Stars in the Darkness - Part Thirty-Four
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Darth Sidious drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and his hands were clasped tightly about the arms of his black chair. He had failed. Kenobi had not turned as he had foreseen. If only Sidious hadn't had to divide his energy between seducing Kenobi and fending off Yoda's fumbling attempts to discover his identity. Meddling old troll!
The light side of the Force, despite the growing power of the dark side, was still strong, and because it was it had been difficult for Sidious to bring Kenobi completely over to him. That troubled Sidious. The light and dark sides of the Force were like two great bubbles of energy, struggling for supremacy. However, for the past thousands of years since the Great Sith War, it was the light side which had dominated. Now it was time for the rising of the Dark.
Sidious was well aware of the prophecy that spoke of a Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force, and he knew many, but not all, within the Jedi Order believed Skywalker was this Chosen One. But Sidious wasn't interested in balancing the Force.
He sought complete and utter domination of the dark side over the light. Nothing else would satisfy him. He was even contemplating writing a compendium about it. A compendium in which he would extol the virtues of the dark side. Perhaps, once all his objectives had been accomplished, he would sit down and write it. Hundreds of volumes detailing everything a potential darksider would need to know.
However, first he had to accomplish his goals, and today had been a setback. But no matter, he thought as he willed himself back into a state of calm and deliberate reflection. A grievous blow had been struck against those arrogant Jedi. Kenobi, one of their most powerful and gifted Knights, had lost his son, and Sidious had sensed the young Jedi's overwhelming despair and subsequent loss of faith as a result. He would no longer be the same person.
As for Kenobi's apprentice, Skywalker, Sidious had also sensed the boy's rage at Yoda and Windu, a rage fueled by his overwhelming need to protect those he loved. That was Anakin's weakness. Love. He would do anything to keep those he loved from harm.
Sidious contemplated this, already foreseeing a way he could use this to his advantage. Then, he found his thoughts returning to Kenobi. Sidious, like Yoda, was prescient, and he often saw future events. Some came true, some did not; therefore, he was very careful as to how he made use of such visions. The future was always in motion, and one event, even one as insignificant as whether a particular man on a certain planet chose to go left instead of right, could cause a new future to unfold.
In his visions, Sidious had seen a death profoundly affecting Kenobi, but it had been the woman who had died, not the child. Ben's death had been unexpected, especially since Sidious had convinced himself Kenobi would do everything in his power to save his son. But, the Jedi had, at the last, and faced with the most horrific of decisions, remained a Jedi. But that decision, Sidious knew, had cost him dearly.
Sidious frowned, his thoughts racing, because he was beginning to sense there were higher powers at work, powers he could only dimly glimpse in his deepest meditations. The child was not supposed to die, he mulled, or, at the very least, Kenobi should have brought his son's spirit back from the Abyss, having turned to the dark side of the Force to do so. Both of them, the father and son, should now be his servants.
But, because Obi-Wan had not turned, and his son had died, pathways that had been following one channel of prophecy had now shifted to another. But it was a path Sidious could not yet see. Therefore, he did not know whether it aided his grand purpose or not, this new future the child's death had engendered.
Sidious rose from his chair and walked over to the Sith shrine he had erected in his chamber. He stared at the intricate black and red design of the Mandala of Rage which was the shrine's centerpiece and found himself pondering what effect the death of this one small child could have on his plans.
For he sensed Ben's death had affected his Grand Design, but in ways he could not yet foresee. That deeply troubled Sidious, because he did not like uncertainty. Once the Mandala of Rage was fixed in his mind, he closed his eyes and sank within the dark thoughts the mandala always evoked, searching for answers and hoping for a vision that would show him what he needed to do to prevent disaster, because as strong as the dark side was, Sidious knew that all was not yet certain, all was not yet assured. He could still fail.
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It was the waiting that was the hardest.
