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TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter eleven: the meeting of hubris and nemesis
"Well, Kenobi, this is it. Good luck."
Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled tightly, but the gesture didn't touch his eyes. "I don't need luck; I have the Force."
He said it even though he hadn't been able to properly sense the Force for some time, said it even though he was starting to doubt the truth of the words, said it even though there was an ache in his heart where the Force and his Master should have been. But he didn't want to think about that, so instead he readjusted the fasteners across the breast of his flightsuit and dropped his gaze from Delian's.
"Yeah, well, good luck, anyway," the Corellian repeated quietly. She was far more subdued today than she'd been the day before, and for that Obi-Wan was grateful. With all that was already going on, he didn't think he had the energy to spare mulling through what either of them were thinking, especially after last night, when…something…had happened, some sort of softening around the edges. There was something unique, brash, and amazing about her, something about the way the Force flowed around her that made him wonder in curiosity.
Maybe, he mused tiredly, if things were different… maybe if this whole mission hadn't gone to hell.
Damn it, anyway.
She handed him a pair of flight gloves and a helmet, which Obi-Wan accepted with a sigh, and she leaned over to drop a quick kiss on his cheek, which he took with a smile. Delian ran a loving hand across the old, modified, and heavily armed racer that she'd selected for his use.
"Take care of this one too, will you? I know she doesn't look like much, but she'll see you through."
Obi-Wan quirked a half-smile. "Ignoring, of course, that the entire object of the game is to smash everyone else's vehicles into space dust?"
Delian tilted a warning finger at him. "Just not mine, ace. If you lose, I'll have your hide." She grinned at him lecherously, a familiar sparkle in her expression. "Or maybe I will anyway."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "You just never quit, do you?"
"I'm Corellian," Delian laughed, but there was a serious glint in her eye. "Of course not."
OOOOOOOOOO
"This is insane," Obi-Wan muttered, jerking hard on the steering grips to avoid a spinning podracer hurtling toward him, wildly out of control. So far, his strategy had consisted mainly of flying around letting everyone else battle it out while he stayed out of the way. It had worked pretty well so far, but some of the other gamers had caught on and apparently pegged him as an easy mark.
"Completely insane," he added for emphasis, though no one was listening; Delian was watching anxiously from the spectator quarter, but the rules of the game prohibited the racers from contacting anyone outside the arena to keep things "fair".
Obi-Wan snorted. There really wasn't anything fair about this game at all. It was a stupid rule.
It was also oddly ironic; the notion of risking one's life for fun – not that he was having any. For a Jedi, life-threatening experiences were a career requirement. For these people, the hundreds of screaming, cheering, wagering fans, and the fifteen or so racers swerving about frenziedly, this was entertainment.
In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have been involved – it was illegal, after all – but then he also shouldn't have sold himself, either.
Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered why there wasn't a Grey aspect of the Force. He'd certainly spent enough time of late in the murkier areas of morality.
He sent his little craft swerving left and out of the way of a decidedly out-of-place landspeeder, then used his guns to destroy one of the engines. The landspeeder spun and scorched into the ground, sending powdery sand arcing upwards in a spray of shimmering gold as it abruptly ground to a halt, out of commission – and out of the game. The crowd roared, cheers of pleasure and shouts of disappointment crashing together in the crazed din.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Tatooine's newest celebrity, he thought to himself; the Force screamed a warning and he twisted his small craft away from a modified Headhunter that was barreling down on him, lasers raking a path of grooved landscape as it roared past.
Hold on, Anakin.
He managed to pull his craft into a sharp climb that took it out of the way of the Headhunter's onslaught; the other racer screamed beneath him in a blur before being promptly taken out by a Rancor outfitted with shoulder cannons.
Right, Obi-Wan thought, another one down. Thirteen more to go.
