So sorry for the horribly long delay! I just got caught up with Darth RL
and could not free myself until now (well, yesterday. Ff.net wasn't
letting me past the main page)…My week has been definitely one to remember
though…yesterday I gave a girl a concussion. Not purposely, of course, but
still, not a good day. Anyway, I'm not really in love with this chapter,
but it's sort of important to the plot, and it's a bit longer than usual =)
so…
Oh, and by the way, I can't remember if I mentioned this in any of the recent chapters, but to all the readers: you guys are more than I ever could have hoped for, thank you so much! Every time I come back, even after a week, there's always one or two more reviews and it just makes my day. Thank you all!
And, because everyone is so great, I'll give you one hint to this chapter: Pay attention to the words I chose. That's all I will give, now enjoy!
More info, see chapter 1
* * *
"Did you really think that I would believe you? Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting? You said five days, it's been twelve!" Samaron screamed as he paced in the spacious sitting room, brilliant red robes swishing against polished brown boots. Each step faster, each step drawing the chief nearer to a full blown temper tantrum – one of the many annoyingly childish actions Obi-Wan was sure the small being was capable of – the flailing of the man's arms simply lending more credence to the thought. "Is it your custom, your *highness,* to keep more than hospitable men guessing as to when you will grace them with your presence?"
"Samaron," a man dressed in rich, deep purple robes, embroidered in silver, spoke somewhat exasperatedly, "I have already told you what happened. My ship's hyperdrive overheated and we were forced to take the time to fix it. It was more damaged than I initially thought and the power needed to repair it was taken from the nonessential operating systems – namely, the comm." The man's voice was decidedly annoyed, but carried with it little of the contempt his counterpart's had, "Despite what you believe, I was not indulging in pleasure slaves for the past two standard weeks."
"Then what would you call *that,* Polusti?" Samaron's sharp gaze locked on a member entourage – the only female in the group. The woman was quite attractive, young, but in pleasure slaves that would be of no object. She wore the finest garments; emerald green robes, impeccably woven and fitted to be both tasteful and flattering. Her dark hair was pulled up into a delicately twisted bun adorned with green jewels – she must be quite the performer to receive such gifts, Obi-Wan thought wryly.
Polusti motioned for the girl to stand next to him and she immediately obeyed. Placing a gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder, Polusti answered, "I would call *that* Nariba...my daughter"
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Uncle," Nariba spoke softly.
Obi-Wan exchanged a look of surprise with his master. The two Jedi had been standing off the side quietly observing the interactions, always ready to jump in should the palpable tensions escalate to something of a more harmful nature, however, they had not expected this turn of events.
Samaron was Nariba's uncle?
The girl bowed formally, her eyes down, preventing her from observing the mask of pure contempt settling on Samaron's features. Nariba did not see it, but her father did.
"I think that we are done, for now, Samaron. If you don't mind, I would like to be shown my quarters." Polusti wrapped a protective arm tightly around his daughter as the girl erected herself. He spared one final glare at his brother before turning and stalking out, leaving a young servant boy chasing after.
* * *
"Well, this was unexpected," the mirth danced in Obi-Wan's eyes as he sat down across from his master in one of the lush chairs of the common room.
"Yes," Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead, "Quite. It seems that we are in the middle of a brotherly squabble."
A small smile fluttered across the padawan's lips, "And we're the parents?"
Qui-Gon chuckled and rose, walking towards the other side of the room – towards his bedchamber. As he passed Obi-Wan's chair, he affectionately ruffled the boy's ginger spikes, "If so, you can be the mother."
Obi-Wan quickly stood and turned, an exaggerated glare burning into the back to the master's head. Qui-Gon laughed again, "Give me a moment, Padawan – I want to see if our mission briefing stated anything about family ties – then we will go visit Chief Polusti."
The boy answered obediently and slowly began making his way to his own bedroom, but sped up his steps the moment Qui-Gon closed his door. Entering, he yanked open his nightstand drawer and quickly grabbed a small blue container – one of many. He placed the contraption to his neck and depressed a small button, sighing as the substance entered his bloodstream, dampening the pain.
