Hi! I’m back again, and here’s the next chapter. (Please, please, please give me some feedback on this one–I need the inspiration–continuation is proving difficult. As in, I don’t have another full chapter to post after this one!!! Chances of survival: Over four million to one. :-P)
This chapter: Dooku grows curious, an escape, a rescue attempt, and a failure. May the Force be with you (and the same to me, I sure need it…)
Chapter III
               Dooku walked into the med center, nodding to the receptionist as he did so. He made his way into the lab, curtly acknowledging the technician. He handed her the blood sample he had obtained earlier, while Kenobi was being interrogated.
âNinane. I need a run-down on this blood sample. The midichlorien count is the most important thing.â Ninane sighed, shrugging.
âIâm sorry, my lord. The equipment is off-lineâit wonât be until tomorrow that I can get it back to you.â Dooku gave no sign of irritation.
âVery well,â he shrugged off-handedly. âTime is not an object, as long as I get the midichlorien count.â With that, he left.
The sun had set hours ago, and the confines of the Imperial Palace had quieted somewhat. Obi-Wanâs eyes shot open, and he raised himself from the bed where he had laid down an hour ago, until the night gathered and worked its magic. Carefully, he took a long knife that he had sharpened before lying down from its hiding place beneath the mattress, and steeled himself. Taking a deep breath, he cut his upper arm, touching the slave transmitter and flicking it out with a combination of the knife point and the Force, to keep it from activating. He slid it under the mattress and bandaged the wound as best as he could. That done, he slipped out of his room and went to Shmi and Anakinâs quarters. The door slid open silently. The Skywalkers were prepared and waiting.
âCome on!â he wshipsered, grabbing the bundle out of Shmiâs arms, as the exited the quarters. âHurry!â he hissed. âItâs already late. We have to go!â Silently, they rushed down the deserted corridors of the palace.
Suddenly, Obi-Wan froze. âWaitâŚâ
âCome on! Hurry!â Anakin said, rushing forward.
âNo, Anakin, wait!â Obi-Wan cried, leaping after Anakin, grabbing at the collar of the boyâs shirt. Too late. The two of them barreled together into a patrol of the royal guards.
Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin and hit the ground with the boy underneath him, shielding him with his body. The first barrage of their fire spent, the guards retreated momentarily. Obi-Wan leaped to his feet, kicking out, his boot connecting solidly with the targeted guardâs jaw, felling him, as the young warrior struck another smoothly in the stomach with the same motion. In an impressive display of martial arts lasting for the next thirty seconds or so, the remainder of the guards were all on the ground, unconscious. Obi-Wan flicked his hair back out of his eyes. âWe should go. We still havenâtââ He swayed. âWe havenât even picked up Ventress yet.â He hurried them along at a brisk pace. Shmi moved quickly to his side.
âVentress?â she asked. Obi-Wan nodded.
âWeâre taking her with us.â Suddenly, the young man clutched at his side, his footsteps faltering a little.
âAre you all right?â Shmi asked, concerned.
âFine,â Obi-Wan managed, cheerfully. He staggered. Shmi was almost scared now.
âObi-Wan, youâre not âfineâ,â she said.
âIâll be okayâwe have to get Ventress, and go!â They ran on for a bit, then Obi-Wan suddenly fell, without a cry or gasp or any other sound. Shmi gasped.
âHeâs been shot!â she said, fingers ghosting over the burn mark on the fabric of Obi-Wanâs tunic.
âLetâs get him to the ship!â Anakin exclaimed, grabbing one of the unconscious Jediâs arms and struggling in an attempt to pull him onward.
âBut what about Ventress?â Shmi wanted to know.
âThereâs no time. Letâs go!â
Shmi did not notice, as they lifted Obi-Wanâs unconscious form, the odd, unnatural yellow tinge in her sonâs eyes.
When Obi-Wan did not come for her, Ventress began to worry. Her overactive imagination supplied myriads of macabre images of the daring young Jedi found outâcapturedâtorturedâkilled. She waited an hourâan hour and thirty minutesâafter curfew.