If there weren't lives unnecessarily at risk in this Game, he might actually have enjoyed himself…
…until the Something that was interfering with his connection to the Force intensified suddenly, tickling the edges of his mind, and it didn't feel like anything so much as applying slow, steady pressure to a small hole in the center of a glass plate and watching the resulting webbing of cracks spread across the surface.
Obi-Wan blinked hard and jerked his head to one side, trying to refocus his attention on the Game and remember that he was playing for Anakin, but Something was out there.
Something Dark. And it was looking for him.
It whispered in his mind, a soft phantom that coaxed and mocked him and demanded his attention, whispered the promise of dark and pain and fear. Obi-Wan's racer almost took a direct hit to the tiny cockpit as his attention faltered, and he struggled to bring himself under control.
Obi-Wan…
The voice in his head startled him; it had been some time since anyone had linked their thoughts to his, and yet only his Master should have been able to do it. Had Qui-Gon finally come back? Obi-Wan almost smiled in sheer relief; he'd been anxious over the silence of their Bond.
Master?
It was similar to Qui-Gon in strength, but twisted and dark. It pulled on him, demanding his awareness.
You will come to me.
…what?
If not you, then . . . the boy.
Obi-Wan's breath caught. Anakin?
A flash of red crossed his vision, and cold permeated his entire body. He had to get to Anakin, he knew without hesitation.
Anakin was in danger.
Taking a moment to thank the Force that his slave transmitter controls were switched off and secured safely on his belt, Obi-Wan flipped the speeder around and pointed it toward Mos Espa.
OOOOOOOOOO
Mouth agape, Delian Ani-Suru could only stare at the monitor before her as it showed Kenobi actually leaving the race.
"What the hell are you doing, Kenobi?" she muttered angrily.
Beside her, Dirak's mouth hit the ground. "Does he understand he's disqualified?" he asked incredulously, but then a slow smile crossed his face and he turned to his Corellian partner. "Kenobi loses. Pay up."
Delian just stared in shock.
OOOOOOOOOO
After what seemed like an eternity of endless desert, the small hub of Mos Espa slowly grew on the horizon. Obi-Wan's breath was hitching painfully in his throat – he felt so smothered by Dark he could scarcely breathe. Even the exercise he had participated in on Dagobah under Qui-Gon's tutelage hadn't imbued him with such a sense of Dark as he felt now, speeding toward a child he knew was in danger because of him.
Dusk was falling and the streets were slowly emptying as Obi-Wan roared through the small town, pulling up to the junk dealer's shop and killing the engine. The Jedi leapt from the cockpit, surprised when he stumbled just a bit on his landing. Apparently the Games had taken more out of him then he'd expected.
Well, the Games, yes, but also malnutrition, sleep deprivation, and withdrawal from the energy capsules he'd been partaking of quite liberally, not to mention depression and a rapid shift in his normal daily routine.
Obi-Wan straightened painfully. He was tired, sore, and never, ever, everwanted to see a racer again. Helmet clutched wearily in his hand, he strode into the gloomy recess of Watto's shop, looking around for Anakin or Watto. The room was dark and quiet.
Too quiet?
Obi-Wan gently loosed his lightsaber from his belt, its comforting weight resting easily in his hand. He cushioned his footfalls to dampen the noise of his boots and stole through the shop's interior without a sound. I'm coming, Anakin.
"Where's Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan halted in the shadows at the grim, growling voice coming from the back lot.
"I know he's here," the soft rumble continued. "Where is he?"
"Mos Eisley," the response came from Anakin, his defiant tones not quite masking the fear in his childish voice.
"He belongs to me," Watto interjected hastily, and Obi-Wan heard his wings beating furiously. "Any business you have with him goes through me!"
There was almost a trace of humor in the dark voice. "Is that so?"