Obi-Wan recalled that as he sat in the chair next to Onara's bed. It was always the waiting that was the hardest. The times he and Anakin had waited before advancing upon some stronghold, or for an answer to their final proposal during negotiation, or to hear if a fellow Jedi who had been injured was going to live or die.
But, even as he thought about this, Obi-Wan wondered if this time that axiom wasn't true. As he waited for Onara to awaken, he sensed it wasn't the waiting that would be the hardest. It would be telling her he had let their son die.
It was later that evening. Onara had remained unconscious for most of the day. Concerned, Obi-Wan had questioned her physician about it, a Quarren, who, not surprisingly, had reminded Obi-Wan of Master Eo, the Quarren Jedi Healer who had accompanied Obi-Wan to Ahjane to treat Onara and who had died protecting Ben.
But, this Quarren, a Dr. Manu, was not a Jedi. He had assured Obi-Wan that Onara was fine, and it was good she was getting some much needed rest.
Now, as he watched her sleep, Obi-Wan marveled over how beautiful she was, even after Lursan's terrible attack on her, even after the hours of surgery she had undergone. Her dark hair was spread across the white pillows, her long lashes lying on her pale cheeks, the bruises that had been on her face still visible, but, as a result of the medication she was receiving, nearly gone.
She looked thinner, frailer, but he knew how fiercely she had fought Lursan to protect Ben. And Obi-Wan, as he gazed at her, was filled with just as fierce a need to protect her. But, he knew, as he reached over and stroked her cheek, that he could not protect her from what she had to face once she woke up.
A part of him wished she would remain like this, not because he didn't want her back, because he did, more than anything in the universe. He wanted her beautiful dark eyes open and gazing tenderly up at him, her lovely mouth curled up in one of her warm smiles, her soft arms around his neck. But now, at least she was at peace. A peace that would be shattered upon her awakening.
Leaning back in his chair, Obi-Wan looked down at himself. He still felt strange in these clothes he now wore. Earlier, after making arrangements for Ben's body to be placed in stasis for return to Ahjane, as Dalan had been too distraught to do it himself, Obi-Wan, along with Keria, had accompanied the Dynast to his and Onara's apartment. Anakin had gone back to the Jedi Temple, as had Sinja-Bau, but Obi-Wan, for reasons he had kept to himself, had not.
Upon arriving at the apartment, he and Keria put Dalan to bed, after Obi- Wan administered a mild sedative to the still distressed Dynast, given to him by one of the physicians at the hospital. Once he was assured Dalan was sleeping, Obi-Wan asked Keria if he could take a shower. He was still wearing his Jedi outfit and Onara's blood was on it, but he wanted to return to the hospital as soon as possible.
Keria gave him everything he needed in the way of toiletry, weeping softly as she did so, but Obi-Wan realized he didn't have anything to wear. Although he knew it wouldn't take long for Keria to clean his clothes, for reasons he didn't want to explore too deeply, he did not want to put back on his Jedi outfit. Keria offered him one of Dalan's suits to wear, but, aware the Dynast was a few inches taller than Obi-Wan, adjusted it for him while he showered.
He knew she was still weeping as she worked, but he himself was not. At least not openly. He chose to shed his tears inside, privately. From the moment he'd seen Dalan struggling like a mad man in Anakin's arms, a calmness had settled over Obi-Wan. Not the calmness of peace, but the icy serenity of unrelenting despair.
He had comforted Dalan, even as the Dynast had sobbed hysterically, blaming himself for Ben's death, confessing to Obi-Wan his jealousy of him and his fears of losing Onara, and of his own complicity in what he had thought was going to be Lursan's attack on the Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan had listened to Dalan's confession, and had forgiven him, because he knew the Dynast had acted only out of his desperate and unrequited love for Onara. Something Obi-Wan knew he had played some part in.
