Part One
Chapter 2 - Slave
The horse was strong and carried Qui-Gon quickly over the muddy terrain, through the forest and eventually out onto open grasslands. Qui-Gon let the horse run, but did not let it over exert itself, to get to Theed would take weeks. He knew he could not go the direct route because Maul and his soldiers would be travelling that way. Qui-Gon did not want to run the risk of meeting someone who could tell the new Emperor he still lived. He did not want Bruck, Anakin or Garen to be punished for their loyalty.
It would be a long, difficult journey, especially if he rode through Naboo, where the Emperor Maul's spies dwelt. The General decided it would be best to skirt around the edge of Naboo's borders until he was level with Theed and take a direct course through Naboo to get to the capital. Less time spent in Naboo's main land meant less risk.
Qui-Gon pondered his situation. He could desert the road now, never to be heard from again. He was believed dead. He could disappear without a trace. Qui-Gon had never wanted to be Emperor and still did not want to be, but Maul's actions had made it impossible for him to turn away. Had the Emperor's son waited, the Nabooan Empire would have been his sooner or later and Qui-Gon would have bowed to Maul but now Qui-Gon saw Maul more clearly. He was power hungry and had done the ultimate act of evil in relation to his father and to his people.
Qui-Gon had no proof and Yoda had been gravely ill, but it was almost impossible to believe that Yoda had died with Maul at his side, declaring him his successor. The late Emperor had been ill, however he had not been on his deathbed a mere few hours before the brothers' arrival.
The Emperor ruled the Empire but Naboo was by no means a dictatorship. There was a senate voted for by the people which dealt with the day to day matters of each region. Each representative was Nabooan, which had been something Yoda wanted to change. He had wanted people originally from the conquered lands to stand at the Senate and speak for their people. He wanted natives among them, which was something Maul would never allow.
The people of the Empire sustained a great deal of power, once they stopped resisting Naboo's rule and the people of the great Empire had the power to remove an Emperor. It was an old law; one never used but still part of the governmental structure. The people needed to know they could remove a leader who mistreated their needs.
It was difficult to remove an Emperor and it had not been dared in generations. It was, however, perfectly legal and Qui-Gon knew he had the support of the army, the people and the brothers of current Emperor. He would stand before the Senate and declare Maul unfit and with no right to the throne. The Blood Right could only work if an alternative leader was brought forth. Bruck was right, it had to be him.
The weather grew warmer as Qui-Gon travelled south. Days went by with little or no rest. The only times the General stopped was to let the horse rest. He was bone tired after twelve days of travelling and was not even half way to Theed, though he was close to the land of Tatooine. It would take another two weeks to travel through the open lands of the desert country before entering Naboo and another week's journey to Theed.
When the attack came it was short and bloodless.
Qui-Gon's eyelids began to drop and his surroundings started to blur. The road ahead looked clear so he spurred his horse on, heedless of any danger that may arise. His head ached and he could barely think clearly; fatigue and his limbs heavy from exhaustion, clouded his mind. He didn't see them at first, they came from seemingly nowhere when in fact they had been watching from the ridge top that lined both sides of the road for some time. There were only five of them, all dressed in ragged cotton tunics and scuffed leather sandals that did little to protect their feet from the stony landscape. Each man carried a short sword and two also carried daggers tucked into their belts. All this Qui-Gon managed to take in about his attackers despite his weariness.
The five men rushed the horse and its lone rider; if the General had been rested, he would have been prepared, however, as he was he barely had his sword drawn when the first of the attackers reached him. The clang of metal meeting metal rang out loudly in the empty canyon. From his left Qui-Gon was grabbed and pulled roughly to the ground. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet and lift his sword high enough to meet the blow aimed at his chest.
"Give up, we don't wish to hurt you." Qui-Gon didn't answer, he couldn't, his mind was entirely focused on the fight. Five against one was difficult in the best of times and now it was near impossible. By some means Qui-Gon managed to connect a blow with on of his opponents but as he did another man sprang at him from behind, dealing a heavy strike to his head. Qui-Gon Jinn went down, unconscious even before his body hit the earth.
"Grab the horse." The leader of the pack ordered. "Ci'ro, how badly are you hurt?" They maybe slavers but the men within the gang were friends and brothers.