The Jedi's eyes widened as the night's silence was pierced by very familiar sounds: the warm hum of a lightsaber igniting, and then a noise Obi-Wan recognized as a downward stroke, Anakin's gasp, and Obi-Wan's own lightsaber sprung to life in his hand as the young Jedi barreled up the stairs just in time to see the cleaved halves of Watto's body hit the ground. Anakin's eyes were huge in the darkness, gleaming in fear but also anger. A black-clad shadow swung around to face Obi-Wan, its tattooed face widening into a slow, pleased grin.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have much looked forward to this meeting."
Obi-Wan's ignited azure blade was up and at the ready as he slowly moved closer to both the creature and Anakin, intent on protecting the boy. "Really?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. "I'm sorry to say I don't share the pleasure of making your acquaintance, as you seem to prefer action before thought and violence before mercy."
Waves of dark energy were rolling off the intruder, and Obi-Wan drew a deep breath, trying to steady the unease that rippled through him. The creature drew back his hood slowly, revealing several small, sharp horns adorning his skull and a jagged pattern of red and black lines marking his skin. His yellow irises burned with hate from within red, bloodshot eyes. A Zabrak, Obi-Wan's mind supplied helpfully.
A pity he was already so weary.
Obi-Wan had managed to place himself in front of Anakin; he wanted to tell the boy to bolt, to run, damn it! but he was unsure how the Zabrak would react, and he couldn't put Anakin in harm's way. The boy meant so much to Qui-Gon.
"I have come to speak with you," the Zabrak hissed, his voice sliding over Obi-Wan like oily water, clinging to him uncomfortably like a cold sweat. "I am glad the child was sufficient to bring you."
Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin, noticing the boy was a sickly greenish hue; he couldn't seem to keep from staring at the steaming halves of Watto's hewn body. "What is it that you want?" he challenged. "Speak, then."
The Zabrak's knowing smile never wavered. "I want you," he said simply, his pointed teeth stretching across his thin lips as his smile widened.
"Are you afraid of the Dark?"
OOOOOOOOOO
"Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
A swift kick that connected with the workbench brought her the resounding crash she'd wanted as the table's contents – a pile of small tools and some data disks – tipped and toppled to the floor, but her foot throbbed from the blow.
Delian didn't care.
Kenobi was gone.
What the hell had happened? Things had been going relatively smoothly up till now. It wasn't because of her, was it? Was he one of those men who led women on until they willingly professed their love, lust, whatever, and then disappeared to some remote corner of the galaxy, never to be seen again, leaving scores of pining females in their wake?
"I don't think so," she muttered aloud. That didn't sound like her Jedi at all. It must have been something else. Obi-Wan had known that Anakin's freedom was riding on him; why would he abandon that so quickly?
Or maybe Kenobi had gone after Anakin himself. That didn't make much sense, either, but Delian was unable to come up with anything else that was even close. She leaned her head against the frame of the open garage door, looking out across the darkened desert wistfully.
She'd give Kenobi until tomorrow to return. Then she was going to Mos Espa.
OOOOOOOOOO
"My Master wishes your allegiance," Darth Maul continued smoothly.
"Your master? To what end?" Obi-Wan asked sternly, his eyes greying to the color of cold steel and Maul could sense his essence hardening, a calm resolve rising to the fore. Maul almost shivered; it would be such a pleasure to break this one. "I will not bow to the Dark."
"Then your life will have to suffice," the Sith retorted, twisting his lightsaber so the blood-red blade was parallel to the dirt. A second blade sprung to life from the extended hilt, and the hum of blazing energy was loud in Obi-Wan's ears. He heard Anakin's breath catch behind him at the immense threat of the double-bladed saber. Obi-Wan himself had never seen anything like it and felt a momentary stab of regret he was facing this peril alone.
Without waiting, Obi-Wan threw himself at the Sith, drawing him away from Anakin.
"Anakin! RUN!" Obi-Wan shouted as his blade sizzled and sparked at the contact with the Zabrak's. He could see Anakin, eyes wide in fear, rooted to the dirt. "Anakin!"
