The Shadow, the Exile, and a New Hope
Rating: Mature | 5k words
Chapter 3: Unpleasant Reunion
Rook Kast marched through the halls of The Shadow Collective safehouse with a fire in her belly. She was filled with both excitement and caution, for good reason. As a Mandalorian, she was always eager to test her mettle and skills against a formidable opponent, especially a Jedi. But because of Palpatine unjustly appointing himself as Emperor of the newly formed Galactic Empire, the Jedi had been systematically wiped out overnight. Only a handful of Jedi survived the betrayal of their own clone troopers and are now scattered throughout the galaxy and are now in hiding from a galaxy that now sees them as traitors.
Now, the chance to further hone her skills against a Jedi Master, especially one who sat on the Jedi High Council, filled Rook with excitement. While she would obey the will of Maul without question or complaint, in truth, she had grown tired of having to deal with low-level targets and gangstersâthose who had contributed to The Shadow Collectiveâs cause only to save their pathetic skinsâespecially fools who believed they held greater relevance than they actually did.Â
Once she made her way to the heart of the safehouse, she addressed her fellow Mandalorian comrades and Nightbrother allies. âListen up! We have new instructions from Lord Maul.â At her words, everyone stopped what they were doing and gave Rook their full attention. âWe are to capture Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and bring him back here, alive.â
âKenobi?â A male commando in scratched black and red armor asked, surprise evident in his voice. âI thought most of the Jedi were wiped out by their own troops.â
âIt would seem Kenobi is one of the rare exceptions,â Rook said in response before activating a holomap on her wrist gauntlet and allowing her comrades, who were now gathered around, to look at the map illuminating before them. âAccording to Spybot, Kenobi went to a shady part of town in Janix City and has met with a Shistavanen Jedi sympathizer at the apartment complex of Unit 47-B.â Pointing to where the Jedi Masterâs location was, Rook continued. âSpybot has yet to report on any further activity, so odds are, Kenobi is still there. But we arenât going to be the ones to ambush him, not at first.â
A female commando who wore scratched yellow and black painted armor shared a look with the other commandos in the exact color scheme before turning back to Rook. âWeâre going to use the local scum to do our dirty work for us, I take it?â
âExactly,â Rook smirked with a nod. âAfter relaying Spybotâs report to Lord Maul, I placed a live bounty on Kenobiâs head, and the reward is ten million credits. As one of the last Jedi left standing, the man is already worth a fortune if any bounty hunter had him in their sights. But we all know that it takes skill, discipline, and coordination to take down a Jedi. So thatâs why the low-level guns that have already accepted the bounty will soften Kenobi up, allowing us to swoop in and bring him back here when heâs vulnerable.â
Another female commando approached, one of high rank like Rook, and had been part of Death Watch before pledging fealty to Maul after he claimed the throne of Mandalore. She had short blond hair that was slicked back, her emerald green eyes examined the holomap with sharp attentiveness, and she bore yellow and black painted Beskar armor. Her helmet was tucked underneath her left arm while her right hand stroked her chin before pointing towards an intersection that connected Janix City to the more unsavory parts of town.
