Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

The Sith ring sat heavy on his finger.

Alpha-17 stroked over the matt metal finish with its Sith engraved carvings with his thumb. 

“I doubt this will do what you think it will do,” Obi-Wan had said to the Nightsister captor when she’d placed the matching ring to Seventeen’s on Obi-Wan’s finger.

And they hadn’t.

Seventeen hadn’t felt any of the torture she’d inflicted on Obi-Wan, and his Jedi General hadn’t felt any of the torture she’d inflicted on Seventeen.  Torture that hadn’t prevented them from saving themselves and falling out of the grim place she’d held them, straight into the hands of the cavalry sent to rescue them.

Safely back in the embrace of the Halls of Healing in the Jedi temple on Coruscant, it had been determined that the rings could not be removed.  Fingers could be removed but not rings and that was an extreme thing to do for something which was seemingly benign.

“Know not, the reason for the rings, we do,” the small green General muttered, tapping the gimmer stick he carried thoughtfully.

“What we do know is that these rings were made by Sith alchemy,” General Windu noted darkly.

Seventeen wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.  He could see the discomfort on Obi-Wan’s face despite the General’s attempt to hide it behind his usual mask of calm.

“Do we know what the symbols say?” asked Windu.    

The elder woman from the Archives sniffed.  “The language is archaic.  It talks only of creating a dyad and something about time.  Perhaps a dyad through time?  It is unclear.”  Her expression saddened.  “The one who would have known is now lost to us.”

“From the work Master Nu has done, we believe that they were meant to work on two Force sensitive individuals,” said the Healer, Master Che.  “Alpha-17 is Force null so it is likely whatever the intent of the alchemy it is voided by that very fact.” 

The statuesque Twi’lek was a no-nonsense being; Seventeen appreciated that.    

“So, there is no harm or consequences for either Master Kenobi or Commander Alpha-17 in continuing to wear the rings?” asked Windu bluntly.

Che exchanged a brief glance with Nu and sighed.  “It is unlikely.” 

“Exist in all life, midichlorians do,” argued General Yoda.  “Possibility there is true outcome exposure over time could bring.” 

Windu motioned at the bed where Obi-Wan and Seventeen had perched for the hastily convened debriefing.  “Amputation would remove that possibility.”

Obi-Wan stroked his ragged beard.  He looked better with the maggots gone and the scars of the mask he’d been forced into wearing healed into thin barely noticeable silver lines.  But he was still pale and thin; worn from the relentless torture.  “I’d prefer to avoid losing a finger and having to relearn my sword-play given the state of the war.”

“I’m keeping my finger,” Seventeen said bluntly.  He really wasn’t sure if it was fully his choice – he was property of the Republic after all, but he was kriffing not going to lose an appendage without a fight.

“Your fingers, you will keep,” General Yoda allowed.  “Monitor this situation though, we must.”

“Perhaps a lack of proximity would probably not go amiss,” Windu mused.  “That would slow any effect.”

“Distance matters not in the Force,” General Yoda intoned, banging his stick.

“But it does in perception,” Windu countered.  He folded his arms, hands slipping into the wide sleeves of his robes. “The Chancellor is worried about the optics.  If the media were to catch sight of these rings, there would be speculation.  Rings are a sign of marital commitment in many cultures.”

A shuffle by the wall drew Obi-Wan’s attention to where his Padawan hovered.

Seventeen figured the reference to marriage had gotten the kid flustered.  Skywalker was terrible at hiding his love affair with Senator Amidala.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were narrowing in the way that signalled he had just worked something out.

Skywalker avoided his Master’s gaze.

Obi-Wan turned back to Windu.  “The Chancellor is aware of the rings?”

“He received a report before the Council could make a determination on what information was relevant only to the Jedi,” Windu pointedly did not look at Skywalker.

Seventeen was close enough to feel how Obi-Wan’s body tensed.  The General had given the kid chapter and verse on the importance of operational security and why telling the Chancellor contravened it a million times.  It looked like it was never going to stick.  

Seventeen repressed the urge to sigh and focused instead on the wider security point raised.  “My ring will be covered by my gloves.”

“Perhaps, but Dooku probably gave those rings to Ventress,” Windu countered.  “If you and Master Kenobi continue to work together, be seen together, Dooku may still consider it a stress point he can push at.”

And that was unfortunately true.

“Yet a good team, you are,” General Yoda noted.  “Your leadership and command as a team, missed they are.”

“Is our working together or not a shatterpoint?” asked Obi-Wan bluntly, picking up something from Windu’s expression that Seventeen hadn’t noticed.

Windu inclined his head.  “Perhaps.  There is something but it is unclear.”

General Yoda snorted.  “Meditate, we must.” He pointed a long gnarly finger at them.  “Rest, you must.”

