It was a relief to leave Will and Wesley behind. Wes was uncomfortable in his presence, and Will - Will was perpetually angry. And so Obi-Wan was almost content to follow Sitaris to a smaller cave at the far end of the cavern from where they had entered that morning. There a half dozen men and women, most of whom he did not recognize, were sorting through piles of outdated and damaged equipment, trying to find something worth salvaging. He and Sitaris threaded their way to the opening at the far end, where Obi-Wan saw still more people, some of them older slaves, carrying still more machinery in from somewhere else.
"We just finished a raid this morning on Starways," Sitaris explained. "You will help to carry this equipment inside, and help us move it once it's sorted. I'll show you the way to the sled." So saying, he led Obi-Wan out through another network of branching caves and tunnels, leading ever upward, until they reached a repulsorlift tube. They arrived just as a load came down in the lift. "Carry the machines back to the sorting room," Sitaris instructed. Then he walked to one side, to talk with a tall woman who had just come down with the new load. Obi-Wan shouldered a battered hovercam. He could see a small hoversled in the pile, missing two of its stabilizers and a power cell. He wondered if he should point it out. The work would go more quickly with its help, and it would not take long to fix. Sitaris glanced over at him then, lips pursed, perhaps wondering why he dawdled. Obi-Wan decided to hold his tongue. He was forbidden, after all, to show initiative, and he had been given clear and explicit instructions. He grimaced in frustration.
By his third trip back to the sorting room, Sitaris was already there, working with the others to identify useful parts and pieces. As one of the most experienced with offworlder technology, Sitaris's opinion was in demand; but he knew little more than the others, Obi-Wan had seen. Setting down his burden - half a protocol droid - he was surprised to see Wesley standing by the door, speaking with Sitaris and some others. Wesley glanced over at him; he dropped his eyes quickly and turned to go.
"Wait, boy," Sitaris called. "Come here." Obi-Wan stopped, and returned to the man who claimed him. Stood waiting, a little stiffly, at his side. He did not want to feel Wesley's eyes upon him. He felt intensely his near-nudity, with the other boy there.
"Wesley, here, says you have skill with machines. He says that, with your help, he could make much of this equipment usable. Is this true?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan answered quietly.
"Then you will do so. Focus on the weapons first; we have need of them."
Obi-Wan nodded, and moved to the table of already-discarded weapons. It was scattered with all manner of blasters, rifles, and vibroblades, in various states of uselessness.
"Can I ask him questions, and have him explain things to me?" he heard Wesley ask behind him. "I'm good with machines, too, but I don't know this particular technology, and he does."
"You may ask." Sitaris called to Obi-Wan. "Bonder, you must explain as necessary to getting the work done. Understand?"
Obi-Wan half-turned to face him. "I understand," he answered. He watched Sitaris leave through the far door.
Wesley came to stand beside him at the table, watching as he sorted through the weapons, pulling out those that looked most easily salvageable. Wesley picked up a small blaster from the pile, and turned it over in his hands. "It looks okay," he said.
Obi-Wan held out a hand, and Wesley dropped the blaster into it. Obi-Wan pointed to one part after another. "Power cell. Actuator. Trigger. Scope. Emitter. The emitter is slagged. We can salvage one from here." He pulled another blaster from the pile, this one all but useless, but with a hopefully still-functional emitter. "Use the spinner to open it, here and here." Obi-Wan took a tool from the edge of the table, and showed Wesley what he meant. Then he put the blaster on the table in front of the other boy. "When you think it's fixed you can test it with the blast chamber." He pointed to a large black box at the side of the table. Then he went back to sorting, now with an eye for the different kinds of weapons, and ones that could be used for parts.
For several more hours they worked, Wesley asking questions, Obi-Wan explaining as concisely as he could. After a while they settled into a rhythm. As Wesley learned what he was dealing with, he was able to identify weapons with problems similar to ones he had already fixed. But he still ran into difficulties.