âIf the low-life scum are going to make their move, weâll need to make sure that they donât let Kenobi reach this intersection that leads into the heart of the city.â Pointing to a major cross-shaped intersection that led to different districts of Janix City, the blond-haired commando continued. âObviously, we donât want to bring down Janix Civil Defense on top of us, and I have a feeling Kenobi doesnât want that kind of attention either. So weâre going to have to play this smart.â
Murmurs and sounds of agreement filled the air, and Rook didnât argue her friendâs point. âHow right you are, Bhai. And judging by the route that Kenobi would have to take to get back to the Market District, heâll find himself in a traffic tunnel, which should give us enough time to incapacitate him before any unwanted attention gets eyes and ears on what weâre doing.â Rook then looked at her allies, her eyebrows raised. âAny questions?â
âI have one, dearest sister.âÂ
A tall, lean Mandalorian, who was seated on a crate of weapons, suddenly stood to his full height and approached. Like Rook, he too possessed icy blue eyes that were sharp with focus as he had studied the map. He had pale ivory skin, he had dark violet hair that was done in a fauxhawk hairstyle, and the sides of his head were cut in a crisp fade. He bore a well-trimmed beard on his handsome face, and there was a scar on his upper lip that ran up to his left cheekbone. And like Rook, his armor was painted in a dark violet color scheme, and his left shoulder plate bore the emblem of House Kastâa coiled Vexis.Â
âLord Maul instructed us to bring Kenobi back here alive, yes?â The older, more witty Kast tilted his head in curiosity. âThe Jedi simply wonât allow himself to be abducted. So what happens if he kills some of us to ensure he isnât captured?â
Narrowing her eyes at her brother, Rook responded simply. âWe use other methods of lethal force,â she then added quickly, âwithout killing him. If the encounter escalates, we use electric shock cables to bring him down.â Deactivating the map projecting from her forearm gauntlet, Rook placed her helmet over her head. âEnough talk. Letâs get moving.â
Obi-Wan hadnât been expecting to be at Rynarâs den for three hours, and he certainly didnât want to disturb the Shistavanen when his mate and two cubs, who were no older than seven standard years old, returned with groceries. Rynar had introduced his wife, Luna, a rare white-furred Shistavanen, and their boy and girl, Jaws and Alize. Like Rynar, his pack was most hospitable and was among the rare exceptions of beings in the galaxy who didnât believe that the Jedi were traitors, despite all of Palpatineâs lies and Imperial propaganda.Â
In truth, it gave the Jedi Master the strength and assurance that he desperately needed. If a simple family like Rynarâs still believed in the light of the Jedi and what they stood for, then there was hope for the galaxy yet. Eventually, the people of the galaxy would need to rise and fight the Empire that was already robbing freedom and independence from proud worlds, and they would need to fight for what was right without the help of the Jedi, since there were so few that had survived.Â
Obi-Wan, despite considering taking Luke somewhere to hide in plain sight, specifically Tatooine, where he could be watched over by Owen and Buru Lars, the Jedi Master decided to shun the idea. Luke would need to be trained, not only to bring hope to a galaxy being drowned in the darkness of the Sith and the Galactic Empire, but also because he would need to help right the wrongs committed by his late father.Â
It was a terrible weight that was placed on the boyâs shoulders, but Luke and Leia both were the galaxyâs last hope.Â
The past year had given the Jedi Master the time to dwell on all of the mistakes the Jedi Order had made, not only amongst themselves by choosing not to reform the Jedi Code and allow those in their broken order to allow attachments and relationships, while also teaching to control the selfish need to control those relationships.Â
Arrogance. Outdated dogma. Complacency.Â
These were three of the many problems that led to the Jedi Orderâs downfall, and Obi-Wan was ashamed to admit that he too was a victim of these traits. Not only did the Jedi Master cringe in shame that he had allowed himself to be blinded by politics and serving a corrupt Senate, but Obi-Wan was especially ashamed for failing Anakin.Â
He had promised Qui-Gon Jinn, his late master, that he would train the boy, and he had kept that promise. But now, looking back, Obi-Wan realized that the reason why Anakin gravitated towards Palpatine was that his late apprentice needed a father figure, not a brother. Had Qui-Gon not perished on Theed all those years ago, he wouldâve been the perfect master and parental figure Anakin desperately needed.Â
Oh, how could everything have gone so wrong? Obi-Wan mused silently to himself, unable to escape the shame that had been gnawing away at him the moment he left his fallen student to burn alive on the fiery shores of Mustafar.Â
Failure is often the greatest teacher one could have; it shows one their previous mistakes and grievances, and it would be wise to heed the mistakes of the past, lest one repeat them.Â
