Hey! I was gonna post sooner but the sight just had to die the day I
Was gonna send it out. Anyway I hope this post is long. Thanx to Ginger
Ninja for posting.
Lift, walk, drop off. Lift, walk, drop off. Obi-Wan's shoulders ached as he hauled boxes of spice from the main workstation to the spaceship a mile and a half away. At first the work was no problem, but carrying twenty boxes a day each one about the same weight as Yoda had it's effects.
He supposed it wasn't the worse job he could have. He could be stuck deep in the underground mines with light from scarecly lit glow lamps. Roon as a planet abundant wtth spices so rare that one ounce could make someone immensely rich.
The area of space was known as the Cloak of the Sith, filled with dangerous asteroids, meteors, and planetoids. Behind it lay the Roon system, a series of planets that ancient myths described as possessing great hidden treasures. On Roon, beautiful continents and oceans from wildest dreams graced one half of the world. The other half was cursed with forever darkness as slaves worked the mines.
Travel to Roon was extremely trecherous and only three shipments left in a standart month. No permanent colonies set up here for the constant bombardment of meteorites destroyed anything built. In short, life was tough.
The boy still held unwillingly the Force- dampening collar, and had been forced to change from his Jedi tunics into a grey shirt, pants, and black boots. To his dismay, his head, including his braid, had been shaved off. Although he now held no hope of ever being rescued or accepted back into the Jedi, he hadn't been ready to part with the only thing left connecting him to his Master.
Two months had passed since he had been bought from a slave market on a planet that he did not know the name of. The first month was only remembered as an onslaught of pain. Obi-Wan had done everything in his power to escape or defy the guards and the identificatoin number given to him. Just to hear A070788 was and insult to him. Needless to say, the security did not take kindly to his lack of cooperation. Even thinking about it brought pains to his chest and back from the frequent whippings.
Soon it became so hard to work that he had to stop resisting in order to not get killed for not doing his job. But as his resistance died away, it dragged his hope along with it. Now, all that existed for him was hauling one box at a time to a starship daily, occasionally running for safety as meterorites hit. A simple routine, one constantly repeated as the sun rose or the seven moons set.
Lowering the box to the ramp of the cargo ship and leaving it to the slave loader, he started to make his way back to the warehouse. It would soon be time to eat the food provided that the woman who ran this place somehow saw fit to call food. Hopefully, he would see Thera. She had been assigned to the kitchens, spending al day cooking and cutting food to be sent to the miner slaves, as well as the ones on this side of the planet. Sometimes she was able to sneak away and they could talk, giving each other friendship to help make it through the day.
With a sigh, he continued his trek up the dusty road in the forest. A slight wind blew, and bright blue skies and a golden sun lighted his way and gave off a warm glow. The warehouse loomed ahead, slaves carrying out tasks while guards possessing a number of wapons and torture devices kept watch.
It wasn't long before he reached the pile of boxes containing spice ready to be shipped. Another runner passed him, nodding as he shifted his box's weight on his shoulders. Obi-Wan lifted another package of spice and turned on his heel, thus starting the cycle again.
***
"A new mission, you have. Ready are you?" Yoda asked, initiating the Council meeting.
"Yes Master," Qui-Gon replied automatically. Outside, daylight sent flashes of brightness into the Council chambers as ships flew by. Normally, it wouldn't have been a big issue with the Jedi Master, but ever since his Padawan's death, he had been noticing life in general.
HIs mind was tormented with images of the bright young boy he had known. While others moved on and continued with life, he tried to cope and failed miserably. As a way to forget, he decided to request to be put on active status.
Yoda nodded, "A slave trade, you must stop. The planet Roon, you must go to."
Jedi Master Mace Windu leaned forward, "The leader, Kit Fisaru, runs spice mines with slaves. It is thought that she owns more than any other slaver in the galaxy. Although Roon is not in the Republic, the Supreme Chancellor as well as our Council, agree that the need to stop her has arisen after several being were abducted from Coruscant in the last few months."
