Chapter 36
The Great Escape!

He couldn't say for sure exactly how long he'd been here. There weren't any chronometers or calendars present. Nor could he say where 'here' was. There weren't any windows in his personal cell. What he did know was that he hurt all over, was chained, most of his face was concealed by a mask, and he couldn't feel the Force.

It was truly disturbing to not feel the living energy field flowing around and through him. Being raised in the Temple, he'd always been aware of it. The Force was always there, he'd never known a time without it. But now…now he was being schooled in how the Force-blind felt and lived.

The mask, he decided, was what was cutting him off from the Force. The manacles that bound his wrists and ankles felt quite ordinary to his probing fingertips. The mask that covered his face, however, felt unusually thick and heavy and there were sharp points on the inside that jabbed into his temples.

During research in the Jedi Archives in his younger years, he'd stumbled across some information concerning the Sith. The Dark Order, the ancient tome contended, possessed all manner of torture devices. That included devices that could torment a Jedi by temporarily severing them from the Force. The only way to be released from the torture implements was to have them removed or to surrender to their rage and Fall to the Darkness.

He refused to do that. He was trained to be better than that. He was better than that. He was a Jedi. He would sooner die than surrender to the Darkness.

The rusty metal door suddenly screeched open, the lower edge grating shrilly against the uneven stone floor. It made him start a bit, but he recovered his composure before his visitor noticed. If she spied his surprise, she would taunt him endlessly about it.

The bright light that blasted through the open doorway blinded him. His cell was pitch black except when he had a visitor. So the sudden brightness blinded him as it stabbed at and burned his eyes. He refused to flinch; he merely closed his eyes and waited for them to adjust.

When he could open his eyelids again, he saw his visitor crouching before him through the narrow eye-slits of the mask. She was a pale hairless humanoid with milky white, blind-looking eyes. Her slender frame implied frailty, though he knew that was an illusion. On each hip hung a black-and-silver curved lightsaber hilt that brought to mind Count Dooku's unique style of saber handle.

She studied him compassionlessly for endless minutes before deciding to speak. "How are you feeling?" Her voice was dry, almost a hiss.

"Well enough," he croaked.

In reality he could use some water and food. But if he mentioned that, it was guaranteed to cost him whatever rations his visitor, and coincidentally his captor, felt like giving him today. It was just one of the many ways she tried to break him.

"I see," she murmured. "I'll have to do something about that," she decided, her tone laced with subtle menace.

He swallowed thickly, mentally cursing his dry cracked throat. That tone of voice promised today was going to be especially unpleasant. He silently braced himself for whatever was to come.

A deceptively fragile-looking fist slammed into his stomach and drove the air out of him. If he'd had anything to eat recently, he probably would've thrown up too. He was briefly glad she'd decided not to feed him yesterday.

Then she stood and adjusted his chains. Instead of leaving them loose enough for him to sit somewhat comfortably on the rough floor of his cell, she cinched them tight enough to force him to half-stand. Normally such a position wouldn't have been much of a problem for him, but now beaten, exhausted, and malnourished, it was a struggle.

She smiled humorlessly down at him and made as if to leave. But then she turned back at the last moment to gave him a few tiny sips of water. And then she left for real, slamming the heavy metal door behind her, leaving him in darkness once more.

Now free from her scrutiny, he stiffly slumped to his knees, his arms stretched painfully over his head. The awkward position made it difficult to breathe. His stomach burned from the punch and the fact that it was so empty. His legs ached and trembled already from kneeling and he was quickly losing feeling in his knees. And if his knees gave out, he risked dislocating one or both of his shoulders.

Something skittered in the darkness. Probably some local species of pest. But what it was and what it looked like was a mystery. It was too dark to see anything and he couldn't sense it through the Force. The skittering sounds were annoying, though it was something to focus on aside from his considerable physical discomfort.

Early in his imprisonment, he would've spent the long stretches in darkness thinking. Without the chaos and tragedy of the war to distract him, he could think about whatever he wanted for almost as long as he wanted. And that had led to unexpected consequences: he'd actually run out of things he wanted to think about.

Shocking, but true. He, the man who stayed up late just for private time to think, had run out of things to think about. He'd run through all the events of his life thus far, even the painful ones. And then he'd pondered the countless mysteries and questions that he had come across.

Like, who was the mysterious Sith Lord who pulled the Count's strings? How far did the Dark Side conspiracies stretch? How deep did they run? Who was involved? Who wasn't? What was Vader's real name and where was he from?

On the first question, he got nowhere very quickly. The Sith Master had to be someone very strong to have a former Jedi Master as an apprentice. He would also have to be very clever and very, very patient to remain so well hidden for so long.