He corralled Windu and Skywalker, leading them blatantly out of the room and away from Obi-Wan and Alpha-17.

“Thank you for your discretion, Masters,” Obi-Wan said softly.

Che sniffed. “Some of us know how to keep a secret, Obi-Wan.”

“Unlike your Padawan,” Nu said pointedly.  “I will check that his marriage record has been properly secured by the Naboo authorities.”

Obi-Wan smiled wanly. “I trust Senator Amidala would have taken care of it, but your diligence is appreciated, Master Nu.”

Nu bowed.  “It is good to have you home, Master Kenobi.” Her eyes flickered to Seventeen.  “And you, Commander.”

Seventeen appreciated the effort to include him.

Che waited until Nu was gone before turning back to them.  “Your Force bond is stable.  If you need anything use the comm to call the main desk. I’ll check in on you in the morning.”

Finally, it was just the two of them.

“Do you think we should tell the Generals about the bond?” Seventeen asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head.  “I agreed with the need for operational security when we were rescued, and I agree with it now.  What they do not know, they cannot be pressed upon by the Chancellor.  I am uncomfortable enough that he knows about the rings.”

Seventeen nodded.  “You think they’ll split us up.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan reached out and Seventeen clasped his hand in his.  “They will want to limit the impact of a Sith artefact on us, and they will want to reduce the risk that we could be used against each other; that we could become attached and forget our duty.”

Seventeen grimaced.  “Tactically, it’s a stupid decision.  We’re the best team they have in the war.”

They wouldn’t have even been captured if it hadn’t been for Obi-Wan racing to protect his Padawan from his own stupidity.

“We are,” Obi-Wan said.  “We still will be, just apart.”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome,” Seventeen recited.

Obi-Wan drew closer, resting his brow on Seventeen’s.  “Mhi med’dinui an.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” Seventeen completed.  “Apt given our best cover is for me to be sent back to Kamino.”

Obi-Wan raised his head to look in his eyes, puzzlement furrowing his brow.  “Why?”

“We could claim a medical retirement from the field, put me back to Kamino,” Seventeen said.  “I’d take over the training from Cody.  He could replace me at your side.”

Obi-Wan held his gaze.  “He’s important to you.”

“Few of us caught Fett’s eye,” Seventeen said.  “I did, Fox who commands the Guard here at Coruscant, Cody.  He pulled all of us aside for special training.  Fox because he wanted someone loyal to him first close to the Chancellor, ready for a betrayal in the endgame.  Fett just didn’t count on getting killed before then.”

“And you and Cody?” asked Obi-Wan.

“I reminded him of himself,” Seventeen answered brusquely.  “Cody though…he named him Kote.”

“Glory,” Obi-Wan translated.

“The only other to be named by Fett because Fett saw the Mand’alor he could have been in him.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his hand gently.

“I renamed him Cody,” Seventeen said simply.  “I raised him.  Cody is my son.”

“Then I am honoured at your trust in sending him to my side,” Obi-Wan said.

Seventeen leaned forward and kissed his Jedi.  “Just don’t forget to look after yourself while you’re looking after our warriors, cyare.”

Obi-Wan smiled and kissed him again.

o-O-o

His Force bond with Obi-Wan was filled with sadness and despair, but his cyare, his Jedi was alive.  Hiding and not without purpose but devastated by the loss of his family, their family.

Their boys were gone.  Cody was gone.  Grief edged back under the anger that raged within Seventeen.

He had only managed to save a handful on Kamino from the control of the chip.  Meat droids.  That’s what the new Emperor had turned them into – nothing more than puppets for his use. Guilt and shame resonated down the bond he shared with Obi-Wan.  Both of them felt the same.  How had they missed the chips?  How had they missed it?

The last comm message from Obi-Wan played in his head.  Skywalker had turned on them.  Destroyed the Temple and killed younglings.  Obi-Wan was being sent to take down his own child by Yoda.

Seventeen had never been fond of the old troll.  Yoda was stuck in his ways.  A remnant of the Jedi of old.

Obi-Wan had told Seventeen to save his brothers and guard the children.

The ones Seventeen had been able to save had taken Kamino in a rage of blood as the Republic fell and the Empire rose.  The long-necked cowards had fled in the wake of their violence.

Seventeen ached to be with Obi-Wan but he and his small team guarded what was left of their vode; babies still in tubes, younglings not yet at the right stage of development to be chipped.

Seventeen tightened his hand on his blaster and waited on the rainy deck for the ship to descend.

The fighter was a new model, painted in a black alloy to make it even more foreboding.

A drop-ship of his fallen brothers followed heading to another landing deck.

Seventeen kept his focus on the one in front of him.

The ramp descended and the figure inside strode out. 

The Emperor’s new apprentice, his Fist, Vader.

