Seekers (by Cathy Pauline)
Chapter 5
Xanatos left Obi-Wan mostly alone for the next three days, which suited the boy fine. He was not able to free the lock on the wrist binders, though he tried once more. After that he gave up, knowing that even if he opened the locks there was no way he could escape, and that Xanatos would surely take such a display of power as just another excuse to hurt him.
He was given plenty to eat, all bland reconstituted ship's food, but nutritious and filling. Mostly he slept, when he wasn't caught up in freakish nightmares, his body shaking uncontrollably from the bitter drug. Xanatos brought the silver cup three times more. Obi-Wan grimaced, but drank it immediately each time: even drugged nightmares that left him numb and exhausted were better than Xanatos's cruelty.
Whenever he felt strong enough, usually just after he had slept and before he ate, he would sit on the floor of his small prison and exercise his body and his mind, stretch his limbs, and relax into an active meditative state. It was during one of these sessions that he heard the whine of the hyperdrive deepen, slowing in its spin down, and knew they had returned to realspace. He felt a twinge of anxiety, and called on the Force to strengthen and guide him in his coming trials. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he let himself join deeper with the Force and waited for Xanatos to come for him.
An hour later he felt the turbulence of atmosphere buffeting the ship, and not long after that they slowed, the sublight drive thrumming deeper, repulsor engines kicking in at full power, to lower them into a landing. Obi-Wan felt a richness in the living Force of multitudes of life forms: a texture that he associated with a living planet. Overlaying this he sensed the swirling, sucking pull of anger, fear and hatred. This was a planet shadowed by the Dark Side: he'd felt it before on war-torn Melida/Daan. He shuddered. Xanatos would be strong here.
He had grown familiar with the insidious feel of Xanatos in the Force, and knew when he was approaching before the door to his tiny cabin opened.
"Up, little Jedi. Come with me."
Obi-Wan rose smoothly to his feet and exited the cabin at Xanatos' beckoning. Xanatos took him by the shoulder and guided him to the main room where he had first been chained, and then the hatchway. He took hold of the binder chain still joining Obi-Wan's hands before opening the hatch. Heat blasted the boy's skin, dry as from an oven. Xanatos led him down the ramp.
Obi-Wan kept his face blank, but his eyes and mind were busy absorbing the character of this new planet. They had landed in the middle of a rocky, dusty plain. Great red boulders dotted the landscape: some small, some large; in the distance he could see pillars of rock that must be hundreds of meters high. Pale grasses and lichens grew thinly around the rocks. He saw no sign of sentient habitation. The sky glowed golden orange around the horizon, pale above, and free of clouds.
They walked thirty meters with the bright sun to their left and behind them, still low in the sky but rising, to a rectangular rock formation eight meters high and perhaps twelve meters across. Just past the great block of stone, in its shade, they stopped, in front of a rough shelter built of canvas against its wall. The low hum of a generator could be heard from the tent's interior. Beside the shelter, standing before a pair of camp chairs and a small folding table on which rested two tall glasses beaded with condensation, stood a man with grizzled beard and loose white tunic and trousers, a white hat covering his head and neck. In his sun-browned hands he held what looked to be a ring of some golden-hued metal, covered with molded decorations of some sort.
"Master Xanatos. I've just prepared us some drinks, when I heard you arrive. Please, have a seat." With one hand he indicated the seats behind him. His voice was dry and flat.
"Thank you, Sitaris, but it were best we took care of this first." With a tilt of his head he indicated Obi-Wan.
"Of course." He walked up to Obi-Wan, looking him over coolly, with a detached air, for all the world like a mechanic examining some machine. Obi-Wan, aware of Xanatos watching him, avoided looking the man in the eye, but held his head high nonetheless. The man stood before him, close to him, with his free hand lifting his chin and turning it to either side, then squeezing his arm as though to judge the tone of his muscles. Obi-Wan smothered his resentment at this unfeeling treatment and stood quietly. The man walked behind him, touching his shoulders, his neck. Then he heard a snick as a cool ring circled his neck and snapped closed. He tried to reach up to touch it, but Xanatos still had his hands, so he desisted. It was the metal ring the man had been carrying, Obi-Wan was certain. He imagined it was like the collar that had been fastened on him at the Offworld deep-sea mining platform where Xanatos had once imprisoned him: made to be detonated if he tried to escape.
