*
Chapter Nine - To Thwart Cloning
A tenday after Obi-Wan's return from Myrkr, Padmé's computer beeped. She ambled into the common room to check on it. "Obi-Wan, you have a message," she called. Padmé turned back to her bedchamber to give him privacy.
He sat in the chair and read the message. Obi-Wan leaned back, frowning. The data was all there – the treatment and its effects. This is going to be nasty. He felt an apprehensive twist in his chest.
Padmé felt the anxiety and turned. "What is it?" she asked. Her dark brows knitted; the Jedi looked pale.
He looked up at her, saying, "Master Alanna says it's time for me to undergo the treatment that will prevent genetic material from being stolen from Jedi and used as the basis for clones."
Padmé shivered. Using a bounty hunter was bad enough. "Can you imagine what an army of Force-strong soldiers could do?"
"That's the point. Master Alanna and Moanilula were treated at the Temple, before the Registration. Now that they're established in the city, the procedure needs to be done to me."
Her brow furrowed. "When does she want to give you the medication?"
He glanced again at the screen, then said, "In six days. When they've finished your usual exam here, we all go back to the Palace for my treatment." Padmé looked confused, so Obi-Wan continued, "They want you with them while I'm incapacitated."
"Incapacitated?" interjected Padmé.
"The Jedi who took this stuff before Registration were laid up for a few standard days," continued Obi-Wan.
She could hear anxiety in his voice. Rather than utter some useless platitude, she patted his shoulder and returned to her chamber. He read the message again, frowning once more, then deleted it. No sense in making her worry about the treatment and how it was going to change him.
*
Having left the droids in charge of the house, Padmé and the three Jedi arrived at the Palace Complex and entered the Healer's Wing through a back way. They went first to the suite that Olau and Yung shared, showing Padmé where she would be staying for the next sixty hours. She placed her bag on the sofa and retrieved a book. After assuring the Jedi that she would rather stay with them, Padmé followed them back into the corridor. Master Alanna led the way to a treatment chamber, chatting with Padmé, while Lula and Obi-Wan followed. Plucking up her courage, the Padawan asked, "Are you nervous?"
"A little," he admitted. He didn't want to think about what was coming, so he changed the subject. The corridor was deserted, so he murmured, "I'm rather envious of you, Moanilula. Master Alanna is an expert with a saber, and yet she is such a gifted healer, too."
She smiled. "It is unusual for a Je…uhm, for a person to be talented at both making war and patching up after it. I'm just good at healing, really, though she puts me though saber practice every day."
"She would be better if she was more dedicated in her exercises," Master Alanna shot over her shoulder. "We can no longer be what we are outwardly, but that does not change what we are."
"And I'm so anxious to discuss this again, Master, for the third time this tenday," Yung shot back, falsely enthusiastic. The Master healer just harrumphed and led them down a side corridor.
The exchange reminded Padmé of someone. She threw a smile back at Obi-Wan, who returned it cautiously. Where have we heard this kind of thing before?
As the four of them entered the chamber set up for his treatment, Obi-Wan turned to the Padawan. "Those who do not wield weapons can still be slain by them, Moanilula."
Yung stopped short; she had never thought of it that way before. She glanced at him for a moment. He saw a new light and determination in her dark eyes. "Yes," she murmured. She smiled awkwardly, then turned to lead Padmé to a chair at the far side of the chamber.
Master Olau filled a syringe with a pale green serum. Obi-Wan blanched as she approached and asked, "Don't you use a hypospray for this?"
All business, the healer replied, "I'm afraid not. Now, the injection will hurt a little less if it goes into your backside."
Obi-Wan was suddenly aware of the silence in the chamber. He glanced at Yung and Padmé, who were both suddenly looking very interested in the conversation. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "I'd rather keep my dignity, Master Alanna." He could feel a blush warm his ears.
Padmé and the Padawan exchanged furtive smiles. "Too late," whispered Padmé. Lula giggled and crossed the chamber, setting the monitoring equipment for Obi-Wan.
Master Alanna also smiled. "Very well. Remove your sash, boots, and tunic." Obi-Wan complied. He sat on the bed, clad in his breeches and sleeveless undershirt. "Lie down." He obeyed again, pale grey eyes never leaving the syringe. The Jedi Master sterilized an area on Kenobi's upper left arm.
Obi-Wan was so distracted by the needle that Lula was almost finished strapping him to the bed before he realized what she was doing. "What –" he began, alarmed.
"Master Kenobi, the treatment is quite painful. You mustn't hurt yourself," answered the Padawan, her eyes sympathetic.
From the far wall, Padmé saw Obi-Wan trying to remain calm. He was visibly scared of the syringe, and being tied down wasn't helping. She was sure that it wasn't the treatment he was frightened of; he'd endured a lot of pain in over thirty years. She put her book on the floor and walked to her friend's side. Padmé touched his hand, which was bunched into a fist. "And here I thought you weren't afraid of anything, Master Kenobi," she said gently, smiling.
He looked at her as though he had never seen anything like her before. Obi-Wan's hand relaxed enough to grab hers; his grip was clammy. He looked sheepish. "I don't like needles. It's just one of those things." Obi-Wan shrugged a little, trying to dismiss his anxiety.