After he was done with his shower and had dressed, Obi-Wan stared at himself in the mirror of the guest bedroom. It was him, but not him. There were a few more streaks of white in his red-gold hair, his blue-gray eyes were the same, if dimmer, but, as he examined himself in Dalan's clothes, the gray silk shirt, the dark blue jacket, the matching trousers, for a moment, he didn't know who he was. And that, he decided, was just fine, because the old Obi-Wan, the one who had, once again, chosen the Jedi Order over his son, was someone he no longer wished to be.
However, he had not been able to totally let go of his old self. He had asked Keria for a belt to which he could attach his lightsaber. She had given him a slim, but sturdy, leather black one. Then he had returned to the hospital, after making sure Keria was all right, gently drying her tears. And, for the past three hours, he had sat next to the bed of the woman whose heart he was waiting to break.
He had taken off his jacket and draped it behind the chair, but found himself fingering his trousers, unused to the expensive fabric so different from his own clothing. Then, hearing the door to the room opening, he turned. Anakin peered around it. Obi-Wan stood and walked over to him.
"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin whispered, his eyes raking over the clothes Obi- Wan was wearing, "but I have some news I thought you'd want to hear right away."
Obi-Wan gestured for Anakin to step into the hall, turning back briefly to make sure Onara was still sleeping. Once outside the room, he noted Anakin staring at his clothes, but he offered no explanation and hoped Anakin wouldn't ask for one.
"What is it, Anakin?"
Anakin's blue eyes narrowed. "Lursan. He's been arrested. He was trying to leave Coruscant, but one of the security forces spotted him at the Iljama Sector spaceport. He's being held at the Hall of Judgment."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "He will be tried for his crimes."
Anakin snorted, and Obi-Wan glanced sharply up at him.
"Tried," Anakin sneered. "He doesn't need to be tried, Master. He needs to die. Slowly, painfully."
Obi-Wan was about to rebuke Anakin for his words, but then, he realized, that was what the old Obi-Wan would have done, the Obi-Wan who had let his son die. Instead, he reached over and grabbed Anakin's arm.
"Do nothing, Padawan. Understand? Do nothing."
"But, Master---"
"Do nothing," Obi-Wan repeated firmly. "Leave Lursan to me."
Anakin stared at Obi-Wan for a long moment. Then he nodded. He glanced at the door to Onara's room. "Do you want me to stay with you, Master?"
"Thank you, Anakin, but no. I...I have to do this alone. Go back to the Temple. Attend to your duties. I'll contact you if I need you."
"Yes, Master," Anakin said softly.
Then, surprising Obi-Wan, Anakin reached over and hugged him. Obi-Wan returned it, drawing strength from his Padawan, as he done that day back on Ahjane when he had brought Onara back from the Abyss, as he wished he could have done with Ben.
"I'm sorry, Master, I'm so sorry," Anakin wept as if he'd heard Obi-Wan's thoughts. "I wasn't strong enough. I wanted to help you, but I couldn't. They wouldn't let me. But, I promise you, I'll never fail you again."
"Don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. Windu and Yoda..." Obi-Wan stopped and swallowed. "They did what they thought was best for the Order."
"Best for the Order?" Anakin cried, pulling away from Obi-Wan, his face creased with anger as he wiped away his tears. "What about what was best for you? And for Onara? And for Ben? Did any of that figure into their big picture?"
Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin, and his old self shuddered at what his new self said.
"Apparently it did not." Then Obi-Wan took a deep breath, not wishing to lose himself entirely. "But, you are still a Jedi, Anakin. Remember that. You swore an oath to obey the Jedi Council. Do not violate that oath."
"But, Master---"
"Do as I say, Anakin. Let go of your anger. It will do you no good, in the short or long run."
Anakin released a heavy breath, then nodded. Obi-Wan reached up and cupped his face.
"Now, return to the Temple. I'll see you later."
"Yes, Master."
Anakin turned, his black robe sweeping behind him as he strode down the corridor and disappeared around a corner. Obi-Wan stood and watched where his Padawan had gone, already missing him. Then he turned and went back into Onara's room. He sat in the chair and watched, his heart beating hard, as Onara slowly stirred.