"Infiltrate, you will," Yoda said. "You will pose as a slave buyer."
Steepling his fingers, Mace thought a moment to gather the information before adding, "Roon is located on the outer rim, near what is called the "Cloak of the Sith". It's a dangerous asteroid field that you'll need to navigate through to get to Roon."
"Easy this mission will not be. Sure of taiking it are you?"
"Yes Master."
"Very well then. All you need to do is capture Kit and a Galactic Aid Force will come and take care of the slaves. May the Force be with you."
Bowing, Qui-Gon turned and left, heading for the Temple's hanger bay. It took at least an hour to sign out a shuttle and chart out a flight plan, as well as go to the Jedi library to recieve what little information there was on Roon.
As he traversed the halls, he did his best not to grimace at the looks of pity driected to him. Grimly, he acknowladged he was glad that no one came and offered him endless advice. When Xanatos turned, even Knights with no Padawans offered advice; he was glad he didn't experience it again. Some, well, most actually, had no idea what it was like to have the one you trusted turn on you, or the son you love die.
It was a great relief when he entered the sky abuzz with traffic. Shooting straight for the invisible stars, he watched as blue scenery gave way to spotted black. The same black he would see for the next five days as he navigated the "Cloak of the Sith". 'Who chose that name anyway? Probably Yoda,' he thought.
***
Another day of work, another day of slavery. The days had meshed together long ago, making him unaware of how long he had been here. Another eighteen hour shift, another twenty, another failed attempt at getting his collar off, another bit of his will crushed. A breif lunch and warming glance from Thera, then back to work as the sun beat on him relentlessly.
Normally, he tanned well and frequently sported golden skin. Days in the sun had changed that, turning the brown glow into a bright red. Al slaves were given soothing cream for the burns so they could sleep and reserve strength, but it didn't help. Night was just a time spent on a cot on the floor agonizing over his pain. Obi-Wan preffered to work; at least then he didn't notice the accompaning sting.
As he walked back to the warehouse for another load, a guard stopped him. "You are to go to Lady Kit Fisarru's dwelling. She wishes to see you."
'Oh Sith,' he thought. The last slave to be requested to see her didn't come back. Wheather she was dead or not known, but no one really had a churning desire to find out.
After a ten mile walk to where her camp was set up, he was met by a messenger servant who directed him to the main building. Technicaly, the only building (more like a makeshift palace). The inside was decorated modernly and showed Kit's style: all black and red. While the palace was decorated sparsely, everything still held great wealth.
Obi-Wan was directed to the makeshift throne room, although the woman was for from royalty. Two slaves in rags waved palm fans to cool the middle occupant from the unbearable warmth. The boy himself had stopped wearing his shirt weeks ago. Kit had a look of boredom as she leaned her head on one hand and played with her fingernails.
When she noticed him, she stood up, her dark pants and tank top not moving from it's tightness. Her hair was up, and yet a few curly strands framed her face. Kit circled the new arrival, eyeing him evily. "My sources tell me you've been slacking off," she accused.
"Your sources are screwed up." Obi-Wan cringed inside at his words. Smarting off to this woman was not a good idea, but for some odd reason, he didn't care. The boy was in a reckless mood today, not caring about the consequences until it was too late.
Slap! "Watch you mouth A070788," she hissed. "Or I promise you you will regret it."
"Whaddaya gonna do? Kill me?" 'Kenobi! You stupid idiot!'
Kit curled her red lips into a cruel smirk, "I was actually hoping you'd say that. This will be a real pleasure. . . ."
***
Dissembarking from the ship, Jinn was quite a sight. Instead of his usual Jedi garb, he sported tight leather pants and a shirt. His hair was in one giant ponytail, and spiked collars as well as fake tatoos and piercings adorned his body. He looked and felt like a new man.
As he walked the streets made by numerous footsteps trampling the yellow grass, he couldn't help but notice the slaves' reactions. Some stared but continued working, not caring about what he was doing or wheather or not they would be boarding a shuttle with a new Master. Others shrunk away in fear, clearly new additions to the slave world and scared to see other slave owners. Still ther were a few that didn't even notice him. Every living thing had a different reaction.