"Not bad, it was just a glancing hit."
"Good. Lets put him on the horse and get back to camp." The five men gathered their winnings, horse and man in tow and headed southeast.
Qui-Gon walked with his hands bound. A rope around his neck was tethered to the slave in front of him and the one behind. He stumbled often, exhaustion and his wounds weakening him. The man behind helped him stand and they would continue to walk. Where? Qui-Gon didn't know. The slavers were not cruel men but people trying to live in an inhospitable land. They did not beat their captives and even treated their injuries but ultimately the people the people they attacked were mere merchandise in their eyes.
"I'm Mace, they caught me North of the old country. You?" the man behind Qui-Gon asked, distracting him from his worries.
"Qui-Gon. I was on my way to Theed."
"You still may get there, my friend. You still may get there." Mace was a tall well built man with skin the colour of chocolate. His eyes were brown and understanding and his voice held a note of humour to it, a quality the General admired given their situation.
They walked for hours, Mace helping Qui-Gon, offering carefree conversation as they travelled. Despite his fatigue, Qui-Gon found it remarkably easy to talk to his new companion. Mace seemed like a good man and physically able; he had the body and muscle of a warrior, his eyes seemed to see everything and his reflexes matched the quickness of his mind.
"You a fighter, Mace?"
"Perhaps, once." Mace smiled a little. It was a life gone by and one he hoped very much to see again.
Before nightfall a town could be seen on the horizon. By dusk the new slaves found themselves at the gates of Otoh market town just north of Mos Espa, the Tatooine region capital where one of the Empire greatest arenas stood.
"We've brought slaves for the market tomorrow," the lead slaver spoke to the gatekeeper.
"Head for the square. There are places there to store them until morning." With little fuss, the small group of men and captives were ushered into the town walls. Qui-Gon and Mace, with the other slaves, were led to the centre of Otoh, where they were put in animal pens to await the morning and the buyers.
"Him." Qui-Gon looked up to see a tall, black women pointing at him.
"Of course, Madam. He is one thousand credits."
"What? He is damaged." The woman was noble in stature and poise and spoke with clear crisp words. There was not unkindness in her manner but it was clear she viewed the men before her as beneath her.
"It is nothing that will not heal."
"I'll give you five hundred credits."
"Eight hundred."
"Six hundred." Her voice was stern and unwavering but as Qui-Gon watched he realised she was enjoying the haggling of his price.
"Seven, fifty."
"Done." And as easily as that, one of the greatest generals in Naboo's history and the rightful emperor, was sold to Lady Gallia as a slave.
"Good bye, Qui-Gon. Good luck." General Jinn was unshackled and led away from the slave pens.
"Good luck to you as well, my friend," Qui-Gon called over his shoulder to Mace.
"Name?" Qui-Gon's attention was dragged back around to the woman who had purchased him.
"Qui-Gon, Madam." He kept his eyes low, not wanting to anger his new owner. He had yet to learn what kind of woman she was and he did not know the limits to which he could push. If he was patient he would gain trust and a way of escape may present itself.
"Good. I am Lady Gallia. You will address me as such. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Lady Gallia."
Lady Gallia's house was large and exquisitely furnished. It was not the palace in Theed but it was designed on a similar theme. Vast marble columns held aloft the stone room. Thousands of tiles were laid on the floor and made up detailed mosaics of Nabooan myths. Qui-Gon was a yard slave and saw little of the main house; his room which he shared with three other men was not a cell, but was a sparsely furnished room in the servants' quarter. Lady Gallia was a good mistress and took care of her slaves, which meant their rooms were dry and warm, and the beds comfortable. The three other occupants had been slaves for a long time and helped the General adjust to his new way of life.
Qui-Gon didn't mind the work either. He cared for his owner's horses, feeding them, mucking out their stables and keeping their harnesses polished and ready for use. Every morning Lady Gallia rode into town and Qui-Gon led the horse for her. It was as good a place as any to bide his time. It would be hard to escape but not impossible. At least it wouldn't have been if it weren't for Palpatine.
Lady Gallia had decided to go Mos Espa and watch the games. The amphitheatre there was huge, not as large as the coliseum in Theed, but almost as impressive. Thousands were packed into the stands and the spectators' cheers were deafening as blood was shed and could be heard for miles around.
