Chapter 8. Destinations and Destinies

Myr was a different system planet, but with hyperspace, it was close enough for the old spacecraft to have a chance of getting there with the power not even half-charged and it felt pretty close, too, for the Eo-ra'A fiasco to burn fresh and raw in Obi-Wan's mind. By now he was convinced of two things: one, that the memory of that planet was somehow planted into his subconscious by Rhad, and second, that Rhad was way more dangerous than either Tur or Obi-Wan had given him credit for. It was not Rhad getting into his head so soon after Aar that concerned Obi-Wan the most - after all, he was quite sure his former master was very close at the time, and proximity facilitated connection - but rather how easy that was done and how he was not even aware of it until it was too late. He did not even dare wonder how many other things might be lingering in the mess that was his mind, things he was completely unaware of - things that could put himself and everyone around him in danger.

He reached out to the little cabinet under the navi panel where Tur kept some of the gadgets and fumbled blindly until his fingers touched a cool smooth metallic strip, and he shuddered involuntarily as if burned. Taking a deep breath and trying not to dwell on his memories, he wrapped his hand around it and took out the Force collar, holding it in his palm. Tur mentioned it would protect him from outside Force influence. Fine, it was dangerous and should not be worn for long, but he did not need that much time, right? He just needed to stay safe without letting Rhad plant suggestions in his mind and trapping him. What else could the man do? Move his arms and legs as if Obi-Wan was a puppet? The teen did not know what made him shudder - the prospects of putting on a Force collar or that realisation of being controlled by a foreign will. And Rhad could also potentially trace him - or at least detect his presence. He just needed some time when he could be sure his thoughts were his own. Just until he gets further away from Eo-ra'A and finds a way to rescue Tur. Though for that, he will definitely need fully charged engines, - he will need to make sure he can stay on Myr long enough to achieve it. Obi-Wan sighed. The space port landing platform appeared far below in the window. He could not delay any further if he wanted to catch his breath before facing an unfamiliar planet on his own and without the Force to guide him, and probably sick enough that he would be lucky to keep his feet under him. Cool metal settled against the skin of his neck, which broke out in tiny goosebumps, and then, taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan clicked the lock shut, his whole world erupting in an inky splash of blackness.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It sounded like water. That was the first semi-coherent thought that trickled into Tur's head that felt heavy enough to fall off his shoulders if he tried a slightest movement. Awareness crept on him slowly, reluctantly, and he did not know if he welcomed it or not because it came together with a burning pain in his leg and the recollection of what had happened. He needed to get to Obi-Wan. Ri'ilen would give him a place to stay - but the old Twi'lek trader was far from a safe bet, because there was guarantee he would be around. Too many years have passed, and though Tur was certain he would never leave his shop, he was also far from immortal. And Tur did not know anyone else. When he stayed there with Mayte, he was not really after making friends, and when he was suddenly on his own, even talking to people was the farthest thing from his mind. That left no choice - he had to get out of here as soon as he could. If only he could get up - durasteel cuffs dug into his wrists before he could even try standing. That was unfortunate - he had to do something about that leg first, it most certainly did not look like a blaster wound, and he could not let it jeopardise his escape.

Little white lights flickered on, illuminating the cell, and Tur heard a door whoosh open behind his back, and tried futilely to twist his head to see who just entered.

- I like to make my appearance a surprise, - the voice that spoke was soft and ordinary, betraying no particular local accent. - Otherwise, it's too predictable. But you'll see me soon enough. See, we haven't really met before but I know a bit about you. And you must know a bit about someone who belongs to me.

Steps echoed on the floor, and Tur raised his eyes to look at the speaker. It was a middle aged man of medium height, pale-skinned and dark-eyed, someone you would never pick out in the crowd if not for a long black braid trailing down his back.

- I can't shake the feeling we've met, my friend, - smiled the stranger. - But you don't seem to know my name, so it wouldn't be very friendly for me not to introduce myself. Di'el Rhad, at your service, - he gave a small bow. Sith, Tur rolled his eyes, if his wound was not going to kill him, the theatrics would. Trust Obi-Wan to choose the single planet where his former master was ready to entertain, of all places. Out of all bars in the galaxy, we walk into yours, he thought wryly, amused despite the situation at how a line from some positively prehistoric holofilm - disgustingly romantic, but Mayte loved it - fit into the scene in some grotesque affinity.

- You aren't the one to talk, are you? - Rhad came closer, looking at him intently and clucked his tongue. - I really wish you would reconsider. After all, - he reached out and pressed his fingers on both sides of Tur's wound, and Tur barely managed to clamp his mouth shut at the last second to prevent himself from crying out at the pain that exploded in a thousand lights in front of his eyes, - we haven't really started getting to the business yet. There was an old-fashioned bullet inside - I've taken the liberty of pulling it out so that you don't die on me too soon of infection, but it's up to you if you'll bleed out right here.