Sitaris walked around to Obi-Wan's front once more, his hand in a pouch at his belt. From it he pulled a length of chain, bronzed like the collar. This he fastened to the collar, Obi-Wan couldn't see how. Then, holding the other end carelessly in one hand, he turned to Xanatos, a question in his face. Xanatos nodded and released Obi-Wan's bound hands.
Before Obi-Wan could decide what this meant, Sitaris snapped him around at the end of the chain, pulling it with both hands, and walked quickly away from the great block of stone, though still in the direct line of sight of the small camp. Obi-Wan was forced to follow or fall. Small stones pricked his feet; he focused on avoiding them. Sitaris led him to a smaller boulder -- only about a meter on a side, nearly a rough cube -- which stood just beyond the shadow of the large rock formation. Several metal rings studded the side facing the camp. Sitaris clipped the free end of the bronze leash to the highest of these, forcing Obi-Wan to bend over. Then he stepped back, out of Obi-Wan's reach. Obi-Wan backed up against the stone so he could stand upright. Sitaris fished a flat synthplas container from his belt pouch and tossed it at his feet.
"Coat your skin with that, or you'll burn," Sitaris told him. "I'll help you with your back when I've finished speaking to Master Xanatos." He turned, walking back to the camp, but called back over his shoulder, "Don't forget your scalp!"
Obi-Wan watched the man take the camp chair opposite Xanatos, who was now sitting relaxed, sipping the drink Sitaris had prepared for him. He could not hear them speak -- they were about twelve meters away -- but he watched them as he sat on the dusty ground at the foot of his boulder. He was already sticky with evaporating sweat, sitting as he was in the direct sunlight; his hair and trousers were soaked with it. The rough stone against his back was painfully hot. He opened the tin. It was filled with a yellow creamy substance, exuding a slightly rancid scent. Wrinkling his nose, he dipped his fingers in and spread the stuff on his chest. It mixed with his sweat and sank into his skin, leaving his skin feeling oily, but almost immediately cooler. Quickly he worked more into the rest of his exposed skin -- at least, all he could reach with his wrists bound together -- not forgetting his scalp, easy enough to coat under his short hair, or even his eyelids. When he was satisfied he hadn't missed any spots, he leaned back against the stone -- now cooler -- and looked across at the camp with his eyes half-lidded against the sun.
The two men were deep in conversation. Obi-Wan put his hands to the collar at his neck, feeling all the way around for a catch or seam. He found none. The collar was decorated with a raised pattern on the outside, but he could find no break in it. Running his finger along the inside -- where he could reach -- yielded nothing in the way of clues, either.
Opening himself to the Force, watching Xanatos warily, Obi-Wan explored the collar with his other sense. A trickle of power told him only that the ring around his neck was not sealed with a simple mechanical catch. Nor was there an active power source inside it. He tried to will it open, with no success. He could sense no join or break in the collar's internal structure. Fear brushed his mind; a feeling of powerlessness. With the surety of Jedi discipline he returned to his center, resting in his strength, and turned a critical eye to his feelings. Fear could be a teacher, an indicator of danger. From where did this feeling come?
Sounds from the camp caught his attention. Both men were rising from their chairs, nodding and shaking hands. Then Xanatos left, heading back to the ship. Sitaris disappeared into the tent for a moment, then came out with a synthplas jug in each hand. Obi-Wan left off his exploration of the collar and watched him approach, untrusting, but Sitaris only handed him one of the jugs, placing the other on the shady side of the rock, just barely within Obi-Wan's reach.
"Drink," he ordered. "You'll dehydrate quickly in this sun."
Obi-Wan undid the top of the jug, sniffed the liquid inside. He smelled nothing but the synthplas of the container. He sipped: it was water.
"Drink slowly."
