A/N: Appologies to the reviewers whom I generally respond to. It is now ruling that we're not allowed to do that. In order to avoid being banned for a second time I'm going to withold replying to you all... if your review is of note or requring reply, I'll reply through the PMing system or email. And forgive the words that bunch together. I try to find them and edit once I've uploaded. It seems to be an error with uploaderand my computer.Thanks.
Sorry I took so long to get the next chapter up. I think my beta reader is completely dead, so this is being posted of my own judgement. (ei: unedited) Enjoy!
--Chapter Eight--
As Obi-Wan trailed through the dark hallways, light streamed through windows up above in the skeletal structure built around the unfinished parts of the pyramid-like temple. It cast an odd shadow down as he passed those open spots, a piece of himself mirrored onto the wall beside him. His shadow was chopped apart, where light hit his form it allowed pieces of him to remain on the wall until he passed where the light entered and cast brilliance over his drab (and by now slightly dirty) robes.
There were the odd whispered, awed glances at him, and he seriously wondered about the mental stability of the people here. Why were they the way they were? Why had life cast them into these lots that made their carrying on this way. Why were their steps heavy, so many of them wearing downcast and darkened eyes, their faces bearing the memory of tearstains trailing down their faces.
He exhaled carefully, a slight shot in the strange silence that ensued from fear. Were they afraid of him? Why? What difference did he make to this world, a world that seemed as if it had been ravaged by fear and then torn away from that feed and tossed back into the galaxy in order to grow anew.
But someone approached him when he reached an empty and silent stretch that seemed to ring of unspoken dangers. The shadows here were deeper, the light that made their way through the window frames far sharper and more distorted by vines. This person was around six-two, perhaps even as tall as six foot five— nearly if not as tall as Obi-Wan's Master, and his eyes were a dark piercing gray. He wore basic farmer's robes that seemed almost a parody of the Jedi's garb, a tunic and trousers meant to blend in at all costs, simple enough to be normal, and yet basic enough to be noticeable.
But he seemed hardly shy for his bleak and unremarkable gray garb. "Master Kenobi?"
"I'm not a Master," Obi-Wan pointed out and immediately questioned why so many times people who knew your name before you told them who you were meant trouble and how it was that they knew your name.
"Oh, of course not," he said easily. "Padawan, right?" He didn't wait for a reply. "I am Kerian Calthye," the young man said with a flourish and a hint of a bow, almost mocking in its execution.
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes slightly. "And...?"
"And absolutely nothing," Kerian said cheerfully. "You see, everything's out to get you, so you need to know some things, I believe."
"Of course," Obi-Wan said dubiously. He eyed the newcomer's face, examining the stoic features for any trace of darkness, any trace of anything that might cast him into danger. Yet he sensed nothing from this being, as if he were hardly real. A slight raised eyebrow glanced its way over the Padawan's face as he allowed himself to search the other's expression for any hint of why he was acting so oddly.
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. It wasn't that this Kerian Calthye didn't exist within the Force, it was just as if there was a little piece of him that was eluding focus. As if the man weren't all there, perhaps. Though of course he was tangible.
Kerian gave an irritating grin, sat down nonchalantly on a nearby bench, crossing his legs at the knees. He seemed completely all at ease, as if there were absolutely nothing wrong with approaching people in dark hallways and making obscure and otherwise annoying comments. There was absolutely no disapproval from his mannerisms, but nor did it seem anywhere near all right. It wasn't as if the taller man was being patronizing, just that he had an uncanny ability to seem so immature while yet casting a complete control over his every word, his every small gesture.
Obi-Wan wondered if perhaps he was slightly mentally unstable for the overly happy-go-lucky attitude the young man projected.
"Really." And then there was a hint of censure to Kerian's voice, revealing to the younger Jedi that he had a very great skill in masking his true thoughts through played up emotions and reactions. The change had been immediate, and Obi-Wan filed him away as dangerous. Mentally unstable, perhaps, but dangerous nevertheless. "You're making immediate assumptions merely because you're lacking the ability to otherwise read me, and..." Kerian shrugged. "Sit down, m'kay? I'm not going to shoot you or anything. And I'm not insane."
Obi-Wan merely glared slightly at the younger man. At least, he assumed he was younger. Obi-Wan didn't have a like of clashes in personal relationships, in diplomacy, in basic communications. And the way this Kerian carried himself completely tore apart all of that. He was...
