So many fine pieces of clothing, and so few of them had been worn. Xanatos rifled through the wardrobe of the Regent of Taganor and selected out dark trousers and a silken tunic of an ivory hue. A small smile lifted his lips; the Regent always preferred simple garb, without frills and gilding. Yet there were dozens of outfits of the richest silks and linens, heavy brocades, in reds, golds, greens, blues. Hues becoming to copper hair and fair skin. All gathering dust.
Rather like a seraglio, full of beautiful tribute slaves and acquisitions, seldom used, all but forgotten, aside from those treasured few, the favorites, most comfortable. Appearances had to be maintained.
Wincing a bit, Xan drew on the trousers and fastened them, then slid the tunic over his head. It caught momentarily on his bracelet as the fine fabric descended down his arms; he shook it loose, a movement which brought a sharp stab of pain from his ribs. He wrapped one arm around his waist to catch the breath that seemed to have fled his lungs.
He was acutely aware that he should not be alive. Were it Obi-Wan on the bed, broken and near dead, he would not have had the strength to heal the Regent; his own injuries had been just that severe, and he spared a moment to thank the Force for the presence of his former master and his healing skills. Qui-Gon had tipped the balance between life and death, but even his skills were not enough to undo all the damage. Xan leaned back as the pain subsided.
Xanatos scanned the room for the small box containing Obi-Wan's five custom-forged daggers. He would need only one.
The box was resting on a low table near the balcony doors, where wines and fruit still waited to please the palate. He lifted a small yellow fruit to his lips and devoured it in three bites, making a face at the sour taste as he looked over the daggers. They were all of superior quality, but one of them was plain, with an unadorned hilt, and its own scabbard. Xan wiped the juice from his fingers and lifted the blade from its resting place, but left the scabbard behind. He tucked the dagger safely into his tunic, where the metal rested cold against his skin.
Cold metal...unlike the band of ownership around his arm, the dagger seemed to suck heat from his skin, leaving him chilled. He supposed he would become used to the feel of it, since he didn't intend to remove it until he had need of it. There were many things a man could become used to.
Another sharp pain jabbed violently at his ribs, stealing more air, hitching his breath. He conceded to the pain and sat down just for a moment so he could rest. He was still healing, but his body was in rebellion, protesting clearly against his injuries. He folded his arms across his ribs and lay back on the soft coverlet of the bed, which was tangled beneath him. He could smell Obi-Wan's presence in those soft sheets and it sent a pang of longing through him, one he immediately pushed away from his thoughts. Sentimentality did not belong in this place, this den of slavery where there had been so much evil. There would be time later to reflect on the tides that were changing beneath his very feet.
With slow fingers, he traced the smooth lines of his slave bracelet. Cold metal, warm to the touch now, nearly unnoticed in the many days since it had first been placed on his arm. In those first days, he had been so conscious of its presence; like a fire brand, it had seemed a thing alive, consuming him, keeping him awake through the long nights with the Regent asleep beside him. He had been forced to focus on the here and now and to dismiss both the past on Coruscant, and the promising future buried beneath the rubble of the Temple, buried along with the galaxy's shattered peace. For truly, his future had been altered forever, and all paths closed to him save one.
He could feel the massive disturbance in the Force, its subtle aura changing from moment to moment. Of one thing, he was certain; Chun was dead. There had been no one in the room to tell him so, just as there had been no one to instruct him to remain in Obi-Wan's quarters until he was sent for. Nevertheless, he knew. The darkness that had surrounded Chun had been blasted open, stripped clean in the light, but evil remained, growing stronger in the void of Chun's death. If he could sense it, he wondered about the others.
And he wondered about the boy, who would one day stand at the right hand of the Emperor.
Xan sat up, then stood cautiously, testing his range of motion. With the right control, his movement would not be too impaired. He closed his eyes and centered himself. Obi-Wan had not sent for him, and the temptation to find his master was strong.
