*Difficult to see, the future is. Much can change. Your destiny I cannot reveal - much sacrifice will there be in service to this Order.*
Qui-Gon Jinn reached back into memory until the ghost of his master's words returned to him, heavy and haunted with shades of meaning he had not understood when he was fifteen. He settled more comfortably on his knees, resting his hands on his thighs with the ease of constant habit, and closed his eyes to begin his meditation.
Like a flash of light against opaque glass, his master's words to him shone from the past. Yoda's ability to see the shadows of the future in the currents of the Force was legendary, and he had not been able to resist asking his master for a glimpse into his life.
*What will become of me, Master? Will I be a good Jedi?* Unaccountable sadness had filled Yoda's eyes as he gazed upon his padawan and made his pronouncement of sacrifice and service. Qui-Gon wondered fleetingly if his master had foreseen all that would occur, from the death of so many of their colleagues, to the destruction of the Jedi way of life. It had to have been an immense burden, one not easily borne.
Qui-Gon slowed his breathing, concentrating on each soft exhalation, on the warm puffs of air pushed out past his slightly parted lips. He inhaled deeply, pushing stray thoughts away, concentrating on a single strand of memory. He was not gifted with foresight, as Yoda was. It would take much more effort to reach into the Force for the answers...
Sacrifice. He had come to Taganor with hope that perhaps he could save himself, return to his duty. He’d turned in the direction of the brightest flame burning in that tropical jungle, had been drawn to the light of Obi-Wan Kenobi unerringly, though he had not been a conscious act. There was no logic to it, no sense of purpose. What did the Force want of him, that he must surrender his body and his freedom?
He shifted uncomfortably, made restless by the thought. It was odd to think of Kenobi as being the light in this darkness. The man was his captor, his master. He had given of himself because the Force demanded it, but when Kenobi touched him, his blood burned with desire far removed from the call of the Force in his soul. Even now, when he was closed off and alone, deliberately separated from Kenobi by the Regent's massive efforts at controlling the bond, he could feel the throbbing intensity of it between them, building in strength every moment.
Jedi should not be ruled by desire, but desire Kenobi he did. He felt his throat grow tight, his penis stir and harden as he tried to push away thoughts of Kenobi inside him, surging roughly toward climax, dragging him along with a scream at the edge of his voice. His body pulsed with need.
It was time to put such needs aside. *Much sacrifice will there be in service to this Order.* The answer was simple, so clear that he should have been able to see it long before. He was weak, and foolish, and he had allowed his passion to cloud his duty. Perhaps it was a test; the Force had bound him to a man he could never serve, had led him to believe he must submit, become something he was not meant to be.
To escape the trap, he must escape the world on which the trap was laid.
The thought brought an immediate wrongness, a sense of desperation and regret, and he clamped down on the emotions lest Kenobi become aware. He had been confused for so long, consumed with feelings alien to his being, that he was becoming a man he did not recognize. It was time to end that charade, to be as he had always been. His own man. A Jedi.
*Much sacrifice will there be.*
With the arrival of the Sith, there would be opportunity amidst chaos. He had felt the change in the Force, the shimmering decay of the light surrounding him. His life was not guaranteed now that they were on Taganor, and he could not rely on Kenobi to keep him safe. If he had a few moments alone with Valorum, the man could undoubtedly be manuevered into giving up the codes for the force shields surrounding the fortress. All he would need was the chance to disappear, and a little bit of luck.
He heard the door open behind him as if at a great distance, but he sensed no danger, only a strange sort of melancholy. "Xanatos," he said, without turning.
"Yes, Master."
"That word comes so easily to you," Qui-Gon noted, eyes still closed.
"It always did, even when I was free to use it as I chose," Xan answered. "A man may have many masters in a lifetime."
Qui-Gon said nothing, but a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "Very profound," he said wryly. "But do you not think that a man may be his own master?"
"I remember now why I used to dread reviewing my fatalism lessons with you each term," said his erstwhile padawan, chuckling.
"It wasn't your strongest subject," Qui-Gon agreed, feeling a familiar pang of loss for the things swept away by the Sith. He was quiet for a moment, listening to the birds in the garden just outside the window. A presence settled by his side without sound, and he listened for the familiar cues his senses remembered - the shift of his padawan's legs as his spine straightened and his body aligned in the proper posture; the soft sigh as he settled into the correct mindset; the regular, even breaths.