"Chaotic," Kerian filled in.
Obi-Wan eyed him.
Kerian shrugged. "Uh... the narrators are babbling. Besides, it's written all over your face, you know."
"Narrators..."
"I'm kidding. Hey. I'm just used to everyone immediately reacting to my personality. It's normal for people to not take so well to... well..." Kerian hesitated. "Salient, as it's been put before. Salient or melodramatic beings. The type of folk who can turn on and off their actions at will?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "Melodramatic."
Kerian eyes widened slightly in an believably earnest expression, and he stated sincerely, "Runs in the family."
Obi-Wan couldn't help but inwardly congratulate this Kerian on his ability to look completely sincere while still completely changing parts. He was an incredible actor and very good at keeping his expression exactly on par to his part, and that made him one of the more dangerous beings the Jedi Padawan had faced. "And this relates how?"
"Pointless small talk," the younger man immediately responded. "'I'm trying to annoy you into relaxing enough that I can actually say anything with purpose without you glaring at me like that."
Obi-Wan blinked, and just managed to keep himself from outwardly responding to this in the manner he knew the— well, he wasn't certain what Kerian was— young man was expecting. Had he said anything, it would've been along the lines of "..." said Obi-Wan. He had been rendered to a point of almost horror by this one's tactics.
"It's generally very effective and leaves most people standing there struck silent because they can't think of a logical or purpose achieving reply when I explain what I'm doing, beyond, perhaps, an ellipses," Kerian reasoned. "Like you're doing now, you now."
Obi-Wan drew in a breath, exhaled, and blinked a couple of times. Around him, shadows teased the walls of the hall, dancing with the light to create interesting shapes over the decorative tiles. He knew this was caused by the wind rustling the newborn vines over the temple, knew it wasn't some effect of eerie outside creatures attempting to bother him. Finally he managed to muster the breath to reply, as Kerian was obviously waiting for a reply, and obviously patient enough to wait for one. He spoke carefully. "Of... course."
"And I really am not insane," Kerian added earnestly. "There actually is a conspiracy outside of this galaxy in another dimension causing a various system of alternate realities to collide with our own, bringing about general confusion, lack of ability to think straight, and uncanonical occurrences."
Obi-Wan blinked again.
"And there really is other powers beside the Force, and there really is an insanely evil lightsaber wielding dude out to get you, and... you know, maybe it'd be best if I just left this for now..."
"Wait!" Obi-Wan started, but Kerian had already melded back into the shadows, and vanished as effectively as any human being could manage without using a cloaking device or the Force.
Obi-Wan raised a hand, ran it across his buzz cut short hair. It really did nothing to aid or hinder his appearance, as it was too short to really be shifted by the pressure of his hand. The only thing that could've really helped would have been some gel, and Obi-Wan had tried spiking his hair once— it hadn't looked so great.
So all in all, his action did nothing but express complete confusion at the situation. And if nothing else, at least that was true, and that aided enough.
He drew in a deep breath. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. In honesty, that was a stretch for Obi-Wan, well merited for an appetite among his peers back at the Temple. But his stomach had seemed to curdle in on itself, a dry gnawing pain in his mind that left even the idea of food to run freely away. He had to have been insane...
But even that attempt at reassuring himself did nothing, and Obi-Wan still found he had a sick feeling in his stomach, a twisted whisper in the back of his mind that couldn't be translated. But he could tell one thing from it, though he hated to think the words. They were too willing to tempt fate, those words. I have a bad feeling about this.
He headed off in the direction of the nearest gym or training room instead. Less people than in a cafeteria, he decided.
Oh, Force...
It was at that moment that the Jedi woman's senses snapped back to normal, and she found herself stumbling. Stumbling when it wasn't even her own fault... stumbling because there was nothing there... She forced her eyes open, and let herself adapt. It only took her a split second to take in the entirety of the situation. A being that she was not falling. B that wherever she was, it wasn't normal, and she didn't like it.
Mara Jade stood up, even though the logical half of her mind screamed at her that there was nothing underneath her feet, that there was nothing surrounding her and that she was trapped in cold vacuum and it was digging into her skull, slowly pulling her molecules apart to drift in the endless ice that was known as space, leaving her a quick, but agonizingly painful death. She could feel the knives dig under her skin as the vacuum permeated, her face turning a ghastly shade of blue as the air seemed to vanish from her very lungs. The woman stumbled to her knees...