Padmé's amusement vanished as Master Olau picked up the syringe once more. Trying to distract him, the Senator bent over Obi-Wan. She forced him to look at her and put as much reassurance into her voice as she could. Obi-Wan's facial muscles relaxed under her hands when their eyes met. "Master Alanna says the pain is brief, and the residual aches will disappear in two days. And considering the alternative, isn't this preferable?" Her eyes flicked to the copper-haired Jedi healer, who nodded thanks.
Scrunching his eyes shut, Obi-Wan steeled himself for the shot, but he didn't feel anything. He looked a moment later to see both healers at their monitors. Confused, he turned his head and saw the empty syringe on a tray nearby. "So that's it?"
"I wish," Lula muttered audibly.
Instead of answering, Master Alanna said, "Serum administered at twenty-five hours, seventy-one minutes. Pulse and respiration normal." After a few seconds of silence, Obi-Wan's breath hissed backward. The Jedi Master commanded, "Move away, Senator."
The next minutes were horrendous. As the treatment made its way through Obi-Wan's body and seeped into his tissues, he started to groan. Pacing the floor on swollen ankles, Padmé watched her friend snarl curses in three languages, gasp, and writhe in pain. Her normally immaculate fingernails were chewed ragged from worry. Almost as soon as it had started, Padmé approached the healers, but Master Alanna had anticipated the question. "Any painkiller that would help with this could interact fatally with the medication, Senator." Padmé shivered and backed away, resuming her pacing.
Olau and Yung observed his vital signs from their workstations, though the Padawan often glanced over her shoulder at Kenobi. Padmé intercepted one of these looks; Lula blushed and faced the monitors again. She likes him, Padmé realized. Except for the Code, why not? He's a proven warrior, and handsome, too.
After what felt like hours, Obi-Wan's body began to relax, his heart and lung activity returning to normal. All three women showed relief on their faces, though the healers knew something that Padmé didn't: this violent, necessary treatment had induced heart attacks and strokes in many of the Jedi that had endured it before the destruction of the Temple. More than half of those Jedi had died.
When Obi-Wan's grey gaze finally focused, it lit on Padmé. He smiled a little. She drew near and, using a damp washcloth, wiped the sweat from his face. Then Padmé took his hand again. In a matter-of-fact voice Obi-Wan said, "I feel terrible." Yung approached and administered a sedative with a hypospray. "Will this ever need to be done again?" he asked, exhausted.
"No," Master Olau stated as she unfastened the straps. "Your body has been altered permanently. Within seconds of your death, your remains will be nothing but free-floating molecules."
Padmé was shocked. "That was the Council's idea of keeping genetic material away from the cloners?" she exclaimed.
Obi-Wan's eyelids drooped. "That's nice," he murmured. Padmé glared at him.
Master Alanna pulled the tired Jedi into a sitting position. "Senator, may I have his cloak, please?" Padmé fetched the robe and settled it on Obi-Wan's shoulders, then grabbed the clothes he had shed earlier.
The four of them made their way through the dark halls of the Healer's Wing to the regular patient chambers. Due to his fatigue and the effects of the sedative, Obi-Wan was walking like a drunk. Padawan Yung noticed this first and moved to his side. He gratefully put his arm around her shoulders, letting her steady him. Master Alanna opened a door and led the way into the small chamber where Obi-Wan would be recuperating. The healers placed their charge on one of the beds and activated the life-support monitors. Alanna laid him down and pulled the covers up. His eyes were closed before his head hit the pillow.
Alanna sighed. "He'll be asleep for at least fifteen hours. You need to rest too, Senator."
Padmé nodded and gestured to the empty bed. "I'll sleep here."
Master Olau replied, "Our suite is more comfortable, and these monitors will inform us immediately if anything is wrong with him." She paused, then continued, "Remember that Master Kenobi is a Jedi Knight. Please don't let your personal feelings –"
Padmé's breath came out in a soft whoosh through her nose, like a bull shaak about to charge. Her hand descended on Obi-Wan's shoulder and gripped it protectively. "Master Alanna, before you go any further, there is something I should clarify. His Padawan," Padmé said vehemently, "was my husband." Master Olau's face was impassive, and Padawan Yung nodded. Padmé's eyes were hooded in annoyance. "Anakin and I did not honor the Code, and now he is dead.
"Master Kenobi has been my friend for over a dozen years. My personal feelings are, with all due respect, none of your business. This is a lecture that I do not need to hear, having already learned the lesson." Then her expression softened, and her other hand moved to her belly. "I thank you for your concern. But I will stay here for a while."
Master Alanna looked alarmed. Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing as she and her apprentice left the chamber. As the door shut behind them, Padmé turned towards Obi-Wan and tucked the coverlet more securely about his shoulders.
"You should be nicer to her, she's been through more than you know," the Jedi Knight slurred.
Padmé started; she'd thought he was asleep. She plucked at his coverlet for a moment more, then replied, "Yes, well, she isn't the only one I should be nicer to." Obi-Wan turned on his side, grimacing with pain. "This hasn't been a very good month for you, has it, Master Kenobi? Vornskrs, ysalamiri, probe droids and Sith Lords coming to call, now this." He responded with a tried, dry look.
"Thank you," Padmé murmured. Her gratitude for all of Obi-Wan's efforts and sufferings on her behalf radiated out of her as she said it.
He smiled a little, then his eyelids drooped again. She brushed a few strands of hair off his face. "Sleep," she commanded quietly.
*