And Obi-Wan was determined not to repeat the same mistakes he made with Anakin when training Luke. Force forbid, should he fail in his charge again, Luke could fall to the dark side like his father before him, and then all hope would be lost. The Sith would rule unchallenged and unabated should the children of the Chosen One embrace the dark side.Â
Once leaving Rynarâs domicile, the reinforced door to Unit 47-B hissed shut and locking mechanisms clicked and ground loudly, sealing the doors. The Jedi Master stepped into the humid underlevel corridor. The weight of fresh chain codes and credits felt reassuring in his cloak; he had what was needed to keep under the Empireâs radar a little while longer, until he found a world that was far from Imperial control to call home for a time, and raise Luke until he was old enough to begin training in the Jedi Arts.Â
Reaching for his communicator, Obi-Wan contacted his droid companion. âLuma, this is Obi-Wan. Please respond.â
âMaster Kenobi,â the droidâs feminine, artificial voice filled. âI was beginning to worry.â
Chuckling softly, the Jedi Master nodded to himself. âNo need for that; I had to procure a set of chain codes and Imperial credits from an old contact who had close ties with the Jedi. He has provided what I require, and Iâm heading back to the ship now.âÂ
Obi-Wan suddenly felt a familiar prickling at the back of his neckâa warning from the Force that told him that eyes were on him, and that they had nothing to do with Rynar or his family.Â
Keeping his guard up, the Jedi Master could see pedestrians, residents, and onlookers roaming the shady neighborhood wandering around. Despite telling himself that there was nothing to worry about, the Force never lies. The prickling on the back of his neck grew sharper, and he could sense imminent danger.Â
âI fear I may have drawn unwanted company,â Obi-Wan spoke into his communicator.Â
âI can bring the ship to your location andââ
âNo, Luma. I donât want to put Luke in danger,â Obi-Wan said firmly. âStay hidden and out of sight. If you encounter any danger, defend Luke.â
Luma was silent for a moment before the droid replied. âUnderstood. But what about you?â
âI can handle myself just fine. However, if the threat Iâm sensing is far greater than I can handle, I will need you to act.â Obi-Wan said as he hastily made his way towards his parked Balutar-class swoop. âIf you donât hear from me within one rotation, you take the ship and Luke off of Janix.â
âBut, Master Kenobiââ
âDo I make myself clear, Luma?âÂ
Obi-Wanâs sudden outburst caused passing citizens and onlookers to look in the Jediâs direction, and he cursed himself for being reckless like that.Â
âUnderstood, Master Kenobi.â
âGood. Iâm on my way back to the ship now.â
The Force hummed with growing unease as he swung a leg over the seat of his swoop and thumbed the ignition. The vehicleâs engine roared to life, the growl echoing off the duracrete walls. Obi-Wan twisted the throttle and shot out of the alcove, accelerating up the service ramp toward the surface streets. For a few precious seconds, the night air felt almost calm.Â
A quartet of battered speeder bikes burst from a side alley, their riders a ragtag crew of riffraff clearly hired for a quick job: a pair of Nikto thugs with heavy blaster rifles, a Weequay mercenary with a scarred face and repeater carbine, and several humans in patched leather wielding twin blaster pistols.
Blaster fire erupted immediately. Red bolts streaked through the darkness, forcing Obi-Wan to bank hard left down a narrower access road. The swoopâs agile frame responded instantly, but the hired guns were relentless, weaving through traffic and closing the distance. Obi-Wan leaned low over the handlebars, one hand on the controls while the other drew his concealed blaster pistol. He returned fire without hesitationâtwo precise shots that sent the Weequayâs bike skidding into a parked cargo sled in a shower of sparks.
The remaining assailants pressed harder, their bolts chewing into the walls and pavement around him. Not wanting to draw the attention of local authorities or worse, Imperial forces, Obi-Wan veered his vehicle sharply toward the abandoned industrial outskirtsâdilapidated warehouses and overgrown loading yards where fewer eyes would witness the chase. The swoop screamed through tight turns between rusted pylons as more bolts sizzled past his shoulder.Â
High above, nearly invisible against the night sky, Spybot hovered and relayed a cheerful, singson update:Â
âJedi fleeing toward industrial zone. Engaging hired idiots. Shouldâve chosen a different line of work. Hehehe!â
As the chase intensified, a wave of memory crashed over him despite the danger. For a fleeting second, he wasnât on Janixâhe was years younger, seated in the passenger seat of Anakin Skywalkerâs reckless speeder on Coruscant. The boyâthen a young manâhad laughed wildly while pushing the vehicle to impossible speeds through the lower levels, dodging traffic with that signature blend of brilliance and sheer audacity.
âRelax, Master! Iâve got this!â Anakinâs voice echoed in his memory, full of cocky confidence as he threaded between towering skyscrapers and under crossing walkways.
