Something told Chloe that Zak Roden wasn't pleased to see her.
He ignored her offered hand and looked at her suspiciously. "Jedi?"
Anakin answered for her. "No. Chloe is… a friend. She, err, loaned me her ship for the trip here."
Chloe noticed a flash of gold teeth when Roden smiled. His leering gaze slid down her body. "I get it. Always thought it must be awful lonely in that temple."
"Yeah, sure is," Anakin said vaguely, leading them over to a table at the side of the cantina.
Chloe sat beside Anakin, Roden opposite. As Anakin made small talk about trade and the war, Chloe studied their informant. Probably well past fifty standard years. Hair - greasy, grey, and streaked with white - pulled back into a ponytail that accentuated a receding hairline. Skin leathery and stained with the telltale blotches of a long-term spice user.
Anakin was asking if he'd decided to go straight yet and make an honest living.
Roden laughed. Anakin laughed. Just like old friends.
Their drinks arrived. "So where's the boss?" Roden said, taking a gulp of his whiskey. "Finally taken one blaster bolt too many?"
"He's busy," Anakin replied. Sends his apologies."
"You sure?" Roden glanced to the door. "Not planning something you might regret?"
"Don't, worry. I'm well aware you're more use to us a free man than you'd be breaking rocks on Kalstine. Trust me."
"I do, fool that I am."
They laughed again.
Roden banged his empty glass down on the table. "Then, as much as I'd like to spend all day drinking you under the table, we'd better get on to business."
"Of course."
"Credits first."
Anakin smiled. "You know how this works, Zak, and so do I. You'll get your fee. I just need a time and a place. And evidence so we know you're telling the truth."
"You're getting more like Kenobi every time I see you," Roden said. "I've got the works. Everything you need. But let's go someplace more private. You never know who's listening in a dive like this."
"I'm docked in Sector Two," Anakin said.
"I'm closer." Roden smiled, gold teeth glinting. "Which reminds me. Esme's playing up. You got time to take a look?"
Anakin chuckled. "You're such a cheap brasta, Zak. Anyone would think you did this deliberately to get me to fix your ship."
"I got my retirement to think of. And besides, none of them have your special touch, my boy."
"Okay, okay, I'll see what I can do," Anakin said, getting to his feet and throwing some change down on the table.
Roden led them back to the underground transport station. After a short ride, he signalled for them to get off, and they followed him to a turbolift door.
Two floors up, they stepped out of the lift. Anakin went first, with Chloe following. Roden was behind them. The hangar beyond was almost completely dark, lit only by green luminescent strips on the floor that marked out the three docking bays. Only one of them was occupied; the dark hulk of a ship surrounded by a jumble of storage containers.
"Geez Zak," Anakin began, "you're too cheap to pay for proper light-'
Mid-sentence, Anakin stopped. Twisted round, lightsaber already springing to life in his hand. "Chloe! Get down!"
Instinctively, Chloe ducked and scrambled behind a stack of containers, just as the air around them erupted with blasterfire. She crouched there, head down, heart thumping, brain still trying to catch up. Shouting. More blasterfire. What was happening? She risked a glance up, sliding along the floor slightly until she could peer through a gap between two containers.
There. Men. A lot of them. Red bolts zipping and sparking off durasteel. And Anakin deflecting their fire, his saber cutting swift blue arcs into the air.
Chloe slumped down and closed her eyes. This is bad. Really bad.
Anakin had told her to run for it, and she was bound to be more of a liability to him than an asset. But how? Could she make a dash for the lift? Would someone notice?
But before she had chance to build up the courage to try, a large hand landed on her shoulder. Another covered her mouth.
"Get up. Keep quiet. Move."
Roden. He steered her out into the room, thick fingers gripping her neck. She couldn't move her head to see the men, whoever they were. Roden spoke loudly by her ear. "Hold your fire."
No more shots were fired. Anakin stood opposite, feet planted apart, lightsaber lifted, ready for action. Then she felt it. Cold, hard pressure on the side of her head. A blaster. A ripple of fear slid along her spine.
Roden walked her slowly towards Anakin. "Drop the weapon. Or say a permanent goodnight to your friend."
Anakin's face was lit eerily blue by the light from his saber. He shook his head. "You don't want to do this Zak."
"Drop the weapon. Now." The muzzle of the blaster pressed harder against Chloe's head.