Still no sign of her would-be rescuer.
Taking a deep breath, Asajj hurried out into the corridor. No sign of Obi-Wan anywhere. Swiftly, Asajj searched all the relevant corridors. Still there was no sign of Obi-Wan.
Asajj rushed to the private hangar of the palace. She got there just in time to see a sleek corvette lift off the pad and take off. Her desperate waving and shouts went unheeded. The ship made for space, quickly disappearing into the distance.
Asajj stood, frozen to the spot, for several long minutes, feeling betrayed. Then, sadly, she turned and retraced her steps to her room.
There would be no rescue for her.
She had been left behind.
Somehow, between the two of them, they somehow managed to get Obi-Wan on board a spaceworthy craft and take off. As soon as they were a safe distance from Coruscantâs busy airspace, Anakin set the coordinates for a small Outer Rim planet in the middle of nowhere. As the ship made the jump to hyperspace, Obi-Wan blinked, opened his eyes. Shmi hurried to his side, concern coloring her voice.
âObi-Wan? Are you all right?â she asked. âOther than the obvious, are you hurt?â
âI think Iâm all right⌠What happened?â Obi-Wan groaned, holding his injured side.
âYou were injured. We had to get you on board here as quickly as we could.â Shmi replied.
âWhat about Asajj?â Obi-Wan asked. âDid you find her? Is she here?â
âIâm sorry, Obi-WanâŚâ Shmi turned away slightly. Obi-Wan felt a sinking, sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach.
âAnd?â he prompted.
âIâm sorry,â Shmi repeated. Obi-Wan grabbed her arm.
âPlease, Shmi. You have to tell me!â he urged.
âWhen you were injured,â Shmi began, âwe thought it would be best to go as quickly as possible. I didnât want to, but Anakin was worried about youâŚâ
Obi-Wan put his head in his hands. âOh, no,â he breathed. âItâs back.â
âWhatâs back?â Shmi asked, suddenly afraid. âWhat do you mean?â
âVader. Anakinâs selfish, twisted side,â Obi-Wan replied, darkly. Shmi frowned.
âI thought he had it under control,â she said.
âHe still has not learned control,â Obi-Wan ground out. âHe needs more time, which is something we donât have much of right now.â He gingerly probed the wound. âItâs not that bad,â he said, cautiously. âI must have gone into shock.â Even Jedi were not immune to the ravages of an over-reacting body. Obi-Wan stood, carefully checking his balance before he fully trusted himself to it. âWhere are we headed?â he asked.
âNagr, I think,â Shmi replied. âIâm not sure.â
âIâll go ask Anakin,â Obi-Wan said, walking with surprising steadiness toward the cockpit. Shmi hurried after him.
âWait⌠are you sure thatâs such a good idea? Youâre injured!â she exclaimed, unheeded.
Obi-Wan entered the cockpit. âAnakin,â he said softly.
âYes, Master Obi-Wan?â Too prim, too smooth, too calm. Obi-Wan was instantly on his guard.
âWhere are we going?â he asked deliberately. Anakinâs eyes shifted slightly to his left as he replied.
âI donât know. We were in a hurry to get you away.â Obi-Wan leaned down against the center console, his weight on the heels of his hands, intentionally invading Anakinâs personal space.
âDonât lie to me, Vader,â he said, purposefully. âI know thatâs not Anakin talking. Whatâs your ugly little game?â
âKenobi,â the Dark Side hissed. Obi-Wan gathered the light around himself, flinging all that he could muster at it. It vanished, but Obi-Wan knew that it was only temporarily routed, not permanently put to flight. The soft wisps of light, seemingly weak yet startlingly resilient, that he had used to drive out the dark were already returning to him. He leaned forward and grasped Anakinâs shoulders.
âAnakin. Snap out of it. The Dark Sideâyou have to fight it, Anakin!â No response. Anakin appeared to be sleeping. Obi-Wan slowly released the boyâs shoulders.
He had a very bad feeling about this.