"It still doesn't work," Wes complained to Obi-Wan after what must have been the tenth test for a rifle in the blast chamber. "I traced the problem to this part. Can I replace it?"
"You could, but the problem is more likely to be back here -" for several minutes Obi-Wan explained the workings and basic physics of phase inductor assemblies.
"Thanks," Wes mumbled finally, absorbed in what Obi-Wan had shown him. For the next fifteen minutes he focused on the delicate task of replacing the old assembly and aligning a new one. Obi-Wan didn't bother watching him; he knew Wesley could probably handle the difficult task. The boy had a steady hand with technology of any kind, and a careful mind.
"Ow!" Wesley cried out, and put his fingers in his mouth. "I left the power cell in. That was stupid of me. I hope I didn't ruin it."
Obi-Wan looked into the blaster rifle's exposed innards. "you'll need a new inductor assembly," he answered, then turned back to his own task.
"Joy," Wes muttered, and fished through the pile of parts-only weapons for a likely candidate. Finding one, he settled back to his task.
"Ben," Wesley said very quietly, not looking up from his work, "I have to tell you - I'm sorry, I really am, for all that's happened. I don't know what Xanatos did up there, but -" he paused, and Obi-Wan could tell he was upset, groping for words. He focused down on his own task, wishing Wesley would stop. He knew Wesley felt awful about his situation. He didn't want the boy's pity. He didn't want a reminder of a friendship he couldn't have, not now.
"I should have stood up for you. I should have talked to you. I still don't understand - what came over us all. I felt frozen, and angry, and confused. I don't know why. God, I've been such an awful friend," he said. He stopped, and wiped his eyes, sniffling.
Obi-Wan sighed. His friend needed an answer, this once. "It's not your fault, Wesley," he said quietly. "That's how Xanatos operates. He twists people's feelings, and uses them. Please don't blame yourself."
"Can you forgive me?" the boy pleaded, looking directly at Obi-Wan now, his eyes begging.
"Of course," Obi-Wan answered. "There's nothing to forgive." He turned to hold Wesley's eyes, for the briefest of moments, and brushed his hand, so his friend would know he spoke the truth. Then he returned his attention to his work.
"Bonder." Obi-Wan froze. Sitaris must be standing just behind him. Why hadn't he noticed? Fatigue, and emotional weariness...
"List for me the prohibitions you just violated," came the cool and even voice.
"Please, sir," said Wesley quickly, "It's my fault. I begged him for an answer."
"I was not speaking to you, young offworlder," said Sitaris evenly. "Keep silent, or leave, or I will have you removed."
Wesley swallowed audibly and stood silent, looking anxious.
Obi-Wan put down the tool he was holding, and placed his palms flat upon the table. "I must not speak unless bidden. I must not lift my gaze to a free person. I must not touch a free person unless bidden to do so."
"Walk ahead of me to your place by my tent. There take position for your punishment."
Leave, Wesley, Obi-Wan begged silently as he did what he was told. But he could feel the boy following. He saw Wesley standing a few meters away, hand covering his mouth, when he lowered himself to kneeling on the dirt beside Sitaris' tent. He saw Deanna and Will join the boy, saw them ask what was going on. Stars and galaxies, please leave, all of you.
Sitaris stepped from his tent with a long, flexsteel whip. Obi-Wan relaxed his body and breathed deeply, preparing himself.
"Two strikes for each violation. You may count if you wish. Cry out if you feel the need."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Go away, please, he begged his erstwhile friends. Then the whip bit into the soft, only recently healed skin of his back. One, he thought. He refused to make any outward reaction. He felt intensely Wesley's horror, and Will's outrage. Two. He clenched his fists, and released them with a breath of air. Three. Sitaris was no more gentle with him this time than the last time he had beaten him thus. Four. A loud gasp escaped him, despite his intentions. He fell forward onto his hands. Five. He bit his lip on a scream. Six. He gasped, a tiny squeak, and sank forward to lay his head on his hands. He saw drops of blood, there, and felt his lip wet where he'd bitten through. His back raged fire.