My master, he thought, and closed his eyes. For no matter what the outcome on this world, he would no longer be physically enslaved, but there were other ways a man might find himself in chains.
He heard the doors open and though he did not turn, he tucked his hand inside his tunic, where his fingers sought the haft of the dagger.
"Face me," came the soft command, and the voice washed over him gently. Xan turned then, to face Obi-Wan, to see the way his eyes absorbed Xan's presence, to see him locate and dismiss each wound in turn, satisfied that they were healing. "I had not thought to see you on your feet so soon. It's a welcome sight."
"I owe my teacher much," Xan answered. He dropped his hand to his side. "I will not be a burden to you in what is to come."
"I have much to explain to you." Obi-Wan crossed the room, to stop inches away from Xan. His hands lifted, cradled Xan's face, tracing the healed and still healing marks and bruises there.
"There is no need."
Obi-Wan straightened and regarded Xan with an expression the older man could not read. "Everything will change, once we have left this world."
"Things will be as they are meant to be, Obi-Wan Kenobi." Xanatos covered Obi-Wan's hands with his own, as his master leaned in close. His lips parted for the half-brutal kiss, a kiss that scorched him with its echoes of bitter knowledge.
"You can travel, then?" Obi-Wan asked, his lips close to Xan's ear. Xanatos closed his eyes and nodded.
"I will manage."
"We must meet the others quickly, or there will be no chance to leave this world in peace. Come. I must find Anakin."
******
"What has been tampered with?" Valorum bent down to speak to the technician, whose body had disappeared into the cubby beneath the navigation controls. Only his feet protruded from the opening, sliding around at random intervals as the technician maneuvered around.
"Some parts of the navigation and power systems are damaged, sir. It's sabotage."
Valorum took a deep breath. Best just to ask the question, and deal with the answer. "Can it be repaired quickly?"
"We stock replacement parts on board; I can have this up and running in no time."
"I certainly hope your estimate is accurate, young man. Because we don't have any time to spare." Valorum watched the man wriggle out of the small crawl space. "Take as many men as you need and get it done. We must be ready to lift off at any moment."
"Sir." Valorum turned his head at the tone in the captain's voice. "There's a disturbance outside."
Valorum moved to the viewscreen and watched as the external camera revealed the Regent's own security force surrounding the ship. "Are the doors secure?"
"For the moment, yes sir. No one saw us board the ship."
"How many men are on board, Captain?"
"Ten or so, sir. All the men you named."
"Very well. Then we will wait. For now." Valorum looked once more at the viewscreen. "Make sure everyone is armed. We may have to....disembark."
******
On the opposite side of the bay doors, Qui-Gon Jinn took the measure of the man whose malevolent yellow eyes were fixed upon him. The doors closed slowly and clanged shut, a hollow sound in this empty place.
"You will surrender your weapons to me," Maul said pleasantly, softly. "Now." He gestured to the men lined up behind him; they raised their blasters as one, like an efficient machine, all the parts working in an orderly fashion.
"On the contrary. *You* will surrender your weapons to *me*. Order your men to do so, now." Qui-Gon spoke the words in the same pleasant tone Maul had used moments before. He gestured to Ket'al, and the men behind him retreated to the protection of the pillars lining the corridor.
Maul's face cracked into a repugnant grin. "Don't bother with your mind tricks, Jedi. Can you not feel it? This place is ruled by Darkness now. Your days of wielding the Force for your own purposes has come to an end. You and all the other Jedi traitors will know this, soon."
"Then let us cease talking," Qui-Gon said, and reached for his saber. Maul raced forward amidst a sudden hail of blaster fire, and launched himself at Qui-Gon like a dark wraith, snarling with purposeful rage. Faster than those looking on could see, just a blur of motion, and the two men were locked together in combat.
Ket'al pushed Daro to the ground. "Stay here!" he hissed. "Be ready to run when I call for you!"
"In your dreams," Daro hissed back. "Do I look stupid to you?"