He had almost waited too long to take it; another half an hour and Qui-Gon would have surely been able to pick up on his distress. Actually, he had hoped that using the hypospray would remain an occasional action – only to be done when the pain reached such a level that he risked Qui-Gon sensing it. A humorless smile brushed his lips. He didn't need to become dependant on another substance.
Funny how things don't work out the way you want them to.
He tried to restrain himself, he really did, but there are some things even the Jedi philosophy of pain and acceptance couldn't prevent. The pain was getting worse – at least, Obi-Wan thought it was. It could just be the pain seemed more intense after the painkillers wore off, he reasoned, but, when his abdomen began to cramp and his head throb, he honestly didn't care. All he wanted was it to go away…
"Just as I thought," Qui-Gon spoke as he entered his padawan's room through the carelessly left open door. Obi-Wan hastily dropped the used hypospray into the drawer and used his leg to discretely nudge it shut.
The padawan brought his hand up to his neck; trying to remain casual while rubbing away the blood from the hypospray puncture, "What, Master?"
"There is nothing about the two chiefs being brothers in out mission outline," Qui-Gon sighed, adding sarcastically, "Why would they tell us something as trivial as that?" The master took a moment to release his annoyance into the Force, "Come, Padawan. Hopefully, Chief Polusti will be willing enough to fill in the blanks in our story."
Qui-Gon gave him a brief smile, turned, and left the doorway. Obi-Wan waited a moment to assure himself that his master was not waiting directly outside his room before tugging open the drawer and reaching in again. He felt around for a full hypospray container and, finally finding one among the empty shells, pulled it from the drawer.
His hand stilled as his master's voice echoed into his room, "Padawan!"
Releasing a held breath, Obi-Wan responded that he would be there in a moment, brought the painkiller to his neck, and depressed the button.
* * *
The door swished open as Qui-Gon raised his fist to knock.
"Welcome, honorable Jedi," kind – and impossibly tired – eyes gazed up at the two diplomats, "I thought I might see you today."
Bowing, Qui-Gon spoke, "Yes, your highness, we wish to speak with you."
Polusti nodded and stepped back from the door frame, allowing the taller men entrance, smiling at Obi-Wan's need to duck and outright laughing at Qui-Gon as he squeezed his large body through the small doorway. "The architects designed very few of these room with other species in mind."
Thankfully, the ceiling of the chamber was intended to give a spacious feeling and, in turn, gave Qui-Gon sufficient headroom. The chief motioned for the Jedi to follow and led the two into a large, tastefully furnished common room. The small man clapped his hands and two attendants came – seemingly out of thin air – and pulled away two plush chairs – beautifully crafted dark wood, lined with royal blue, but far too small for the Jedi – replacing them with blue, satin sitting pillows.
Polusti gestured to the pillows as he settled in one of the remaining seats, "Please," he smiled, "Sit."
The Jedi obeyed and Polusti spoke again, "I would like to, if I may, speculate as to why you are here." The chief waited for Qui-Gon's approving nod before continuing, "My brother has been…less than forthcoming with you about our relationship, has he not?" Again, the Jedi nodded and Polusti sighed, "He'll never learn."
"Well, if you don't mind a longwinded narrative, I will tell you." The leader paused a moment, arranging his thoughts, "We are twins. Fraternal twins, but twins nonetheless. Because our then united planet ran on succession of the eldest son, my father – a righteous leader – forbid the healer who delivered us to reveal who came first – to anyone, including himself. My father plan was that he would observe his sons and, when his time came, choose the one best suited to rule the planet peacefully. He could then claim the son to be his eldest and not be lying to his people as he truly believed the one who deserved the throne would, by the gods, be the elder – or at least the intended elder." The corners of the man's lips pulled into a slight smile, "The decision to not be told was just an added security."
Polusti eyes which had been shifting from one Jedi to the other, now locked on Qui-Gon, "As my father lay on his deathbed, he named me that son."