The man waited, expressionless and unmoving, as Obi-Wan drank his fill. Then he took the half-empty jug, sealed it, and placed it with the other. He picked up the ointment and indicated that Obi-Wan should turn around. Warily, watching over his shoulder at first, Obi-Wan turned to show his back, allowed Sitaris to rub the cream into his skin, though it hurt him to have his half-healed wounds there touched. He wondered at the man's coolness, wondered why Xanatos was leaving him in his custody. Wondered why he was chained in the sun, needing an ointment to protect his skin, when they could have kept him in the shade. Wondered why this rock was covered in heavy rings like the one he was chained to.
He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of Xanatos' ship taking off. He craned his neck to watch it rise. Then he was startled again by Sitaris yanking off the rest of his clothes, pulling him flat on his back in the process and tossing the trousers behind him, then taking up Obi-Wan's bound hands. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the binders, then pointed back to the ointment on the ground by the rock.
"Coat the rest of you. I'll bring more water and ointment tomorrow." Sitaris left him then, returning to the camp, taking both trousers and binders with him. Obi-Wan watched him leave, feeling befuddled and more than a little anxious, despite being pleased that Xanatos was gone, at least for a time.
Once he was done rubbing the cream into his skin, there was little for him to do but watch the landscape and think. It was difficult to keep his thoughts focused in this heat, though -- it made him slow and lethargic. Not that he had much he wanted to think about. Escape from this desolate place seemed unlikely at best; rescue something to hope for not dwell upon. When his eyes grew tired from facing the sun, he turned his back to it and rested across the top of the boulder. After lying very still for about a half an hour he glimpsed a lizard scurry across the ground in front of him; by turning his head he could see the shady sides of the stones around him, and noticed that the lichens and dry grasses grew almost exclusively in the shade. Behind one rock a small reddish snake was coiled, well camouflaged; it took him nearly an hour to notice it despite his training in observation. Soon his back felt too hot to be comfortable, even with the cream; he pushed away from the rock and lay face up on the ground with his arm over his face. He felt drowsy with the heat, and soon fell asleep.
He passed the entire day this way, lazily moving from watching to napping to quiet meditation and stationary exercise of his muscles, frequently sipping from the water bottles. He was slick with sweat, despite its quick evaporation in the dry heat, and was glad of the water to replace what he was constantly losing. When the sun passed the meridian he shifted the two jugs to the other side of the rock, now the shady side. He changed position about once every hour. His skin was slowly darkening into a soft brown, so that the fine pale-brown hairs on his arms and legs began to stand out.
The sun went down in a blaze of color that dazzled Obi-Wan with its splendor. Almost he felt he was beginning to like this place, with its desolate beauty, rich in gold and red and brown and all the colors between. He was feeling more alert now that the air was cooling. A slight, warm breeze kissed his face.
Sitaris exited the tent walking purposefully toward him. He no longer wore hat or trousers; his tunic hung loose to his knees and sandal straps wrapped his lower legs. He carried a small crate, which he placed on the ground near Obi-Wan. Then he unhooked the chain from the collar around the boy's neck. Obi-Wan was so surprised for a moment that he only stared at the chain, still hanging from the rock. Then he leaped to his feet, his only thought to overpower Sitaris before the man could draw a weapon on him. But even as he jumped up, a stinging pain rippled through his body, a paralyzing shock originating in the collar, taking his breath. He fell to his knees.
"I trust you understand the implications," said Sitaris dryly. Obi-Wan nodded numbly. "Good. Use the privy hole behind that rock --" he pointed beyond the camp, towards the setting sun -- "and come back to me. Quickly, now."
Obi-Wan went, unsteadily at first, but pushing himself until he was running, slowly but smoothly. He came back more quickly than he had gone, glad to be up and running once more after days of confinement, even in these conditions.
Sitaris was standing in a clear, flat space beyond the rock with its metal rings, manipulating a tiny generator sitting on the ground. As Obi-Wan ran up he saw a wide blue circle, three meters across, snap into existence between them. Sitaris stood, looking over Obi-Wan as if measuring him in some way. He drew a length of stiff brown fabric from over his shoulder, about four meters long and ten centimeters wide, folded in half along its length, and held it by its center point.