Anakin nodded slowly. "Okay, okay. Whatever you say." The blue blade shrank to nothingness. He tossed the hilt forward, allowing it to skitter across the floor to Roden, who bent, forcing Chloe to bend with him, and picked it up.
"Aspirators," Roden ordered, stuffing the weapon in his pocket and stretching something over his face.
Men, maybe ten or twelve of them, emerged from behind the containers and the ship. Black masks obscured their faces.
"You're making a mistake, Zak," Anakin said.
"Nothing personal," said Roden. "It's just the price they were offering for you, well I couldn't pass it up." He motioned with his free hand to the men. "Take them."
One of the men dropped a canister to the ground. With a pop, it opened, unleashing a curl of dark green smoke.
Chloe recognized it instantly. Chlorogas. Not good. Not good at all...
Three seconds after the dry, sickly smell hit her nostrils, Chloe's legs gave way, her vision swam into gray, and then to black.
She awoke with a groan to pain in her neck, and at her wrists. Her throat was swollen and sore and her head felt fuzzy.
"Anakin…?" She squinted against the bright lights of the holding cell, trying, and failing to move. Thick metal clasps held to the chair on which she was seated: wrists, ankles, waist. She remembered the cantina, the subway, but nothing before that. Only the galaxy's most untrustworthy man. Roden. How could they have been stupid enough to believe a single thing he said?
"You okay?" Anakin said. He was seated beside her, bound in an identical manner. "Are you hurt?"
Chloe winced as something hard pinched the skin of her neck. "Not sure." Experimentally, she wriggled her fingers. "Just bruised, I think. Can't remember coming here, everything is so fuzzy-"
"That will be the Chlorogas. It's still wearing off. Your memory will come back in the next few minutes."
Then Chloe noticed the metal collar around Anakin's neck. "Um… is that what I think it is?"
"Yeah. Force inhibitor. Comfy, aren't they? Take it as a compliment. You must have looked dangerous enough to need one."
I hope he's so relaxed because he's already worked out how to escape. "Who did Roden mean? Who has he sold us-" But Chloe's question erupted into a fit of coughing. Her throat was so dry, as if she hadn't drunk anything all day…
And then she remembered. It all came back, in all its glorious, terrible detail. Terminus. Obi-Wan. The Z-toxin. Nelvaan. Her father. The mission.
The small matter of doing her job. They were supposed to be back on Terminus before Obi-Wan got to Nelvaan. Kriff. Vaping, stanging, kriff…
"How long have we been out?" she said, panic and dread competing for precedence. "Two hours? Three?"
Anakin grimaced. "Depends on the dose. But better not to worry about timetables now. You can always catch the morning shuttle to Galfridian."
Galfridian? What is he talking about? Galfridian wasn't even the name of a planet. Galfridian were a company that made intel hardware. Cameras, microphones, that sort of thing. Then she caught Anakin's intense stare. His eyes motioned to the front of the room.
Chloe noticed the camera mounted on a tripod. Fancier than standard surveillance kit, it looked more like a holo-camera: large, glossy, and expensive. Which meant what? Oh, I see. Someone's watching. But why—
"Don't worry about it now," Anakin said. "Just get some rest."
Chloe understood. Don't risk the mission to Nelvaan too. If they were watching, they were in all likelihood listening as well. Whoever they might be…
Anakin's eyes were closed now, his breathing steady. Chloe could only follow his lead. Letting her head slump back against the chair, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep, hoping beyond all hope that he had a plan. But what could Anakin do—even Anakin—if he was cut off from the Force and bound by every limb? What a mess. How has everything gone so wrong, so quickly? Obi-Wan is going to be furious…
But, a few minutes later, when , already bored, she opened one eye just a sliver, she caught the movement of Anakin's gloved hand. Turned palm-upwards, he was flexing his fingers slowly, rhythmically. Curiously. Open and shut. Open and shut. Then came the faintest sound. A gentle, insect-like buzzing. Anakin's fingers were still now, but, absurdly, a fly, having apparently hatched from his hand, rose upward and flitted about his head.
"Damn bugs," Anakin said.
When she realised what it was, Chloe had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling.
The clever little droid, brand new from the intel development labs, finished its impersonation of an ordinary vapfly, headed straight to the clasp of Anakin's Force-inhibitor. Chloe braced herself for action.