Obi-Wan had spent half those rides gripping the seat with white knuckles, lecturing his former Padawan on proper piloting procedure while secretly admiring the raw talent. Anakinâs flyingâwhether in a starfighter or a stolen speederâhad always been reckless, instinctive, borderline suicidal⊠and almost always successful. Now, years later, Obi-Wan found himself in the pilotâs seat, channeling some of that same improvisational chaos just to survive.
A bolt from another of the assailantâs blaster repeaters struck the swoopâs rear stabilizer, jolting the Jedi Master back to the present. Obi-Wan banked hard right into a narrower side street, the swoopâs repulsors screaming in protest. He returned fireâtwo shots that caught the Weequay in the shoulder and sent his bike careening into a wall before slamming into a durasteel barrier. The Weequayâs scream of terror was drowned out by the explosion that consumed both him and his vehicle in a bloom of orange and red.
âTwo down,â Obi-Wan breathed, the memory of Anakin lending him a strange, bittersweet resolve. If only you had not turned to the dark side and could see me now, old friend. Reckless flying indeed.
The last of the hired guns pressed their attack, closing in on their bounty from both sides. Obi-Wan poured on speed, racing toward the more deserted industrial zone. Looking over his shoulder, the Jedi Master fired another precise shot that struck a bike carrying two Nikto in the brake system, causing the bike to spark violently before bursting into flames, and a large explosion consumed the bike and two Nikto in a ball of fire. The last of his attackers met a similar fate, having either been shot dead or sent flying off of their speeder bikes, leaving them behind to eat the Jedi Master's dust.
For a moment, all was silent as Obi-Wan allowed himself to catch his breath and mumble incoherently as his swoop began sputtering thanks to the damage it received in the altercation. Smoke began trailing from the stabilizer, and his wounded arm throbbed, but he was in the clearâat least for now.
He allowed himself the ghost of a smile beneath his beard as he guided the swoop into the mouth of a wide traffic tunnelâan old arterial route cutting beneath the cityâs mid-levels, now mostly abandoned at this hour. Dim overhead lights flickered past in rapid succession as he accelerated, hoping the enclosed space would buy him a moment to lose any remaining tails.
The prickling he had felt not long ago suddenly turned to the Force screaming at him in warning.
The pincer he suddenly found himself in closed with brutal efficiency.
From the far end of the tunnel, a massive, heavily armored transport carrier rumbled forward, having driven the wrong way before spinning around and facing forward, effectively blocking the exit. Its side and rear bay doors hissed open with a hydraulic groan, revealing a nightmarish sight. A tall, lean, red-skinned Nightbrother warrior with a gaiter covering his nose and mouth stood braced in the opening, a heavy rotary cannon in his hands as the weapon already started spinning up with a high-pitched whine. Beside him was an orange-skinned Nightbrotherâbroader and more muscularâwho raised a WESTAR-35 blaster pistol in one hand while gripping a thermal detonator in the other. Flanking them were five more Nightbrothers, two yellow-skinned and three tan-colored, bristling with blaster rifles and traditional Dathomirian weaponry.
The Nightbrotherâs menacing laughter echoed throughout the tunnel, sending a chill down Obi-Wanâs spine as he watched the red-skinned Zabrak with the rotary cannon remain silent and simply squeeze the trigger. The rotary cannon erupted in a deafening storm of blaster bolts, filling the tunnel with a blinding barrage of crimson lasers. The other Nightbrothers added their own fire, WESTAR pistols and carbines stitching lethal patterns of laser fire across the confined space. The crimson and amber bolts ricocheted off the tunnel walls in chaotic showers of sparks and left behind nasty scorch marks, turning the passage into a kill box.
Obi-Wan cursed aloud as he steered the swoop into a desperate series of barrel rolls and jukes, the agile vehicle responding to his will and the guiding touch of the Force, but the Jedi Master knew he wouldnât be able to evade so much laser fire forever. A searing bolt grazed his left shoulder, burning through his cloak and striking his flesh, causing him to cry out in pain. Another bolt slammed into the swoopâs rear stabilizer, sending the vehicle into a violent shudder. Smoke trailed from the damaged craft as Obi-Wan fought for control, returning fire with his blaster pistol where he couldâtwo shots that forced one Nightbrother back into coverâbut the sheer volume of enemy fire was overwhelming. The tunnel seemed to shake with the roar of weapons, and he knew that if he didnât get out of this kill box, he would be torn to shreds. Obi-Wanâs mind raced: Luke. Luma-4. The ravine was still kilometers away, where his ship awaited. He needed an opening, a way out of this death trap before his assailants' full strength descended upon him like an avalanche.