- What do you want with him? - Tur squeezed through gritted teeth

- Want? - Rhad sounded innocently puzzled. - Nothing more than what belongs to me. I trained that boy. His every habit, every thought, everything, he owes to me. Do you know he carries a little… memento from me? Did he really think I was not going to find him? - Rhad chuckled. - I've come too far to abandon my pet project halfway. And you will tell me where he is.

Rhad stepped away and started walking, measuring the narrow space of the cell with leisurely strides.

- It's such a delicate thing, a Force bond, - he mused aloud. Sometimes, we can command whether or not it is created. But we can determine when and how it is destroyed. It looks like Obi-Wan survived my little creation well. I saw him when he was still on the ship. Did you know it was I who had created that memory in the effort to bind him to this place?

Tur only glared grimly. He had already berated himself for listening to the kid, he should have known better. That the idea did not even belong to Obi-Wan in the first place made him even more annoyed with himself but not particularly surprised.

- You think you were smart, don't you? Cutting me off with a Force collar? I wasn't aware the Jedi stopped to getting their hands dirty like that, - Rhad leaned his back on the opposite wall, watching Tur's face with interest. - But there's a slight hiccup, you see. You think everything is a win-win situation. You think you can cut out the Force and contain the imprint. But this one is quite simple - you lose either way. Though you lose faster with a Force collar. This little creature needs to feed. If you don't let it out to feed on the ever-present Force, it'll stay inside and feed on what it has. But I didn't really want them to die, you know? This entire thing has one use, and that is beyond imagination. You can completely control a person's mind. Can you imagine that? Obi-Wan would jump from a skyscraper if I told him so. Imagine what a little army of such soldiers could do.

- You seem to be so sure of yourself, - taunted Tur, throwing caution to the winds. - But why would you need me if you can trace Obi-Wan on your own?

Rhad raised his thin eyebrows.

- The foolish boy has a Force collar on. Unfortunately for me, I cannot use the link to my satisfaction. But unfortunately for him, he won't last long like this. And when he can't stand it anymore, we'll see what happens.

Tur groaned inwardly. The kid must have felt something through his bond and now wanted to hide from Rhad. Putting the collar on himself might have been brave but what would happen if he leaves it on for too long? Tur didn't want to think about how long was too long.

- But, as much as I like chatting with you, I have very limited time. - said Rhad, suddenly business-like. - Let's find out where my apprentice has gone. - He reached out, pressing his gloved hand against Tur's wound and this time, Tur could no longer keep silent.

- - identify yourself and state your purpose. I repeat, please identify yourself - oh, are you alright, sir?

Obi-Wan bent over the navicomp panel, struggling to catch his breath. He just needed a couple of minutes to calm down the heart beating a military tattoo in his chest and to stop feeling like he was drowning with his lungs full of water. He was lucky he did not completely pass out - but he really had to respond to the dispatcher droid who sounded marginally concerned. He recited the vessel number and said he was just going to recharge - he wasn't good with fake names, and was just hoping the droid would not press. It did not, and Obi-Wan mentally sent thanks to the Force. No use preventing Rhad from trying to trace him through the Force if instead he was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs on neighbouring planets. But his luck ended there. His craft was taken to a repairs shop to charge, where the owner, a Rattataki, bored to death by the dull job, explained to him he would need to wait at least two days for them to fix some potential engine problem. Other shops might boast an alternative opinion, but Obi-Wan had limited funds, and this one was cheap enough. He would see if he can borrow something else…

The local space port canteen was as good of a place to start the search as any. There must be some drifter in possession of a spacecraft with a dubious reputation that would agree to give him a ride for a handful of credits and a very mild Force suggestion (it was wrong, but these were desperate times). Obi-Wan sat down in the corner, ordering something to eat, but quickly realised he would not be able to bring himself to do it. Such a waste of credits which he already had too few left. The canteen was not as busy as it could be, but nobody looked like a good candidate for business to Obi-Wan. Granted, they were all mostly crooks and outlaws, but he needed a more or less honest one, and the longer he sat there, his long-cold sausage with a bit of vegetables lying depressingly in front of him, the more hopeless the whole affair looked like.