No.
She closed her eyes, and forced herself to take in a deep breath. Leaving her eyes closed, she reached forwards and touched the ground underneath her knees.
Solid.
A frown creased her face in a deepening line, her lips as thin as a hastily drawn graphite mark across a page. An illusion, she reasoned, standing up, but keeping her eyes closed, and her mind as far from the idea of a solid vacuum. Clearly, it was not vacuum. If it were, she would've been swallowed by its icy maw long ago, cast into a deep and eternal sleep. She was not dead. The thought was sharp. This place could only mean death.
Myrkr. The pursed expression that touched her face indicated a moment of wry confusion. It wasn't quite... no, not quite. Opening her mind back to the Force, she let that emptiness channel in, and knew for one swift moment all too well. This was not Myrkr. The Force wasn't so much as vanquished as it was merely silent. It had become water, flowing through her fingers. Her fingers had become a net, not catching anything beyond the dampness that lingered on as a memory that the water was truly there.
Forcing her eyes to remain closed, she brought her hands over her clothing, the touch lingering on in memory. Her neckline-it was still the ordinary Jedi cut. The lines still followed in an overlapping pattern as her hands moved carefully lower, as to not disturb the costume, the skintight nylon body suit still clinging to her form underneath the loose tunic. Her belt... here Mara allowed her frown to deepen further, letting her hands be her eyes. It wasn't a strange thing. Most Jedi learned from a fairly early age how to let their hands be their eyes, how to let the Force guide them rather than their external senses. Your eyes can deceive you, she thought in memory. Don't trust them.
So true. All too true here.
There was a strong feeling of emptiness where her lightsaber had been. An amused expression touched her face for a vague hint of a moment, picking a reminder of the jungle of Yavin in the form of a twig, two rocks, and something crawly with a slight scaly feeling to its skin that made her glad she wasn't allowing herself to see. She tossed these aside, and carried on around her belt. Holdout blaster... check. Food rations. She let her fingers linger here, tracing the oval outlines of the metallic toned canisters. No one ever wanted to survive on the condensed meal pellets. They tasted like, well, it would've been honoring them to say that they tasted like flavored dirt. It would've been a stretch to say they tasted like decent dirt, actually. It was more a flavorless mush, embodied with all the nutritions needed to keep a growing human alive (or dying, if you believed in the Vong religions). Healthy, she thought, but they still tasted like something that didn't belong in words.
Enough to survive a couple weeks, though, she noted. And alongside them, water. She moved on from the food supplies, hoping it wouldn't come to needing to survive solely on rations. That would just have been disgusting, even if it was something probably every Jedi had come to in at least one point of their life. Rebreather... check. Comlink...
Mara pulled the metal communications device from her belt, held it up and tentatively opened one eye. It was easier to let her eyes deceive her when both were open. Examining the device, it seemed as if it had gone dead. Attempting to signal home only led the device to exude a pitiful wail of distress before cutting short.
Stang, she thought with a bitter expression, thankful Ben wasn't around to hear her innerly cursing in language he wasn't suppose to repeat. But, ever conservative on what issues might come to pass, she clipped it back into its old location, and finished her checklist of her supplies. It was clear she wasn't on Yavin IV anymore, and she highly doubted that whatever strange occurrence had led her to this outside location had brought Luke along as well.
It didn't faze her. There was no purpose in letting herself panic just because she was caught in a location that seemingly was completely cut off from reality, acted as if it were hard vacuum if you let yourself think about it, and made the Force seem like a liquid unable to be grasped and tied into its ordinary threads. She had been trained to adapt to any situation, no matter how complex or off the wall. This one didn't have to be any different.
You have the supplies to survive for a while, she told herself calmly. You won't have to use them for that while. Because you're going to get out of here.
How?
Well, that's what we're going to find out.
She took a small blade from her belt, careful to keep her one eye on it as she took one corner of her robe, and cut a strip from it. It cut with a harsh tearing noise, but one that didn't last as long as it would have in an ordinary situation, swiftly snapping into silence. Her left eye wanted to pop back open, wanting to even off her vision. Mara wasn't about to let it. Not when she was standing on ground that allowed the illusion of not standing anywhere at all.
