Title: Joint Strength
Author: Rene
Rating: PG
Notes: See Part One
Summary of this part: Obi-Wan puts his plan into action. A'ali, Garen and
Reeft see a strange sight.
Disclaimer: This exercise is conducted purely for fun and entertainment: no monetary profit gained.
As Obi-Wan slipped off his black gloves, he noticed that his hands were shaking.
Sure, he thought. Now, at the end of the match, I'm going to lose my focus.
He certainly hoped that the end was near. Many long minutes had passed while he had concocted his plan, prepared his equipment, and then gathered the necessary garments, with additional long pauses to avoid being noticed by anyone. He had begrudged every second, imagining Xanatos' growing anger, his treatment of Bant. A muscle twitched along the edge of his tight jaw as he ruthlessly put thoughts of his friend far away. He needed all his focus on the now.
Moving silently, he entered a small side corridor and knelt, ignoring a complaining twinge from his fragile knee as he placed the datapad he was carrying onto the cold floor. Only the ingrained self-discipline of a Jedi student prevented him from glancing repeatedly over his shoulder, his ears straining to hear any sound. He flinched slightly as a mocking chuckle drifted around the corner, its heavy malevolence diluted with distance.
Xanatos, he thought. If you hurt her, I'll. . .
No, he stopped himself. No, that was a vow of vengeance, infected with darkness. It would only weigh him down.
The necessity for absolute silence forced him to move slowly as he propped the 'pad against the wall, and adjusted its volume gradient to the highest level. His fingers hovered over the output control as he studied it intently, memorizing it, burning its mundane details into his brain. His hand closed into a fist above it. He would have to activate it with the Force.
I can do it, he thought. It's a simple thing. The distance is nothing.
He had no choice. The foundation of his entire plan rested on the output switch. There was little subtlety in this scheme.
And little chance for success either, the cool logical part of his brain said dryly.
Switch off! the rest of him responded, rather heatedly.
After a final intense glance at the control, he slipped away, out of the side corridor and into the main hall. With noiseless feet and a mostly imperceptible limp, he glided toward the cold murmur around the far corner.
* * * * *
Bant kept her eyes away from him.
She knew now that he was an enemy who delighted in fear and intimidation, who spoke ambiguous threats with a smoothly honed tongue. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing hope drowning in her eyes' growing resignation. Staring resolutely at the top edge of the open door, she allowed herself a small smile as his voice grew suddenly, fractionally more peevish.
"I fail to see what interest you find in that blank surface." His shadow swept over her as he paced.
Yes. He wanted to see her fear. She wouldn't let him.
"It's a pointless vigil, little Bant." His voice emphasized her name, just a touch. "If you're looking for rescue, you're looking in vain."
Maybe. Maybe not. She let her eyes slide down to study the growing bruise on her wrist. The binders were too tight. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that, either.
He was waiting for something; she could feel the waves of impatience rolling off him. Whatever it was, she wished devoutly for just the opposite to happen. She let the word circle soothingly in her troubled mind, focusing on it as if it were a meditation ritual.
Opposite. Opposite. Opposite.
"Xanatos!"
Bant's head jerked upward, her eyes going involuntarily to her captor. That was Obi-Wan's voice! The man's eyes flashed in recognition as his lips pulled back into a feral snarl.
"Xanatos!" Obi-Wan's shouted voice repeated. "You wanted me to come. Here I am."
"Of all the fools spread throughout the galaxy," Xanatos hissed. "that boy is surely the greatest!"
"You did tell him to come," Bant said, her voice ever so slightly mocking.
Xanatos whirled, hand raised with vicious intent. Her head jerked backward to avoid the blow, but his knuckles struck her across the cheekbone with devastating force. She crumpled into a small heap.
"Come, Xanatos," Obi-Wan shout echoed along the hall. "I'm waiting. This is the end!"
"Oh yes," the man said. "You're right about that."
As he strode through the door, he murmured, "You'll _have_ to report a mortal injury, little padawan . . ."
