Whispers of Menace

A Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace Alternate Universe

Chapter Eighteen:

Duel of the Fates

I shrugged off my cloak, letting it puddle on the hangar floor as my companions did the same. The Sith focused his glare on us, malevolence rolling from him in waves of Dark Side energy. He held his long 'saber hilt horizontally before him, little more than a twitch producing a crimson blade on one end. Then I found out why the device was so long: a second blade appeared on the other end. The lightstaff was an esoteric weapon in the Order, but I was sure that the three of us could deal with it.

We advanced on him slowly, spreading out to keep him away from Padmé and her people. When we closed to within five meters, a nasty smirk grew on his striped face. Then he whirled, black tunics flaring, and sprinted back into the complex.

Worried about the others and their mission, I glanced over my shoulder. They'd been pinned down by destroyer droids, but that only lasted a moment. The engines of Anakin's fighter roared to life, and it lifted from the floor to deliver a precise series of turbolaser shots. One by one, the droids were slagged as the N-1 rotated. Satisfied that the situation had been dealt with, I turned back to my own task.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were already chasing the Sith across narrow walkways, and I fed Force-energy into my muscles to catch up. We surrounded the creature as best we could, they on one side and me on the other. Admittedly, he'd been well trained in the martial arts; every part of his body was a weapon. It didn't hurt his case to have the raw strength— both physical and in the Dark Side— that he did. The Zabrak was drawing us further and further from the hangar.

I nearly grazed the beast, the tip of one 'saber burning a long slash down the back of his tunic. The Sith paused for a microsecond before every seam in the damaged piece of clothing tore itself apart, the sleeves fluttering away into the depths of the generator facility. The red-and-black tattoos covered his entire torso.

With a gesture from his free hand, the Sith shoved my companions away with the Force and turned his attention solely to me. His form was somewhat similar to Djem So, and I found myself using more Soresu than Makashi.

"You were holding back, Jedi scum," he snarled as our blades crackled against each other. I used one of Master Dooku's incredibly fast dodges to disengage from the blood-red beam, then attempted a sun djem strike at the center of the lightstaff.

"Seems I wasn't the only one." My attempt to sound casual and composed seemed to enrage him even further, and I shifted further into Soresu. I became the eye of the storm, deflecting blows and waiting for the right opening to appear.

But he soon had to split his attention again, as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan rejoined the battle. After a few moments, the Sith lashed out with a foot, catching the Padawan's midriff and knocking him off the walkway. With my enhanced senses as open as possible, I felt the young man catch himself on another catwalk; he would be back with us soon.

I lunged as Qui-Gon slashed, and the beast flipped over both 'sabers, using the move to get out from between us. He backed along the walkway toward the edge of the massive chamber and a platform extending from the wall. A narrow slit in the wall was barricaded with protective electronics. Shoulder to shoulder, the Jedi Master and I pursued him. Blades clashed briefly on the platform.

Kenobi's boots pounded on the catwalk as the series of crimson ray shields began to open, the farthest one moving first. As soon as the way was cleared, the tattooed creature fled down the hall, and Qui-Gon and I were close behind. The Dark Sider reached the round room at the end, but we had to stop just short of it as the shields closed, only one barring us from reaching him to continue the fight. I glanced back to see our third slide to a halt on the platform, beyond the gates.

I drew in a deep breath, then released the frustration and worry that I felt with the air. The man at my side was doing the same, his eyes closed and lightsaber deactivated. Obi-Wan, in contrast, bounced on the balls of his feet, bursting with anxiety and anger.

My attention returned to the Sith and the room ahead. A wide pit decreased the floor space to about three meters wide all the way around the chamber. The Zabrak paced in front of us, his lightstaff held horizontally by his side. I kept my blades angled toward the polished floor, crossed but not touching each other.

Circuits began to redirect energy as I took another cleansing breath and prepared to truly go on the offensive. The shield vanished, and we surged forward as one with a ferocity that apparently surprised the Dark Lord. For a few precious moments, he could do nothing but defend himself, but then he caught our 'sabers with a block and pushed, forcing us to push back.

A sudden twist let him smash the long hilt of his lightstaff into Qui-Gon's chin, leaving the man clearly dazed as the Sith drew his arm back. I knew in that moment that the best meant to run my friend through. Using every erg of strength that I could muster, I slammed both of my indigo blades down on the blood-red one. It was only barely enough to divert the killing blow into one that only wounded; the tip of the plasma blade drove into the Jedi Master's thigh and cut downwards several centimeters.

The agonized scream froze my blood as my friend fell to the floor and tried to curl into a self-protective ball, his 'saber bouncing away as it automatically shut off. It was matched by howls of denial from me and Obi-Wan. The moment of distraction was almost deadly; the Sith drew on the Force to throw me into the pit, and I only just managed to boost my velocity so that I would land on the other side.

But I pushed too hard, slamming sideways into the wall. My entire head rang from the impact, and the world around me got kind of fuzzy. Somehow, I maintained the presence of mind to register the gates opening a second time and Obi-Wan charging in to trade furious blows with the Zabrak. My vision cleared slowly as they fought, and I realized that the younger Jedi was driving his opponent toward me.

