into the shipping area where boxes were organized into neat piles based on location.
Each floor had an ingoing and outgoing section, except the area marked Lower Levels. Picking up a package, Qui-Gon read over the return address, oddly marked in Basic while everything else seemed internally based or localized. The package was from Coruscant.
Obi-Wan whispered for his attention as he stuck his head in a long metallic tunnel that ran up and down through to the mailrooms that must been on every floor. Which way, up or down?
Lower Levels, Qui-Gon read off the list on the screen. Nodding his head in approval, Obi-Wan stepped in the large compartment while his master punched in the floor level. Hopping in just as it began moving, he counted down the floors as they passed. Four floors. Climbing out at the last stop, they looked around at the exact replica of the other mailroom. Each floor had a section, though the back side to the Lower Levels was open where they pushed the mail through to the offices on the other side. Scooting under, they exited into a staff room, a windowless, pitch black supply area.
What are we looking for? Obi-Wan asked before entering the dark room, but Qui-Gon was looking through one of the packages from the glowing light of a chronometer. Slicing it open, he dug into the package retrieving what he expected.
Obi-Wan held one up the glow of Qui-Gon's saber and found it full. This is more than we need right here- His padawan seemed almost disappointed even as Qui-Gon folded up the packing slip and wrapped it in his coat.
Trust your instincts, padawan. What is it?
Something's telling me we need to look further.
Then we go, Qui-Gon kept his hand on his shoulder as he distinguished his weapon. Using the Force to guide them, they peered into the darkness with nocturnal eyes. Entering through the staff door, they exited to another bull pen of offices.
This isn't right. We've got to get lower. Obi-Wan seemed totally focused now on reaching this unknown destination, as if pulled somehow by invisible threads. Crawling back into the mailroom while Qui-Gon explored, he sent the lift back up and cut into the floor boards with his lightsaber.
As he expected, the shaft continued further down in burst of air. he called over to Qui-Gon. This isn't the lowest level, or we'd be under the ground by now. It must be the ventilation system for the lower levels since they have no outside air. Using his grappling hook, they young man lowered himself down followed by his master. As far as he could see, there were no mailroom exits like above, so when he reached the bottom, two or three floors down, the shaft opened up horizontally in two directions at a right degree angle. Crawling inwards, he ignited his saber to find an intricate system of air shafts. Finally, they reached a glowing line of vents that looked down upon more rooms.
Upon first glance, he couldn't be sure of what he saw. Everything was a bright white blur, but he moved on further for Qui-Gon's sake. he confirmed. They moved on, and saw the cooling units full of centrefuge samples similar to what Qui-Gon saw at the Vending Station back on Bonadan.
But the real horror was yet to be seen. Holding his breath, Obi-Wan looked down in abhorrence at living, moving beings encased in preserving fluid. Pressing his face into the slivered vent, he saw rows and rows of living specimens, some terribly deformed and out of proportion.
Suddenly unable to move on, he laid his forehead against the cold metal until after a few moments, Qui-Gon urged him on. They left there knowing more than they ever wanted- the truth the healers feared about cloning.
*****
As soon as they were safely away, Qui-Gon contacted the Jedi Council. This is far more serious than expected. We found centrefuge samples being shipped in from offworld, and the type of experiments occurring there are unimaginable.
Little know you of such scientific practices, Yoda touched his lips with one of his three pudgy fingers and continued. But trust your judgment we must. Acquired you have this information illegally, therefore cannot we use it against them. Speak to this Leopold Trafalgar, and report his response while assemble we an investigative team.
Obi-Wan moped on the edge of the sleep couch, a droopy head propped up on one hand. Looking over to see his padawan in such a state concerned Qui-Gon, reminding him to ask about those they left behind. Have all the healers reached Coruscant safely?
His padawan turned his head with interest.
Still missing one is, Yoda replied. Searching still, Master Li'sarrow is. Contacted her home planet, Dathomir, we tried, but cannot get through.
Li'sarrow's still on Bonadan then?
Hmmm... Concerned the Senate is about economic collapse. Army they have sent just as we feared, since M'ztka's disappearance.
Qui-Gon pressed his master for details, but as usual, he was vague.
Know we not as of yet.
Obi-Wan scrubbed his face in frustration and lopped over to his back as Qui-Gon and Yoda finished up their conversation.
