Dark Disciple

by Christie Golden

  “Something that Dooku might have stashed here for safekeeping?” guessed Skywalker.

  “Got it in one.”

  “And you’re the one to recognize something like that when you see it,” Kenobi said, nodding in approval. “All I have to say to that request is, good hunting.”

  “I’ll find the end of…all this and work my way back. I’ll let you know how deep the cavern extends.”

  “I think you just want to get out of doing the grunt work,” Anakin grumbled.

  “You’re giving all the right answers today, Anakin.” Vos grinned. Kenobi watched for a moment as the other Master paused, then shrugged and picked a direction, vanishing through one of the narrow spaces between the tightly packed crates and equipment.

  “What now?” Anakin asked.

  “We move crates.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  They set to work. Vos checked in after a few moments, letting them know that he was already about a thousand meters in with no end yet in sight. Desh returned, followed by the three transports. Clone Commander Cody, Kenobi’s clone marshal commander, jumped out of the first one. “This will be much less exciting than a battle, I fear, Commander,” Kenobi told the clone leader.

  “That’s as may be, sir, but I reckon that we can do with less excitement if it means more lives saved,” Cody said. “Come on, boys, let’s get to it. How far back does this stretch anyway, sir?”

  “Master Vos reports the distance at nearly a thousand meters—so far.”

  Rex, the clone trooper captain who served under Skywalker, whistled. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, then.”

  “We’ll be able to help with the heavier items,” Kenobi said. He gestured to a deck cannon, then closed his eyes and settled himself, feeling for the essence of the weapon in the Force. When he found it, he visualized it rising, light as a feather, as air, as nothing at all. He extended his arms in front of him and raised them, palms up. When he opened his eyes, the cannon hovered in midair. Smiling softly, Kenobi moved his right hand, maneuvering the cannon to settle in the transport hold.

  “Well, sir,” Cody said, “looks like we can knock off and let you Jedi handle this.”

  “Not quite,” Desh said. “Many hands make light work.”

  “But Jedi hands make work light,” another clone trooper, Jesse, said, eliciting a groaning laugh from some of the other clones even as he set to work with Cody to begin moving crates into the transport.

  Kenobi’s comlink chirped. “Vos, what’s your status? Find anyth—”

  “Kenobi!” Vos’s voice was taut with tension. “Get the men on the transports and get them out of here. The rest of you, too. Right now!”

  “What’s going on?” Kenobi was calm, alert.

  “Bombs,” Vos replied. “They’ve rigged this whole place to blow!”

  “Vos,” Desh said, “how many? Any chance we could disarm them?”

  “Negative,” Vos said. “I spotted at least six of them, and they’re all set to detonate in about three minutes. Go! Now!”

  “How is that possible?” Anakin asked. “They didn’t know we were coming!”

  “The droids must have set them before they attacked,” Kenobi said. “They probably thought they’d deal with whatever was out there and then disarm them upon their return.”

  “And if they didn’t return,” Desh said grimly, “the items wouldn’t fall into enemy hands.”

  “We can worry about the hows and the whys later,” Vos said, “but right now you need to get the hell off this asteroid!”

  At a nod from Kenobi, Cody started shouting to his men. They hurried back and jumped into the transports. The first one to close its doors lifted off and flew back down the tunnel to open space and safety.

  “All right, one—no, two—transports are on their way out,” Kenobi said to Vos. To Desh and Anakin, he said, “Get in your interceptors.”

  “But—” Desh began.

  “That is an order, Jedi Akar! You too, Anakin. Go!”

  The two cast a last worried look over their shoulders, then sprinted for their vessels. The final transport had lifted off and had disappeared down the tunnel toward open space.

  “You too, Kenobi,” came Vos’s voice.

  “I’ll just stretch my legs till you get here.”

  “Damn it, Obi-Wan, you’ve only got about a minute!”

  “Then you’d best hurry, hadn’t you?”

  “Obi-Wan—”

  “Stop talking and focus on running!”

  Kenobi jumped into his interceptor, prepped it for immediate takeoff, and settled in to wait. The seconds ticked by. Fifty seconds…forty…thirty-five…

  The figure of Quinlan Vos hurtled over a pile of crates marked as ammunition. Relief surged through Kenobi. He touched the controls and the Eta Interceptor lifted off. Glancing back, he saw Vos’s ship do the same.