"How do you like the show, Qui-Gon?" Lady Gallia's attention never left the fighters on the sands but she was aware of her slave by her side.
"Very impressive, Lady Gallia." He hated the show, he hated the blood and he hated the people who didn't understand what battle really was, the ones who only saw it as a way to gain favour with the nobles. Qui-Gon had been in Adi Gellia's ownership for a little over a month when they attended the games. In that time Qui-Gon had become a favourite of the Lady Gallia; his quiet, polite voice and his smile endeared him to her, however he was still just a slave and her like for him was not enough to keep him at her side.
"Lady Adi?" Qui-Gon watched his mistress as she tensed slightly at the sound of the new comer's voice. She recovered quickly and flawlessly; she forced a smile and turned to greet the gentleman.
"Palpatine, how are you?"
"Well, My Lady, and yourself?" The General quickly sized up the man who was talking to his owner. He was tall and willowy, spoke with a quiet accented voice and all his movements were considered and precise. He was not strong, and certainly not a fighter of any sort, his gaze was sharp and cunning and his whole presence spoke of unkindness. He was not a threat, at least not physically. He was a businessman and a shrewd one.
"Fine. Please, won't you sit?" Palpatine sat in the seat offered to him. "Does your champion not fight today?"
"Of course. He is, as usual, on last."
"Alas," Gallia exclaimed, "I must leave before then and shall miss his performance."
"Not to worry, he'll fight another day."
"He won't if he is dead." Her voice was perfectly neutral, nevertheless Qui-Gon could see the annoyance in Palpatine's eyes. "I am a very busy woman, Palpatine, what is it that you want?"
"Your slave."
"Pardon?"
"This one." The Jedi trainer pointed at Qui-Gon. "He has the physique of a fighter. I wish to purchase him."
"And what makes you think I will sell him to you?"
"You know how good my eye is for Jedi and I know you love watching a good duel." Palpatine smiled again; a smile that never reached his eyes.
"How much?" Lady Gallia asked. The General fought not to speak. He had left the army because he did not wish to spend his life killing, he did not what to be a Jedi in the arena and he did not wish to be sold to the slaver.
"Six hundred and fifty credits."
"You must be joking, I paid more than that and he has greatly improved since. Twelve hundred."
"Now who's joking? Nine hundred."
"One thousand."
"Deal."
"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon you have been a good slave but I like Palpatine's idea." Money once more exchanged hands and the General of Naboo became a Jedi, the fighting champions of the sands.
Adi Gallia left to return to her home and Qui-Gon was led away to the Jedi School where he would live and train. Neither saw the champion as he walked out onto the sands but both heard the cheers. Neither saw the fight and the challenger's death but they heard the screams.
Mos Espa, Tatooine.
He sat in the dark, his eyes closed, his body still and his mind at ease. He did not even flinch as they attended his injuries. The battle had been easy, the victory unsatisfying but he had done it. Not for the crowd, not for his owner but because despite everything, he was the champion and he wanted to live. As long as the crowd loved him, as long as he was their favourite, Palpatine would not hurt him.
At least not like before anyway.
"He's waiting." The Jedi opened his eyes and looked at the speaker. The green eyes of the champion were hard and almost dead; only a small amount of the man he had been remained.
The tunnels were dark as he walked through them; the touch carried by Palpatine's apprentice cast little light. He didn't mind, in fact the champion preferred it, it meant he didn't need to see their faces- his keepers, his owners and his enemies. They stepped out into the centre courtyard where horses and free men wandered. Across the courtyard was HIS apartment. The Jedi wondered at a man's sanity when, by choice, he lived at a Jedi training school alongside the arena. HE must love the sounds of screams and the sight of blood more than anyone should.
The champion was used to this walk. Often, he was taken to his master before being shut away again in the dark, sometimes with company and sometimes not.
"Come in, Ben." HIS voice was like oil; slick and clingy. The mere sound of it made the Jedi shudder and feel dirty. "Drink?" his master asked and the fighter shook his head in answer. The champion rarely talked any more; people seemed to prefer it that way. HIM. HE was his master, Palpatine. The Jedi had never thought of his owner by name, instead always referring to him as HIM, even to others on the rare occasions when he did speak.