Even when Qui-Gon had finished cleaning up in the fresher, his padawan was stuck in the exact same position. Although Obi-Wan's eyes were still open, Qui-Gon turned off the light anyway and settled into bed.
Do you think that's why she's gone? That she killed M'ztka and ran off?
Do you think she's capable of murder? Qui-Gon tenderized his pillow with pounding and turned onto his side.
There's something I didn't tell you before. She killed all those Simmians in the Nimitz. Obi-Wan couldn't tell if his master was silent because he was surprised or simply exhausted.
Master Li'sarrow mentioned something about it. Does that change your opinion of her?
You knew?
I didn't think it mattered.
Not suspecting that answer, he was silent for a moment before beginning his next thought. Scooting up the bed onto his stomach, he rested his cheek on his arm and glanced over to his resting companion on the other sleepcouch. Not wanting to keep his master awake on his account, he turned his head the other direction, lost in his thoughts.
What is it, padawan?
Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure.
That statement sounds familiar, Qui-Gon sighed, recalling the innumerable amount of times he had told his pupil that very line. Good night, then. Sleep well.
But Obi-Wan's night was filled with anything but sleep. Preoccupied with the mission and the other distraction concerning Elia, he tried to rationalize his true purpose on Mandalor. The images in the lab flooded his mind to the point of nausea, and couldn't help but feel responsible for not having acted sooner.
There was something very evil surrounding Elia, and even stretching out the Force couldn't pinpoint. Even though he felt he'd earned her trust in the last few months, he could never be sure if she was being honest with him, as if she had some ulterior motive in every action. While it seemed she trusted him, why couldn't he trust her?
++++++++++
Blavnor, Mandalor
++++++++++
Good morning, Jedi, Fianat's saccharine smile bubbled with sunshine as they entered her private offices once more. Trafalgar, less than enthusiastic, nodded in their direction, but remained intent on gazing out the window at the world below.
Unlike his usual appearance at negotiations, Trafalgar was clean shaven, his shirt tucked in, and his hair combed back neatly. He had even brought a jacket in with him, though it was draped respectively against the back of the orange couch. Obi-Wan sensed his distraction immediately, and the overdone display of cheer of his sister. They appeared the odd couple, for though he hadn't known this woman for much more than a day, Trafalgar was not one to put on airs like her.
After the general formalities allowed them to be seated and pleasantries were set aside, they moved onto business.
To begin, I'd like to make it clear that Tlaska has been officially invited to speak for the corporate sector and for Mandalor.
Qui-Gon gave little more than a slight raise of his brow when he learned that Tlaska had enough power to overrule the Mandalorian government as well the system's CSA, but didn't dwell on how this came about. Then you are willing to deal?
We've already shared our treaty with the Senate this morning, and Senator Palpatine's lawyers are reviewing the terms and conditions we've outlined here. She pulled a docudisk from an attaché case and loaded it into a datapad.
Impressed, Qui-Gon hardly had the time to process what had just occurred. Negotiations rarely had gone so smoothly; and now that they had seen the lower level labs, he was certain they were working with someone in the Senate.
She continued on through his silent gasp. We agree to begin transition under certain terms. She bustled in her seat, presenting them file after file while Trafalgar did little more than simply sit and listen and his sister unfolded the details of the procedure. The heavy slave tariff must be repealed for all companies and systems that accommodate the terms of the treaty. Each company should be able to opt for droid or other paid labor, depending on their situation. But most importantly, the transition may take an extended deal of time before systems can afford to completely transits. We'll also have to make financial accommodations for companions we cannot financially bare the burden of paid labor....
She flew through the terms so quickly, Qui-Gon felt she was trying to brush passed something, so he frequently interrupted with questions, but all were met with a direct answer. She even went so far as to follow up with a personal message from Senator Palpatine thanking her for the contracts, and that they were being reviewed currently.
Just as she passed the paperwork to be signed, Obi-Wan, who had been eyeing Trafalgar with a quick moody suspicion, interrupted. What about cloning?
She turned her head towards him and looked him up and down. Cloning does not play into this situation. M'ztka was a fool to propose such a ridiculous idea. That's probably what got him killed. Not only that, but its illegal, she stated matter-of-factly. Thankfully Obi-Wan did not push the issue further, though Qui-Gon noticed his fists begin to ball beneath the sleeves of his robe.