Ket'al grinned at him. "Then move when I tell you!"
"Traded one master for another," Daro grumbled under his breath, but he lifted his blaster obediently.
The slaves crouched behind the pillars, transfixed by the sight of the Jedi struggling with his opponent on the ground. Ket'al nodded to Mathius, who in turn nodded at his brother, and they darted forward, taking shelter from the small protection of the pillars. Blaster fire ricocheted off walls, pillars, and the polished floor as the four men edged closer to the landing bay doors, one pillar at a time.
In the midst of it all, Qui-Gon grappled with Maul. His lightsaber clattered to the floor, deactivated. Maul's strength was beyond what Qui-Gon had expected; he could feel the tremendous Darkness in his enemy as they rolled across the floor. He called upon the Force, let it flow through him, and directed that power at Maul. He was rewarded with success as Maul's eyes widened and his body was launched through the air.
The shadow guard landed on his feet; Qui-Gon wasted no time in calling his lightsaber to his hand. The blade sprang to life.
Mathius and Ket'al moved forward in tandem, taking careful aim when they could, firing out of sheer terror when nothing else remained to be done. There were short screams when their aim was true, and Leyran and Daro crept behind as they covered one another. The distance was short, but crossing it felt interminable to them all.
"Almost there!" Mathius cried, and motioned Leyran and Daro forward with a wave of his arm as he fired the blaster toward the crouching Imperial guards. Mathius and Ket'al hunkered down next to the control panel of the landing bay and triggered the doors open; the blaster fire increased.
Daro and Leyran laid down fire, some of it accurate, but the rain of return fire pushed them back and held them in place.
"Daro!" Ket'al shouted for him, and Leyran turned to echo the call, as he fired again and again to shield the young man's sprint for the door. With a grim look on his face, Daro tugged at Leyran, and the two of them sprinted forward. The chaotic spray of blaster fire intensified, and then lightning struck. Without a sound, Leyran dropped to the ground, forever oblivious to his brother's agonized cry of grief. Daro turned to look, and grief manifested in his posture as he turned away and threw himself toward the landing bay doors.
"Leyran!" Mathius cried, and lunged forward, but Ket'al wrapped his arms around Mathius. "Let me go to him!"
"If you do, you'll die too," Ket'al shouted. "I won't lose you!" He pulled Mathius back by force, propelling him through the doors of the landing bay. "We have to go. Now!"
Anguish contorted Mathius' face as he stared at his brother's body. With a last look at the Jedi and at Leyran, the three slaves disappeared into the landing bay, pursued by the few Imperial guards still alive.
Qui-Gon swung around to see Leyran fall, then turned back within the space of an instant, to repel two glowing saber-stars. They bounced off the blade of his saber, destroyed, and with a sudden flash of insight, Qui-Gon remembered what Obi-Wan had told him, the story of the first attack on Anakin, the assassin who nearly killed the Regent with saber-stars.
"You," Qui-Gon hissed.
"Yes, Jedi," Maul answered, and that same repulsive smile split his face again. "Yes."
*****
Obi-Wan and Xanatos made their way through the hallways with great haste; Obi-Wan could sense Anakin's location, though he could not be precise. Once he stopped, searching with his senses, until Xanatos laid a hand on his arm and pointed toward the practice rooms. "Can you not feel it?" he whispered, his eyes troubled.
Obi-Wan gave a curt nod and together, the two men approached the doors. "Stay behind me," Obi-Wan instructed. "He no longer trusts me as he once did. We must not alarm him before I can persuade him."
"And if you can't persuade him?" Xan asked. Obi-Wan turned to look at Xan.
"Can you use the Force to subdue him, if that is what must be done?" Obi-Wan asked.
The urgency of the question was not lost on Xanatos, who answered, "I will do what I can."
The practice area was deserted, save for Anakin and his guard; Anakin was standing next to the window, watching the thick clouds as they gathered in the sky. The air was wet with the smell of heavy rain ready to fall. Obi-Wan approached cautiously, hyper-aware of the Force being out of balance. He shielded his own worry, set aside the feeling that time was bearing down on them, and approached his young student. "Anakin."