"Well, that was certainly interesting, Ben. I thought I told you to draw out the fights even against the easy opponents." The slave owner grabbed the Jedi's chin and forced the young man to look into the eyes of his master. Palpatine's voice became hard and controlling. "You are not indispensable boy. Is that clear?"
The champion of the Tatooine arena nodded. His master wanted a show, he always did, and the Jedi had to perform.
"Good." The threatening voice of a moment ago was once again replaced by the oily, slippery tone of a man of lies and someone who pretended to care. "Now, lets eat before your next appointment."
HE always worded it like that. 'Appointment.' The Jedi hated it; it made it seem civil and acceptable not brutal and dirty as it truly was. It was deceiving and hid the bloody and forceful nature of the encounters.
The food was, of course, excellent, for which the Jedi was glad. One thing to be said for Palpatine was that he fed his Jedi slaves well; he kept them strong and in good condition. Palpatine chatted to the champion throughout the meal. The slaver enjoyed the sound of his own voice and seemed to prefer it when his finest fighter was silent and did not interrupt, merely nodding or shaking his head in appropriate places.
All too soon the meal was over and the Jedi had other duties to perform at the bidding of his owner. Palpatine stood and smiled in the way he had that conveyed unkindness and enjoyment in another's suffering.
"Well, I won't keep you, Ben. You have somewhere else to be."
Back through the dark tunnels the Jedi was led, to the cell he loathed and feared the most. It was not the place he slept; it was cleaner and instead of a wooden bench to sleep on there was an iron framed bed with shackles on the headboard. He did not share this cell with the other Jedi, either; he shared it with paying customers. The door closed behind him.
He waited; his hands chained behind his back. He waited; the torch left by the guards flickered in the slight draft. He waited; the door opened. The infamous Jedi warrior who dominated the sands, stood in submission ready to do his master's will for today's highest bidder. The man who entered was tall and strong; he had long blond hair pulled away from his face by a jewel-encrusted clip; his clothes were silk and fine linen and his smile was kind but ultimately a lie. He looked at the Jedi and ordered,
"Come to me."
Chapter 2 - Slave
The horse was strong and carried Qui-Gon quickly over the muddy terrain, through the forest and eventually out onto open grasslands. Qui-Gon let the horse run, but did not let it over exert itself, to get to Theed would take weeks. He knew he could not go the direct route because Maul and his soldiers would be travelling that way. Qui-Gon did not want to run the risk of meeting someone who could tell the new Emperor he still lived. He did not want Bruck, Anakin or Garen to be punished for their loyalty.
It would be a long, difficult journey, especially if he rode through Naboo, where the Emperor Maul's spies dwelt. The General decided it would be best to skirt around the edge of Naboo's borders until he was level with Theed and take a direct course through Naboo to get to the capital. Less time spent in Naboo's main land meant less risk.
Qui-Gon pondered his situation. He could desert the road now, never to be heard from again. He was believed dead. He could disappear without a trace. Qui-Gon had never wanted to be Emperor and still did not want to be, but Maul's actions had made it impossible for him to turn away. Had the Emperor's son waited, the Nabooan Empire would have been his sooner or later and Qui-Gon would have bowed to Maul but now Qui-Gon saw Maul more clearly. He was power hungry and had done the ultimate act of evil in relation to his father and to his people.
Qui-Gon had no proof and Yoda had been gravely ill, but it was almost impossible to believe that Yoda had died with Maul at his side, declaring him his successor. The late Emperor had been ill, however he had not been on his deathbed a mere few hours before the brothers' arrival.
The Emperor ruled the Empire but Naboo was by no means a dictatorship. There was a senate voted for by the people which dealt with the day to day matters of each region. Each representative was Nabooan, which had been something Yoda wanted to change. He had wanted people originally from the conquered lands to stand at the Senate and speak for their people. He wanted natives among them, which was something Maul would never allow.
The people of the Empire sustained a great deal of power, once they stopped resisting Naboo's rule and the people of the great Empire had the power to remove an Emperor. It was an old law; one never used but still part of the governmental structure. The people needed to know they could remove a leader who mistreated their needs.
