Chapter Four
Obi-Wan fought against the stimulant. He knew pain was at the end of wakefulness and he didn't want to feel it. Desperately, he clung to the Force, hoping to stay unconscious, but then he felt himself slipping more in the Force than he wanted. With a shock, he realized that he was dying.
With a jerk, he let go and let the stimulant slam him awake. His whole body ached, but not as bad as he thought. He could taste bacta on his tongue, though he could not see still.
Z'aherin smiled tightly, seeing the young Jedi waken. "So glad you decided to rejoin us. I didn't want to let you slip away so easily, young Jedi."
Obi-Wan wanted to shudder, but had literally no strength to do so. Every slow movement was an effort that felt as if it would push him back into unconsciousness. "Let me go." His voice was hoarse and low but he knew that Z'aherin heard him.
"Oh, I'll let you go eventually, but perhaps not where you wish to go," he said wickedly.
Obi-Wan tried to squirm out of his tight bonds, yet found no purchase. He was tired, but he focused somewhere inside of himself and pushed the man away from him. "Stay...away..."
Z'aherin stumbled a few feet, but soon recovered himself. "You will pay most dearly for that trick, Kenobi." He picked up a small cylinder and adjusted a knob on the side. A small jet of flame shot out which he adjusted to suit his purposes. He held the two inch flame at the Padawan's side.
Obi-Wan tried to yell but his voice cracked and would make no noise. The heat felt like the time he had spilled two chemicals in one of his classes together that had flamed in his face. He tried to focus to push Z'aherin away again, but could barely keep his consciousness.
Z'aherin moved the torch slowly along the padawan's side, admiring the effect it was having on his prisoner. This boy would pay for what he had done.
With a sudden burst of desperation, Obi-Wan held himself away from the blissful darkness. He was tiring of being this man's object of torture. It was time to see if he would be one with the Force, or if the Force would spare him. With an actual physical grunt, Obi-Wan formed the Force around himself like a miniature shield which shoved Z'aherin against what sounded like a wall by the thud. The shield flickered, then went out as Obi-Wan sagged, totally spent. At least he knew he had died fighting like a Jedi, he thought as he passed into the arms of unconsciousness once again.
Z'aherin glared at the apprentice as he was pushed across the room and hit the opposite wall again. His charge had passed out, yet he was unconcerned at the moment. He frowned thoughtfully, studying the many options he had available to him. He reached out and selected a box after replacing the torch back on his table and turning it off. He opened the box and smiled at what he saw inside. Thousands of silver needles that were perfect for probing nerves. Grimly the man took a pinch of the flesh on Obi- Wan's right foot. He jammed the needles into the boy's tender flesh one by one. When he was finished, he surveyed his handiwork. The boy's foot was a forest of silver needles.
Suddenly, Obi-Wan could see again. Curiously, he was floating above himself, watching Z'aherin cover his nerves with silver needles. He winced, though he didn't feel the pain. That would hurt when he woke up.
He glanced down at his unconscious self, mostly healed burns on his back, fresh bubbling burns on his side and a white scar running across his eyes. He had to admit that he had looked better. He sighed, feeling tired, then actually took a look at himself. His eyes widened in shock. He was transparent, though he seemed solid enough. Was he...dead?
No, he assured himself as he saw his body's chest rise in a shallow breath, but he was close to it. Curious...his master had never told him about something like this. Master, help me...
Padawan!? Where are you?Qui-Gon glanced over at his companions, then ignored them completely as he waited for Obi-Wan's answer.
Obi-Wan turned his back on Z'aherin and whatever the man was doing to his unconscious body. Currently, floating above myself in a large room,he observed. The room had cluttered torture objects everywhere and there was the body of a man in the corner leaking blood that hadn't been moved yet. Don't think I'm dead yet though.He tried to put a note of humor into his voice, but failed.
Yet?Qui-Gon's mental voice sent back, alarmed at his padawan's words. I'll be there soon, Obi-Wan, please hold on...He sent a strong wave of warmth and strength to the boy.
Obi-Wan felt himself being swept away by his master's love. He swirled in the air, and suddenly found that he could no longer see again. With dismay, he put the pieces together—he was back in his body where pain waited for him. Quickly, he sank into unconsciousness to escape it.