The guards had all turned at his approach, but Anakin remained immobile, staring out at the sky. "I knew you were coming," the boy said distantly. "I felt it."
"That is not so unusual," Obi-Wan said, smiling. "But I have not come to practice today."
"You brought your slave," Anakin said, and when he looked at Xanatos, there was indifference in his glance. "Why do you have your slave with you?"
Obi-Wan dropped to one knee and laid his hands on Anakin's shoulders. "We are going to be taking a trip, Anakin. You must trust me. You'll need to come with me now."
"Why?" Suspicion crept into the boy's tone. "Why would you be leaving?" His eyes darted back and forth, from Obi-Wan to Xanatos.
"There's trouble, Anakin. We are leaving Taganor, and you'll have to come with us. Now."
"No!" The boy shrank back, looking around wildly at his guards. "You want to kill me!"
"Who has been telling you such things?" Obi-Wan demanded. "I don't want to kill you. I want to make sure you are all right. But we have to go, now. Come!"
"I won't!" Anakin backed up as his guards surged forward. Obi-Wan stood and executed a simple maneuver, just a manipulation of the Force, and the two men nearest him lost their weapons. With a twist of his hand, Obi-Wan sent them sprawling to the ground. Xanatos focused his attention on drawn weapons, pulling them from closed grasps and into the air, directly to him. He fired the blasters quickly, dropping the remaining guards, then turned back toward the agitated child.
"NO!" Anakin retreated again, toward the wall, then stopped, as if he had suddenly remembered something important. The hair on Obi-Wan's neck rose swiftly as he felt the change in the Force; its subtle energy was growing around them into something murky and indistinct. "You can't make me, Obi-Wan."
"I would not presume to do so, Highness." Obi-Wan changed his tactics immediately. "You recognize the danger here, don't you? The Sith will overrun this planet in a matter of hours, and you will not be safe here."
"Yes I will. Windu has promised to watch over me." Defiantly, Anakin crossed his arms across his chest. "This is *my* planet. The Emperor *wants* me to rule here. You aren't going to take that away from me."
"Windu?" Obi-Wan controlled the anger crawling in the back of his throat. With effort, he stowed it away for another time...another place, where it could be safely dealt with. "The Ambassador may believe he is doing what is right, but he is mistaken. You are not safe here without me, and I must go."
"Then go." Harsh, and without emotion, the words were not those of a petulant child. They rang with the echo of newly discovered power, unfocused and untamed, but at the ready.
"Anakin." Obi-Wan knelt before the boy. Hands firmly on the small shoulders, he tugged him closer, noting with dismay the stiffness in the childish body, the way the boy leaned away from him as if contact with his cousin was distasteful. "Have I guided you well as your Regent?"
"I don't know." With a surly, suspicious look, Anakin squirmed in Obi-Wan's grasp. Then, more strongly, "No. You always wanted to do what was best for you."
"If you stay here, I cannot protect you."
"I don't believe you!"
"Use the Force as I've taught you, Anakin. Am I lying to you now?" Obi-Wan was careful to remain patient, centered.
Anakin squinted in a way so adult and knowing that Obi-Wan found himself a bit unnerved. Finally, Anakin said, "No." His head swiveled to the side, and he fixed Xanatos with a long stare that could have cut right though him. "But *he* is."
Obi-Wan glanced up at Xanatos, who dragged his gaze away from its watchful vigil of the corridor at Obi-Wan's back. Obi-Wan returned his attention to Anakin. "You are wrong."
"He's no slave!" Anakin's scowl grew deeper.
"He was not always a slave, true. But Xanatos will not harm you. He warned me of what was about to happen so we could all leave here safely."