- I say, they must have steaks here. Wouldn't they, Bant? If I survive one more day on greens…

- Oh shut up, do you see anywhere else cheap enough? And by the way, I never knew you cared what you ate, only how much. We might be off on a leisure trip, but that doesn't mean…

The voice got drowned by the low buzz of the canteen which sounded like a sort of a bee hive. Obi-Wan jumped out of his chair, cutting his way through the crowd (he could not very well shout for his friends, who by some inexplicable will of the Force were somehow here) as fast as was humanly possible.

- Bant!

The Mon Calamarian whirled around, her eyes widening in shock then surprise then pure delight when she saw him.

- Obi! - she covered her mouth with her hand, seemingly overcome by emotion. - We thought… we thought you were…

- Hey! - Obi-Wan wrapped her in a hug. - Hey, I'm alright, I guess I just lost my way a bit when running from the Temple.

- They told us the 'craft exploded…

- Well, you see, the news of our friend's death appear to have been exaggerated, - Reeft appeared out of nowhere with a few steaming dishes which made Obi-Wan's head swim. - It's good to see you, mate. Garen is over there manning the fortress - that's holding out table. Come on, you owe us a story of your miraculous survival.

Sighing resignedly, Obi-Wan began his story. Sitting in this canteen, talking to his friends, felt surreal. It was almost like the old times at the Temple when they would all share stories over food (because, as Reeft always said, food, unlike stories, was not meant for sharing).

- Sith, that's one hell of a tale, - whistled Garen when at length Obi-Wan finished. - I wonder why it's always you out of the four of us who has the most excitement. But seriously, what are you doing here now?

Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks. He did not really want to involve his friends in this. They were on a short vacation-like trip, Garen delivering a message and the rest tagging along because they were given a couple days' leave (which was rare, but apparently having masters who are friends had its advantages). They were supposed to be back at the Temple soon, not gallivanting to a different system to solve a mess Obi-Wan had left behind. But Bant, always perceptible, beat him to it.

- You're plotting something. Don't even try to say you aren't.

Obi-Wan sighed. Female inquisition. It was a total waste of time to resist.

- Alright, maybe I am. I'm going to tell you - but please, please, just keep out of it. That former Jedi from the planet where I landed - he has been captured trying to defend me. I can't leave him behind. I have to go back.

- But Obi, he specifically told you he'll find you. If you go back, you can both be captured…

- I don't care! - exploded Obi-Wan, not really realising the source of his anger. It must have been that he was completely wiped out. Thank the Force the collar was safely hidden under a scarf, at least his friends did not see it. But though he could not see it himself, he could feel it very acutely. It was getting extremely hard to keep his eyes open, and breathing was becoming a taxing chore. He had to hurry. - I don't care. I'm sorry, I just… just need to go there. I can't hide and wait for him, I just can't.

- Alright, alright, - Bant raised her hands placatingly. - I see your point. But how are you going to help him by getting yourself captured?

- I won't. I know where this is. I caught a glimpse through our training bond. - Obi-Wan shrugged at the incredulous faces of his friends. - An even longer story. Anyway… If I land my 'craft discreetly, I can sneak in…

- How do you even know he is even still there?

- It was hours ago. We didn't really have the ammo to fight off the droids - if I just get a 'craft that's not running on fumes… I have to try. You go your way, and I'll go my way. I'll send you a postcard if I have a chance, - Obi-Wan smiled wryly, thinking he must have been hanging around Tur for too long. Luckily he didn't say If I survive. Tur was rubbing off on him.

- What do you mean, you'll send a postcard? - Garen glared at him incredulously. - We've missed enough fun as it is, right, Reeft?

- You know, mate, it's like you've got a bucket of popcorn and are refusing to share, - the latter nodded solemnly.

- Doesn't anyone have the slightest bit of sense? - Bant exclaimed. - Nobody can go there, it's too dangerous. Obi-Wan needs to get to the safe place, and you shouldn't encourage any half-cooked plans!

- Hey! - Obi-Wan pouted in mock offence. - My plans only come well-done.

- Even if they came burnt to a crisp. You can't go, - Bant shook her head in exasperation.

- I'm not going to be fighting anyone. I'll just be giving my friend a lift. He has no way to get off that planet on his own.

- Well, in that case, we are going to help you, - said Reeft.

Bant folded her arms on her chest.

- Fine! If everyone is going to go with this inane idea, you'll at least need someone who actually thinks before jumping into action, - she huffed. - And we're taking our craft. Because it's not like we've got anything to lose after we go with this completely unauthorised mission.

- Alright, - Garen rubbed his palms together. - If that's settled, we need a plan.

And we need it fast, thought Obi-Wan, another wave of vertigo surging through him. Tur was right - he was fading fast. He only hoped he would be able to say it to his face.