"This is a kazaba," Sitaris told him, walking near, and handed it to Obi-Wan. Then he pulled off his long tunic, over his head, with one motion. Beneath he wore nothing but a kazabawrapped around his waist and groin. His body was thick and powerfully built, and covered with scars. Swiftly he unwrapped the long strip of cloth. "Now watch what I do, and do the same. Remember."
Obi-Wan nodded, watching and imitating, wrapping the kazaba twice around his waist, twisting it behind himself, opening the fold and passing it between his legs, knotting it in front. It was not so different from tying his sash before physical practice at the Temple; he was confident he could remember.
Sitaris inspected him. "Good," he said simply, then directed him, "stay inside the circle. Dodge my strikes as best you can, but don't let any part of your body cross the boundary." He indicated that Obi-Wan should step within the blue ring. Then he walked to the crate sitting about six meters away, carrying his tunic with him to drop it in the box, not watching to see if the boy would obey.
Obi-Wan's feet felt immediately that the inside of the circle was clean of small rocks and pebbles. He walked the width of the circle, then returned to the center, wondering what kind of training or game Sitaris had in mind for him, and for what purpose. He wondered if he should ask. Did Xanatos' prohibitions extend here?
Sitaris was carrying a long coil of metal cable from the crate to a point about four meters away from him. As he shook it out a thrill of fear, quickly released, shook Obi-Wan: it was a whip, very like to the one Xanatos had used. Dodge it, Sitaris had said. Well, he would dodge it. He supposed he should be glad to have at least some freedom of movement this time. Better than nothing. He shook out his arms, trying to shake out his anxiety, to join with the Force. He was going to need it.
The first strike came direct to the center of the circle. Obi-Wan dodged it easily, as he did the next three. He began to relax, to trust his instincts. Sitaris started to speed up, striking more quickly and more frequently. The Force trickled through Obi-Wan, then flowed in an easy current, guiding him. He stepped, jumped, and dodged. Then the nature of the strikes changed. Instead of coming straight and even, the cable twisted and snapped; it coiled and circled, filling the little circle until there was barely room to step. A slash across snapped toward his neck then swept across the circle, scooping down then up again. He couldn't avoid it within the circle: so he stepped outside.
Instantly a shock of intense pain rippled from the collar through his muscles, making him collapse. He lay on the ground, quivering, his body uncontrollable. He felt a lash across his shoulders, and cried out. The current from the collar stopped. He lay quivering, gasping for breath.
"Up," Sitaris said impassively. "Into the circle." Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, arms wrapped around his chest. His back hurt ferociously; he was certain it was cut deeply. He staggered over the blue line to stand in the center of the circle, turned to face Sitaris, struggled to master himself.
"Do not leave the circle," Sitaris repeated. Then flicked the whip toward him once more, and again, slowly at first, but soon speeding up to challenge him as he dodged it. He received a few small cuts from the sharp edge this time, but managed to continue dodging for the next fifteen minutes. Still, he was tiring. His breath came more quickly. When Sitaris had hit him three times in a row -- long, deep slices on his legs and arm -- he suddenly stopped. Obi-Wan stood still, dazed and shaking.
"Sit in the center."
Obi-Wan took two quick steps and nearly fell sitting down.
After a minute Sitaris was beside him, holding a medkit. He put salve on Obi-Wan's cuts, working quickly, and sealed them with fleshbinding tape. His touch was not tender, and had Obi-Wan gasping, though the boy tried to control his reactions.
When he was done, Sitaris fetched him water and a bar of some sweet stuff. "Do not leave the circle," he warned again, and then left, striding across the dark plain to the camp, dimly lit some distance away. Obi-Wan nibbled at the bar, sipped the water; soon he was feeling stronger and calmer. He sat with his legs crossed and back straight and breathed in the fragrant night air. Above him wheeled the stars; the systems of the Core arcing brightly overhead, lighting the dusty plain, softening its sharpness. Somewhere in that brilliance was Coruscant, and the Temple, and all that was civilized...
With Sitaris gone, Obi-Wan could hear the night life of this desert: tiny creatures, lizards and mice and insects, sang their mating songs, their territorial warnings. They rustled through rocks and grasses, hunting for food, living their lives. The living Force runs strong and sure in this place, however desolate it may seem, he told himself.