A small residence loomed loomed before him made of local rock. Getting a good view was not possible as he was forced to squint as the sun shone it's bright glare. Inside, cool air greeted him giving him relief from the summer heat. Qui-Gon was greeted by another slave who led him down countless hallways to the main room.
Kit Fisarru stood in the center of the room. Qui-Gon walked in to see her slapping a young slave who was already on his knees. Inwardly he grimaced when the boy cried out and clutched his cheek as his head whipped back.
***
'Ow,' was all Obi-Wan could think about. Not that the slap itself hurt much, but the fast head movement twisted his neck painfully. Sadly, he came to the conclusion that if that hurt, the next actions that would come from his owner would be pure agony. Although the sight of her gave chills to the passerby's spine, no one, including the boy, had thought she could pack a punch. He had painfully learned the opposite.
Suddenly a booted foot slammed into his stomach, causing him to lurch forward clutching his wounded tummy while leaning on his left arm and knees. A hard blow to the back of his neck sent him flat. Winded, he lay there gasping for breath.
A line of burning fire raced down his back. A virbroblade, barely grazing the skin, burning the area and leaving behind it red liquid. It felt like someone was holding a training saber against his body without removing it. A strangled cry fueled by airless lungs tore past his throat.
Several more slashes adorned his body, given by the searing kiss of the blade and it's wielder. If he could've, he would've screamed, but the air was taken away from his lungs everytime the weapon touched his skin. All he could do was whimper.
"What's your name, slave scum?" Another test, to see if he had finally learned his place. Stubbornly, he refused to answer.
The blade pressed harder, leaving more pain and causing a groan to leave Obi-Wan's lips. But that was all that left. After a few moments of just his ragged breathing, another touch graced him, making him cry out.
"What's your name?"
Sweat ran down his face and hair. Obi-Wan's body shook from pain and shock, but for some reason he would not answer as expected. The boy had reached his limit, and couldn't pretend anymore. Only one answer would satisfy him, even if later he would have to go back to the rouge that was his life. Taking a deep breath, he whispered his name.
"What did you say, boy?!" If anger were tangible, Obi-Wan was sure he would be able to see it radiate off her.
Defiance welled up inside him as he finally got control of his breath. In almost a shout, he answered her, "Obi-Wan Kenobi!"
***
Jinn was frozen in place. Could it be?! Obi-Wan was alive?! 'Oh Force.' Kit hadn't even noticed him yet, she was too busy mauling his Padawan. Choosing to make his presence known, he called out, "Excuse me."
Kit Fisarru spun on her heel and looked at him, "Who are you?!"
Stepping forward, Qui-Gon answered, "Delariis Fen. I'm interested in purchasing some slaves."
Kit looked at him skeptically, "You're a long way from home aren't you? Traveling through the asteroid field around Roon to get here."
Qui-Gon shrugged, "I've been to some. Bought a few slaves, but I'm picky. You know, I can just go back to my shutle and leave right now."
Kit, while she wanted to be cautious considering the wealth she had, didn't get offers for slaves often. She was only willing to pay so much to keep her slaves alive, so when one became weak, they were killed. Frankly, Kit was sick of it when she could be making a profit off them. In the end, her greed won out. "No, don't leave. Just give me a minute." Turning to Obi- Wan, who had managed to make it to his hands and knees, she said, "Go get your injuries tended to. Then get back to work. I expect you to make up the time you wasted today A070788."
Jinn watched as Obi-Wan slowly made his way to his feet. Hoping it would help, he sent pain deadening and healing thoughts through the Force. Almost as if he knew what was going on, the boy looked up at him and stopped in his limp to the door. It wasn't until Kit threatened him with the underground mines that he moved.
As soon as he was gone, Kit went over and sat down in her throne. "Now," she stated. "Down to buisness. . . ."