  …twenty-two…

  The Jedi took the curves of the tunnel at top speed. Kenobi reached out into the Force, sensing the walls and the path ahead and leaning his body and his ship into them. He shot out of the tunnel with Vos barely a ship’s length behind him. He did not slow, but kept going at top speed, putting as much distance between him and the asteroid before it—

  Kenobi squinted as a bright yellow-orange fireball rolled out of the tunnel, casting stark shadows through the cockpit viewport. When he could see clearly again, he realized that the asteroid was still intact, though obscured by black smoke billowing out from the entrance. While he was grateful that there had been no loss of life, the sight pained him nonetheless. All those supplies—food, weaponry, medical equipment—up, quite literally, in smoke. Well, perhaps not all…

  “Jedi Akar,” Kenobi said, “I’d like for you to keep a single transport here and supervise the loading of any salvageable debris. Since the explosion didn’t crack the asteroid, it’s possible that much of it is still contained in the cavern.”

  “Yes, Master Kenobi,” Desh replied, though Obi-Wan detected a note of resignation in the Mahran’s voice. “Let’s hope there’s something left of use.”

  “Indeed. Vos, Anakin, let’s head back to Coruscant.”

  —

  Ventress sat at a bar in Pantora’s spaceport district, swirling her glass. She had known from the minute she walked in that coming back here, to the same bar where she and Vos had embarked on their partnership, had been a bad idea. She could kick herself now for yielding to the impulse. Somehow, she’d talked herself into thinking that seeing the place again would strip it of the power it had over her and become just another bar; the opposite had been the case. But now that she was here, Ventress figured she could at least try to drown her pain in the thick, bitter liquid and then sleep it off…somewhere.

  She tossed back the shot and gestured to the bartender for a refill. Then, she stiffened. Surely, it was just the memory that was making her think that…

  “Ventress?”

  She pressed her lips tightly together. “So now you’re stalking me.”

  Vos slid into the seat in front of her. He looked more subdued than she had ever seen him. It wasn’t a good look on him. “I came here for, I think, the same reason you did.”

  She laughed humorlessly. “To try to erase me from your memory?”

  “No.” His voice was quiet, without the desperate pleading she’d heard from him before. He waited, as if expecting her to order him away again, but Ventress was too soul-weary of it all to fight with him. Vos signaled to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  “You won’t like it,” Ventress assured him.

  The bartender plunked a glass and a bottle in front of him. Vos poured a shot and downed it. Immediately, he began to cough.

  “When you’re right,” he wheezed, tears coming out of his eyes, “you’re right.” His cough turned into a choking laugh.

  For an instant, Ventress caught a glimpse of the Vos she had grown to care for so deeply. “I’m always right,” she said. W
hy was she smiling into her glass?

  “Not always,” he said. Ventress froze, abruptly realizing that she was not sensing the dark side pouring off him anymore. Why?

  I can’t trust him. I can’t trust this…“No,” she said. “I was right about you. Wasn’t I?”

  She looked him dead in the eye, extending her feelings into the Force. There was still darkness in him, but it was different. It was…human. What she would expect from anyone who had been tortured, emotionally and physically.

  What she would expect from someone whose heart was breaking.

  Vos didn’t answer at once. He frowned into the empty glass, turning it in his fingers. He didn’t look at her when he answered, “Yes, you were.”

  She shoved the chair back and stood. “I’m done here.”

  Vos peered up at her. “Were.”

  “And I suppose you’re all better now?”

  “No.” It was the truth. Ventress could tell. Vos continued. “When you came back for me—it was right after I had held Tholme’s lightsaber.”

  “Right after you experienced me murdering him.” Ventress stated it bluntly.

  He nodded. “I was reeling. I’d been starved, beaten, deprived of sleep, injected with things that…Asajj, you were my anchor. Thoughts of you, of us, kept me sane. But when I felt Tholme—” Vos couldn’t bring himself to say the word. “After that, I thought that everything between us had been a lie. So yes, I let the dark side in. And that’s what you saw in my eyes.”

  Vos again looked down into his glass. Slowly, Ventress resumed her seat and waited.

  “For a while, I admit it, I did help Dooku. But then I began to understand what it must have been like for you as his apprentice; the kind of lessons you were learning from him. He was trying to teach me those same lessons. But you decided you didn’t want to be like him. And…I wasn’t angry at you anymore.”

  “Just like that? You saw and felt me gut a man who had surrendered to me—the Jedi who was your beloved Master—and then suddenly it’s all right?”

  Vos shook his head. “No, not suddenly. But it did happen. It helped me shore up my resolve to not give in to the darkness anymore. I wanted what we had. What we were going to have. Together. We had a future.”

  “Had being the operative word.” Her own anger and pain were returning.

  “We could still have it.”

  Ventress shook her head. She downed another shot of the bitter drink, letting it fuel her. “Impossible. Not after everything that’s happened.”

  “I forgave you. For killing Tholme, and for lying to me. And you will forgive me too, one day, Asajj Ventress.” He hesitated, and took a breath. “That’s what you do for…for the one you love.”