Sighing and leaning back in his chair, the tone of the man's voice changed to a more somber, more mournful one, "But Samaron would not – could not – accept it. He sought out the healer who delivered us – long since retired – and kidnapped him…tortured him…until he got the answer that he wanted. That he was the rightful successor to the throne. I am not sure if what the healer said was true; though I am sure he gave Samaron the only answer which would make the pain stop. I cannot blame him…"
Polusti shook his head, banishing haunting visions of the broken man, "Samaron made the healer publicly announce his birthright before throwing him into a prison cell – to a sure and painfully drawn out death. I went down and retrieved the healer and took him to my private medical room, but it was all in vain. The old man was too far gone to be helped."
Silence filled the room as the Jedi tried to picture what happened – and the chief tried desperately to forget. It was minutes before the tale was continued. "A few of my father's close advisors – including my mother – tried to tell the people I was the true leader of the country, but their campaign did not last very long. One by one, they were all killed…the chief advisor, the head servant…my mother."
Polusti's eyes stared blankly. No tears were shed, no waver in the man's voice, only grim acceptance and regret. "They died for our people, for me, but they went unheard by most. The few who did hear – and believed – told others, so I had a growing supporter base, but those who thought me to be the rightful king spent their lives in hiding. Even so, Samaron's secret police killed thousands."
An involuntary shudder ran through Obi-Wan. He had seen so much, but that never made any injustice easier to bear. The chief noticed and gave a sad smile to the boy, "Yes, young Jedi, what my brother did was horrible. So many innocents were lost, but I will not pretend that I did not do similar in the civil war which followed."
"My followers and I fled to the other side of the planet, intent on creating our own kingdom, but were met by supporters of Samaron. We fought, so many – far too many – lost their lives, but we were victorious." This time, Polusti's stare bore into Obi-Wan, pleading for the Jedi to believe his next words, "I am truly sorry for the loss of life – on both sides. Think of me an animal if you will, but please believe that I have mourned them every day of my life."
"Animals," Qui-Gon broke in gently, "Do not feel regret."
The chief looked at the Jedi master, almost gratefully, and continued, "Samaron's killing continued. He struck at all who were close to me." Silence again reigned supreme for minutes before the man went on. He drew a deep breath, "Finally, ten years ago, a peace treaty was signed giving me a portion of the land on the other side of planet – a barren wasteland, but still, a kingdom. The truce held until last year when yarik was discovered in our mountains."
Obi-Wan thought back to his Temple lessons. Yarik, if he remembered correctly, was a rare mineral needed for the operation of nuclear hyperstation cores. A small amount of the substance could power a core for millions of years due to it unbelievably slow rate of decay and high energy give off, but it was nearly impossible to obtain. A large vein of it would mean an overnight increase in a country's treasury of a few trillion credits.
"And now Samaron wants it back." Qui-Gon stated, finally fully understanding the problem at hand.
Polusti nodded and began to respond, but was cut off by the sound of an opening door. He turned to find his daughter trying to sneak down the hallway to the bedchambers. "Nariba! Where have you been?" The chief was on his feet in a second, rushing over to his sheepish looking daughter. "You told me you were going to take a nap in your room!"
Nariba lowered her eyes, "I am sorry father, it's just…I'd never seen as beautiful flowers as I did when we first arrived and I wanted…" She looked up briefly into her father's dark eyes before dropping her gaze again, "I'm sorry."
He gripped her shoulders tightly, unconsciously shaking the small girl in emphasis, "I told you never to leave our quarters without me, didn't I?" When no response came, his voice rose as he repeated the question, "Didn't I?"
He pulled her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye, tears streaking her face, "Yes, Father."
Immediately Polusti's features softened, "Oh, Nariba, I'm so sorry. It's just…I don't want you to get hurt. You are my daughter and there are certain people who would hurt you to hurt me. I don't want to give them the chance." He hugged her to him then released her, giving a slight smile and gently wiping tears from her cheeks, "Now, go to your room. We'll talk later."
Both Jedi had stood to the side, quiet observers of the tender moment. As Nariba ran off to her bedchambers, Polusti turned to them and apologized for what had just happened, "I've lost so much; I couldn't bear to lose her too."
Qui-Gon gave an understanding smile, "I know how you feel, your highness," the master spared a quick glance at his apprentice, "And it is perfectly alright. And I thank you for your valuable input, but I think we have taken up enough of your time as is. Padawan?" Qui-Gon turned to his apprentice, motioned for Obi-Wan to follow, then walked towards the door.