Bant stirred in his wake, pushing herself upright with shaking arms. The force of the blow had split the delicate skin covering the bone, and she felt blood oozing along the cut and running down her jawline. An unconscious tremor shuddered through her. Bant had never been struck in anger, not once in her entire life here at the Temple. It was an experience she wasn't eager to repeat.
She heard Xanatos' angry footsteps recede down the hall. Obi-Wan, she thought frantically, maybe you are a fool. . .
She was struggling to her feet, mouth set in a grim line, when a shadow slid through the door. She crouched at once into a defensive posture, prepared to block any attack, but the shadow threw up one arm in a vaguely familiar gesture, and hissed, "Bant! It's me!"
After a startled instant, she discerned Obi-Wan's stance in the shadow's silhoette. He was clad entirely in a darksuit, a black, light-absorbing garment worn for night exercises. All she could see of him were his eyes, glittering with anger as he registered the bloody cut on her face.
He said nothing, though, merely motioned urgently for her to follow.
Well, she thought, hurrying after him, you're not a fool after all.
Once out in the hall, Obi-Wan sprinted in the opposite direction that Xanatos had taken, his strides soundless but peculiarly ragged. Bant easily kept pace with him, despite being forced to run with her arms held awkwardly in front. Is he all right? she wondered. And then she nearly stumbled in amazement when she heard Obi-Wan's voice, far behind them, shouting, "Are you coming, Xanatos?"
They raced around another corner, and Obi-Wan took a moment to look back. Pushing back the suit's close-fitting hood, he grinned at her. "'Pad recorder" he whispered briefly. "Propped against a wall back there."
Bant gamely returned his grin. They heard the recorded voice shout again.
"Are you afraid of . . ."
The voice cut out with shocking abruptness. Obi-Wan's eyes flared. "He's found it. Come on, we have to get to the. . ."
From far away, Xanatos' voice halted them. "You're very clever! But you can't escape this floor without using the lift, and I'm closer to it than you. So what, I wonder, are you going to do now?"
The black anger in the voice was chilling. Bant's eyes were somber as Obi-Wan looked back to her "What _are_ we going to do?" she whispered slowly.
Obi-Wan stared into the space beyond her shoulder, thinking furiously.
"We've got to get the binders off." he murmured. "Then we'll split up. I'll distract him away from the lift, and you go up."
"You'll distract him how?" Bant's voice raised alarmingly.
"I don't know. The Force will guide me!" Obi-Wan pulled her past a junction of four halls into a nearby room, filled like all the others with storage containers and machinery. He settled into a kneeling posture on the floor, focusing on the binders clamped around her wrists. Bant knelt beside him.
"We have to forget Xanatos. Forget everything, except the binders."
Bant squared her shoulders. "Yes." She reached over awkwardly and grasped his hand. "We can do it." It sounded more like a plea than a statement, but Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, letting out his breath in an explosive huff.
"OK, here we go," he said, closing his eyes. He felt the Force whirling within him, its power untapped and uncontrolled. Slowly, he spread out his free hand toward Bant's wrists, his fingers hovering over the metal binders, but not touching them. In his mind he saw them clearly, dull cold steel contrasting cruelly with Bant's warm coral skin. He saw the painful reddening where the binders dug into her wrists, the discolored bruising along the top of her arm. He felt a surge of anger at this callous treatment of his gentle friend, and spent many long moments putting the anger away. He focused on the binders, the binders, the Force. . .
Beside him, he felt a sudden wave of powerful exhilaration as Bant let out her breath with a sigh and heard the clink as the binders dropped to the polished floor.
He opened his eyes to find Bant smiling.
"I knew we could do it." She climbed to her feet, kicked the binders away, and then looked immediately horror-stricken as they clattered noisily across the floor. Watching them slide beneath a storage barrel, Obi-Wan said, "Well, we needed to hide them anyway. . ."
Then his face grew stony as he whispered, "Come on. I know Xanatos. . ."