He turned his thoughts to his situation. Somewhere in the vastness of the galaxy, his Master was looking for him. Would he find him here, in this lonely place? He closed his eyes to the world around him, becoming less I, less self, more a part of everything around him. This had always been a slow and difficult exercise for him, but tonight it came more easily: perhaps because he had nothing here of his own life but his memories and his self, his knowledge and strength and character: will and willfulness were submerged, for a time. He was a leaf on the breeze, parted from its tree, carried on the wind to who knows where.
Qui-Gon! I am here, Master! His thoughts echoed in the immensity of space.
Slowly he became aware of the dark Force shadowing this planet, as he had felt it in Xanatos' ship as they landed. Somewhere on this planet were people filled with hatred, and anger, and a feeling he recognized from the Katharsis domes on Telos: greed. He hoped fervently that Xanatos did not intend to take him to those people, but knew there was little chance of escaping it. Whatever Xanatos intended would involve the greed and hate endemic on this planet, he felt certain -- and trusted his Force-sensitive instincts. But what of him, what of his own purpose? He would not allow Xanatos to use him for evil, not if he could in any way prevent it. What must I do?He thought, letting the Force take his question, letting the answer come to him: I must wait, and watch, and be ready, and when the time comes to act, I will know it. No more than he had known already, of course, but he felt new certainty and confidence flooding him, and was glad he had taken this time for reflection.
He heard Sitaris approaching from the camp: he opened his eyes. The glow of the blue ring around him turned the red rock and soil to strangeness. Still he was at peace, and raised his face to drink in the starlight before his trials should begin again.
"Up," said Sitaris. Obi-Wan stood and put the empty food and drink containers into the big man's outstretched hands. Then he watched as Sitaris bent and twiddled with the generator: the blue circle shrank by half a meter in its diameter. In silence he waited as Sitaris returned to the crate to take up the whip once more.
Obi-Wan was quicker this time, and easily avoided the whip, even with the smaller circle enclosing him, even when Sitaris flicked the cable so it seemed to have a life of its own, chasing him. He ducked and flipped and twisted, and it did not touch him. After forty minutes he was granted another, briefer rest; then Sitaris shrank the circle again, down to two meters now, and they continued. Even so he did well, earning only a half-dozen small cuts, and after another forty minutes Sitaris again stopped and told him to rest, this time giving him a more substantial meal of bread and cheese and some kind of sweet dried fruit.
"Eat and sleep," he was told. "Do not leave the circle." And again, Sitaris left him alone.
Obi-Wan fiddled with the notion, as he ate, of trying to leave the circle. He did not, after all, know what would happen if he did. But he had a strong feeling that his guess was correct: the collar would activate, probably remotely sensing he had moved beyond the proscribed distance as set by Sitaris, leaving him helpless to move and in pain. He was not eager to repeat that experience. Still, how would he know the collar's constraints except by trying? And the idea of submitting himself to Sitaris on the basis of an uncertain threat chafed him. He ached to know his boundaries.
And so, when he had finished eating all that he'd been given, he stood to examine his surroundings more closely. Reaching out with the Force, he confirmed what he suspected: that Sitaris was occupied. If he did manage to break free of his invisible prison, he would have to deal with that threat first: he could not have Sitaris following him. If. He toyed with the idea of trying to influence the man with a compulsion, but he had sensed already that Sitaris had a strong will and focus. Bending that would take a great deal of subtlety and skill, and while his master might be able to manage it, he was fairly certain he could not.
The circle was a simple circuit of light: his fingers passed into the beam easily. It seemed to be rising out of the ground, and he guessed the source lay close beneath the dirt. But the dirt was packed hard as rock beneath his questing fingers. The synthplas water bottle was not strong enough to do more than scratch the surface. He called a loose rock to his hand with the Force, and soon made an interesting discovery: what appeared to be dirt beneath his feet was some sort of device, camouflaged. Its outer surface was thick and strong, and the rock could not penetrate it. Obi-Wan covered the evidence of his tampering and threw the rock away. Chances were Xanatos had let Sitaris know of his ability with the Force, but better he did not remind the man of it, or reveal it if Sitaris did not know, without some sure and pressing reason.