The moment Anakin's collar was released, he Force-smashed the camera against the wall. The vapdroid darted to the clasps at Anakin's wrists, and then his waist. Anakin kicked his own legs free of the ankle-clasps while the droid, having buzzed to a seam on the door panel, disappeared inside.
"Okay," Anakin said, carefully using the edge of the bent metal Force collar to prise open Chloe's restraints. "Getting a bit boring in here, isn't it? Time to continue the tour." He helped her up and across to the door, where mechanism gave a soft click.
"Just a sec." Chloe carefully scooped up the tiny droid as it re-emerged from the panel. "Here." She dropped it back into Anakin's hand. "Don't want our friend here to fall into enemy hands."
Anakin grinned, watching as the vapdroid crawled into the tiny compartment fitted in the surface of his glove.
"Come on," he said, easing open the door. "Stay behind me."
Anakin and Chloe raced from the sub-hangar holding cells, blasterfire spluttering in their wake. At first their escape appeared to have gone unnoticed, but they hadn't even left the sector before the men employed by Roden—or whoever had employed him—were in pursuit.
Chloe was in front when the passageway suddenly opened out into a larger space, and there were men firing from ahead as well as behind.
"Anakin! Wha—"
But as she turned, she misjudged her steps. Stumbled, her ankle twisting awkwardly, giving way. The next moment she was on the ground.
Anakin was by her in an instant, scooping her up, one arm hooked beneath each of hers. But the next second - "Sonic detonators. Kriff it!" He swung her sideways, then let go, practically throwing her away from him, a disembodied Force-shove pushing her even harder through the air.
The air zinged with static as she flew, and a fraction of a second later the room resonated with a vicious, crackling bang—the pressure wave tossing her even further until eventually she landed, skidding across the floor to a stop. Silence. Something felt wrong. Oh, yes. The blast had taken her hearing, temporarily. She twisted around, lifing her head to see—nothing. Just smoke, choking her with the smell of singed metal and burnt leather.
"Anakin!" Her ears popped, sounds bursting back into life. Distant shouting, firing, but farther away. No enemy on top of them. And no reply from Anakin, either.
"Anakin?" Chloe scrambled forward, stumbling to her feet. Her legs were like jelly. She put a hand on the wall to stead herself, coughing and wobbling through the dry smoke until she found the place where she had fallen.
And there he was. On the ground.
"Oh, no. No, Anakin." She dropped to his side. She tried to gently roll him over, but he was too heavy and she was scared about making any injuries worse. Unless… thank heavens, his pulse was there, she could feel it. But he was unconscious, and Force-knew how badly hurt.
She glanced up. Still no-one. Which meant their pursuers had probably scattered detonators in all directions in the hope of knocking her and Anakin out. And they'd most likely be here any second to pick the two of them up. She looked around frantically.
Yes. There. On the wall to her right she spotted the thin shadow: one edge of a ventilation panel. Big enough to fit through, if only she could loosen it. She dug her trembling fingers underneath, ignoring the pain and wrenching at the metal. The panel bent a little but didn't budge. On the third attempt a couple of rivets popped out, and, desperately, she jammed the toe of her boot in the gap and levered the rest of it off.
She looked up. In the distance: footsteps; their attackers moving in.
Beside her, Anakin began to stir. "Chloe?" He started to get up but collapsed back against the floor with a grunt.
She shuffled over to his side. "I found a ventilation shaft. Come on."
Anakin pushed her hand away. "You first."
"But—"
"No arguments."
"Okay." She scrambled inside, waiting for him to slide in past her. Then, with shaking hands, she pulled the panel back in place.
She closed her eyes and caught her breath. "Do you think they saw us?
"No. I think we just about got away with it. Good girl. You did well.." Anakin smiled, but his voice was strained.
Chloe shuffled to where he was slumped, back propped against the side wall of the tunnel. "How are you doing?"
"Fine. Blast just gave me a bit of headache."
"What about that?" His hand was clamped, hard, to his left shoulder.
"Oh, yeah. I think I caught a stray blaster bolt."
"Let me look at it," she said, gently prising his fingers away. It was too dark to see properly, but the thick plate of his armoured tunic was badly pitted, and wet with blood.
"It's fine," he protested. "Just a scratch."
"Shh. Have you got bacta patches? Bandages?"