Uninterested in their reaction to this last comment, Fianat signed the documents before them, then passed them around the table, adding, Kiltma and Chlak have already signed, so that's all we need. The corners of her lips curled up in satisfaction as she shuffled her disks and filed them back away.
When did you meet with Kiltma and Chlak? Qui-Gon wondered aloud.
We didn't. They reviewed the treaty from Coruscant and signed this morning.
Then what did you need us for? Obi-Wan bantered in his thick toned sarcasm.
Formality, and we wouldn't want you traveling back to Coruscant misinformed.
Clapping her hands clean, she stood and offered her hand. It's been a pleasure meeting with you. They all rose, even the mute Trafalgar, who offered his hand politely and spoke up. We've arranged a transport for you to return to Coruscant.
Obi-Wan paused before touching the young man's hand, glaring into his eyes even as he looked away. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon thanked him, but politely declined the transport. We have some other business we need to attend to first.
Brother and sister avoided each other's gaze where one might have expected a sideways glance. It will be waiting for you at your convenience then, Fianat filled in where her brother stood dumbfounded.
In fact, Fianat did an excellent job in filling the space that might have otherwise escalated into a confrontation should anyone dared to speak what was really on their minds. Qui-Gon could sense his padawan itch with anticipation to ask about the lab, but decidedly avoided the topic and turned his back on his disappointment as he led them out the door.
*****
A call to the Council revealed they, too, had just been informed of the Senate's deal with the CSA, and confirmed once again that troops were on their way but their demands were clear. Go back and get Li'sarrow, then return to Coruscant.
What about the labs we found?
Send a committee to investigate we will.
Master Yoda, Obi-Wan began to protest his decision, but a knobby finger held his words at bay.
So strongly you feel about this, then prohibit you I will not, but be cautious. Sense evil at work, I do.
Obi-Wan bowed as the customary closing faded on the viewscreen. Tying up his things in his small duffel, Obi-Wan stood contemplatively near the door as Qui-Gon pulled his things together when suddenly, he dropped his bag. Igniting his lightsaber, Obi-Wan dashed aside just as a red flash exploded threw the front window in a shower of glass shards.
As Obi-Wan regained his footing, Qui-Gon leaped from the other room side kicking the aggressor as she popped off two shots with her crossbow. The wall behind Obi-Wan burst in plaster chunks as he tumbled forward with the impact. Don't hit her arrows with your lightsaber or they could detonate, Qui-Gon urged as he sprang towards her. But she threw herself back out the window, swinging on a flexicable, and fired into the room again as the Jedi dashed aside. The wall that exited to the hallway crumbled into chunks.
Repelling sideways along the slick surface of synthetic stone and glass, she gave herself a running start and fired inside again swinging back and forth like a living pendulum. Screeching when she saw they were still alive, she went for another pass, but on her return flight, Obi-Wan sailed out the window and clung onto her waist sending them flying precariously downwards on the flexicable. Flinging his grappling hook up and over an exposed metal beam within the room, Qui-Gon hopped out the open window, slacking his line until just below the two fighters.
This kind of cable can't hold the two of us, Jedi! she screamed as the line sunk down further. One us has got to go, she struggled with him, hacking into his back with the edge of her crossbow as he clung to her belt.
Down below, Qui-Gon gruffly barked a command to let her go as they neared him. You're slipping. Use your liquid-
Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan just as the two slumped downward with the additional weight. Immediately shooting out his own cable, Obi-Wan was soon supporting himself, while Anisse dangled below on a thinning elasticable. Taking advantage of the situation, the Jedi each took hold of her line, Obi-Wan threatening to cut her line as he held his lightsaber close to it.
Roaring in frustration, she planting her feet against the glass and sprinted aside, yanking the rope out of their grasp. The two followed immediately, but she bounced back up the wall to another floor and kicked it in. Swooping in after her, they were careful to avoid another two shots from the Crossbow and watched as they detonated outside the window.
Luckily the room was unoccupied, and they backed her into a wall at saber's edge as she desperately struggled to reload her weapon. But before she could do so, Qui-Gon sliced through her weapon and kicked it aside. Who sent you?