It was difficult to remove an Emperor and it had not been dared in generations. It was, however, perfectly legal and Qui-Gon knew he had the support of the army, the people and the brothers of current Emperor. He would stand before the Senate and declare Maul unfit and with no right to the throne. The Blood Right could only work if an alternative leader was brought forth. Bruck was right, it had to be him.
The weather grew warmer as Qui-Gon travelled south. Days went by with little or no rest. The only times the General stopped was to let the horse rest. He was bone tired after twelve days of travelling and was not even half way to Theed, though he was close to the land of Tatooine. It would take another two weeks to travel through the open lands of the desert country before entering Naboo and another week's journey to Theed.
When the attack came it was short and bloodless.
Qui-Gon's eyelids began to drop and his surroundings started to blur. The road ahead looked clear so he spurred his horse on, heedless of any danger that may arise. His head ached and he could barely think clearly; fatigue and his limbs heavy from exhaustion, clouded his mind. He didn't see them at first, they came from seemingly nowhere when in fact they had been watching from the ridge top that lined both sides of the road for some time. There were only five of them, all dressed in ragged cotton tunics and scuffed leather sandals that did little to protect their feet from the stony landscape. Each man carried a short sword and two also carried daggers tucked into their belts. All this Qui-Gon managed to take in about his attackers despite his weariness.
The five men rushed the horse and its lone rider; if the General had been rested, he would have been prepared, however, as he was he barely had his sword drawn when the first of the attackers reached him. The clang of metal meeting metal rang out loudly in the empty canyon. From his left Qui-Gon was grabbed and pulled roughly to the ground. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet and lift his sword high enough to meet the blow aimed at his chest.
"Give up, we don't wish to hurt you." Qui-Gon didn't answer, he couldn't, his mind was entirely focused on the fight. Five against one was difficult in the best of times and now it was near impossible. By some means Qui-Gon managed to connect a blow with on of his opponents but as he did another man sprang at him from behind, dealing a heavy strike to his head. Qui-Gon Jinn went down, unconscious even before his body hit the earth.
"Grab the horse." The leader of the pack ordered. "Ci'ro, how badly are you hurt?" They maybe slavers but the men within the gang were friends and brothers.
"Not bad, it was just a glancing hit."
"Good. Lets put him on the horse and get back to camp." The five men gathered their winnings, horse and man in tow and headed southeast.
Qui-Gon walked with his hands bound. A rope around his neck was tethered to the slave in front of him and the one behind. He stumbled often, exhaustion and his wounds weakening him. The man behind helped him stand and they would continue to walk. Where? Qui-Gon didn't know. The slavers were not cruel men but people trying to live in an inhospitable land. They did not beat their captives and even treated their injuries but ultimately the people the people they attacked were mere merchandise in their eyes.
"I'm Mace, they caught me North of the old country. You?" the man behind Qui-Gon asked, distracting him from his worries.
"Qui-Gon. I was on my way to Theed."
"You still may get there, my friend. You still may get there." Mace was a tall well built man with skin the colour of chocolate. His eyes were brown and understanding and his voice held a note of humour to it, a quality the General admired given their situation.
They walked for hours, Mace helping Qui-Gon, offering carefree conversation as they travelled. Despite his fatigue, Qui-Gon found it remarkably easy to talk to his new companion. Mace seemed like a good man and physically able; he had the body and muscle of a warrior, his eyes seemed to see everything and his reflexes matched the quickness of his mind.
"You a fighter, Mace?"
"Perhaps, once." Mace smiled a little. It was a life gone by and one he hoped very much to see again.
Before nightfall a town could be seen on the horizon. By dusk the new slaves found themselves at the gates of Otoh market town just north of Mos Espa, the Tatooine region capital where one of the Empire greatest arenas stood.
"We've brought slaves for the market tomorrow," the lead slaver spoke to the gatekeeper.
"Head for the square. There are places there to store them until morning." With little fuss, the small group of men and captives were ushered into the town walls. Qui-Gon and Mace, with the other slaves, were led to the centre of Otoh, where they were put in animal pens to await the morning and the buyers.
"Him." Qui-Gon looked up to see a tall, black women pointing at him.
"Of course, Madam. He is one thousand credits."
"What? He is damaged." The woman was noble in stature and poise and spoke with clear crisp words. There was not unkindness in her manner but it was clear she viewed the men before her as beneath her.