Maul allowed their blades to remain locked, sizzling and spitting, his eyes grinning as he studied the Jedi in the pale light of their blades. "There is no need to fight, young Jedi," he hissed cajolingly. "There is no need to die! Join me - become my apprentice and I will give you such power as you have never dreamed!"
Kenobi broke away, and Maul saw surprise flash across the Jedi's features. "Yes," the Sith breathed; already he could sense Kenobi's formidable power and it tantalized him, pushed him on hungrily. How beautiful it would be to draw him to the Dark! Lord Sidious would not have this one, Maul decided. Such a prize would not slither through his fingers.
"Is there no anger in you, young one?" he growled softly, as he and Kenobi circled each other warily, lunging forward, drawing back, both hesitant to fully attack: Obi-Wan, because he wasn't prepared to take on a Sith alone in his current state of exhaustion, and Maul, because he didn't want to permanently maim his desired protégé.
"Do you not desire revenge?" the Zabrak continued smoothly. "Are you not angry at being left here, abandoned by your Master, sold as chattel to the highest bidder?"
"I wasn't abandoned," Obi-Wan returned calmly, eyes dark and hard. "I am here by my own choice."
Thrust. Parry. Glowing blades snapped and sparked as they struck each other, casting a sickly glow on the fighters' strained faces.
"Then you were dissatisfied, perhaps, with the pathetic Jedi ways?" Maul resumed, his excitement coiling through his breath. "Do you not wish for more? Do you not wish to taste your power, to unleash it fully and use it as you may?" He spoke the softly the same words that had been spoken to him not so long before. "Why allow yourself to chafe under rules that are centuries old and have no place in one as strong as you? Join me," he hissed invitingly. "There would be no need for you to - " Maul's expression twisted in a disgusted sneer as he noticed the transmitter controls clipped to Obi-Wan's belt, " - sell yourself while in my service."
There was no emotion in Kenobi's voice, the Sith's words rolling swiftly off his stern front, temptation easily ignored. "I will not join you."
"Then you will die," Maul murmured self-assuredly.
Obi-Wan shrugged wearily. "So be it." He lunged suddenly, nearly catching the Sith unprepared but the dark warrior rounded in time and blades clashed and sparked as their combined hum filled the air as their wielders whirled and spun, striking and blocking until, as if by mutual consent, they both backed off, returning to their ready positions and their breathing slightly winded.
"Give in," the Sith urged. "I will not fail you."
"I will not yield," Kenobi replied, stepping forward into a strong thrust. "I will not surrender to a life of dark pleasure built on the suffering and death of innocents to feed my own ego."
"You already place yourself on a pedestal," Maul retorted promptly, "from which you shall soon fall!"
With a sudden flick of his gloved fingers, Maul called the transmitter controls from Obi-Wan's belt into his outstretched hand, switching the unit on and mercilessly increasing the voltage linked to the unit's punishment feature. The muscles in Obi-Wan's thigh immediately jumped and spasmed, and Obi-Wan grit his teeth as his leg buckled under him, dropping him jerkily to one knee in the dirt. His lightsaber he still gripped firmly in his hand, but, as Maul had intended, he was left in an awkward and nearly impossible position in which to defend himself as he hunched painfully over the throbbing source of his agony. The Sith stood over Obi-Wan, ready to offer the Jedi mercy and a second chance, but waiting and watching for his moment.
Maul increased the power again and Obi-Wan gasped, scrabbling blindly at his thigh as if he could dig the transmitter out himself as the tremors increased until they were racing up and down his lean frame and he curled in on himself, a trembling ball of agony. He didn't scream, which disappointed Maul: it would have been lovely.
The Sith waited one moment more, and then hit the switch to kill the transmitter's power. He was vaguely aware that the boy he had seen with Watto was still standing off to the side, yelling frantically for Obi-Wan who was on his knees, sweat pouring down his face with one hand braced in the dirt to keep himself from falling and the other clenching his lightsaber in a white-knuckled death grip.
