Thanks, TallyG. And here's the next chapter ;-)
Thank you, Cerasi5. Hopefully you'll like this chapter, too.
"It's nice to know that you are indeed human!" – and who did you think I was? Yoda? :-)))) ~*~*~*~*~
Qui-Gon used a turbolift to get to Arones' apartment, but the 'lift seemed to go too slowly for the Jedi's liking. Unusually impatient, the Master was thinking that maybe he should have taken the stairs instead. He paced the small elevator like a lion in a cage. Not that he wanted to get to Arones' office faster; he wanted to get back to Obi-Wan faster. And this damned lift is crawling like an ill Hutt!
After what felt like eternity to Qui-Gon, the 'lift stopped, and the doors opened. Qui-Gon exited the 'lift and strode down the hall, pushing aside his worries and draping himself into an air of professionalism as he went. Internal conflict was still raging inside him, but he wasn't the one to change his decisions once they were made.
The doors to Arones' apartment were wide open, and muffled sounds of hysterics were coming through. Qui-Gon sped up a bit. A middle-aged woman suddenly came rushing out the door. Her eyes were red and puffy, obviously from crying. Nearly bumping into Qui-Gon, she stopped and raised her teary eyes at the Jedi.
"Oh, sorry…" she stammered, her voice quivering. Her face was pale and drawn with tear-streaks trailing down her wet cheeks.
With a muffled sob, she rushed past Qui-Gon. He stared after her, but she had already disappeared behind one of the doors that were lining the corridor's walls. Shrugging, Qui-Gon continued onward. When he reached the open doors, he was greeted by a weird sight: the usually tidy office had been turned virtually upside down. A few chairs were lying on the floor, one of them broken; datapads were scattered all over the place. Pieces of a broken vase were glittering under the sunrays, creating a sparkling jigsaw of all colours of a rainbow on the floor.
In the middle of this mayhem on the table sat a young woman. Her face was buried in her hands, which were obscured by a mass of pale blond hair, hanging loosely at both sides of her face. Her fragile shoulders were jerking from crying. Arones stood next to her with his back to the door, apparently trying to console her, though without much success.
Qui-Gon took in the whole scene with one quick sweeping look. Then he stepped into the office.
"Mr. Arones," he said in a slightly questioning tone.
The man turned to regard the Master.
Arones looked worn out: his dark hair was disheveled; his eyes were red rimmed. Whatever had happened here had affected him, too.
"Master Jinn, it's awful," he said, his voice shaky with emotion. He turned to the woman on the table. "Maira, please go to Karitu. I need to talk with Master Jinn privately".
The woman nodded, sobbing, and slipped from the tabletop, making her way to the door on unsteady legs. At the door she paused briefly, turning to look at Arones, then fled the room. The two men were left alone.
Arones leaned against the table and looked at Qui-Gon. The Jedi stood silently, waiting for the other to speak.
"Two of my aides… They…" Arones paused, apparently unable to get the words out of his mouth. He rubbed his forehead, then continued. "They are dead. Maira found them… It's horrible!" Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before Qui-Gon could guess what it could be.
"Where are they? I'd like to take a look at them," Qui-Gon said, trying to make his voice sound compassionate and professional at the same time.
"Oh, yes… they are over there," Arones waved his hand in the direction of a closed door at the far end of the large room. He stood and started to walk to the door. "I locked it so no one could touch anything," he said, pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket.
"Did you call police?" Qui-Gon asked, following the man.
"Yes, yes, I did. They will be here soon. But I thought it would be better if you looked at them first." With these words Arones unlocked the door to the small adjoining room. He waved his hand, inviting Qui-Gon to look inside, but the Master was watching him instead.
Something was not right with the man. Of course, his eyes were red, his face wore a stricken and grievous expression plastered on it, but… There was a particular sparkle in his eyes, something well hidden - yet slightly visible - that made Qui-Gon doubt sincerity of his grief. Either I'm seeing things that are not there, or he's an extremely good actor, he thought.
Diverting his attention from Arones, Qui-Gon looked at the scene that unfolded before him. No wonder the women had been so frightened and shocked. The scene made even the experienced Jedi Master cringe. A rather small room, used apparently for rest and relaxing, had been virtually torn apart: all the windows gaped open; scarce furniture, blasted into scraps of wood and fabric, stood ajar. Formerly a comm. unit crackled on a low table, emitting acidic black smoke into the air of the room, already filled with destruction.