Unfortunately, whoever these Nightbrothers were, they hadnât come alone.
Once again, the Force screamed a final, desperate warning.
Turning around, Obi-Wan saw another massive, heavily armored transport carrier rumble forward until it was behind him. The side doors to the transport hissed open and the Jedi Masterâs eyes widened as he saw four Mandalorian commandos suddenly peek their heads out before taking to the air thanks to the roars of their jetpacks. Four other commandos peeked around; their gunmetal gray armor bore no markings that could identify them, but that was the least of Obi-Wanâs worries as he was under heavy blaster fire from in front of him, behind him, and above him.
Concentrated fire from the Mandalorian commandos' WESTAR-35 pistols and a heavy repeater slammed into the swoopâs engine housing. The vehicle bucked wildly, systems failing in a cascade of sparks and grinding metal.
âNo!â Obi-Wan cried, leaping clear at the last possible second.
He hit the duracrete hard, rolling to absorb the impact as the swoop spiraled out of control and detonated in a brilliant fireball behind him. The blast wave slammed into his back, ringing his ears with a high-pitched whine and blurring his vision with smoke and debris. Pain lanced through his wounded shoulder and ribs as he pushed himself up on one knee, coughing.
âKeep your guard up! Remember, heâs a Jedi Master. Donât underestimate him.â
They know who I am. I assume the earlier assailants were hired by this lot. Obi-Wan pieced together the pieces in his mind before returning to the moment. And whoever these Mandalorians and Nightbrothers are, they arenât common street thugs. These are professionals.Â
He could see a pair of feet getting ever closer to his face, and with the speed of a Garoliian ghost viper, Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber and slashed at the approaching assailantsâ feet. The one who had approached, another tall, hulking Nightbrother, jumped back with a surprised yelp just before their feet were cut from the ankles, before snarling and bearing his teeth at the Jedi. In response to their comrade nearly being cut down to size, the entire group of Mandalorians and Nightbrothers all instinctively took one synchronized step back. Even battle-hardened warriors knew the danger a cornered Jedi Master represented. Jetpacks powered down. Weapons stayed raised, but no one fired.Â
Obi-Wan stood tall despite the pain, cloak singed and torn, lightsaber held in a ready guard. His blue eyes swept across the assembled killers, calm and unyielding. Now on his feet and taking up the defensive stance of Form IIIâSoresuâthe Jedi Master took the opportunity to assess the threat before him and frowned as he realized that the odds were not in his favor.
âI suggest you reconsider your next move very carefully, friends,â he said, voice steady even as blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. âThis does not have to end in slaughter.â
Obi-Wan heard a droid suddenly scattering hysterically down the tunnel before perching itself on top of one of the armored transports, laughing while pumping its pincers before staying still, recording the confrontation.Â
âYouâll forgive us if we donât offer you the same offer, Master Kenobi.â
Turning in front of him, the Jedi Master saw a female Mandalorian flanked by several female commandos, and all of them wore the same armor design and helmets; only their colors made them stand out. While some wore red and black Beskar armor, others wore yellow and black Beskar armor. But the woman who responded to his warning clearly stood out, and if Obi-Wan had to take a guess, he assumed she was the group's leader.Â
âHello there." He began with a charming grin. "I donât believe weâve met,â he continued, trying to be civil, despite the circumstances. âWho might you be?â
Chuckling, the commando drew one of her WESTAR-35 blaster pistols holstered at her hip before pointing it at him. âMy name is Rook Kast,â she said before her voice dropped into an icy tone. âAnd who we have the honor of serving is very eager to reunite with you.â She then turned to her companions. âTake him!â
As the crew of Mandalorians and Nightbrothers advanced, Obi-Wan sighed as he smiled coyly. âMy apologies, but Iâm afraid Iâm needed elsewhere.â He then unleashed a powerful Force shockwave that sent the encroaching warriors flying back and skidding against the permacrete. âTell your boss that weâll have to meet some other time!â
The airborne Mandalorians began shooting at Obi-Wan, having been unaffected by the shock wave of Force energy that he had used to dispel his opponents. Quickly dodging and evading the first barrage of laser bolts thanks to his Jedi reflexes, Obi-Wan raised his lightsaber to swat away the incoming bolts of laser fire. Redirecting the incoming fire back at his opponents wasnât easy, especially since the commandos began swarming him like enraged hornets seeking to sting him. So instead of redirecting his opponentâs laser fire back at the source, the bolts struck the high ceiling of the tunnel or the walls.Â
The Force shock wave Obi-Wan had unleashed had given him a precious moment to reach for one of the armored transports his opponents arrived in, now that their perimeter had broken. Without hesitation, the Jedi Master spun on his heel and sprinted toward the nearest transport, still effortlessly swatting away blaster fire from the Mandalorians in the air and those who were getting up from the shock wave he unleashed. With his cloak streaming behind him, his wounded arm screamed in protest, Obi-Wan was mere meters away from reaching the transport. Freedom was so close, a few more steps, and he would put his attackers miles behind him.