Qui-Gon let out a relieved sigh, then turned to Kyran. "Is this as fast as this ship can go?"
Kyran nodded curtly. "I'm coaxing all I can out of her. We'll be arriving in four hours."
Qui-Gon swore viciously. "Four hours? He could be dead by then."
Lana stepped into the cockpit. "Qui, Kyran is going as fast as he dares push the ship. The engines are already overheating," she told him quietly.
"I know." He ran a hand through his long hair absently. He stood up abruptly and headed out of the cockpit. He had to release the tension somehow. He turned his saber on low power and began doing katas he'd learned as a padawan in the galley of the ship.
Kyran slowly walked in, his lightsaber in his hand. He knew that Qui- Gon preferred to spar to clear his mind. Without a word, Kyran dropped into a defensive stance and waited on his friend.
Qui-Gon arched a brow. "Are you sure this is a good place for a sparring match? There's not exactly a whole lot of room to maneuver, you know," he pointed out.
Kyran gave him a small smile, keeping himself at the ready. "What, trying to get out of it already?" he joked.
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and lunged at Kyran. "No, but I do want to have some furniture around here intact."
Kyran easily blocked Qui-Gon's lunge and spun around to hit him on the shoulder. "Nah, it just makes things more of a challenge. Don't you like challenges?"
"Once in awhile," Qui-Gon said, wincing at the pain as Kyran got him on the shoulder. He lashed out with his long legs, sticking a foot in the middle of Kyran's footwork.
Kyran stumbled and quickly tried to recover by swinging his lightsaber around in a broad arch to protect himself.
Qui-Gon dodged the arch by ducking away and aimed for Kyran's middle, trying to pin him against the wall.
Kyran saw what he was doing, and completed a low flip, his head brushing the ceiling, to land behind Qui-Gon. He quickly thrust lightly at his friend. He had his lightsaber on low because he did not want to hurt him.
Qui-Gon tried to turn and dodge, but found he had no room to maneuver. His mind raced as he tried to figure a way out of the box he'd caught himself in.
Kyran smiled. It wasn't often he beat his best friend in lightsaber sparring. He turned his lightsaber off and bowed. "Point." He relit it. "Again?"
Obi-Wan fought against the stimulant. He knew pain was at the end of wakefulness and he didn't want to feel it. Desperately, he clung to the Force, hoping to stay unconscious, but then he felt himself slipping more in the Force than he wanted. With a shock, he realized that he was dying.
With a jerk, he let go and let the stimulant slam him awake. His whole body ached, but not as bad as he thought. He could taste bacta on his tongue, though he could not see still.
Z'aherin smiled tightly, seeing the young Jedi waken. "So glad you decided to rejoin us. I didn't want to let you slip away so easily, young Jedi."
Obi-Wan wanted to shudder, but had literally no strength to do so. Every slow movement was an effort that felt as if it would push him back into unconsciousness. "Let me go." His voice was hoarse and low but he knew that Z'aherin heard him.
"Oh, I'll let you go eventually, but perhaps not where you wish to go," he said wickedly.
Obi-Wan tried to squirm out of his tight bonds, yet found no purchase. He was tired, but he focused somewhere inside of himself and pushed the man away from him. "Stay...away..."
Z'aherin stumbled a few feet, but soon recovered himself. "You will pay most dearly for that trick, Kenobi." He picked up a small cylinder and adjusted a knob on the side. A small jet of flame shot out which he adjusted to suit his purposes. He held the two inch flame at the Padawan's side.
Obi-Wan tried to yell but his voice cracked and would make no noise. The heat felt like the time he had spilled two chemicals in one of his classes together that had flamed in his face. He tried to focus to push Z'aherin away again, but could barely keep his consciousness.
Z'aherin moved the torch slowly along the padawan's side, admiring the effect it was having on his prisoner. This boy would pay for what he had done.
With a sudden burst of desperation, Obi-Wan held himself away from the blissful darkness. He was tiring of being this man's object of torture. It was time to see if he would be one with the Force, or if the Force would spare him. With an actual physical grunt, Obi-Wan formed the Force around himself like a miniature shield which shoved Z'aherin against what sounded like a wall by the thud. The shield flickered, then went out as Obi-Wan sagged, totally spent. At least he knew he had died fighting like a Jedi, he thought as he passed into the arms of unconsciousness once again.