In the middle of the room was what made this whole place seem to be a decoration for a horror-movie - remnants of a life-form… or two. Biting back the urge to vomit, Qui-Gon took a step to the bloody mess. On closer inspection it turned out to be all that remained from two Bothans, lying in a pool of their own blood.
It looked as if a squadron had marched in here, blasting out of existence everything that was in its way. Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder at Arones. The man was pale, but not too much. And again something flittered in his eyes - something unrecognizable, too fast to grasp.
I'll need to think on that later. And I definitely have to keep an eye on him. Qui-Gon's thoughts were interrupted with a loud noise, coming from the corridor outside Arones' office. A few moments later three policemen entered the room. The presence of these common, grounded beings seemed to alleviate the atmosphere of mystery and intrigue in the room that had entirely too much of that.
The policemen started their routine, paying to the bloody remnants on the floor only as much attention as their protocol told them. They asked some questions, not quite happy about the presence of a Jedi. Then they started to rummage through the room, occasionally asking Arones some questions and totally ignoring Qui-Gon. What the Master could not understand was why had Arones called him. Sure enough, police could handle this.
"Mr. Arones," Deciding that the issue needed some clarification, Qui-Gon addressed the man who was hovering at the door, trying not to even look at the center of the small room. "Why did you call me? I don't see the reason for my presence here."
Upon hearing these words Arones looked at Qui-Gon sharply, but then his angry look turned into one of fear and grief.
"You see, I thought that maybe you could sense anything here," he waved his hand in the air, encompassing the room. "I heard the Jedi could tell what happened in the past…"
Another of those rumors, Qui-Gon thought with dismay.
"…And anyway you are meant to protect me, aren't you?" A sly intonation in his tone made Qui-Gon glare at him.
"I believe my mission here implies that I am to watch over the course of the negotiations," he replied somewhat coldly.
"Oh, but I talked to your Council, and they promised me you will protect me," Arones countered in an even more sly voice.
Thank you very much, Mace! Or whoever I need to thank for this, Qui-Gon thought, starting to feel irritated at the whole situation. He already had a sick Padawan - well, not quite sick, but definitely one who needed to be watched over and taken care of. Guarding Arones was the last thing Qui-Gon wanted to have to do right now. In his worries for Obi-Wan and attempts to get him back, the Master didn't contact the Council in at least a couple of days. Well, now I'll have to…
His thoughts were interrupted by a bellow from the Force, screaming at him to get to his apprentice immediately. Without as much as an explanation, Qui-Gon rushed out of the office and took off down the hall to the turbolifts. Arones stared after him dumbfounded. As soon as the Jedi disappeared from his line of view, a vile smile spread on his face. Run, Master Jinn, run. You can't get there on time.
And Qui-Gon ran.
He burst through the doors of the room where his Padawan was… was supposed to be. Qui-Gon stopped dead on his tracks. There was no trace of Obi-Wan in the white, sterile room. Its only occupant was currently lying on the floor with blood leaking from his head. Someone had hit Tarlott on the head and kidnapped Obi-Wan.
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Anisa woke up to a splitting headache that was tearing her head like a mad rancor. She peeked warily from under her eyelashes. The world swirled around her in a whirlpool of bright spots - a dancing, flashing, dizzying vortex. She blinked a couple of times, still hiding her eyes under the eyelashes from stark light. It didn't help. Never one to delay the inevitable, she opened her eyes fully.
The world exploded around her in a fury of brilliant colours. She moaned under the angry attack of the harsh light. The world of colourful hazy spots suddenly seemed so hostile - she felt defenseless, exposed, naked. She wanted to curl up and hide away from everything.
She hadn't felt like this for a very long time - since she had been a little girl. She had accidentally wandered then into a faraway village, farther than she had ever come before. She hadn't known better, and when someone asked her where she had been from, she answered truthfully. Oh, how she had regretted it! She could still remember the looks of shock and disgust on the faces of those around her.
How had she - a five-year-old girl - been able to understand why those people had been suddenly so angry with her? How was she supposed to have known that those people had thought soulhuntes were monsters, callous killers that had nothing in common with sentient beings? She had been helpless and terrified, trembling as they had glared at her as though she were an animal - wild, vile and extremely dangerous.