"Yeah." Anakin tugged a medipac off his belt.
As Chloe dressed and bound the wound as best she could, Anakin fiddled, one-handed, with his com. "No signal. Try yours."
"Nope. Same."
"How are we doing for time?"
Chloe checked the display. "Oh no." It was much worse than she thought. "We've been here over six and a half hours."
Obi-Wan would have arrived on Nelvaan at least an hour ago. He might be in the lab with dad, right now…
"Hey." Anakin put his hand on her arm. "Don't worry about Obi-Wan. There's nothing you can do about it."
"But I'm supposed to be there, to run the intel ops. What if—"
"Our doubts define our reality," Anakin interrupted. "Obi-Wan would want us to concentrate on getting out of here. Now we're still too far underground—we've got to keep moving. This tunnel must lead to the surface. That's where we need to be."
Their progress was slow and, although he was obviously trying to hide it, Anakin's condition had worsened by the time they reached the vertical shaft that would lead to fresh air, and freedom.
They tried the coms again. Still no signal.
Anakin cursed under his breath. He leant his head back against the wall, breathing heavily.
"Can you manage to get up there, with your shoulder?" Chloe said, peering up the shaft. A narrow, flimsy-looking ladder teetered up the narrow passage towards a tiny disc of sunlight at the top. Quickly, she looked away.
"Of course. How about you? Afraid of heights?"
"No." Terrified would be a better word.
He chuckled, but not unkindly.
She looked up. "Don't try to hide things from a Jedi, eh?"
He reached out to squeeze her hand. "You know, you're usually pretty good at shielding your emotions. But in this case the trembling kind of gives it away." He dug in a pouch on his belt. "You should probably try and eat something. Glucose tablets or dried agar biscuits?"
"No chocolate?"
He grinned. "Funny. You should probably have the glucose; it'll kick in faster."
They were silent for a while. Chloe crunched a couple of the tablets. Anakin rested his head on the wall and closed his eyes, having refused to eat anything himself.
"Chloe?" he said, eventually.
"Hmm?"
"I… I'm sorry about all of this. I shouldn't have persuaded you to come here."
"Well that was my choice, remember."
"I shouldn't have let Roden's men take us."
Chloe looked at him. "What?"
"After we left the cantina, I sensed guilt in Roden, just a flicker of it. It was… intriguing."
"You knew he was leading us to a trap?" Now I'm beginning to understand why Obi-Wan might sometimes consider Anakin a challenge...
"The best way to deal with a trap is usually to spring it. You never know what you're going to learn."
Chloe shook her head in disbelief. "And what, exactly, did we learn this time?"
Anakin coughed. "Not much, I guess. Nothing about the location of the toxin test, that's for sure."
"If there ever was going to be a test…" Chloe thought for a moment, remembering the cell. Two chairs. Two Force collars.
"Wait a minute," she said. "It was supposed to be Obi-Wan, wasn't it? You and Obi-Wan. And the camera… they were going to film something. But what?"
"I've no idea."
Slowly, an idea began to form in Chloe's mind. It was repellent at first; horrific, twisted… and just the kind of thing the Separatists would revel in.
Anakin was watching her. "What is it?"
"I wonder…" she said, "thinking out loud…When intel said there would be a test of the toxin, we automatically assumed it would be on a city or world scale. What if we assumed wrong? What if the Seps wanted to demonstrate the toxin, and pull the worst kind of publicity stunt at the same time? What if they never intended to test it on civilians, but on two of the Republic's greatest assets?"
"Us?"
"You, and Obi-Wan."
Anakin grimaced. "Sounds plausible. They'd probably put it out on the holonet too."
"It would certainly attract attention." She shuddered at the thought.
"I guess we should be pleased that, if you're right, then we haven't technically failed in our mission here. Although on the other hand…" He offered her a half-smile. "Obi-Wan is never going to forgive me for bringing you."
Chloe shrugged. "My choice, remember." Her shoulders slumped. "I can't believe how stupid I was, I just…" She sighed. "I have an irrational tendency to run away from problems. And you know what? I never seem to work out that's what I'm doing until it's too late. Obi-Wan is so calm, so composed, I always feel like as much as I try I'm never going to be able to cope with this…" She waved her hands around. "…with him… I mean, what does he see in me? There's probably hundreds of beautiful, elegant, self-assured, brilliant women who would throw themselves at him given half a chance. Why me?"