Z'aherin glared at the apprentice as he was pushed across the room and hit the opposite wall again. His charge had passed out, yet he was unconcerned at the moment. He frowned thoughtfully, studying the many options he had available to him. He reached out and selected a box after replacing the torch back on his table and turning it off. He opened the box and smiled at what he saw inside. Thousands of silver needles that were perfect for probing nerves. Grimly the man took a pinch of the flesh on Obi- Wan's right foot. He jammed the needles into the boy's tender flesh one by one. When he was finished, he surveyed his handiwork. The boy's foot was a forest of silver needles.
Suddenly, Obi-Wan could see again. Curiously, he was floating above himself, watching Z'aherin cover his nerves with silver needles. He winced, though he didn't feel the pain. That would hurt when he woke up.
He glanced down at his unconscious self, mostly healed burns on his back, fresh bubbling burns on his side and a white scar running across his eyes. He had to admit that he had looked better. He sighed, feeling tired, then actually took a look at himself. His eyes widened in shock. He was transparent, though he seemed solid enough. Was he...dead?
No, he assured himself as he saw his body's chest rise in a shallow breath, but he was close to it. Curious...his master had never told him about something like this. Master, help me...
Padawan!? Where are you?Qui-Gon glanced over at his companions, then ignored them completely as he waited for Obi-Wan's answer.
Obi-Wan turned his back on Z'aherin and whatever the man was doing to his unconscious body. Currently, floating above myself in a large room,he observed. The room had cluttered torture objects everywhere and there was the body of a man in the corner leaking blood that hadn't been moved yet. Don't think I'm dead yet though.He tried to put a note of humor into his voice, but failed.
Yet?Qui-Gon's mental voice sent back, alarmed at his padawan's words. I'll be there soon, Obi-Wan, please hold on...He sent a strong wave of warmth and strength to the boy.
Obi-Wan felt himself being swept away by his master's love. He swirled in the air, and suddenly found that he could no longer see again. With dismay, he put the pieces together—he was back in his body where pain waited for him. Quickly, he sank into unconsciousness to escape it.
Qui-Gon let out a relieved sigh, then turned to Kyran. "Is this as fast as this ship can go?"
Kyran nodded curtly. "I'm coaxing all I can out of her. We'll be arriving in four hours."
Qui-Gon swore viciously. "Four hours? He could be dead by then."
Lana stepped into the cockpit. "Qui, Kyran is going as fast as he dares push the ship. The engines are already overheating," she told him quietly.
"I know." He ran a hand through his long hair absently. He stood up abruptly and headed out of the cockpit. He had to release the tension somehow. He turned his saber on low power and began doing katas he'd learned as a padawan in the galley of the ship.
Kyran slowly walked in, his lightsaber in his hand. He knew that Qui- Gon preferred to spar to clear his mind. Without a word, Kyran dropped into a defensive stance and waited on his friend.
Qui-Gon arched a brow. "Are you sure this is a good place for a sparring match? There's not exactly a whole lot of room to maneuver, you know," he pointed out.
Kyran gave him a small smile, keeping himself at the ready. "What, trying to get out of it already?" he joked.
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and lunged at Kyran. "No, but I do want to have some furniture around here intact."
Kyran easily blocked Qui-Gon's lunge and spun around to hit him on the shoulder. "Nah, it just makes things more of a challenge. Don't you like challenges?"
"Once in awhile," Qui-Gon said, wincing at the pain as Kyran got him on the shoulder. He lashed out with his long legs, sticking a foot in the middle of Kyran's footwork.
Kyran stumbled and quickly tried to recover by swinging his lightsaber around in a broad arch to protect himself.
Qui-Gon dodged the arch by ducking away and aimed for Kyran's middle, trying to pin him against the wall.
Kyran saw what he was doing, and completed a low flip, his head brushing the ceiling, to land behind Qui-Gon. He quickly thrust lightly at his friend. He had his lightsaber on low because he did not want to hurt him.
Qui-Gon tried to turn and dodge, but found he had no room to maneuver. His mind raced as he tried to figure a way out of the box he'd caught himself in.
Kyran smiled. It wasn't often he beat his best friend in lightsaber sparring. He turned his lightsaber off and bowed. "Point." He relit it. "Again?"