Did it sux? I would love to hear your comments! All you readers are spectacular! Thank you so much, but don't forget, be a good lil Jedi and review!
Oh, and by the way, I can't remember if I mentioned this in any of the recent chapters, but to all the readers: you guys are more than I ever could have hoped for, thank you so much! Every time I come back, even after a week, there's always one or two more reviews and it just makes my day. Thank you all!
And, because everyone is so great, I'll give you one hint to this chapter: Pay attention to the words I chose. That's all I will give, now enjoy!
More info, see chapter 1
* * *
"Did you really think that I would believe you? Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting? You said five days, it's been twelve!" Samaron screamed as he paced in the spacious sitting room, brilliant red robes swishing against polished brown boots. Each step faster, each step drawing the chief nearer to a full blown temper tantrum – one of the many annoyingly childish actions Obi-Wan was sure the small being was capable of – the flailing of the man's arms simply lending more credence to the thought. "Is it your custom, your *highness,* to keep more than hospitable men guessing as to when you will grace them with your presence?"
"Samaron," a man dressed in rich, deep purple robes, embroidered in silver, spoke somewhat exasperatedly, "I have already told you what happened. My ship's hyperdrive overheated and we were forced to take the time to fix it. It was more damaged than I initially thought and the power needed to repair it was taken from the nonessential operating systems – namely, the comm." The man's voice was decidedly annoyed, but carried with it little of the contempt his counterpart's had, "Despite what you believe, I was not indulging in pleasure slaves for the past two standard weeks."
"Then what would you call *that,* Polusti?" Samaron's sharp gaze locked on a member entourage – the only female in the group. The woman was quite attractive, young, but in pleasure slaves that would be of no object. She wore the finest garments; emerald green robes, impeccably woven and fitted to be both tasteful and flattering. Her dark hair was pulled up into a delicately twisted bun adorned with green jewels – she must be quite the performer to receive such gifts, Obi-Wan thought wryly.
Polusti motioned for the girl to stand next to him and she immediately obeyed. Placing a gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder, Polusti answered, "I would call *that* Nariba...my daughter"
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Uncle," Nariba spoke softly.
Obi-Wan exchanged a look of surprise with his master. The two Jedi had been standing off the side quietly observing the interactions, always ready to jump in should the palpable tensions escalate to something of a more harmful nature, however, they had not expected this turn of events.
Samaron was Nariba's uncle?
The girl bowed formally, her eyes down, preventing her from observing the mask of pure contempt settling on Samaron's features. Nariba did not see it, but her father did.
"I think that we are done, for now, Samaron. If you don't mind, I would like to be shown my quarters." Polusti wrapped a protective arm tightly around his daughter as the girl erected herself. He spared one final glare at his brother before turning and stalking out, leaving a young servant boy chasing after.
* * *
"Well, this was unexpected," the mirth danced in Obi-Wan's eyes as he sat down across from his master in one of the lush chairs of the common room.
"Yes," Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead, "Quite. It seems that we are in the middle of a brotherly squabble."
A small smile fluttered across the padawan's lips, "And we're the parents?"
Qui-Gon chuckled and rose, walking towards the other side of the room – towards his bedchamber. As he passed Obi-Wan's chair, he affectionately ruffled the boy's ginger spikes, "If so, you can be the mother."
Obi-Wan quickly stood and turned, an exaggerated glare burning into the back to the master's head. Qui-Gon laughed again, "Give me a moment, Padawan – I want to see if our mission briefing stated anything about family ties – then we will go visit Chief Polusti."
The boy answered obediently and slowly began making his way to his own bedroom, but sped up his steps the moment Qui-Gon closed his door. Entering, he yanked open his nightstand drawer and quickly grabbed a small blue container – one of many. He placed the contraption to his neck and depressed a small button, sighing as the substance entered his bloodstream, dampening the pain.
He had almost waited too long to take it; another half an hour and Qui-Gon would have surely been able to pick up on his distress. Actually, he had hoped that using the hypospray would remain an occasional action – only to be done when the pain reached such a level that he risked Qui-Gon sensing it. A humorless smile brushed his lips. He didn't need to become dependant on another substance.