TBC
I hope this was long enough for you all. I hope I get to post next Week or sooner, but I have a friend's b-day to celebrate and a wedding to go to. For now, buh-bye.
Lift, walk, drop off. Lift, walk, drop off. Obi-Wan's shoulders ached as he hauled boxes of spice from the main workstation to the spaceship a mile and a half away. At first the work was no problem, but carrying twenty boxes a day each one about the same weight as Yoda had it's effects.
He supposed it wasn't the worse job he could have. He could be stuck deep in the underground mines with light from scarecly lit glow lamps. Roon as a planet abundant wtth spices so rare that one ounce could make someone immensely rich.
The area of space was known as the Cloak of the Sith, filled with dangerous asteroids, meteors, and planetoids. Behind it lay the Roon system, a series of planets that ancient myths described as possessing great hidden treasures. On Roon, beautiful continents and oceans from wildest dreams graced one half of the world. The other half was cursed with forever darkness as slaves worked the mines.
Travel to Roon was extremely trecherous and only three shipments left in a standart month. No permanent colonies set up here for the constant bombardment of meteorites destroyed anything built. In short, life was tough.
The boy still held unwillingly the Force- dampening collar, and had been forced to change from his Jedi tunics into a grey shirt, pants, and black boots. To his dismay, his head, including his braid, had been shaved off. Although he now held no hope of ever being rescued or accepted back into the Jedi, he hadn't been ready to part with the only thing left connecting him to his Master.
Two months had passed since he had been bought from a slave market on a planet that he did not know the name of. The first month was only remembered as an onslaught of pain. Obi-Wan had done everything in his power to escape or defy the guards and the identificatoin number given to him. Just to hear A070788 was and insult to him. Needless to say, the security did not take kindly to his lack of cooperation. Even thinking about it brought pains to his chest and back from the frequent whippings.
Soon it became so hard to work that he had to stop resisting in order to not get killed for not doing his job. But as his resistance died away, it dragged his hope along with it. Now, all that existed for him was hauling one box at a time to a starship daily, occasionally running for safety as meterorites hit. A simple routine, one constantly repeated as the sun rose or the seven moons set.
Lowering the box to the ramp of the cargo ship and leaving it to the slave loader, he started to make his way back to the warehouse. It would soon be time to eat the food provided that the woman who ran this place somehow saw fit to call food. Hopefully, he would see Thera. She had been assigned to the kitchens, spending al day cooking and cutting food to be sent to the miner slaves, as well as the ones on this side of the planet. Sometimes she was able to sneak away and they could talk, giving each other friendship to help make it through the day.
With a sigh, he continued his trek up the dusty road in the forest. A slight wind blew, and bright blue skies and a golden sun lighted his way and gave off a warm glow. The warehouse loomed ahead, slaves carrying out tasks while guards possessing a number of wapons and torture devices kept watch.
It wasn't long before he reached the pile of boxes containing spice ready to be shipped. Another runner passed him, nodding as he shifted his box's weight on his shoulders. Obi-Wan lifted another package of spice and turned on his heel, thus starting the cycle again.
***
"A new mission, you have. Ready are you?" Yoda asked, initiating the Council meeting.
"Yes Master," Qui-Gon replied automatically. Outside, daylight sent flashes of brightness into the Council chambers as ships flew by. Normally, it wouldn't have been a big issue with the Jedi Master, but ever since his Padawan's death, he had been noticing life in general.
HIs mind was tormented with images of the bright young boy he had known. While others moved on and continued with life, he tried to cope and failed miserably. As a way to forget, he decided to request to be put on active status.
Yoda nodded, "A slave trade, you must stop. The planet Roon, you must go to."
Jedi Master Mace Windu leaned forward, "The leader, Kit Fisaru, runs spice mines with slaves. It is thought that she owns more than any other slaver in the galaxy. Although Roon is not in the Republic, the Supreme Chancellor as well as our Council, agree that the need to stop her has arisen after several being were abducted from Coruscant in the last few months."
"Infiltrate, you will," Yoda said. "You will pose as a slave buyer."