"Go away then!" As though a tremendous weight had been dropped, Obi-Wan was shoved backward and lifted in the air. He flew several feet and fell heavily to the ground. Anakin's voice traveled to him, low and angry like approaching thunder, and it should have been the sound of someone much older, much more powerful - but it was just a boy, reaching for control he was not ready to harness. "I don't need your help any longer."
Xan leveled a blaster at Anakin, but Anakin was faster. The blasters jumped from Xan's hands as if they had a will of their own.
Obi-Wan got slowly to his feet. He leveled a stare at Anakin. "You will get on that ship, if I have to carry you."
"You can't make me. I already know it. I don't want to hurt you." For the first time, that strangely adult voice faltered, and the hesitation showed in the wide, childish eyes. "Just leave me alone."
"I can't do that." Obi-Wan lifted his hand and crooked a finger in Anakin's direction, and the boy cried out. With an agonizing wail, the child fell to the ground, writhing. Obi-Wan could feel bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed it, and said, "As you see, I *can* make you obey me."
"No," came the faint response. Then, stronger, "No!" Anakin rolled to his knees, then staggered to his feet. The boy on the cusp of adolescence exercised his will, and great rolling waves of anger and hate spread out into the Force. They battered at Obi-Wan like blows of a heavy hammer, punishing and difficult to withstand.
The enormity of the power the child could unleash suddenly terrified Obi-Wan. Only the Emperor had ever shown such ability to magnify his rage in the Force. With all his ability, Obi-Wan marshaled his command of the Force and began to repel the horrifying evil surrounding him. And within moments, he knew.
He was strong, but not strong enough. The child had already turned, and he had been too blind to see it.
Ragged, undisciplined fury powered the bolts of energy that drove him to his knees. He knew he was screaming, but there was no sound; he was in a vacuum of pain, and nothing could survive there but his astonishment, and his fear. He could not find his own strength in the Force. It was as if all had been stripped away from him - control, ability, power - and he was left defenseless in the face of Darkness. He could hear Xanatos calling to him, saying his name, and regret filled his heart. He would never know what could have been, in a universe where Anakin Skywalker was the hope and the light of the galaxy.
"Xan," he gasped. Anakin's face had taken on a distorted, elongated look, and the cruelty he saw there sickened him. Pain eviscerated his pity and filled him with anger, but the anger faded into sadness as fire consumed every inch of his skin. Not long, now, before it would be over, and he would join his own energy to the Force...
And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
Sucking in deep, grateful breaths, Obi-Wan crawled forward a few inches, then dropped to his stomach, coughing, breathing, just trying to shake loose from the electricity still creeping through every nerve ending he had. "Xan," he whispered, and when there was no answer, anxiety made him raise his head.
Xanatos was on his knees, and on the altar of his body, a dying child was sprawled, sacrificed for the greater good. Obi-Wan pushed himself up and stared, astonished, disbelieving, as Anakin gasped for air. The tip of a dagger protruded from his stomach, wet with red blood, and as Obi-Wan looked at that small area of crimson metal, it twisted, then turned again, and slid to the side.
Anakin's eyes were wide, his mouth an open gash of pain across his face. Disbelief and fury had turned the features of a child into those of a monster, and as Obi-Wan stared, they melted into the soft visage of a young boy, deceptively young, made innocent by blood. Anakin made a noise like an animal brought to slaughter, and convulsed twice.
And then he was still.
With what seemed like a monumental effort, Xanatos pushed the dead boy off his lap. The small body rolled to the side, and Xanatos let it fall. Slowly, he pulled the knife out, then dropped it on the ground. He raised his eyes to Obi-Wan's. "I could not let you die."
Obi-Wan got to his knees, then his feet; every part of him had gone numb. He closed the distance between them and reached out a hand. Xanatos wiped his hands on his crimson-saturated tunic before he reached up, and Obi-Wan hauled him to his feet. Both men stood quiet, unsteady, for a long moment.
Without speaking, Xanatos picked up the dagger and wiped the blade on the ground, and in silence, the two men set out for the landing bay.
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