The Sith was masked in a black helmet that mimicked the clones; dressed in a black mechanical suit; adorned with a black cape draped like a dark curtain falling from his shoulders; black heavy boots.  They cut an imposing figure.

The sound of blaster fire elsewhere filled the air.

“Alpha-17,” rasped Vader, the vocoder amplifying his voice, deepening and darkening the tone of it.  “I should have known it was you when the Emperor told me of the mutiny.”

Seventeen tilted his head as he raised the blaster.  “Why don’t you take the mask off and we’ll have a reunion?”

“Where is my Master?” snarled Vader.

Seventeen felt the grip of the Force around him, he couldn’t fire his blaster.  It tore out of his hand and went scuttling across the deck.  He was lifted into the air, icy invisible fingers gripped at his throat.  “Sitting on his Emperor’s throne?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Vader snapped.  “Where is he?”

And Seventeen froze, horrified. 

Vader was Skywalker.

Skywalker was Vader.

“Safe from you,” Seventeen gasped out. 

Vader threw him back down the landing deck toward the building.  He strode toward him, igniting his lightsabre. 

The red light glowed through the rain.

Seventeen staggered to his feet.

The fight was sloppy.  Skywalker was clearly unused to the suit, his gait was off, his swings wild.  Seventeen managed to duck and dive, he threw a vibroblade which ricocheted off Vader’s helmet, he tried a whip only for the lightsabre to sever it…

He wasn’t getting close enough and if he did…

There was nothing else for it.

Seventeen tapped his vambrace, sending his final command even as he charged Vader and…

He avoided the first strike…

The second took his right leg…

And then there was pain and heat as the lightsabre was thrust through his belly.

Explosions shook the city and vibrated through the deck.

It creaked and groaned and…

Seventeen reached for his bond with Obi-Wan.  It bloomed to life in his head.  He could feel Obi-Wan’s love and his grief.

“What have you done?” Vader demanded.

Seventeen smiled with bloody teeth.  His hand reached for the weapon he had left.  “Killed us both.”

Vader realised his mistake too late.

Seventeen knifed him in the chest, destroying the mechanics of the suit, driving the blade in and in and…he yanked the blade back out…

Vader fell to his knees, letting go of Seventeen.  “Obi-Wan,” he gasped out, “will never forgive you.”

The Sith who had once been Anakin Skywalker gasped for breath after laboured breath.

And stopped.

The deck creaked and began to sink.

Seventeen flipped over to look at the starry sky, his face wet with the rain.  There.  In the distance, the ship carrying the last of his vode to safety, rose into the sky and disappeared into the fog of clouds.

“Obi-Wan,” Seventeen murmured.

He touched the Sith ring which had connected him with his Jedi and given him a gift beyond measure.

Obi-Wan was with him.

He could feel the phantom of touch of lips caressing his, the feel of a well-known hand against his cheek.  Forgiveness already flowed between them.  Obi-Wan mourned Anakin, but he knew Seventeen had been given little choice but to fight him.

“Riduur,” Seventeen whispered.  “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Don’t leave me.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome,” Seventeen said.

The stars were going out.

The deck was buckling.  There was a terrible groan as the fighter slid into the ocean.  It wouldn’t be long before Seventeen joined it.

He wished he and Obi-Wan had more time.  He wished they’d had the chance to do the things they’d whispered about in the dark. After the war…

He would have taken Obi-Wan back to Mandalore.  They would have walked the planet of Seventeen’s ancestors together hand in hand.  They would have been together.  They would have shared the rest of their lives.  They would have raised warriors.

Seventeen closed his eyes.  “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la, cyare.”

May the Force be with you, my Alpha.  

Obi-Wan’s presence faded away.

There was water all around Seventeen.  Darkness swept him away.

o-O-o

Consciousness crept in slowly.

He was lying on his back.

Rain was falling on his face.

A cold breeze sent him shivering in his blacks.

Where was his armour?

Seventeen’s eyes snapped open.

The sky above him was grey.

He sat up.

His hand went to his body, to his stomach and the wound which had killed him…he stared at his legs – legs!  Both fully attached to his body.

He was whole.

A groan to his left had him turning swiftly.

There was a suspicious familiarity to the lump of robes beside him.

Seventeen’s heart quickened and he closed the space between him and…

Obi-Wan turned over and met his stunned amber gaze with shell-shocked blue eyes. “I can feel them! I can feel the Jedi! They’re alive!”

Seventeen tugged him closer and they clasped at each other, hands rough as they grabbed onto each other in bruising grips, heedless of the fact that they were on the ground, rolling in mud and grass as the rain fell upon them.

In a moment, they’d question it, they’d try and find out what had happened and figure out a plan.  But for that moment, for that moment, Seventeen was going to hold his Jedi, foreheads pressed together in a desperate keldabe kiss and savour being alive.

They were alive.

Together and alive.

fin.