Steepling his fingers, Mace thought a moment to gather the information before adding, "Roon is located on the outer rim, near what is called the "Cloak of the Sith". It's a dangerous asteroid field that you'll need to navigate through to get to Roon."
"Easy this mission will not be. Sure of taiking it are you?"
"Yes Master."
"Very well then. All you need to do is capture Kit and a Galactic Aid Force will come and take care of the slaves. May the Force be with you."
Bowing, Qui-Gon turned and left, heading for the Temple's hanger bay. It took at least an hour to sign out a shuttle and chart out a flight plan, as well as go to the Jedi library to recieve what little information there was on Roon.
As he traversed the halls, he did his best not to grimace at the looks of pity driected to him. Grimly, he acknowladged he was glad that no one came and offered him endless advice. When Xanatos turned, even Knights with no Padawans offered advice; he was glad he didn't experience it again. Some, well, most actually, had no idea what it was like to have the one you trusted turn on you, or the son you love die.
It was a great relief when he entered the sky abuzz with traffic. Shooting straight for the invisible stars, he watched as blue scenery gave way to spotted black. The same black he would see for the next five days as he navigated the "Cloak of the Sith". 'Who chose that name anyway? Probably Yoda,' he thought.
***
Another day of work, another day of slavery. The days had meshed together long ago, making him unaware of how long he had been here. Another eighteen hour shift, another twenty, another failed attempt at getting his collar off, another bit of his will crushed. A breif lunch and warming glance from Thera, then back to work as the sun beat on him relentlessly.
Normally, he tanned well and frequently sported golden skin. Days in the sun had changed that, turning the brown glow into a bright red. Al slaves were given soothing cream for the burns so they could sleep and reserve strength, but it didn't help. Night was just a time spent on a cot on the floor agonizing over his pain. Obi-Wan preffered to work; at least then he didn't notice the accompaning sting.
As he walked back to the warehouse for another load, a guard stopped him. "You are to go to Lady Kit Fisarru's dwelling. She wishes to see you."
'Oh Sith,' he thought. The last slave to be requested to see her didn't come back. Wheather she was dead or not known, but no one really had a churning desire to find out.
After a ten mile walk to where her camp was set up, he was met by a messenger servant who directed him to the main building. Technicaly, the only building (more like a makeshift palace). The inside was decorated modernly and showed Kit's style: all black and red. While the palace was decorated sparsely, everything still held great wealth.
Obi-Wan was directed to the makeshift throne room, although the woman was for from royalty. Two slaves in rags waved palm fans to cool the middle occupant from the unbearable warmth. The boy himself had stopped wearing his shirt weeks ago. Kit had a look of boredom as she leaned her head on one hand and played with her fingernails.
When she noticed him, she stood up, her dark pants and tank top not moving from it's tightness. Her hair was up, and yet a few curly strands framed her face. Kit circled the new arrival, eyeing him evily. "My sources tell me you've been slacking off," she accused.
"Your sources are screwed up." Obi-Wan cringed inside at his words. Smarting off to this woman was not a good idea, but for some odd reason, he didn't care. The boy was in a reckless mood today, not caring about the consequences until it was too late.
Slap! "Watch you mouth A070788," she hissed. "Or I promise you you will regret it."
"Whaddaya gonna do? Kill me?" 'Kenobi! You stupid idiot!'
Kit curled her red lips into a cruel smirk, "I was actually hoping you'd say that. This will be a real pleasure. . . ."
***
Dissembarking from the ship, Jinn was quite a sight. Instead of his usual Jedi garb, he sported tight leather pants and a shirt. His hair was in one giant ponytail, and spiked collars as well as fake tatoos and piercings adorned his body. He looked and felt like a new man.
As he walked the streets made by numerous footsteps trampling the yellow grass, he couldn't help but notice the slaves' reactions. Some stared but continued working, not caring about what he was doing or wheather or not they would be boarding a shuttle with a new Master. Others shrunk away in fear, clearly new additions to the slave world and scared to see other slave owners. Still ther were a few that didn't even notice him. Every living thing had a different reaction.
