Chapter 6
Obi-Wan barely stirred when the alarms began to sound. He hadn't even flinched when filaments within the medi-droid's glass needle began to heat up as it withdrew, cauterizing the deep holes close.
"Hurry, ve're under attack," Tepes said, seizing the syringe that Eliry had just finished filling. It contained a clear, thick fluid. "I had a feelink that other ship might give us trouble."
"Jedi?" she inquired with an air of unconcern.
"If they are, ve'll put them to good use." He tilted his head to the side, found the artery throbbing in his neck, and slid the needle deep.
Obi-Wan watched with detached concern as the chemical that had been stolen from him flowed into the Sith.
The second glass needle began to grow warm in his leg, his blood having finished its last circuit through the droid. He could hear his flesh sizzling, but there was still no pain.
Tepes exhaled, trembling either from reaction or exultation. "Ah ... yes! Now it is complete! I haff powers to rival my own Master! I vill deal vith this attack personally. Eliry, finish vith him." He tapped Uri-Tan on the arm. "You, come vith me."
The two of them hastily left, while the other guard remained alertly at his post. Eliry balanced a black case atop the medi-droid.
Noises of a battle raged above. Muffled explosions. Obi-Wan barely noticed. He knew he should be more attentive, knew he should try to break free ... but lethargy wrapped around him like iron chains, pulling him into a dark and cold sea, down and down.
He flinched at a jab, thought at first it was the promised injection that would turn him into a living-yet-not servant of the Sith. But Eliry had said that would go into his heart; this had been in the vicinity of his head.
Or had it?
He dredged the last of his will and made himself attempt to return his awareness to his surroundings and his increasingly unresponsive body.
Another jab, and he understood its source.
"Here ..." he mouthed. Here...
Just holding his eyes open called for a titanic effort. He couldn't move so much as a finger.
Eliry either hadn't noticed his attempted response to the call, or didn't care. She held up a small vial of blackish-red liquid. "In the ancient history of this vorld," she said conversationally, "a disease svept through our people. Some of our ancestors realized that the key to survival could be found in the life's blood of other races. They took vat they needed the only vay they could. Vat they didn't know vas that ve possessed special chemicals of our own, found in our saliva. This is a concentrated version."
Air, dragging in and out of his lungs. His body wasn't his own, just a sack of meat growing colder by the minute. His heart didn't beat in its familiar rhythm anymore but convulsed then went slack for long moments, then convulsed again.
Eliry peered into his eyes. Hers were featureless black orbs that could have been made from polished onyx, yet he could still read the cruel amusement and scientific curiosity in them.
"You are very close now to crossink over," she said. "Any moment now, your heart vill come to a stop. There vill be a perceptible change in your eyes ... that's vat I'm vatching for ... as the midichlorians begin to die and take you with them."
She poked a needle through the cap of the vial and filled the syringe.
XXX
The Vance's Pride was no match for laser cannons. Anakin was all too aware than a pilot a smidgen less skilled than he would have already been reduced to burnt jelly in a crumpled can.
He shut out all his worries and concentrated wholly on the moment. The star cruiser had been designed more for looks than speed, and shuddered as he got it to perform unfamiliar stunts.
Laser shot, coming ... now!
He veered a hard left, skimmed past a tower with a coat of paint to spare, and whooped in glee as the cannon blew a big crumbling hole in the wall.
Something blipped on the instrument panel. He spared a glance, saw a cluster of tiny skimmers sweeping toward him. He identified the type if not the particular make at once. One-man security ships, little more than a giant flying blaster with a guard sitting on it.
Shielded, though ... a mousy pop of energy from the --Vance's Pride-- only sparkled prettily as it struck. And payback was a giant nova of yellow that bucked his ship, made his teeth clack together so hard he could've bitten off his tongue, and ate up the last of his own shields.
"Now I'm in for it," he mumbled.
Spinning, once and always a good trick. He barrel-rolled the star cruiser, one wing swatting a skimmer as if it were a gnat -- a gnat that exploded when it hit the ground.
Maybe not such a good idea after all ... he managed to even out but there was another tower coming right at him, and the controls had locked up.
Anakin knew when he was licked. He scrambled to the escape pod, hit the ignition almost before the door had fully closed behind him, and erupted from the bottom of the ship. The Vance's Pride smashed straight into the tower and burst into a colossal fireball. The shockwave tumbled Anakin's pod high into the sky, all he could see were stars revolving dizzily, weird feeling of precognition as his rapid breath gasped in the close confines.
The escape pod slowed and began a downward trajectory. The steering mechanism was only rudimentary, and the moment he grabbed it he knew he would be lucky to land in one piece.
He jolted it to the ground, bouncing across the courtyard like a skipped stone on a placid pond. The last bounce brought it down on a guard, and Anakin winced at the crunch, winced more as the pod slid greasily to a stop, cushioned on the trail of the guard's smeared-out corpse.
The flaming wreckage of the Vance's Pride and chunks of broken wall were still raining down, and the rest of the tower had taken on a pronounced lean. As Anakin fought his way free of the escape pod, he heard its ominous rumble and realized it was coming down right at him.
He raced out from under it, and it slammed down behind him. He was hurled off his feet, landed on his stomach and got the wind knocked out of him, and then covered his head as debris pelted him.