Unexpectedly, she released a vibroblade from inside her shirt sleeve and swiped it towards him, though Qui-Gon easily deflected it, singing the edge of her hand.
Immediately recognizing Elia's weapon, Obi-Wan pressed in closer to the bounty hunter, who now panted ferociously like a trapped animal. Where did you get that?
Want to know where she is? The tide had now totally turned. Let me go, she slowly pushed herself off the wall with a slippery ease and parted them with two seemingly delicate hands.
You will tell us. Careful of her deception, they continued to keep their weapons poised and moved alongside her. How do you know I didn't kill her?
For your sake, I certainly hope you did not, Qui-Gon reasoned allowing the buzz of his green sword tickle the side of her face.
We know her blood was in great demand. She's too valuable to kill.
she turned toward Obi-Wan and both blades rose to her neck. In an instant, she dove back out the floor length window and whipped the dagger towards Obi-Wan, embedding it in his thigh.
Jumping after her, Qui-Gon caught her foot as she hung upside down, kicking at his bulky vise-like hands. In the background, he could hear his padawan grunt to himself as he pulled out the small knife. Lurching over, he looked down at the woman with clenched teeth and sliced through the fliexirope that was still attached to her midriff, with the threat of free falling the fifty or so floors down.
Cursing in wretched quips as they pulled her up by both legs, she made one last attempt to throw her remaining tipped arrows at them, but Obi-Wan shook the bag from her grasp and tossed it out of her reach. Qui-Gon promptly tied her up even as she spat at him, but once she knew her captors were not going to let her escape, she settled into a haughty stiffness.
Where are you taking me? She asked as they walked her down the hall and hailed a cab.
With a half-hearted snicker, she snapped at their stupidity. You'll never get out of their alive.
What have they got to hide?
You may as well tell us now, since it will be apparent to the Trafalgar's that you were the one who lead us there.
But she was silent the entire trip to Curel. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan bandaged up his leg though his pale visage wouldn't have admitted to any pain. He seemed more intent on breaking into the lab and revealing what they had hidden in there, including Elia.
*****
Entering through the main hall, they whizzed passed the massive mural of Mandalorian Conquest and rounded a corner to a hidden lift. A few people noticed the oddity of the threesome, but dared not mention so and refused eye contact.
At sword point, Obi-Wan forced the bounty hunter to press her hand into print decoder and punch in the access code. As expected, the floor moved down and the doors spun to the other side of the chamber before opening onto a long bland hallway. Weary of length even as the woman walked fearlessly into it, the two visitors were on high guard. Eventually they came to the front of the labs, only to be met with a squadron of guards, and Fianat standing bravely behind the impenetrable plexiglass sheeting. The line parted, allowing the two to see inside.
I'm surprised you made it this far, she folded her hands over her white lab coat, holding up a saringe, but you won't be going much farther. Stepping out the way, she wheeled a lethargic healer in front of her and held the needle to her neck.
Now, release my assassin.
Glancing back and forth at each other, they had no choice but to obey. Squirming with eagerness, Anisse immediately snatched away their weapons and hung them from her own belt in satisfaction. Backing up behind the guards, she gave the order to kill them.
The five Mandalorian guards, in a steel colored armor and heavy destructive power, opened fire towards them. Qui-Gon's robe was peppered with shots as he leaped upwards and to the side with the grace of a gazelle. Landing on top two at the same time, he pounced down on their shoulders. And even as they were going down, he lunged out at Anisse, his heavy frame dragging her down with them. Going straight for his eyes, he had no choice but to knock her aside with a clenched fist as one of the guards he had trampled was quickly regaining his bearings. Kicking out as he untangled himself underneath Qui-Gon's feet, the guard gripped his weapon to take another shot, but badly aimed, pinged off the plexiglass in an array of ricochet. With one more hard swipe with the side of his boot, Qui-Gon twisted the weapon out of his grip, the T shaped face guard warping with the blow. Once again struggling with Anisse as she tried to crawl for freedom, Qui-Gon pulled out an arm from beneath her, and pressed down on her back with his full weight, groping for their weapons stung across her belt.