Concerning the treacheries of the Dark Side, he had a slightly better idea. The Sith apprentice he'd killed, the heavily tattooed Zabrak Darth Maul, had surfaced during the Naboo crisis. That suggested that the Sith were behind the Trade Federation's actions, twisting and manipulating. But for what purpose?

And then there was Count Dooku, also known as Darth Tyranus, and his involvement in current events. First he was tied to the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala's life, which turned out to be a pacifying gesture to soothe the honor of the Federation. Then he influenced the Separatists down the path to war and he continued to control and defend the leaders of the 'Confederation of Independent Systems'.

Regarding who and who wasn't involved, it was difficult to say. Clearly the mysterious Sith Lord and Count Dooku were involved. And of course his captor, Asajj Ventress, had ties to the Sith and their conspiracies…

He'd met her once before his current imprisonment. After her failed attempt to unleash an experimental biological weapon on a Gungan colony moon, he'd tracked her to Queyta, the planet where the weapon had been produced. There she delivered him a message from Count Dooku, a second offer to join the Separatists. He of course refused her and she managed to flee and cause problems elsewhere.

Now she held him prisoner Force knew where. She controlled his fate and seemed to relish that fact. Everything she did was coldly calculated to make him suffer, to try and break him. Why was impossible for him to say, she never shared her reasoning with him, her prisoner.

And on the last question he pondered the most, Vader, he knew a little more than he'd known initially, but not much. He hadn't the faintest idea what the boy's name was. All he knew was that it wasn't Vader. And as to where he was from, he only had vague hints. Count Dooku had referred to Vader as a 'desert rat' on Geonosis, which led to the idea that he was from an arid, dry planet. It was almost certainly in the Outer Rim, a place where the Jedi Order would've missed him. There was also a chance that pod racing was practiced there, seeing as Vader seemed to have an interest in the sport. But beyond that, he really didn't know.

The door to his cell moaned open again and he wearily braced himself for another encounter with the pale Asajj. However, when his vision cleared from the blinding light that rushed in through the open door, it wasn't her. It was…

"Alpha?" He croaked, shocked and confused.

"None other," the clone trooper muttered as he crouched down and worked on the manacles with a bent piece of wire.

"How did you get here?" He blinked. The clone, one of the specialized, highly trained ARC troopers, had been striped of his armor, and was left in some tattered gray clothing. Without his white concealing armor, he looked exactly like the man he'd been cloned from, the now deceased Jango Fett.

"Same way you got here, General." Alpha replied, getting one wrist free and then shifting his focus on the other.

"I must admit," he muttered reluctantly, "I don't really recall how I got here. One moment the walker was exploding, and the next I was in this dratted mask and chained here in the dark."

"Right, you were unconscious pretty much the whole time," Alpha remembered. The other wrist came free and the clone now worked the right ankle. The General gladly sank to the floor, allowing his trembling legs to rest.

"Well, after the walker hit the ground," Alpha continued, "I dragged you from the wreckage. I was about to go back and see if I could get any more men out when a rocket totally vaporized it. It knocked me out for a while, and when I came to, we were aboard some bounty hunter's ship going who-knows-where. You were still out cold and had that mask on." The ankle manacle snapped open and the ARC trooper moved on to the last one.

"What's with that mask anyway?" The clone asked, half-curiously.

"It seems to be a Force-blocking device." The General sighed. "In my current condition, I'm afraid I won't be much help in escaping."

Alpha got the last manacle off and rocked back on his heels, considering this new development. "Hmm…" He mused, shifting to study the mask that covered his commander's head. After a few minutes he sighed. "Unless we stumble over a key for this, it'll have to be cut off." Alpha decided. "We'll have to do without your Jedi powers General Kenobi."

"Blast," Obi-Wan groaned as the ARC trooper helped pull him to his feet. "How did you get free?"

"Apparently our host doesn't think as much of a little old clone like me than she does of a Jedi like you." Alpha snorted as he led the weakened, limping Jedi out of his cell. "She had me under much lower security. And wire works wonders."

"Ah, I see," Obi-Wan muttered hoarsely. "Where to from here?" He wondered, looking up and down the labyrinth of hallways that existed beyond his cell.

"Not sure," Alpha sighed unhappily. "Didn't get as much reconnaissance done as I would've liked to. It took me too long to find your cell to wait much longer to find a good way out."

"Well, it's more exciting this way," Obi-Wan replied with exceedingly dry sarcasm.

"Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor, General." Alpha chuckled softly.

From there, they moved as silently as possible. That was both to keep them from being detected and to hear any guard patrols coming and hide from them. It was slow going.