The generator was too far to reach, and fastened securely to the ground. The crate, when he floated it near on a current of the force, was empty of all but what he had seen already: food, medicine, water, the whip. He left everything untouched and returned the crate carefully to its former position.
There was nothing left but to try leaving the circle. He breathed deeply to calm his anxiety. He worried that if the shock from the collar paralyzed him again, that he would have a long wait -- until Sitaris returned -- to endure the pain. On the other hand, if he succeeded in escaping the collar's control, he would want to do so while he had the best advantage of time and alertness over Sitaris. Well, he told himself, relaxing into calm, if it comes to that, it is only pain, after all. Still, he began his experiment carefully.
First he held a finger over the boundary, then a hand. When nothing happened he grew bolder, extending his entire arm, both his legs; finally sliding his entire body but his head over the line, keeping the collar safely within the circle. I suppose that was worth knowing, he thought dubiously. He gathered himself and stood within the circle once more. Then he took a deep breath, and stepped across.
As soon as the collar crossed that invisible line, it activated. A part of Obi-Wan's mind observed, detached, feeling the current ripple across his muscles, playing havoc with the nerve endings. He tried to shield his body from the collar with his will, and for a few seconds felt the effect might just be lessening. But it continued, on and on, and it was far too much for him to control. He collapsed on the ground, just outside the circle, twitching uncontrollably, and struggled to be at peace with the pain.
It seemed years later that it stopped. Sitaris stood over him silently, and Obi-Wan in his relief did not look to see whether he was angry or still cold, nor could he hear above the ringing in his ears: he trembled with his body's relief, and gathered his strength. After a few long moments his senses returned to him; fog cleared from his sight, and the ringing receded until he could hear the breeze in his ears once more. Slowly he moved his arms and legs under him, to lift himself.
"You had to test the limits. I hope your curiosity is satisfied, now, or it may yet be the death of you."
Still feeling giddy and detached from his thoughts, Obi-Wan blurted out: "Why am I here?"
"I believe Xanatos informed you of the prohibitions before bringing you here: you are not to speak unless directed to, nor seek nor hold the gaze of free people." Sitaris' voice held a warning, but Obi-Wan was stung by the reference to free people, and pushed himself to his knees, boldly looking up into Sitaris face, searching for some clue to his meaning, anger flushing his skin.
Sitaris looked down at him impassively, but Obi-Wan had only a fraction of a second to glimpse his stony expression before he was convulsed again in pain, mercifully brief this time. His breathing came quick and heavy, and he shut his eyes. Patience, he heard his Master's voice, patience. With the memory of Qui-Gon's gentleness his anger left him. He told himself: remember your meditations. You are a leaf on the breeze. You will know when the time comes to act, and that time is not now.
Sitaris gave him a minute to recover himself before directing him again. "Up, now," he told him. "You have five minutes to run to the privy and back."
Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, still shaking, and fell twice before gaining his balance. He hobbled over the rocky dirt and silently cursed Sitaris. But soon enough his muscles regained their strength; he realized that the forced movement was easing the aftereffects of the shocks from the collar. He breathed more steadily and pushed himself to a run. He was back to Sitaris well within the five minute time limit and stood straight before him, pride in his strength born of Jedi training, and held his eyes to the middle distance. Sitaris grunted and directed him back to the circle.
The circle was again smaller, but that no longer surprised Obi-Wan. He settled himself grimly to continue. Sitaris pressed him through the night, with only brief rests, until he was stumbling with exhaustion and the air had grown cold; until he was covered in blood and stinging cuts and the circle was a bare meter wide. Finally Sitaris stopped and coiled the whip, and stood in the slow growing pre-dawn light, stretching his powerful muscles. Obi-Wan stood dumbly where he was, too tired to move. When Sitaris came to him and pushed him to the ground to tend his wounds, he barely noticed the stinging. Half-drowsing, he let Sitaris lead him back to the rock with its metal rings and chain him there; did not resist when Sitaris stripped the kazaba from him and rubbed the oily cream into every surface of his naked body. He lay silent on the ground, and when Sitaris left him at last, he fell deeply into sleep under the rising sun.