"And he knows you!" Bant interrupted. "How. . . "
"I'll tell you everything later, I promise! Look, he's probably not even really guarding the lift. He's looking for us, and we don't want to be found."
Bant bit her lip. "Split up, then?"
"Split up." Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, then paused, looking up at the vent cover above their heads and then down at his small-statured friend. "If we remove the cover, he might find it and think we've gone up the vents."
Bant tipped her head back as well. "Well," she whispered, "why don't we?"
"Why don't we what?"
"Go up the shaft. He won't expect it."
"Yes, he will. We don't want to do what he's expecting."
"Why would he?"
"Well, . . .I've set a precedent." He gestured upward. "You want to have the honor?"
With most of her usual grace, Bant climbed onto Obi-Wan's shoulders, and removed the vent cover, careful to make no sound. She handed it down to him, and gripped the edge of the shaft, dangling while he laid it aside. As he reached up to help her down, a glint of metal on her utility belt caught his eye. It was her lightsaber clip, and it was empty. She was unarmed.
That complicates things, he thought, as he and Bant stood gazing rather uncertainly at each other.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" she asked.
"No. But it's the only thing I can think of."
"Well, then, what shall I do when I get out of here?"
Obi-Wan's face was suddenly gaunt with uncertainty. "I don't know. I haven't told anyone anything because I. . .I had a strong feeling that by doing that I was falling into his trap. I can't decide for you. You have to do what you think is right. All I know is that he _wants_ everyone to know he's here."
Bant shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense, but . . .I trust you. I won't alert the whole Council or anything." Her face grew suddenly grim. "But, Obi-Wan, listen to me. There's more to this than just a dark enemy down here. When he wanted to send you that message, he asked for my name, and threatened me with . . .I don't know what. . .to see if I'd give it."
Obi-Wan's hands clenched into fists. "That's how you got that cut."
She touched her face with the back of her hand. "This? No, that was later. But listen, all those threats were just for. . .fun. . .I guess, to watch my fear, because, when I wouldn't tell him, he got out a datapad and jacked right into the records nodes. Since I'm the only female Calamarian student in the Temple, it took him about three seconds to find my name. . ."
When Obi-Wan didn't immediately react, she hissed urgently, "Don't you see? Somehow he's got access to restricted nodes! Restricted! Only the Masters can get in there! How did he do it? And how did he get into the Temple in the first place?"
Obi-Wan nodded and looked down at her with bleak eyes. "You think he has a contact here."
"Yes! How else could he. . ."
She silenced abruptly as they both became aware of footsteps moving toward them in the hall outside, heavy footfalls, meant to be heard, to cause fear, to provoke movement.
Bant's hand went to her mouth, eyes wide. Obi-Wan froze, every sense stretching outward. The steps grew closer, and then abruptly faded.
"He turned down another hall." Bant whispered.
Straightening his shoulders, Obi-Wan made a decision, and reached to his belt. He unhooked his lightsaber and handed it toward her, whispering, "Take this."
"What?" she hissed back. "I'm not taking your saber! Are you insane?"
"Take it! You have to get out of here, and find someone, someone discreet, to tell about him jacking into the nodes! You need a weapon, just in case. Take it!"
Bant didn't move. "What are you going to do?"
Obi-Wan looked around absently. "I'll distract him and lead him away, then hide."
"You swear? You'll hide. You won't fight him?"
"I'll try not to." He attempted a cavalier grin, with only partial success, and it quickly melted away. "Please, just take it and go!"
Eyes reluctant, Bant took the lightsaber. She and Obi-Wan exchanged a grim, shaky glance, and stepped through the door together. The hall was empty, except for a miasma of uncertainty and menace. Probably, Obi-Wan thought wryly, erupting from his own jittery thoughts. Silently, he motioned up the hall, angling his hand right, left, and then left again, to show Bant where she would find the lift. Her eyes fastened intently on him, she nodded her understanding, and slipped away. He watched her for only a moment, and then turned his back and walked toward the hall junction, following the memory of heavy footsteps.