How he knew that I was still conscious and relatively unhurt was beyond me. I, too, had dropped my weapons upon impact, but I was far from helpless. The hateful creature only needed to come close enough to me.

A swift slash from the Padawan's sapphire blade resulted in a successful sun djem, removing about five centimeters from one end of the lightstaff's hilt and destroying the parts that focused the plasma into a blade. What was left sparked, but now the Sith was a bit less dangerous. He stepped back as Obi-Wan kept up his assault, retreating one step… two… three.

Then I struck, one foot hooking around the beast's right ankle, followed by the other smashing into the side of his knee. Bones broke with an audible 'crack' as the joint bent in a direction it was never meant to go, and he went down hard. Obi-Wan pinned him to the floor and, showing remarkable restraint, smashed the pommel of his lightsaber against the Zabrak's temple. The yellow-red irises rolled upwards as he lost consciousness.

The ginger-haired youth stood up, breathing hard and dripping sweat. This was the most strenuous physical exercise any of us had had in days, but he was able to haul me to my feet. I swayed, suddenly dizzy, as Qui-Gon groaned in pain and his Padawan rushed to his side. As I carefully made my way over, leaning against the wall, he used extraordinarily gentle hands to coax his Master into a position where he could evaluate the damage. I tried not to look at the wound, my eyes locked on the older man's face. He was gritting his teeth and grimacing, obviously trying not to cry out.

It took a while, but eventually I sank to the floor next to them, my head still spinning. I could tell that I had a concussion, but my focus was on Qui-Gon. I shifted around until I sat right behind him, then tugged lightly on his shoulders, encouraging him to lean against me. After a moment, he did, and I saw his muscles relax a fraction. Humming idly, I pulled strands of hair away from his face which had escaped during the battle.

"Kreth!" The expletive surprised us both as Obi-Wan glanced quickly at his Master's belt. "Dammit, dammit, dammit…" He searched his own equipment, apparently for the second time, then looked at me. "Comm link?"

"Kriff, the one thing I don't have…" I was usually better prepared than this! Then a metaphorical light came on in my brain as I remembered that I wasn't completely cut off from the outside world, the way I would have been just two weeks earlier. "Anakin!"

"Huh?"

Ani… Ani, can you hear me? I asked, knowing that I was on the edge of panic and that my own Padawan would feel it. Stars, I needed him to answer!

Serra? What's wrong? I sighed in relief.

Get on the comm and tell them to send medical and security personnel to the power generator as fast as possible. I briefly touched the gravely injured man's aura; he was starting to slide into shock, though it was blessedly slow for now. We need a medical capsule and a stasis pod, or the best restraints they have for a Force-sensitive prisoner. We're in a reactor pit off the main chamber, and there's a series of ray shields they'll need to deactivate. Got that?

I was telling them as you told me, he replied with grim satisfaction, though he was definitely not happy about the information I'd given him. Captain Panaka wants to know who's hurt, how badly, and if your prisoner is that Sith thing.

Capsule's for Qui-Gon, lightsaber gouge. I have a concussion, but Obi-Wan is just plain worn out. And yes, the Sith is unconscious, with a crushed knee to boot. I have to go, Ani, before Qui slips out of my grip—

Go, he told me before firmly dampening our bond. I redoubled the psychic hold I'd managed to get on the older man's soul, hampering his departure as much as I could.

"Work with me here," I told him aloud. He was struggling to remain aware, his blue eyes clouded with pain, shock, and fear. "Don't you dare give up on us, do you hear me?" He closed his eyes momentarily, turning his head until one ear rested over my heart. Another, much smaller movement prompted me to resume my soft touches and quiet melody.

A surreptitious glance at the younger human showed that he was deliberately focusing on the healing energies he'd mustered, so much so that he was all but deaf and blind. For a second, my mostly-composed mask slipped, and a single tear travelled down my cheek to hang from my chin and then splash onto Qui-Gon's face. His eyelids fluttered, and then he looked up as far as he could without otherwise moving. Our eyes met, and I suddenly felt like my entire being had rung like a bell.

I cared for this man, I realized, perhaps even more than I had cared for Sifo-Dyas. I'd lost my Master, but I refused to let another person go; even with Anakin to take care of, I'd never be whole if Qui-Gon died.

"Don't leave me," I begged in a faint whisper. My throat knotted up so tightly that I could barely get the next word out. "Please." He blinked once, slowly, keeping his gaze on me.

~You said he'd live if I came!~ a part of me screamed. But for once in my life, the Force didn't respond. Had I not felt my fellow Jedi and the Sith nearby, I might have thought I'd been cut off somehow.

But instead of fretting more, I dove deep into the realm of the mind, twining my being around the struggling light that was Qui-Gon, using the training bond he had to find the rock-like steadiness of Obi-Wan so that I could curl a tendril of myself around him as an anchor to the living world.

If the man in my arms died from this, I would probably kill the Sith without a moment's thought or hesitation. Objectively, I should have been horrified by the possibility, but the thought of losing Qui-Gon was infinitely more frightening.