When it ended, Anakin slowly got to his knees. He was nicked from flying bits of stone and coated head to toe in dust and plaster, but considering that the escape pod was now about the thickness of a slice of bread, he felt fairly lucky, all told.
Until, that is, he looked around and saw three guards closing in on him, with blasters at the ready.
"Get up, boy," one of them said.
He rose, keeping his hands carefully within view. Two of them approached him, while the one who had spoken kept him covered.
"Sorry about all that," he said with his most disarming smile.
Before they could answer, he jumped.
"Yah!"
Straight up, simultaneous kicks, both feet connecting. The one to the left got it in the forehead, the one to the right got it across the bridge of the nose; they both went down hard.
Anakin landed and immediately sprung in a forward flip, lightsaber taking off the last one's arm at the elbow and then slashing-searing him across the belly.
Panting, emerald light blazing from his fist, Anakin stood in the center of the three guards, all laid out around him.
"All right!" he crowed. Then he snorted in disgust. "Shazbat! My best move ever and nobody even saw it!"
The corridor ahead of her ended in a balcony alcove overlooking a circular room with a floor of mosaic tile in a swirl of red, black, and white.
Sabeeth stopped and leaned over, looking down. Long scarlet draperies hung to either side of the balcony, rippling like twin waterfalls of blood.
As she gathered a double handful and prepared to swing her leg over the rail, she first sensed serious danger and then heard an imperious man's voice ringing commandingly from below. She ducked instead, peering over the top.
He stalked into the room with his cape flaring behind him. A near-tangible aura of darkness engulfed him, one that seemed to absorb light, warmth, hope.
Another man was at his heels, wearing the armor she and Anakin had seen in their prophetic vision. Four more like him hurried from other archways, all of them meeting at the center of the room.
The leader drew a lightsaber and thrust it over his head. It shed a poison- yellow glow. In unison, the five others followed suit, their weapons shining in many colors.
Sabeeth bolstered her mental cloak, eyes widening as she understood what had become of Obi-Wan's friend, and presumably other missing Jedi as well. This was an evil that made even one such as her go pale.
She poked her head up again, and thankfully saw that none of the lightsabers were blue-white, none of the figures below familiar despite the concealing armor.
A strange heaviness settled over the group below. Silent communication, passing among them with the speed of thought. It lasted only an instant, orders given and accepted.
They rushed out and Sabeeth let them go. The moment the room was deserted again, she vaulted over the rail and slid down the curtain, then ran down the hall from which the leader had come.
She rounded a corner and there was a guard, standing by a half-open door through which issued odd mechanical sounds. He saw her and raised his blaster. She drew-activated-swung even as he fired, deflecting it right back at him.
It hit him in the shoulder and he stumbled against the wall. The blaster flew into the shadows. Sabeeth struck so fiercely that she cleaved him in two on a diagonal, from the collarbone to the waist.
The pieces were hitting the ground as she kicked the door the rest of the way open and sprang into the room.
A woman whirled away from Obi-Wan, dropping a syringe. She curled her fingers in a hard, swift movement, and the long sharp nails at their tips extended into ivory daggers.
"What have you done to him?" Sabeeth demanded. She could not bear to look at him, slumped in restraints and connected to the medi-droid. One glimpse of his haggard face was enough to flay her raw with dread.
The woman's only reply was a piercing shriek as she launched herself at Sabeeth. She was cat-quick, dodging Sabeeth's instinctive lightsaber slash and raking claws at her eyes.
Sabeeth jerked her head back. Only one of the claws connected, splitting her eyebrow. A red haze clouded her vision on that side as blood oozed into her eye.
The woman lashed out at Sabeeth's arm, seeking to make her drop her weapon. Sabeeth tossed it high, elbowed the woman in the mouth -- razor fangs shredding her skin, breaking off in flesh and bone -- leaped up, caught the descending lightsaber, pivoted and kicked.
Her foe pin wheeled across the room, scarlet gown flying. She collided with the wall and rebounded, and Sabeeth thrust with both arms.
The violet beam plunged into the woman's chest to the hilt. Her body went rigid, her bloodstained mouth worked feverishly. Her fingers stroked the air like sharp spider's legs, inches from Sabeeth's face.
Their eyes met, fiery green to opaque black.
"No ..." the woman moaned. "Please ..."
Sabeeth, trembling with rage, bared her teeth and shook her head silently. She twisted the lightsaber in one hard wrench, then yanked it free as the woman collapsed.
The corpse began to jitter. Winter-blue skin turned brittle and dry, then cracked apart like old parchment. Sabeeth stood over it, revolted and amazed, as it withered and shrivelled in on itself, until there was nothing left but a greyish dust like grit sifting from the clothes.
A shaky breath escaped her. She turned off her lightsaber and prodded the fabric with her toe, stirring it around. Nothing remained but the sparkling jewels that had adorned her, some strands of long white hair, and a few teeth.
Sabeeth pried loose the other teeth that had gotten stuck in her elbow and cast them on the floor, scrubbing her hand on her tunic in distaste.
She turned to Obi-Wan, and fell to her knees at his side.
"Obi-Wan?" She touched his hand and it was so cold, so still so... dead.
To Be Continued.
XXX
Author's Note: So what do you think, dear reader, should I finish the story or throw it in the bin?