Funny how things don't work out the way you want them to.
He tried to restrain himself, he really did, but there are some things even the Jedi philosophy of pain and acceptance couldn't prevent. The pain was getting worse – at least, Obi-Wan thought it was. It could just be the pain seemed more intense after the painkillers wore off, he reasoned, but, when his abdomen began to cramp and his head throb, he honestly didn't care. All he wanted was it to go away…
"Just as I thought," Qui-Gon spoke as he entered his padawan's room through the carelessly left open door. Obi-Wan hastily dropped the used hypospray into the drawer and used his leg to discretely nudge it shut.
The padawan brought his hand up to his neck; trying to remain casual while rubbing away the blood from the hypospray puncture, "What, Master?"
"There is nothing about the two chiefs being brothers in out mission outline," Qui-Gon sighed, adding sarcastically, "Why would they tell us something as trivial as that?" The master took a moment to release his annoyance into the Force, "Come, Padawan. Hopefully, Chief Polusti will be willing enough to fill in the blanks in our story."
Qui-Gon gave him a brief smile, turned, and left the doorway. Obi-Wan waited a moment to assure himself that his master was not waiting directly outside his room before tugging open the drawer and reaching in again. He felt around for a full hypospray container and, finally finding one among the empty shells, pulled it from the drawer.
His hand stilled as his master's voice echoed into his room, "Padawan!"
Releasing a held breath, Obi-Wan responded that he would be there in a moment, brought the painkiller to his neck, and depressed the button.
* * *
The door swished open as Qui-Gon raised his fist to knock.
"Welcome, honorable Jedi," kind – and impossibly tired – eyes gazed up at the two diplomats, "I thought I might see you today."
Bowing, Qui-Gon spoke, "Yes, your highness, we wish to speak with you."
Polusti nodded and stepped back from the door frame, allowing the taller men entrance, smiling at Obi-Wan's need to duck and outright laughing at Qui-Gon as he squeezed his large body through the small doorway. "The architects designed very few of these room with other species in mind."
Thankfully, the ceiling of the chamber was intended to give a spacious feeling and, in turn, gave Qui-Gon sufficient headroom. The chief motioned for the Jedi to follow and led the two into a large, tastefully furnished common room. The small man clapped his hands and two attendants came – seemingly out of thin air – and pulled away two plush chairs – beautifully crafted dark wood, lined with royal blue, but far too small for the Jedi – replacing them with blue, satin sitting pillows.
Polusti gestured to the pillows as he settled in one of the remaining seats, "Please," he smiled, "Sit."
The Jedi obeyed and Polusti spoke again, "I would like to, if I may, speculate as to why you are here." The chief waited for Qui-Gon's approving nod before continuing, "My brother has been…less than forthcoming with you about our relationship, has he not?" Again, the Jedi nodded and Polusti sighed, "He'll never learn."
"Well, if you don't mind a longwinded narrative, I will tell you." The leader paused a moment, arranging his thoughts, "We are twins. Fraternal twins, but twins nonetheless. Because our then united planet ran on succession of the eldest son, my father – a righteous leader – forbid the healer who delivered us to reveal who came first – to anyone, including himself. My father plan was that he would observe his sons and, when his time came, choose the one best suited to rule the planet peacefully. He could then claim the son to be his eldest and not be lying to his people as he truly believed the one who deserved the throne would, by the gods, be the elder – or at least the intended elder." The corners of the man's lips pulled into a slight smile, "The decision to not be told was just an added security."
Polusti eyes which had been shifting from one Jedi to the other, now locked on Qui-Gon, "As my father lay on his deathbed, he named me that son."
Sighing and leaning back in his chair, the tone of the man's voice changed to a more somber, more mournful one, "But Samaron would not – could not – accept it. He sought out the healer who delivered us – long since retired – and kidnapped him…tortured him…until he got the answer that he wanted. That he was the rightful successor to the throne. I am not sure if what the healer said was true; though I am sure he gave Samaron the only answer which would make the pain stop. I cannot blame him…"
Polusti shook his head, banishing haunting visions of the broken man, "Samaron made the healer publicly announce his birthright before throwing him into a prison cell – to a sure and painfully drawn out death. I went down and retrieved the healer and took him to my private medical room, but it was all in vain. The old man was too far gone to be helped."