"One half hour for contemplation. You will stay silent and isolate, or face further punishment." This comment, Obi-Wan could feel, was made at least partly for the benefit of the three lost and angry Enterprise crew. He could sense them still standing nearby, flanked by a pair of trainers. He ignored them, knowing there was nothing he could do for them. After a few minutes he forced himself to a sitting position, cross-legged, and pushed his mind into meditation. He was too exhausted for even a shallow healing trance.
-
"I told you both we should have left," said Deanna in a low voice, pulling angrily on Will's arm. "He didn't want us to see this, and we can't help. Now let's leave him alone, before we make the situation worse."
Will glared at the trainer who had ostentatiously placed himself in front of them, making it clear that their interference would not be tolerated. The man stared back disdainfully. Wesley was on the verge of tears. At Deanna's words he turned and walked quickly to their tent. Will, however, was not going to budge. He waited for Sitaris to come out of his tent, having returned his whip, and followed him toward the equipment-sorting caves. Deanna strode behind, exasperated.
"That was cruel," Will said when he caught up with the man.
"Was it? The boy knows the rules, and he knew what punishment would be given if they were broken. I agree that it was harsh, but that is our way." Sitaris stopped, suddenly, and turned to face Will. "I saw an instance of cruelty just this morning. Taking a boy who obviously cares about you, and cutting him with words. Making him feel like you don't think he deserves to exist. That I call cruel." He turned and strode away without a backward glance.
Will stood rooted to the spot. Then, just as sharply as Sitaris had done, he turned on his heel and strode back to their tent. Deanna stood watching him a moment, then, sighing, followed.
"He's right," Will told her when she arrived. He had seated himself on his pallet, elbows on knees, chin on folded hands. Wesley lay on his own pallet, face turned to the wall of the tent. "Dear God, what is wrong with me? I need a slave owner to point out when I've been cruel to a child."
"Well, for one thing," Deanna said, sinking onto her own pallet, "we're all exhausted. We left the ship at late evening as we mark time, to arrive in the early morning here. A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours."
"That's no excuse, Deanna. You know it as well as I do."
Wesley spoke up, voice quiet and throaty, now looking up at the roof of the small tent. "Ben told me something a little while ago. He was punished for telling me. I told him I felt I had been an awful friend since the invasion. That I didn't know what had come over me, that I felt confused and unable to act. He said -" Here Wes paused, as if looking for the exact words. "'It's not your fault. That's how Xanatos operates. He twists people's feelings, and uses them. Please don't blame yourself.' God, how I wish - I begged him to forgive me, because I felt so awful. And he did. And I got him -" He clapped a hand over his mouth again, and turned away.
Deanna shifted to sit by his head, and put a hand on his shoulder. "He gave you a gift, Wesley. Focus on that."
Will stayed silent. Xanatos wasn't directing me what to say, he thought, I did that. After a while he pulled off his boots and lay down. But sleep didn't come to him for a long while.
Late that night, Will woke, suddenly. He saw through the walls of the tent that the cavern was quiet and dark around them. He looked around, wondering what had disturbed him. The tent flap swung with a slight movement, as though someone had recently passed through. He sat up. Deanna's bed was empty. He waited a moment, listening. Then he pulled on his boots and crept to the opening. He peered out.
Across the way, in the soft ambient light of dim lamps high along the cavern wall, he saw the flap of Sitaris's tent pulled open. Deanna exited, her form clearly outlined in the soft light from inside. She turned, holding the flap, still talking through the door. Then she dropped the flap. She walked to the open space by the stone wall, where Ben had been beaten the day before. He lay there, now, Will saw: stretched out upon the bare ground. A long chain fastened his collar to a ring sunk deep into the wall. He sat up as she approached. She sat beside him.