She realised Anakin was looking decidedly uncomfortable.
Oops. Chloe snatched up the packet of biscuits. "You should probably eat something too, keep your strength up and all that. And, ignore me. I don't know where all that came from. You hardly want to know about my insecurities. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. It's fine."
She looked up at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice.
"Hasn't he told you?" he said.
"What?"
"Why you."
"No." Probably because I'm just convenient. A quick fling before someone better comes along...
"Well he hasn't discussed it with me, either, of course," Anakin said, with a small smile. "But I know Obi-Wan well enough to see it for myself, or at least have a damn good guess, if that would help."
Probably not.
But she didn't say anything, so Anakin continued. "You're right. Plenty of beautiful, self-assured women throw themselves at him. I've been there. It's pretty embarrassing." He rolled his eyes. "Obi-Wan hates it—the pretence, the games, the teasing. The princesses, the queens, they're usually the worst. They look him up and down, and they get that gleam in their eyes, like an Ossicat stalking its prey. You should see how his face falls."
Chloe found herself smiling at the mental image, and remembering Obi-Wan's story about Jamin and the queen whose advances he refused. Her heart lifted a little, the tension and worry easing just a fraction. "I can sort of imagine that."
"Want one?" He offered her the packet.
"No thanks. I'm allergic to agar."
"In fact…" He waved a biscuit at her, "you're not the only one to run away from problems. Many a hasty retreat has been beaten before some scary noblelady has gotten the chance to impose her gratitude on Master Kenobi."
Chloe actually felt herself close to laughing.
"But you're… different," Anakin said, his mouth full. "Kind of... unscary."
"Gee, thanks."
"Your Force signature is sort of… pure, too, in the same way as the signatures of water or plants are. It's unusual. Quite beautiful, in an odd sort of way. Are you really sure Obi-Wan hasn't said all this?"
Chloe smiled, a little shy, and a little sad. "Yes, I'm sure."
Anakin frowned, tucking the half-empty cookie packet back in his belt. "How are you feeling now? Shakes stopped?"
Chloe looked at her hands. "Yeah." She peered up the shaft again, and took a few deep breaths.
"Ready?"
"Not really, but I don't think I'm going to get any more ready."
Anakin shuffled to the edge. "Good girl. Try not to think about it. And don't look down." He swung himself onto the ladder, holding on with his good arm, and stepped down two rungs, motioning for her to climb on above him.
Gingerly, Chloe edged out, clinging on to the rungs so hard it made her fingers hurt.
"Good girl. You're doing well. One hand over the other, and we'll be at the top in no time."
"Anakin, I like you and everything but if you say good girl one more time I might have to stamp on your fingers."
The climb seemed to last for hours. But after what felt like a thousand steps, Chloe reached the top of the ladder.
And let out a slightly hysterical laugh.
"What's so funny?" Anakin was just a few rungs below.
"There's a grate across the top. And it's erm… locked."
"Okay. Keep still. I'm coming past."
Chloe clung on to the thin rungs, feeling her legs and arms beginning to shake as Anakin squeezed past, moving slowly.
He bust open the grate on the third attempt, and climbed through.
"Coast's clear," he said, reaching back and helped her out.
She slumped beside him in the dust, screwing her eyes up against the fierce sunshine. It was late afternoon, and the heat was almost unbearable.
"Well done," Anakin said, hoarsely.
She turned to look at him.
"Oh Anakin."
His face was dreadfully pale, and the dressing she'd taped over the site of his wound was dripping with blood.
Anakin, although weak, did not seem worried. "Over there." He gestured to a clump of rocks. Together, they staggered over and sat down in the shade.
"I hate to say it Anakin but you look terrible," Chloe said, once they'd both recovered their breath. "I should probably go and find some water."
"No," he said. "I can go into a healing trance, now we're out. Com Terminus. They'll already be looking for us. You okay to do that?"
She pulled out her com. "Yes, of course."
Anakin closed his eyes, muttering as he drifted off. "He will… be angry with you… cares about you… I know him…"
"Shhh…" Chloe said. "Rest. Don't worry."
She activated the com unit.
Yes, a signal. Weak, but enough for mid-range communications, which was all she needed.
She dialed the code, and waited, praying for the connection, but dreading the news that might be awaiting her.