A sharp whip-crack cut through the air, ripping away any hope of escape.Â
Fibercord lashed around his torso and arms with vicious speed, pinning his lightsaber arm to his side and causing him to drop his weapon to the ground, the lightsaber deactivating as his grip faltered and the hilt of his weapon clattered uselessly on the ground. The cord around him tightened like a noose as he was suddenly yanked off his feet and sent crashing into the duracrete below. The pain bit into his cloak and flesh as Obi-Wan grunted in the effort to free himself. Above him, Rook Kastâs jetpack roared to life in a burst of blue-white flame. The Mandalorian warrior had hovered for a split second, then accelerated hard, dragging the Jedi Master off his feet. Obi-Wan was yanked violently across the rough ground, bouncing and skidding over broken pavement and debris. Pain exploded through his body as rocks and duracete tore at his back and legs.Â
Through the haze of agony and the roar of Rookâs jetpack, Obi-Wan recalled how he found himself in a nearly similar bind on the rain-slicked platforms of Kamino as he had a fierce altercation with the late Jango Fett, the chosen template of the Grand Army of the Republic. Obi-Wan had barely escaped that encounter with his life⊠perhaps history was repeating itself in this moment.Â
History does love its repetitions, he thought grimly, teeth clenched against the jolting pain as Rook hauled him along like a captured animal. Focusing his mind, Obi-Wanâs gaze settled on Rookâs jetpack. But sadly, Iâm not here to relive history.Â
Taking a deep breath, the Jedi Master focused through the pain, fatigue, and adrenaline before reaching out with the Force and focusing it on the jetpack on Rookâs back. With a concentrated surge of will, he crushed one of the main thrusters in an invisible grip. Rook snarled a sharp curse in Mandoâa as her jetpack began sputtering violently. Alarms blared in her helmetâs inner visor, but she ignored them before detaching herself from the malfunctioning pack that spiraled wildly upward and slammed into the tunnel ceiling with a deafening boom.Â
The explosion sent a shower of rock, rebar, and duracrete debris cascading down in a choking cloud of dust. Obi-Wan rolled instinctively as best he could, the fibercord still binding him. In the chaos, he stretched out his hand and called his lightsaber to him. The hilt flew through the air and slammed into his open palm. The azure blade ignited with a snap-hiss. With one swift upward slash, the fibercord was severed, the broken strands fell away, and Obi-Wan staggered to his feet, panting heavily as he sought to catch his breath.Â
He had only a heartbeat of freedom.Â
Multiple whip-cracks filled the air as the other Mandalorian commandos fired their own fibercord whips from their gauntlets. The cords lashed around his arms, legs, and torso from every direction, wrapping him tighter than before. Obi-Wan twisted and slashed with his lightsaber, severing two lines, but more replaced them instantly.Â
âHold him down!â
Rook barked out, and the commandos worked with ruthless coordination, pulling the cords until the Jedi Master was stretched spread-eagle between them, boots barely touching the ground.Â
âNow!â Rook cried out. âShock him!â
Obi-Wanâs eyes widened in horror as he saw the commandos activate their cordsâ shock capabilities in unison.Â
Electricity surged through the fiber-optic lines with vicious intensity. Obi-Wanâs body convulsed violently, every muscle seizing as blue-white arcs of electricity danced across his frame. His lightsaber once again slipped from his spasming fingers and clattered to the ground. A strangled cry of agony escaped his mouth as he was overwhelmed by pain.Â
His vision flashed white, the world tilting violently.Â
Then the Jedi Master collapsed hard onto the debris-strewn ground face-first the moment the Mandalorians released the tension from their fibercords. Smoke rose from his singed cloak and tunic; the aftermath of being electrocuted surged through Obi-Wanâs nerves and muscles, and he could taste blood in his mouth.