To be continued....
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Darth Sidious drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and his hands were clasped tightly about the arms of his black chair. He had failed. Kenobi had not turned as he had foreseen. If only Sidious hadn't had to divide his energy between seducing Kenobi and fending off Yoda's fumbling attempts to discover his identity. Meddling old troll!
The light side of the Force, despite the growing power of the dark side, was still strong, and because it was it had been difficult for Sidious to bring Kenobi completely over to him. That troubled Sidious. The light and dark sides of the Force were like two great bubbles of energy, struggling for supremacy. However, for the past thousands of years since the Great Sith War, it was the light side which had dominated. Now it was time for the rising of the Dark.
Sidious was well aware of the prophecy that spoke of a Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force, and he knew many, but not all, within the Jedi Order believed Skywalker was this Chosen One. But Sidious wasn't interested in balancing the Force.
He sought complete and utter domination of the dark side over the light. Nothing else would satisfy him. He was even contemplating writing a compendium about it. A compendium in which he would extol the virtues of the dark side. Perhaps, once all his objectives had been accomplished, he would sit down and write it. Hundreds of volumes detailing everything a potential darksider would need to know.
However, first he had to accomplish his goals, and today had been a setback. But no matter, he thought as he willed himself back into a state of calm and deliberate reflection. A grievous blow had been struck against those arrogant Jedi. Kenobi, one of their most powerful and gifted Knights, had lost his son, and Sidious had sensed the young Jedi's overwhelming despair and subsequent loss of faith as a result. He would no longer be the same person.
As for Kenobi's apprentice, Skywalker, Sidious had also sensed the boy's rage at Yoda and Windu, a rage fueled by his overwhelming need to protect those he loved. That was Anakin's weakness. Love. He would do anything to keep those he loved from harm.
Sidious contemplated this, already foreseeing a way he could use this to his advantage. Then, he found his thoughts returning to Kenobi. Sidious, like Yoda, was prescient, and he often saw future events. Some came true, some did not; therefore, he was very careful as to how he made use of such visions. The future was always in motion, and one event, even one as insignificant as whether a particular man on a certain planet chose to go left instead of right, could cause a new future to unfold.
In his visions, Sidious had seen a death profoundly affecting Kenobi, but it had been the woman who had died, not the child. Ben's death had been unexpected, especially since Sidious had convinced himself Kenobi would do everything in his power to save his son. But, the Jedi had, at the last, and faced with the most horrific of decisions, remained a Jedi. But that decision, Sidious knew, had cost him dearly.
Sidious frowned, his thoughts racing, because he was beginning to sense there were higher powers at work, powers he could only dimly glimpse in his deepest meditations. The child was not supposed to die, he mulled, or, at the very least, Kenobi should have brought his son's spirit back from the Abyss, having turned to the dark side of the Force to do so. Both of them, the father and son, should now be his servants.
But, because Obi-Wan had not turned, and his son had died, pathways that had been following one channel of prophecy had now shifted to another. But it was a path Sidious could not yet see. Therefore, he did not know whether it aided his grand purpose or not, this new future the child's death had engendered.
Sidious rose from his chair and walked over to the Sith shrine he had erected in his chamber. He stared at the intricate black and red design of the Mandala of Rage which was the shrine's centerpiece and found himself pondering what effect the death of this one small child could have on his plans.
For he sensed Ben's death had affected his Grand Design, but in ways he could not yet foresee. That deeply troubled Sidious, because he did not like uncertainty. Once the Mandala of Rage was fixed in his mind, he closed his eyes and sank within the dark thoughts the mandala always evoked, searching for answers and hoping for a vision that would show him what he needed to do to prevent disaster, because as strong as the dark side was, Sidious knew that all was not yet certain, all was not yet assured. He could still fail.
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It was the waiting that was the hardest.