Meanwhile, in a similar effort to escape the barrage of blaster fire, Obi-Wan had flipped over the guards heads, and landed in the narrow space behind them, only to overtake the end guard's blaster and shoot off a few rounds into his neighbor. Kneeing him in the back as he strained to get away, Obi-Wan pushed the guard over his fallen comrade onto the other, who immediately responded with more blaster fire. Improvising without his lightsaber, he flung himself into a low roll over the entangled two and into the Mandalorian's legs, throwing him off balance. While the guard's blaster was still in the air, Obi-Wan sprang up to take hold of his wrist and twisted it until the weapon fell free. He then kicked in at the stiff elbow in a hyperextended pop that left the guard bellowing.
Even as the other guard recovered, Obi-Wan watched Fianat wheel Elia back and back into a maze of glass labs, pausing before each retinal exam before moving on.
Tackling the last standing Mandalorian, Obi-Wan wrestled him to the ground, fighting for the blaster as it went off around his head. Rolling back into the wall, the butt end of a blaster smashed into his cheek, but as the guard scrambled up, Obi-Wan took advantage of the situation and kicked directly between his legs, causing the creature to double over. But even in his pain, he raised the blaster, just as Qui-Gon sliced it in two with his lightsaber. With one firm kick, the last guard was taken out, and Obi-Wan was reunited with his blue saber.
Anisse shook her head in a state of semi-consciousness, spitting out a steady stream of blood. Wiping a trickle away from his own eyes, Qui-Gon showed little sympathy and heaved her up towards the retinal scan. The door opened and he shoved her through when a bright light flashed before them.
Anisse staggered for a moment and then cursed a bloody yodel. Goddamn you bitch! Yanking off her pack, she fell to her knees and dug through her pack for a miniature crossbow and threaded it as fast as she could. The door before her exploded, followed by the lab equipment, computers, specimens, and research databases. One explosion after another rang out while the Jedi began to understand what had just occurred. She was dying. Without any effort to stop her, they sliced through the plexiglass with their lightsabers and jumped inside as Anisse weakened and slumped over onto her side, her eyes glazed over from the radiation.
Grabbing her weapon bag as they stomped through the decimated glass walls, they could see more guards arrive in the background, but the Jedi pressed on. Fianat had cornered herself beside the living specimens and could do nothing but panic at this point and call out relentlessly towards the charging team of guards.
Stop right there. I'll do it. I swear. Qui-Gon watched closely as Fianat's trembling hand dared pierce the skin on Elia's neck. A rack of fetuses remained between them. She need only hold out until the guards arrived. Two passed through and were flashed instantly, while the others picked their way over the glass opening the Jedi had made with their lightsabers.
Her violet eyes flared with frenzy in those few milliseconds she squeezed the liquid into her victim's neck, but Qui-Gon's hawk-like eyes were perceptive, and he instantly threw out a Force projection that flung her and her weapon back into an free standing aquarium in which hibernated one of her breathing creations. Toppling over it, she was bathed in its fetal juices, even as the smooth skinned creature flopped to its airy death.
Snatching up Elia, Qui-Gon plowed forward, deflecting fire where he could, but stayed keenly behind his padawan to draw the majority of the danger. The two of the three guards that were left ended up with their own blaster fire rerouted back into them, and the third was met with a clean swipe of a lightsaber.
Remembering the mail room, Qui-Gon slipped out the floor board in the staff room and crouched inside, shoving Elia in first. Rushing out as more guards were rushing in down the long hall, Obi-Wan paused momentarily to toss Anisse's volatile bag towards them and dashed the other direction. A fireball bellowed out the mouth of the hall as Obi-Wan dipped down into the metallic compartment. Using the Force to make the jump upwards, he sailed through the tight space, quick behind Qui-Gon who weaved his way through mail boxes.
They are calling an evacuation which means the labs will probably self-destruct. We've got to hurry, he shouted as they sprinted down the hallway. The front entrance was empty as well, and that overbearing painting was the last life they saw until they came barreling outside. Guards immediately whisked them away to a throng of people who were still being herded to a safe distance when a hole broke through the corner edge of the building. For a moment, it swayed threatening to topple, but its dizzying circular pattern soon lulled to stop. When they turned back, a puff of black smoke had swallowed the street like an ashy remembrance of Pompeii, choking its victims with a cloud of lies.
Barely taking a second glance, they hurried on towards the spaceport.