It was reasonable. If her sight was going to deceive her, she didn't need to use it. She snapped the blade back into the small vibroknife, tucked it back away in her belt. Taking the strip of brown fabric, she bound it around her eyes, and found the sense of darkness to be... relieving.
She closed her eyes underneath the thick strip of cloth and let her mind drift swiftly into the chill darkness that made her both the predator and the planner, the spy and the mastermind. Fire, she thought. Finding something to burn in the black feel of vacuum might break some of the illusion, and render her able to walk without falling back into it. Even blindfolded, it wanted to grasp her again. Even Mara Jade couldn't avoid the feeling completely that she had been cast EV without a suit on and that space was about to take her into its jaws and chew her to death in a matter of seconds.
Having witnessed someone's death by access to vacuum, Mara wasn't exactly certain she wanted to try mimicking it herself.
It was almost a meditation she let herself fall into, but yet open to the universe around her, so that if something occurred she would be there, blaster in hand if necessary, and perhaps merely empty handed to challenge her attacker. Just enough of her attempting to access the Force, to let herself know, and just enough of her gone back to the side that knew she could adapt to anything that the universe threw at her and fight it back, dying if she had to, but dying and shedding some of their blood before she had to collapse.
The Sith.
Where is the Sith?
Like Luke, he was elusive. Gone from her area of vision, and yet not dead.
He got into my mind. Mara narrowed her eyes, although being as they were closed this hardly achieved anything. Everything else had been eliminated from her circle of awareness, but Luke and this strange attacker remained just close enough that she could know they lived. Luke, and the Sith, and Ben, and Jaina.
I got into his mind a moment before I blacked out. He fought me as hard as I fought him. A worthy opponent. Who are you?
The darkness hummed with nervousness, a timorous fear closing over it. It wanted to drive into her mind, to control her before she became too controlled for it to command her every nerves, to force her into becoming nothing more than a little puppet, swallowed by unending terror that somehow it could produce. Maul. He was Darth Maul.
How much access did he have of my mind?
"Kriffing Sith," she spat aloud, her voice swallowed by the dark jaws of this shadow realm, this vacuum. Too much.
And why isn't he here now? Where is he?
Mara frowned. He wasn't one to allow mercy for no purpose. Something scared him away before he could kill me.
Or...no. She chased away the nagging voice that said she was dead, and this was all the afterlife had to offer. An unending passage of teasing and taunting vacuum. The voice of logic said calmly that if she were dead, she would not have all her possessions on hand, including whatever the slightly scaly reptile had been that had lodged itself to her loose tunic. Particularly not that, as it would've had to have been dead too. Not as if this was an unlikely proposition, as surely in the battle several unfortunate jungle creatures had met their ultimate demise. When fighting for your life, you don't consider the birds.
I am not dead.
And what of the feeling that had smashed into her perhaps minutes, even seconds, before the Sith... Maul... had thrown her down. She remembered lashing out towards him, her lightsaber knocked from her hand and flying into the bushed. Blackness had overwhelmed the red lust for blood and survival that had masked her vision. She remembered even further away that her back had crushed into the trees and something had cut into her tunic, because it hadn't been made for falling Jedi to crash into.
She let herself reach about her tunic and touch the back where a scar from a tree or something equally sharp had ripped through to the final layer of black skintight nylon. Fortunately it had left the final layer in tact. But it went to prove her memories had served her correctly here, if nothing more.
Mara sighed. What of the strange feeling of wrongness? It had felt as if time had contorted around her every bone, sinew, muscle, and fiber of her body. As if for one moment she had been ripped from reality, her mind swimming in an ocean of possibilities. Possibilities which could in turn offer an entirely new blank slate.
What better to initiate a blank slate than vacuum, than the hard emptiness of space?
No, it was only a theory, she thought with a grimace.
The theory didn't leave her mind, though, circling in teasing passages. Time. A stream of something outside of the Force, and yet not so outside of it that it was something completely sundered. Something... Could the Force be used to manipulate Time?
Mara was not so quick to discard the idea as an ordinary being might have been. After all, here there was no time to worry about. Her only worries were far outside of where her hands could touch, and as soon as she could get back, she would allow herself to ignore these harebrained ideas concerning Time. But not yet. Now she could, alongside of worrying about Luke and keeping her mind open just in case the Sith had followed after her into this world of nothingness.
Where was the Sith, anyway? Know your enemies, she thought. Keep them close, but not close enough to stab you in the heart.