Obi-Wan tried to listen to what his friends were saying, but the drone of the engines was comforting and his body was begging him to give in and sleep. A tidal wave of fatigue was relentlessly pulling him under, and he struggled against it valiantly, though it was certain he was going to lose this battle at some point.

- Obi! Are you paying attention?

He jolted awake from what felt like a momentary lapse into slumber, trying to look as alert as possible.

- Sorry - I was just thinking about something else.

- I hope that something else was where we should land. Aren't they going to detect our presence as soon as we land?

Obi-Wan sincerely hoped not.

- I think it was just a trap for me. They knew we'd come that time. They needed to cut us off from our 'craft. We can land on the opposite side. Then you stay here, I'll go and look for my friend.

- Can I just say once again that this is a very bad idea? - Bant muttered but turned away to look at the maps.

- It is. That's why I'm going down myself. You'll be on standby ready to take off. Listen, guys. I'm serious. Two are needed to get this in the air. One to cover me when I get back. We can't spare anyone. I'll be quick.

The rest of the trip passed as if in a surreal dream. They landed in the twilight on the dusty ground. The air was eerily silent, and the buildings yielded no light, standing like ghostly silhouettes on the horizon. Obi-Wan slipped out of the 'craft, quietly making his way to the buildings. He was almost spent, but Tur was in one of them, and he could hold on for a little bit, couldn't he?

More steps. The buildings were close. Very close. His temples were pulsing, echoing every word.

I'm not talking about your ambitions. It's your body that's at stake.

His body… Why wouldn't his body just bloody obey him when he needed it? Obi-Wan felt incredibly stupid for venturing here alone. What was he thinking? With the handicap of the Force collar, he had no chance of even reaching the buildings to look for Tur. And now, when Rhad was likely very close, he could not even think about taking the collar off. He looked back over his shoulder. He had made it so far, he could not hope to reach the spacecraft, which felt like miles away the way his knees were barely holding him up. He had to get to Tur. Yes, that would be fine. Tur would know what to do. He could just rest…

Obi-Wan did not even feel his body hit the cold dusty grass, moist with evening dew.

- N-never… ah-underestimate your enemy… - Tur whispered under his breath, managing to give the lock on his handcuffs a final twist with a pin he had by some divine interference found on the floor. Sith, either Rhad entertained ladies here or wore them in his braid. Tur would have smirked if he did not feel so utterly unbearable.

After his little session with Rhad he had been left alone. He did not know how many hours had passed - judging by the fact that he had not yet died from an infection in his leg wound, it should not have been too long. He was positive he was burning up, at least the floor was not supposed to move under him and walls usually stood quite still instead of shrinking away from him when he tried to lean his weight against them. But his luck was still with him. Once the building structure more or less stabilised and his surroundings slowed down their carousel spinning, he managed to stand up and look around the room, his eyes finally landing on a small vent just below the ceiling. He did not want to be ungrateful to the gracious Force, but he still idly wondered what the Sith chances were for if one was not physically capable of using them. He would need to grab and pull his body up… Without much help from said body. But it did not matter. He had to get out. He had to - kriffing - get -

- Sith! - Tur swore as his fingers slipped for the upteenth time. He had to get out of here. With all his strength, he grabbed the unyielding durasteel and painstakingly slowly leveraged his body upwards, squeezing his shoulders into the opening of the vent. Let's hope it leads outside.

Cool air hit his flaming face like a bucketful of ice water. He was free, and it did not really matter that the ground he fell on felt like a brick wall hit him on his face. He forcibly pushed himself upright, stumbling forward, and he barely registered the whoosh of blaster shot passing perilously close to his head. What was going on? Were they still targeting their ship - but Obi-Wan had left hours ago. It did not match. But there really was a ship. There, with its signals muted - Tur broke into a half-run, dragging his injured leg behind him. The ramp of the spacecraft was open, beckoning to him. He did not know if these were friends or foes but he was very much taking that chance.

- Sir, come on, we have to leave soon! - someone grabbed at him, shouldering his weight and pulling him forward, up the waiting ramp.

- We're taking fire. I told you I can't really work shields!

- Well, do something, neither can I!

- Oi, Reeft! We have to get in the air, there soon won't be anything to fly in…

- Sith, help me with him… We can't just leave -

- We need to think of something…

- There's no kriffing time! Garen, punch it, now!

The floor swayed under him once again, and Tur fell into the abyss that opened, swallowing him whole.

- Well, my little padawan, - a disembodied voice floated to the surface of his mind. - I see you tried to hide from me. But we meet again.

Hands pulled his body up, and Obi-Wan felt himself carried, almost lovingly. It was dark, and cold, and dark, terrifyingly dark, but it would be alright. He was too spent for anything else.