Obi-Wan gasped at the sudden absence of current slicing through his body, immediately struggling to rise and Maul was pleased by the display of strength. Kenobi was dangerously weakened; his time on Tatooine had not been good to him, and even though the Jedi's pale face shone determinedly in the dark, Maul knew he was within reach if only he could drive the blade in a little deeper.
"Did you feel it?" the Sith asked curiously.
Obi-Wan ignored him, focusing solely on his blade and calming his breathing. He could still feel tiny jolts of electricity coursing through his body and he knew he had to get the controls from the Sith before the transmitter was used again.
"Did you feel it?" the Sith repeated, calmly conversational. "When I struck down your Master? Your name was on his lips when he died. Did you hear him? Did you feel him bleed?"
Obi-Wan froze, his blood sliding like ice through his veins. "No," he breathed, trying to impart strength into his failing voice. Obi-Wan heard Anakin's gasp, but it sounded far away as the wind roared in his ears. Did he feel it? Had he heard it? "You lie," he protested faintly, a bare flash of memory releasing a horrified feeling, a half hidden memory … he'd been certain he'd been impaled through the chest, and had discovered that the phantom pains hadn't belonged to him at all, but to his Master. He had forgotten … how could he have forgotten? Qui-Gon hadn't answered because Qui-Gon was dead … dead …
"You killed him," he whispered, the silence in his head slowly beginning to make sense.
The Sith smiled, a gruesome, pleased display of teeth and hatred. "I killed them all," he said simply.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The scream didn't come from Obi-Wan. Anakin Skywalker shrieked at the words of the Sith, an inhuman yell tinged with venom and the promise of retribution. Obi-Wan started in horror at the noise from the child – he could literally see the Dark Side of the Force swirling hungrily around Anakin, feeding on and encouraging his rage. The Sith also turned speculatively, no doubt sensing the same, and his lips twisted in a feral smile.
"Padmé!"
There was an incredible swell of dark power shifting, and Obi-Wan's gaze swung to Anakin in horror.
"Anakin, no!" the Jedi shouted, throwing up a hand to ward off the boy's frenzied rush toward the Sith, his fingers already twitching.
A bright crackle of Force-lightning nearly knocked the unprepared Maul off his feet as Anakin, eyes alight with ruthless darkness, focused his untrained powers at the Sith. Obi-Wan fought to rise to his feet but Maul was faster, swinging his lightsaber around to catch the onslaught and directing the crackling electricity back toward Anakin. The blue fire sizzled into the boy's chest, halting his forward movement and sending him tumbling backward to lie in a crumpled heap in the sand.
With an inarticulate cry, Obi-Wan lurched to a standing position and barely managed to bring his lightsaber around and down through the Sith's outstretched arm, slicing it off cleanly just below the elbow. Maul cried out in pain, and Obi-Wan was almost amazed to realize that it sounded like the cry of a normal sentient being. Praying – begging – for the Force to help him, the young Jedi reversed the swing of blade and struck again.
Maul looked down, surprise alighting in his grotesquely painted features as he studied the azure blade that had neatly pierced his abdomen. "Well done, Kenobi," he murmured, then toppled to the ground.
Obi-Wan powered off his lightsaber, stumbling awkwardly and dropping to his knees beside Anakin but there was nothing he could do; the small chest was still. Tears stung his eyes at the wasted life, though he recalled Anakin's terrible rage with a shudder.
Maul's words echoed in his ears. Had the Zabrak truly killed Qui-Gon and the Queen, and the others? He could still hear the Sith's labored, grating breathing; he was dying but not gone yet.
"I have to know," Obi-Wan mumbled, staggering back to the Sith's crumpled body and pressing his fingertips to the sides of Maul's face.
Maul smiled.
The doors that the Force had in its gentleness closed snapped open, throwing Obi-Wan into the last minutes aboard the Queen's downed vessel and immersing him in Dark.
He was crying when the blackness finally took him.
OOOOOOOOOOO