Obi-Wan recalled that as he sat in the chair next to Onara's bed. It was always the waiting that was the hardest. The times he and Anakin had waited before advancing upon some stronghold, or for an answer to their final proposal during negotiation, or to hear if a fellow Jedi who had been injured was going to live or die.
But, even as he thought about this, Obi-Wan wondered if this time that axiom wasn't true. As he waited for Onara to awaken, he sensed it wasn't the waiting that would be the hardest. It would be telling her he had let their son die.
It was later that evening. Onara had remained unconscious for most of the day. Concerned, Obi-Wan had questioned her physician about it, a Quarren, who, not surprisingly, had reminded Obi-Wan of Master Eo, the Quarren Jedi Healer who had accompanied Obi-Wan to Ahjane to treat Onara and who had died protecting Ben.
But, this Quarren, a Dr. Manu, was not a Jedi. He had assured Obi-Wan that Onara was fine, and it was good she was getting some much needed rest.
Now, as he watched her sleep, Obi-Wan marveled over how beautiful she was, even after Lursan's terrible attack on her, even after the hours of surgery she had undergone. Her dark hair was spread across the white pillows, her long lashes lying on her pale cheeks, the bruises that had been on her face still visible, but, as a result of the medication she was receiving, nearly gone.
She looked thinner, frailer, but he knew how fiercely she had fought Lursan to protect Ben. And Obi-Wan, as he gazed at her, was filled with just as fierce a need to protect her. But, he knew, as he reached over and stroked her cheek, that he could not protect her from what she had to face once she woke up.
A part of him wished she would remain like this, not because he didn't want her back, because he did, more than anything in the universe. He wanted her beautiful dark eyes open and gazing tenderly up at him, her lovely mouth curled up in one of her warm smiles, her soft arms around his neck. But now, at least she was at peace. A peace that would be shattered upon her awakening.
Leaning back in his chair, Obi-Wan looked down at himself. He still felt strange in these clothes he now wore. Earlier, after making arrangements for Ben's body to be placed in stasis for return to Ahjane, as Dalan had been too distraught to do it himself, Obi-Wan, along with Keria, had accompanied the Dynast to his and Onara's apartment. Anakin had gone back to the Jedi Temple, as had Sinja-Bau, but Obi-Wan, for reasons he had kept to himself, had not.
Upon arriving at the apartment, he and Keria put Dalan to bed, after Obi- Wan administered a mild sedative to the still distressed Dynast, given to him by one of the physicians at the hospital. Once he was assured Dalan was sleeping, Obi-Wan asked Keria if he could take a shower. He was still wearing his Jedi outfit and Onara's blood was on it, but he wanted to return to the hospital as soon as possible.
Keria gave him everything he needed in the way of toiletry, weeping softly as she did so, but Obi-Wan realized he didn't have anything to wear. Although he knew it wouldn't take long for Keria to clean his clothes, for reasons he didn't want to explore too deeply, he did not want to put back on his Jedi outfit. Keria offered him one of Dalan's suits to wear, but, aware the Dynast was a few inches taller than Obi-Wan, adjusted it for him while he showered.
He knew she was still weeping as she worked, but he himself was not. At least not openly. He chose to shed his tears inside, privately. From the moment he'd seen Dalan struggling like a mad man in Anakin's arms, a calmness had settled over Obi-Wan. Not the calmness of peace, but the icy serenity of unrelenting despair.
He had comforted Dalan, even as the Dynast had sobbed hysterically, blaming himself for Ben's death, confessing to Obi-Wan his jealousy of him and his fears of losing Onara, and of his own complicity in what he had thought was going to be Lursan's attack on the Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan had listened to Dalan's confession, and had forgiven him, because he knew the Dynast had acted only out of his desperate and unrequited love for Onara. Something Obi-Wan knew he had played some part in.