Alpha was in decent enough shape. He was from tough stock, cloned from a bounty hunter who had been bold enough and skilled enough to go toe-to-toe with a Jedi. He also had escaped from the walker explosion relatively unscathed. And he hadn't suffered any directed torture like his General had, he had mostly been neglected.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was in really sorry shape. After suffering through Asajj's loving attentions for as long as he had, it was surprising that he could still stand, let alone walk. He had sores on his ankles and wrists where the manacles had bound him. His boots were missing, leaving him barefoot, which didn't help matters. He hadn't had a proper meal or drink of water since he'd been here, leaving him weak and easily exhausted. His body was all skin and bones, a mess of bruises and abrasions. And of course his lightsaber was long gone, leaving him with the uncomfortable, vague sensation of being naked.

The first few hallways they traversed were no problem. But their good fortune didn't last long. Soon they heard the clatter of marching droids coming their way. Thankfully, an open door was nearby and they ducked into the room on the other side of it to wait for the coast to clear.

As they waited, Obi-Wan glanced around the room. It looked like an armory to his eyes. Or a trophy room.

There were all sorts of weapons on counters, shelves, and racks. Some were primitive: spears, knives, swords, and the like. Other were more sophisticated, like blasters and vibro-axes. And in a place of honor (or at least it looked like it was a place of honor) lay a lightsaber hilt. It wasn't his, but it would do.

While Alpha kept his ear pressed against the door, listening, Obi-Wan hobbled over to retrieve the weapon. He was in no shape to use the thing, but it made him feel better to have one handy. At the very least, it could be used to cut holes in doors, walls, or the floor.

When Alpha determined the coast was clear, he snagged a blaster and a vibro-blade and they left the room behind. From there, they had two more close calls with droid patrols, but they were never spotted or caught. And then they found their way away from this forbidding stone fortress.

They managed to stumble their way into a cavernous hanger bay. One medium-sized vessel, possibly belonging to a bounty hunter or some other Separatist ally, sat near the hanger entrance. The other ships that filled the hanger were six exotic looking fighters.

"I don't think Lady Ventress will miss one of those," Obi-Wan murmured, pointing to one of the nearest fighters. "Shall we?"

"Yes, sir," Alpha agreed.

The ARC trooper assisted his disabled General over and then into the odd-looking fighter. It was something of a struggle for the clone to get the weakened Jedi up into the spherical cockpit, but he managed. And then after strapping his commander into the co-pilot's seat, Alpha worked on figuring out the controls.

Obi-Wan left the clone to do his work. He was exhausted after all that tromping around Asajj's headquarters and was having a hard enough time staying awake. Sleep tugged at his eyelids, but he didn't dare rest until they made it safely off-planet and into hyperspace.

In minutes, Alpha had the fighter online and warming up. It looked like they just might get away without being caught. But, of course just as Obi-Wan thought this, a patrol of battle droids marched in.

"Prisoners are escaping!" The patrol leader observed in it's odd monotone. All the droids drew their blaster rifles and pointed them at the fighter. "Come out of there with your hands up!"

"Not a chance," Alpha grunted and locked the fighter's dual laser cannons on the droids. He depressed the firing trigger a few times and the cannons responded, blowing the entire patrol away. "We're leaving."

And then the ARC trooper activated the fighter's engines. They lifted off and sped out of the hanger, hopefully avoiding any further interruptions to their escape. As Alpha worked to get them out of the atmosphere, Obi-Wan busied himself with plotting a destination.

While scrolling through the NavComp, he caught glimpses of the shrinking landscape of their current location, a world the NavComp labeled Rattatak. It was just as forbidding as the stone fortress they'd just left. The planet appeared to be an arid one, dotted with jagged mountain ranges and vast stretches of dry bare land. Obi-Wan was quite glad to leave it behind.

Eventually the Jedi Master settled on a backwater world called Riflor. It was close to Rattatak compared to some other choices he'd considered and was safely within Republic space. Having no resources of any interest, little significant trade, and being well off the more traveled routes, it would likely remain safe from the war. It was perfect.

As he locked in the coordinates, Alpha broke out of the atmosphere into the black starry void of space. And then he found the switch that spread the fighter's S-foils. When they spread open, they turned the long thin fighter into a delicate half-circular fan shape. It was certainly a very interesting and unique design.

"Pretty thing isn't it," Alpha muttered as he raced for the hyper-limit. So far no one was chasing them, but that could change at any moment.

"Yes," Obi-Wan nodded, slumping back weakly into his seat. "Let's get out of here."

"Yes, sir!" Alpha replied and flipped the switch that stretched the dots of stars into lines and then warped them into writing blue mists.

They had made it.

They were free…