Together, teacher and student knelt in the morning sun, mirror images of past and future, lost in their own thoughts.
*****
"So this is Tatooine, remade." Bruck Chun, Lord of the Sith, strolled across the top terrace of the fortress, watching the erratic flight of birds across the green canopy below. "I would have preferred the desert." He turned slightly, waiting for Kenobi to catch up. "Where is the heir?"
"Safely back at his lessons," Obi-Wan said, drawing to a halt, arms loose at his sides. He felt a tension he'd nearly forgotten, a crawling, itching worry in the back of his skull that made the Dark Side seem like a living thing to him. Being so close to Chun brought back a flood of impressions, things he'd tried hard to bury and forget, experiences that would be better off never recalled.
"I see your security measures here are as backwards as the planet you come from." Chun pushed back the hood of his dark cloak as he stared up at a tiny slit in the wall, several meters above his head. He turned hard, questioning eyes to the Regent, who stood slightly behind him. "This technology is outdated. Why did you not send for more sophisticated equipment when Skywalker was attacked?"
Kenobi felt whispering, insidious hatred darkening his heart as he met Chun's gaze. "Taganor is a planet far from the usual trade routes. The Empire eradicated the spaceports here to ensure that there would be no further smuggling, no chance to obtain needed goods on the black market. We upgraded quickly because of the urgency of the situation. There was no time to send for a more current system - it takes weeks through official channels."
"Poor planning on your part. Had you been prepared, it's likely I would be praising your efficiency."
Obi-Wan snorted softly. "I cannot imagine the circumstance under which you might praise me, *Lord* Chun. Nor I you." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Bruck's response.
Chun stepped close, bending his head to Kenobi's ear, so near that a tendril of his ice-white hair brushed like a phantom across Obi-Wan's cheek. "We are not equals in the training salle now, old friend," he whispered. "You would be wise to remember who is now the master. Lest I be forced to remind you in ways you might find...unpleasant."
Obi-Wan was still for a moment. It would not be hard to play the part of an intimidated supplicant, to think back to those days when he had first arrived on Coruscant, frightened and completely overwhelmed by the enormity of his task. Easy enough to fool the man grown from the foolish, evil boy Bruck had been not so many years ago.
But it was not his way any longer.
He turned his head until Chun's warm breath touched his face, close enough to kiss, or to kill, in the space of seconds. "We are not children any longer, Lord Chun. You are, at least, correct in that regard. You will find that I have not changed much since those days."
"Let us hope that isn't the case. For the sake of the heir, of course," Chun said softly, eyes flickering over Kenobi's face speculatively. "As I recall, the Emperor took pity on you and allowed you to train with the rest of us, though you weren't as strong in the Force as a true Sith apprentice must be." He straightened, hands disappearing into the sleeves of his robe. "And you were clumsy, as well."
Remarkable, Obi-Wan thought, how old enemies could strike to the heart of the least consequential thing, yet raise the specter of faded hurt in the space of mere seconds. Old wounds opened like flowers within his soul, memories of the strap falling across his bare shoulders and back as he lay prone on the floor, ten strikes for every cut sustained in the practice arena. And the voice of the training Master, echoing dully back at him through the pain and the blood, a word for each blow, a litany he repeated in place of screaming: *Focus. Endure. Magnify. Conquer. Dominate. Devour. Destroy...*
"No wonder you were not chosen to become a Sith." Chun's words were smooth, but a hint of smug satisfaction made them hollow.
"There was no time," Obi-Wan said mildly. "The Emperor had urgent need of me here, and it was not practical to delay my appointment until I had completed the training." He couldn't resist the smile that worked its way onto his lips. "I serve the Emperor in all things, Lord Chun. It was his will that I become Regent here, that I not become just another apprentice in his stable of Sith. I'm sure you can see the wisdom of his choice."
"Of course," Chun agreed, nodding, but his eyes sparkled with malicious envy for a moment before a mask of composure slammed into place. He began to walk slowly down the hall, and after a moment, Obi-Wan turned and accompanied him. "Naturally, the fact that you did not qualify to be an apprentice made you a less satisfactory choice to be Regent here, but I'm sure there were no other options. That's undoubtedly why you've lost control of this world."