Heavy boots surrounded him once more. Rook Kast approached as she leveled her blaster pistol at his head while also scooping up his lightsaber in her unoccupied hand and clipping it to her waist.Â
âSecure him,â she ordered coldly. âLetâs get him back to the safehouse.â
Obi-Wan struggled to push himself up, but his body was too injured and weak to obey him. He could feel himself being placed in stuncuffs before being hauled to his feet by two of the hulking Nightbrother Zabraks. Through the haze of pain, one desperate thought burned in his mind:Â
The galaxyâs last hope was still waiting for him to return, guarded only by Luma-4. Obi-Wanâs blurry vision became even more so as he drew upon the Force to begin healing his wounded body, but the effort was too much. His head fell forward as he let out a soft exhale before his vision went black.
Obi-Wan wasnât sure how much time had passed. An hour. A day. A month, even. But he was soon brought back to consciousness when he felt himself being dragged by two of the hulking Nightbrothers whom he had encountered.Â
His vision was still blurry, but his hearing was flooded with the sounds of welding torches burning, supplies being offloaded, and dozens of footsteps from behind. Slowly lifting his head, which felt as though it were being weighed down by an oppressive yoke, Obi-Wan saw the back of Rook Kast as she had her helmet tucked underneath her left arm and holding his lightsaber in her right hand, and hovering next to her was a saucer-shaped droid that was humming to itself.Â
As his vision cleared, Obi-Wan took in his surroundings and surmised he was in a safehouse of some kind. It was large enough to hold a small army and several dozen vehicles, but from the look of it, there wasnât an army here, only a few dozen men and women at least. From the corner of his eye, he saw several more Nightbrothers who had not participated in his capture coming into his peripheral vision. In fact, these Nightbrothers were unlike any heâd seen before. These Zabraks bore bone-white skin with intricate black tattoos along their faces and bodies; many of them had piercings that gave them an edgy appearance (more so than usual), and their horns gleamed with a shade of red similar to Rookâs armor.Â
âMy lord,â Rook said aloud as she came to a sudden stop. âWeâve returned, with Kenobi.â
They had stopped at a section of the dimly lit safehouse that looked as though it were fashioned into a meditation chamber of some kind. At the base of the small flight of steps were two red-skinned Nightbrothers with their arms crossed. The droid that had been following him from afar, Spybot, scatted excitedly as it hovered towards the unseen figure looming in the darkness, its mechanical purrs filled the air, as though it were receiving affection of some kind. Suddenly, several approaching steps echoed softly, and Obi-Wan felt a familiar presence in the Force.
âDespite the circumstances that we now find ourselves in,â a dark yet silky voice filled the air, one that Obi-Wan was unfortunately intimately familiar with. âI am pleased to see that you are still alive⊠Kenobi.â
The metallic thudding of footsteps grew louder before the figure emerged out of the shadows like a specter of death. The Jedi Master laid eyes on the last man he expected to encounter in these trying times. The man who had killed Qui-Gon Jinn so many years ago on Naboo and who had murdered Satine, the woman he wouldâve left the Jedi Order for, had she said the word back on Mandalore. The last time he had seen the man who haunted his dreams on many occasions had not changed his attire since he last saw him on the Mandalorian asteroid outpost known as Vizsla Keep 09.Â
But there was no doubt in Obi-Wanâs mind who this was.
The cruel grin that spread across the red-skinned Zabrakâs face and the pair of cybernetic prosthetic legs confirmed his identity. And as he emerged from the shadows and now stood bathed in the amber light of the safehouse with Spybot by his side, Obi-Wan said only one word in response.