Silence filled the room as the Jedi tried to picture what happened – and the chief tried desperately to forget. It was minutes before the tale was continued. "A few of my father's close advisors – including my mother – tried to tell the people I was the true leader of the country, but their campaign did not last very long. One by one, they were all killed…the chief advisor, the head servant…my mother."
Polusti's eyes stared blankly. No tears were shed, no waver in the man's voice, only grim acceptance and regret. "They died for our people, for me, but they went unheard by most. The few who did hear – and believed – told others, so I had a growing supporter base, but those who thought me to be the rightful king spent their lives in hiding. Even so, Samaron's secret police killed thousands."
An involuntary shudder ran through Obi-Wan. He had seen so much, but that never made any injustice easier to bear. The chief noticed and gave a sad smile to the boy, "Yes, young Jedi, what my brother did was horrible. So many innocents were lost, but I will not pretend that I did not do similar in the civil war which followed."
"My followers and I fled to the other side of the planet, intent on creating our own kingdom, but were met by supporters of Samaron. We fought, so many – far too many – lost their lives, but we were victorious." This time, Polusti's stare bore into Obi-Wan, pleading for the Jedi to believe his next words, "I am truly sorry for the loss of life – on both sides. Think of me an animal if you will, but please believe that I have mourned them every day of my life."
"Animals," Qui-Gon broke in gently, "Do not feel regret."
The chief looked at the Jedi master, almost gratefully, and continued, "Samaron's killing continued. He struck at all who were close to me." Silence again reigned supreme for minutes before the man went on. He drew a deep breath, "Finally, ten years ago, a peace treaty was signed giving me a portion of the land on the other side of planet – a barren wasteland, but still, a kingdom. The truce held until last year when yarik was discovered in our mountains."
Obi-Wan thought back to his Temple lessons. Yarik, if he remembered correctly, was a rare mineral needed for the operation of nuclear hyperstation cores. A small amount of the substance could power a core for millions of years due to it unbelievably slow rate of decay and high energy give off, but it was nearly impossible to obtain. A large vein of it would mean an overnight increase in a country's treasury of a few trillion credits.
"And now Samaron wants it back." Qui-Gon stated, finally fully understanding the problem at hand.
Polusti nodded and began to respond, but was cut off by the sound of an opening door. He turned to find his daughter trying to sneak down the hallway to the bedchambers. "Nariba! Where have you been?" The chief was on his feet in a second, rushing over to his sheepish looking daughter. "You told me you were going to take a nap in your room!"
Nariba lowered her eyes, "I am sorry father, it's just…I'd never seen as beautiful flowers as I did when we first arrived and I wanted…" She looked up briefly into her father's dark eyes before dropping her gaze again, "I'm sorry."
He gripped her shoulders tightly, unconsciously shaking the small girl in emphasis, "I told you never to leave our quarters without me, didn't I?" When no response came, his voice rose as he repeated the question, "Didn't I?"
He pulled her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye, tears streaking her face, "Yes, Father."
Immediately Polusti's features softened, "Oh, Nariba, I'm so sorry. It's just…I don't want you to get hurt. You are my daughter and there are certain people who would hurt you to hurt me. I don't want to give them the chance." He hugged her to him then released her, giving a slight smile and gently wiping tears from her cheeks, "Now, go to your room. We'll talk later."
Both Jedi had stood to the side, quiet observers of the tender moment. As Nariba ran off to her bedchambers, Polusti turned to them and apologized for what had just happened, "I've lost so much; I couldn't bear to lose her too."
Qui-Gon gave an understanding smile, "I know how you feel, your highness," the master spared a quick glance at his apprentice, "And it is perfectly alright. And I thank you for your valuable input, but I think we have taken up enough of your time as is. Padawan?" Qui-Gon turned to his apprentice, motioned for Obi-Wan to follow, then walked towards the door.
Did it sux? I would love to hear your comments! All you readers are spectacular! Thank you so much, but don't forget, be a good lil Jedi and review!