A small residence loomed loomed before him made of local rock. Getting a good view was not possible as he was forced to squint as the sun shone it's bright glare. Inside, cool air greeted him giving him relief from the summer heat. Qui-Gon was greeted by another slave who led him down countless hallways to the main room.
Kit Fisarru stood in the center of the room. Qui-Gon walked in to see her slapping a young slave who was already on his knees. Inwardly he grimaced when the boy cried out and clutched his cheek as his head whipped back.
***
'Ow,' was all Obi-Wan could think about. Not that the slap itself hurt much, but the fast head movement twisted his neck painfully. Sadly, he came to the conclusion that if that hurt, the next actions that would come from his owner would be pure agony. Although the sight of her gave chills to the passerby's spine, no one, including the boy, had thought she could pack a punch. He had painfully learned the opposite.
Suddenly a booted foot slammed into his stomach, causing him to lurch forward clutching his wounded tummy while leaning on his left arm and knees. A hard blow to the back of his neck sent him flat. Winded, he lay there gasping for breath.
A line of burning fire raced down his back. A virbroblade, barely grazing the skin, burning the area and leaving behind it red liquid. It felt like someone was holding a training saber against his body without removing it. A strangled cry fueled by airless lungs tore past his throat.
Several more slashes adorned his body, given by the searing kiss of the blade and it's wielder. If he could've, he would've screamed, but the air was taken away from his lungs everytime the weapon touched his skin. All he could do was whimper.
"What's your name, slave scum?" Another test, to see if he had finally learned his place. Stubbornly, he refused to answer.
The blade pressed harder, leaving more pain and causing a groan to leave Obi-Wan's lips. But that was all that left. After a few moments of just his ragged breathing, another touch graced him, making him cry out.
"What's your name?"
Sweat ran down his face and hair. Obi-Wan's body shook from pain and shock, but for some reason he would not answer as expected. The boy had reached his limit, and couldn't pretend anymore. Only one answer would satisfy him, even if later he would have to go back to the rouge that was his life. Taking a deep breath, he whispered his name.
"What did you say, boy?!" If anger were tangible, Obi-Wan was sure he would be able to see it radiate off her.
Defiance welled up inside him as he finally got control of his breath. In almost a shout, he answered her, "Obi-Wan Kenobi!"
***
Jinn was frozen in place. Could it be?! Obi-Wan was alive?! 'Oh Force.' Kit hadn't even noticed him yet, she was too busy mauling his Padawan. Choosing to make his presence known, he called out, "Excuse me."
Kit Fisarru spun on her heel and looked at him, "Who are you?!"
Stepping forward, Qui-Gon answered, "Delariis Fen. I'm interested in purchasing some slaves."
Kit looked at him skeptically, "You're a long way from home aren't you? Traveling through the asteroid field around Roon to get here."
Qui-Gon shrugged, "I've been to some. Bought a few slaves, but I'm picky. You know, I can just go back to my shutle and leave right now."
Kit, while she wanted to be cautious considering the wealth she had, didn't get offers for slaves often. She was only willing to pay so much to keep her slaves alive, so when one became weak, they were killed. Frankly, Kit was sick of it when she could be making a profit off them. In the end, her greed won out. "No, don't leave. Just give me a minute." Turning to Obi- Wan, who had managed to make it to his hands and knees, she said, "Go get your injuries tended to. Then get back to work. I expect you to make up the time you wasted today A070788."
Jinn watched as Obi-Wan slowly made his way to his feet. Hoping it would help, he sent pain deadening and healing thoughts through the Force. Almost as if he knew what was going on, the boy looked up at him and stopped in his limp to the door. It wasn't until Kit threatened him with the underground mines that he moved.
As soon as he was gone, Kit went over and sat down in her throne. "Now," she stated. "Down to buisness. . . ."
TBC
I hope this was long enough for you all. I hope I get to post next Week or sooner, but I have a friend's b-day to celebrate and a wedding to go to. For now, buh-bye.