"It is nothing that will not heal."
"I'll give you five hundred credits."
"Eight hundred."
"Six hundred." Her voice was stern and unwavering but as Qui-Gon watched he realised she was enjoying the haggling of his price.
"Seven, fifty."
"Done." And as easily as that, one of the greatest generals in Naboo's history and the rightful emperor, was sold to Lady Gallia as a slave.
"Good bye, Qui-Gon. Good luck." General Jinn was unshackled and led away from the slave pens.
"Good luck to you as well, my friend," Qui-Gon called over his shoulder to Mace.
"Name?" Qui-Gon's attention was dragged back around to the woman who had purchased him.
"Qui-Gon, Madam." He kept his eyes low, not wanting to anger his new owner. He had yet to learn what kind of woman she was and he did not know the limits to which he could push. If he was patient he would gain trust and a way of escape may present itself.
"Good. I am Lady Gallia. You will address me as such. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Lady Gallia."
Lady Gallia's house was large and exquisitely furnished. It was not the palace in Theed but it was designed on a similar theme. Vast marble columns held aloft the stone room. Thousands of tiles were laid on the floor and made up detailed mosaics of Nabooan myths. Qui-Gon was a yard slave and saw little of the main house; his room which he shared with three other men was not a cell, but was a sparsely furnished room in the servants' quarter. Lady Gallia was a good mistress and took care of her slaves, which meant their rooms were dry and warm, and the beds comfortable. The three other occupants had been slaves for a long time and helped the General adjust to his new way of life.
Qui-Gon didn't mind the work either. He cared for his owner's horses, feeding them, mucking out their stables and keeping their harnesses polished and ready for use. Every morning Lady Gallia rode into town and Qui-Gon led the horse for her. It was as good a place as any to bide his time. It would be hard to escape but not impossible. At least it wouldn't have been if it weren't for Palpatine.
Lady Gallia had decided to go Mos Espa and watch the games. The amphitheatre there was huge, not as large as the coliseum in Theed, but almost as impressive. Thousands were packed into the stands and the spectators' cheers were deafening as blood was shed and could be heard for miles around.
"How do you like the show, Qui-Gon?" Lady Gallia's attention never left the fighters on the sands but she was aware of her slave by her side.
"Very impressive, Lady Gallia." He hated the show, he hated the blood and he hated the people who didn't understand what battle really was, the ones who only saw it as a way to gain favour with the nobles. Qui-Gon had been in Adi Gellia's ownership for a little over a month when they attended the games. In that time Qui-Gon had become a favourite of the Lady Gallia; his quiet, polite voice and his smile endeared him to her, however he was still just a slave and her like for him was not enough to keep him at her side.
"Lady Adi?" Qui-Gon watched his mistress as she tensed slightly at the sound of the new comer's voice. She recovered quickly and flawlessly; she forced a smile and turned to greet the gentleman.
"Palpatine, how are you?"
"Well, My Lady, and yourself?" The General quickly sized up the man who was talking to his owner. He was tall and willowy, spoke with a quiet accented voice and all his movements were considered and precise. He was not strong, and certainly not a fighter of any sort, his gaze was sharp and cunning and his whole presence spoke of unkindness. He was not a threat, at least not physically. He was a businessman and a shrewd one.
"Fine. Please, won't you sit?" Palpatine sat in the seat offered to him. "Does your champion not fight today?"
"Of course. He is, as usual, on last."
"Alas," Gallia exclaimed, "I must leave before then and shall miss his performance."
"Not to worry, he'll fight another day."
"He won't if he is dead." Her voice was perfectly neutral, nevertheless Qui-Gon could see the annoyance in Palpatine's eyes. "I am a very busy woman, Palpatine, what is it that you want?"
"Your slave."
"Pardon?"
"This one." The Jedi trainer pointed at Qui-Gon. "He has the physique of a fighter. I wish to purchase him."
"And what makes you think I will sell him to you?"
"You know how good my eye is for Jedi and I know you love watching a good duel." Palpatine smiled again; a smile that never reached his eyes.
"How much?" Lady Gallia asked. The General fought not to speak. He had left the army because he did not wish to spend his life killing, he did not what to be a Jedi in the arena and he did not wish to be sold to the slaver.