But the worst came later. She couldn't clearly recall now how it had happened that she had been alone on the street, only that she had found herself being chased by a bunch of street-boys. The boys had been older and much taller than her, a lost, scared tiny five-year-old girl. She had run from them, silently as they had chased her with loud whistles and shouts, weak from fear. She hadn't been able to even scream in terror, choking on her breath, silently crying. Tears flowed down her face, stinging her eyes, wetting her cheeks.
Her vision blurry, she hadn't been able to see anything, stumbling every now and then. But somehow she managed to spot a canopy of bushes sideways from the road she had been running down. She had dived into the thick shrubbery, curled in on herself and waited, trembling from fear, trying desperately to muffle the sobs that tore from her throat. She had been lying there like a little animal, waiting for the boys to hunt her down, and most likely beat her to death.
And she had been like a little dirty animal - huddled in the bushes, shriveled to a ball of terror, cornered and ready to defend herself to death. The old woman who had found her - with large eyes that had glowed with compassion and kindness - took pity on small Anisa. She had talked gently to the petrified girl, calming her down. She had taken the much calmer girl to her house, had given her some food, then had ushered her back to her own village. Anisa never knew what happened to that woman later. But she still held the image of those eyes deep in her heart.
And now she felt helpless again. She hated that feeling, wanted to never experience it again. Banishing the memory, Anisa gathered herself and looked around, trying to make out at least something.
One of the blurry spots around her seemed to grow larger, obtain shape and texture. Anisa blinked, trying hard to bring her vision into focus. Finally, after several long, agonizing moments, the spot molded into the face of Snadi.
"Ah, at last. I was starting to think you were going to play dead forever. Has something happened or have you just decided that you needed a nap?" Snadi asked mockingly.
"Something has happened," she replied, somewhat harshly, not bothering to sound polite. "What happened - is none of your business." Now he'll get offended and choke me to death, she thought sardonically, although she knew that at least a part of it might very well come true. But somehow she didn't care.
She wasn't quite sincere - she herself didn't know what had happened that caused her pass out, but whatever it was, it had left her slightly dazed. She found she couldn't gather her thoughts, couldn't make them go straight - they kept fleeing from her. And even though her sight had returned, the edges of her vision remained fuzzy.
She looked around her to clear her head a little. She saw that their air taxi was hovering outside the traffic line near one of the buildings. Apparently, when she fainted, Snadi had told the driver to get out of the traffic and wait for her to come around.
"Okay, I'm fine now. We can proceed," she said exasperatedly, though she couldn't find the reason for her exasperation herself.
Snadi motioned for the driver to start flying and leaned back casually. A nagging feeling tagged at Anisa's mind - something was not right with her. No, not wrong, just different. She thoroughly examined herself and… Obi-Wan! She sat up straight, making Snadi glare at her. The need for Obi-Wan's soul was gone - as was his presence in her mind.
She had never heard about such bonds to be broken, and whatever had happened took her by surprise. She wasn't sure if the lack of the bond - and her need for him - was a good thing or not. No, she didn't know it yet.
The familiar building of the business-center was steadily coming closer. She was looking over its traditional outlines when an unusual commotion on one of the landing pads caught her attention. Squinting to take a better look, she watched two bulky men drag someone to an air car. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she recognized the ginger hair and the braid. As she watched, the two men dumped the boy into the air car and jump into it themselves. The red air car swiftly took off from the landing pad.
"After them!" Anisa cried, thrusting her hand at the direction of the fleeing air car.
The driver obediently turned their green air car where Anisa showed.
"Why are we chasing that air car?" Snadi asked with an obvious malice.
He must be thinking that I'm a crazed woman who doesn't know what she wants, rushing in different directions. But he can put his thoughts into… Anisa thought, hoping and fearing at the same time that Snadi heard her thoughts.
"The Padawan we need is there," she said aloud, not letting her eyes leave the red air car ahead of them, lest she lose sight of it completely.
"All right then," Snadi replied. He showed no outward sign of any excitement but out of the corner of her eye Anisa noticed that he leaned forward.
The green air car chased the red one through the dense traffic of the large city. Unbeknownst to the occupants of the green air car a yellow one was following them.
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