After he was done with his shower and had dressed, Obi-Wan stared at himself in the mirror of the guest bedroom. It was him, but not him. There were a few more streaks of white in his red-gold hair, his blue-gray eyes were the same, if dimmer, but, as he examined himself in Dalan's clothes, the gray silk shirt, the dark blue jacket, the matching trousers, for a moment, he didn't know who he was. And that, he decided, was just fine, because the old Obi-Wan, the one who had, once again, chosen the Jedi Order over his son, was someone he no longer wished to be.
However, he had not been able to totally let go of his old self. He had asked Keria for a belt to which he could attach his lightsaber. She had given him a slim, but sturdy, leather black one. Then he had returned to the hospital, after making sure Keria was all right, gently drying her tears. And, for the past three hours, he had sat next to the bed of the woman whose heart he was waiting to break.
He had taken off his jacket and draped it behind the chair, but found himself fingering his trousers, unused to the expensive fabric so different from his own clothing. Then, hearing the door to the room opening, he turned. Anakin peered around it. Obi-Wan stood and walked over to him.
"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin whispered, his eyes raking over the clothes Obi- Wan was wearing, "but I have some news I thought you'd want to hear right away."
Obi-Wan gestured for Anakin to step into the hall, turning back briefly to make sure Onara was still sleeping. Once outside the room, he noted Anakin staring at his clothes, but he offered no explanation and hoped Anakin wouldn't ask for one.
"What is it, Anakin?"
Anakin's blue eyes narrowed. "Lursan. He's been arrested. He was trying to leave Coruscant, but one of the security forces spotted him at the Iljama Sector spaceport. He's being held at the Hall of Judgment."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "He will be tried for his crimes."
Anakin snorted, and Obi-Wan glanced sharply up at him.
"Tried," Anakin sneered. "He doesn't need to be tried, Master. He needs to die. Slowly, painfully."
Obi-Wan was about to rebuke Anakin for his words, but then, he realized, that was what the old Obi-Wan would have done, the Obi-Wan who had let his son die. Instead, he reached over and grabbed Anakin's arm.
"Do nothing, Padawan. Understand? Do nothing."
"But, Master---"
"Do nothing," Obi-Wan repeated firmly. "Leave Lursan to me."
Anakin stared at Obi-Wan for a long moment. Then he nodded. He glanced at the door to Onara's room. "Do you want me to stay with you, Master?"
"Thank you, Anakin, but no. I...I have to do this alone. Go back to the Temple. Attend to your duties. I'll contact you if I need you."
"Yes, Master," Anakin said softly.
Then, surprising Obi-Wan, Anakin reached over and hugged him. Obi-Wan returned it, drawing strength from his Padawan, as he done that day back on Ahjane when he had brought Onara back from the Abyss, as he wished he could have done with Ben.
"I'm sorry, Master, I'm so sorry," Anakin wept as if he'd heard Obi-Wan's thoughts. "I wasn't strong enough. I wanted to help you, but I couldn't. They wouldn't let me. But, I promise you, I'll never fail you again."
"Don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. Windu and Yoda..." Obi-Wan stopped and swallowed. "They did what they thought was best for the Order."
"Best for the Order?" Anakin cried, pulling away from Obi-Wan, his face creased with anger as he wiped away his tears. "What about what was best for you? And for Onara? And for Ben? Did any of that figure into their big picture?"
Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin, and his old self shuddered at what his new self said.
"Apparently it did not." Then Obi-Wan took a deep breath, not wishing to lose himself entirely. "But, you are still a Jedi, Anakin. Remember that. You swore an oath to obey the Jedi Council. Do not violate that oath."
"But, Master---"
"Do as I say, Anakin. Let go of your anger. It will do you no good, in the short or long run."
Anakin released a heavy breath, then nodded. Obi-Wan reached up and cupped his face.
"Now, return to the Temple. I'll see you later."
"Yes, Master."
Anakin turned, his black robe sweeping behind him as he strode down the corridor and disappeared around a corner. Obi-Wan stood and watched where his Padawan had gone, already missing him. Then he turned and went back into Onara's room. He sat in the chair and watched, his heart beating hard, as Onara slowly stirred.
To be continued....