"Six hundred and fifty credits."
"You must be joking, I paid more than that and he has greatly improved since. Twelve hundred."
"Now who's joking? Nine hundred."
"One thousand."
"Deal."
"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon you have been a good slave but I like Palpatine's idea." Money once more exchanged hands and the General of Naboo became a Jedi, the fighting champions of the sands.
Adi Gallia left to return to her home and Qui-Gon was led away to the Jedi School where he would live and train. Neither saw the champion as he walked out onto the sands but both heard the cheers. Neither saw the fight and the challenger's death but they heard the screams.
Mos Espa, Tatooine.
He sat in the dark, his eyes closed, his body still and his mind at ease. He did not even flinch as they attended his injuries. The battle had been easy, the victory unsatisfying but he had done it. Not for the crowd, not for his owner but because despite everything, he was the champion and he wanted to live. As long as the crowd loved him, as long as he was their favourite, Palpatine would not hurt him.
At least not like before anyway.
"He's waiting." The Jedi opened his eyes and looked at the speaker. The green eyes of the champion were hard and almost dead; only a small amount of the man he had been remained.
The tunnels were dark as he walked through them; the touch carried by Palpatine's apprentice cast little light. He didn't mind, in fact the champion preferred it, it meant he didn't need to see their faces- his keepers, his owners and his enemies. They stepped out into the centre courtyard where horses and free men wandered. Across the courtyard was HIS apartment. The Jedi wondered at a man's sanity when, by choice, he lived at a Jedi training school alongside the arena. HE must love the sounds of screams and the sight of blood more than anyone should.
The champion was used to this walk. Often, he was taken to his master before being shut away again in the dark, sometimes with company and sometimes not.
"Come in, Ben." HIS voice was like oil; slick and clingy. The mere sound of it made the Jedi shudder and feel dirty. "Drink?" his master asked and the fighter shook his head in answer. The champion rarely talked any more; people seemed to prefer it that way. HIM. HE was his master, Palpatine. The Jedi had never thought of his owner by name, instead always referring to him as HIM, even to others on the rare occasions when he did speak.
"Well, that was certainly interesting, Ben. I thought I told you to draw out the fights even against the easy opponents." The slave owner grabbed the Jedi's chin and forced the young man to look into the eyes of his master. Palpatine's voice became hard and controlling. "You are not indispensable boy. Is that clear?"
The champion of the Tatooine arena nodded. His master wanted a show, he always did, and the Jedi had to perform.
"Good." The threatening voice of a moment ago was once again replaced by the oily, slippery tone of a man of lies and someone who pretended to care. "Now, lets eat before your next appointment."
HE always worded it like that. 'Appointment.' The Jedi hated it; it made it seem civil and acceptable not brutal and dirty as it truly was. It was deceiving and hid the bloody and forceful nature of the encounters.
The food was, of course, excellent, for which the Jedi was glad. One thing to be said for Palpatine was that he fed his Jedi slaves well; he kept them strong and in good condition. Palpatine chatted to the champion throughout the meal. The slaver enjoyed the sound of his own voice and seemed to prefer it when his finest fighter was silent and did not interrupt, merely nodding or shaking his head in appropriate places.
All too soon the meal was over and the Jedi had other duties to perform at the bidding of his owner. Palpatine stood and smiled in the way he had that conveyed unkindness and enjoyment in another's suffering.
"Well, I won't keep you, Ben. You have somewhere else to be."
Back through the dark tunnels the Jedi was led, to the cell he loathed and feared the most. It was not the place he slept; it was cleaner and instead of a wooden bench to sleep on there was an iron framed bed with shackles on the headboard. He did not share this cell with the other Jedi, either; he shared it with paying customers. The door closed behind him.
He waited; his hands chained behind his back. He waited; the torch left by the guards flickered in the slight draft. He waited; the door opened. The infamous Jedi warrior who dominated the sands, stood in submission ready to do his master's will for today's highest bidder. The man who entered was tall and strong; he had long blond hair pulled away from his face by a jewel-encrusted clip; his clothes were silk and fine linen and his smile was kind but ultimately a lie. He looked at the Jedi and ordered,
"Come to me."