"Taganor is as it always has been," Obi-Wan said quietly.
"Then perhaps we should have come much earlier," Chun suggested amiably. "You are not one of us, Kenobi. You were selected only because of your blood ties to the heir, and that hardly seems sensible to me. The Emperor is not infallible. He felt it was time to explore other possibilities, and he was correct - the Force guides him, as it guides us all. He had foreseen the attempt on Skywalker's life."
"Then he should have offered us assistance in preventing it," Obi-Wan snapped.
"I'll be sure to pass your opinion on to him at the next briefing," Chun answered, smiling.
Obi-Wan turned away for a moment, regaining the center of his control. He would not allow all his accomplishments to be undone by Bruck Chun - he was not an awkward child any longer. "What else would you like to inspect?" he asked.
Chun regarded him for a moment. "I will meet with your senior councilors this evening. At dinner, perhaps. A more relaxed atmosphere will encourage openness, don't you think? They should feel free to...consult ...with me during my visit."
"They have been instructed to offer you aid, as you require," Obi-Wan said. It would be a game the two of them would play; Obi-Wan attempting to maintain order among his people, while Bruck manipulated and coerced them into betraying him. There was some sort of agenda behind Chun's visit, but until he tipped his hand, Obi-Wan would have to be cautious, and smart. "Will there be anything else? I have business to attend to."
"I'm sure you do, but of course, the Emperor's business takes precedence." Chun stopped at the end of the hall, reaching out to touch the marbled edge of the large picture window overlooking the interior valley. "I will require your presence throughout the large portion of each day. When I do not need you, you will be advised that you are free to pursue other duties."
Anger flared within Obi-Wan before he could stop it. "I am not your personal servant."
"Oh, but for all intents and purposes, you *are*." Bruck whirled on him, equal anger blazing in his eyes. "Defy me, and I will break you, Kenobi. I hold the power here. *I* hold the influence with the Emperor. You've been gone a long time. You had promise once, but you'll never be one of us, no matter what you do here. And when the heir is of age, you will be nothing - he is the Chosen One, isn't he?" A cold smile added venom to his words. "He will bring the reign of Darkness to this galaxy for a thousand years, and your part in that will be small. Appreciated for a moment, and then forgotten." Chun slowly turned his back to Kenobi. "You are already finished."
"You think it will be easy?" Obi-Wan asked, prowling around Chun in a wide half-circle, watching as the other man's body shifted in response to his proximity. "You think I'll roll over like a dog and allow you to take control of what's mine?"
"It doesn't matter to me if it's easy, or difficult, the end result will be the same," Chun said, voice low. "What is yours will be mine, and you will be nothing."
Obi-Wan allowed his rage to build, allowed it to flow into the Force, to enhance his power. "You haven't changed," he snarled. "Still one to give away too much of your game, too early. There's no finesse in your methods, Chun."
Chun stiffened, but didn't turn. "You're already finished here," he repeated. "It's just a matter of time. I know what I'm looking for. And when I find it, we will have this conversation again."
"You're damned right we will," Obi-Wan spat.
"Be careful of that anger, Kenobi." Chun turned his head, speaking over his shoulder. "It would be tragic if you allowed yourself to become careless."
"Will my lord require anything further?" Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest.
"You're dismissed. Be certain that you are present at evening meal. We have much to discuss."
Obi-Wan bent at the waist, giving a bow that was almost imperceptible, and turned on his heel. Fury burned in his blood. There would be no chance to salvage the situation. It had been out of control from the moment Chun was selected to visit Taganor. He would root Jinn out, even if his spies hadn't already given him the information, and the Jedi would die.
For a moment, he considered the alternative. If he handed over the Jedi, Bruck would show him no mercy, and the remainder of the Jedi would be uncovered, slaughtered like animals at a hunt. Taganor would be saved, but the price would be too high. Bruck's need to destroy him would not be satisfied until all the things he cared for were torn apart. All that would remain would be the things of value to the Sith.
Like Anakin.
He could not allow it to happen. Could not, must not. And he would start by protecting the things most precious to him. Valorum was already aware of the danger; their meeting would wait. He went instead to the seraglio, following his heart.
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