* * * * *
Garen trudged wearily toward the south garden doors. Twilight had long
since fallen, the dark now shading into the velvety charcoal tones of
imminent night. Far above his head, the unceasing flow of Coruscant traffic
wended geometrically among the buildings, and the shaded lightpoles that
illuminated the gardens created multiple shadows of his weary form. A'ali's
two-hour deadline had long since passed; he knew, from checking with her,
that she had found no trace of Obi-Wan.
And why should we? he thought. We based this whole search on the word of Bruck Chun!
A tall, slender shadow detached itself from the dim recesses of the south doors, and strode toward him. As she drew nearer, into the fountain of light spilling from a nearby lightpole, he saw that her face was bemused.
"I've just completed a number of interesting conversations," she said. "Your friend called and said his search was fruitless and he had 'another appointment'. . ."
Garen wrinkled his brow. "What possible appointment could Reeft have?"
A'ali smiled slightly. "Ah, no. I meant the other boy, Bruck."
"Oh." Garen's voice was toneless.
A'ali's smile grew momentarily wider, and then faded. "My Master had instructed one of the resident Knights to search all the student sections. No trace of Obi-Wan."
So she didn't trust Bruck fully, Garen thought vaguely, in the small corner of his mind not consumed with worry.
"And," A'ali continued, "Reeft called to say he was at the main doors, having finished an equally unsatisfying search. I told him to stay there, and we would meet him. We'll have to take a shuttle and sweep outside the Temple grounds."
Quickly they walked toward the front of the great building, silence shrouding them as Garen's face grew increasingly frustrated. Finally, he burst out, "I just. . .I don't believe that Obi-Wan would leave the Temple without telling someone."
A'ali nodded. "Yes, I see that. But we must look for him somewhere. And this seems to be the next course of action."
When they rounded the corner, they could see the imposing main doors, flooded with warm light. Reeft sat on the broad steps, his forlorn form dwarfed by the huge vertical planes soaring above him. They quickened their steps, and Reeft stood to greet them with an indifferent bow. His heart obviously wasn't in it.
"Where could he be?" he said as they joined him. "and what about Bant? You know, we kind of forgot about her, but we haven't really seen her all day either."
"Bant? The Calamarian girl?" A'ali's brow furrowed. "Is she a friend of. . ."
She broke off suddenly and her eyes widened as she stared over Garen's shoulder. Startled, he glanced at Reeft, saw his friend's jaw begin to sag slightly, and whirled around.
Moving toward them at an almost-run, that should have looked ridiculous but somehow didn't, was a man unlike any Garen had ever seen. Short, barrel-chested, muscular, bare torso slashed with recent cuts, and oufitted with a green leather bandolier loaded with shining daggers. He looked like a warrior from an ancient mythos, completely incongruous in Coruscant's metallic canyons. At his feet, body leaping and spinning with joyful abandon, a lithe little creature dodged to and fro, obviously making a game of avoiding his steps.
And just behind strode the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, his hood thrown back by the wind of his own swift passage, his face tight, his eyes boring straight ahead with implacable purpose. His cloak billowed behind him like the wake of a great ship, and his lightsaber swung in perfect rhythm with his long strides, catching the glowing light and flashing it back, a soundless signal.
The two men and the creature swept past them without pause, though the Jedi Master gave each a crisp nod.
With one accord, A'ali and the two boys pivoted to watch them enter the huge main doors. After a moment, Reeft asked, voice a bit dazed, "Who was that?"
"Master Qui-Gon Jinn," A'ali answered absently.
"I know _that_. I meant the. . .other one."
A'ali shook her head. "I haven't the faintest idea." She frowned, searching the Force within her, and then said slowly, "They're going to the Council. Come, we're going as well."
"But what about Obi-Wan?" Garen cried.
"I don't know! But can't you feel the Force pulling us? Come!"
TBC
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