  He wasn’t lying. Ventress could feel it in the Force. Quinlan Vos was, truly, in love with her. Joy and pain bombarded her simultaneously. For a moment, Ventress was so stunned she couldn’t respond. Why had he said this, now, when—

  “Love,” she said, having difficulty speaking the word, “is not a part of your world anymore. You’re back with the Jedi now, and they would never allow it.”

  Vos leaned forward. All the earnestness, the…hope …that had been absent just a few moments before returned in full force. “When you turned me away, I did go back to them, yes. I tried to be a Jedi again, I really did. But I don’t belong there anymore, Asajj, I belong with you.”

  “Are you telling me that you’re willing to leave the Order?” She had to hear it, explicitly, to believe it. It had been one thing, when they were alone together on Dathomir, to talk about leaving the Jedi. Vos’s life with them had been so far away, and it would have been easy for the two of them to simply disappear. But he had been welcomed back with relief and, Ventress had to admit, affection.

  His gaze was locked with hers. “Yes. I am. There are a few more things I can do to help them destroy Dooku. I think I owe them that much. But once that’s done, I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

  For answer, Ventress stretched out her hand. Vos took it in both of his, kissed it, and pressed it to his heart.

  “Master Vos,” said Yoda, “for your actions, grateful, we are. Saved many lives, you have.”

  “Thank you, Master Yoda,” Vos replied, “but it was what any Jedi would have done. It’s Jedi Akar who deserves your thanks—he’s the one who gets to sort through the mess.”

  Amusement rippled through the gathering. Kenobi noted that the tension was gone. The nearly imperceptible aura of mistrust that had filled the Council Chamber every time Quinlan Vos was present now seemed conspicuous in its absence.

  “The Council believes that you are ready to once again fight against the Separatists,” Windu said to Vos. “Though that is not the primary purpose of this mission. Our intel indicates that Count Dooku has placed a listening station on Vanqor.”

  Kenobi made a sour face. He and Anakin had once been stranded there while in pursuit of Dooku. Anakin had been unfortunate enough to have a second bad experience there, when he and Windu had been trapped beneath the rubble of a crashed ship. Both events had involved the huge, four-armed predators known as gundarks, and Kenobi was none too keen to return. All eyes turned to the hologram of the blue-gray, rocky world.

  “Vanqor,” mused Kenobi. “Charming place. Delightful fauna. Did Dooku ever tell you anything about this station, Vos?”

  Vos frowned, thinking. “The count kept his cards pretty close to his vest,” he said. “He never did trust me entirely. But I do recall something about a listening post in that sector. If you’re confident on your intel, I’d say that this is the one Dooku was talking about.”

  “Then, Master Vos, Master Kenobi—your job is to take it out,” said Windu. “Depending on how key this site is, you may be met with a large welcoming party. Plan accordingly.”

  As Vos and Kenobi left the chamber, Anakin joined them. “Why do you always assume you’re on the same mission we are?” Vos asked.

  “Because I always am,” Anakin replied.

  “Sadly, there is no countering that argument,” Vos said wryly.

  “Now that that’s settled,” Anakin continued, “what’s our mission?”

  “To destroy a listening post,” Vos said. “We should be prepared to be fired upon.”

  Anakin looked at Kenobi, confused. “Our listening posts don’t have a lot of defenses,” he reminded them. “They rely on the fleet coming the second the all-clear signal stops being transmitted.”

  “That’s because we put lives on the line,” Vos said. “For us, the best allocation of resources works out to the fewest men at the station, with plenty of help on call in a real emergency. Dooku has more than enough droids to have them provide adequate defense at all times.”

  “Droids only?” Kenobi inquired.

  “There will be a few people stationed there to supervise and make gut-check judgment calls,” Vos said. “But the defense will almost certainly be droids. We should be prepared for a good fight. I know I’m itching for one.”

  “Sounds like everything’s back to normal with you, Vos,” Anakin said. “I’m glad.”

  “So am I, Anakin,” Vos said. “So am I.”

  —

  Kenobi, Vos, and Anakin were in their interceptors when the Vigilance came out of hyperspace and the hangar doors opened. They, along with two dozen of the heavily armed ARC-170s starfighters—the initial wave—launched at once, soaring out into space ready for battle. There was not a single fighter present to offer resistance. As they descended toward Vanqor and their target, they remained unchallenged.

  “Kinda quiet here,” Anakin said over his comlink. “You know. The peaceful silence of space. With nothing happening. At all.”

  “I agree,” Kenobi said. Where was the defense Vos had warned them about? Dooku’s forces should have launched their attack immediately.

  “Do you suppose it’s a trap?” Anakin asked. “Think they’re waiting for us to penetrate the atmosphere and launch a ground attack?”

  “That seems
a very poor tactic if it’s so,” Kenobi said, “but nevertheless, something’s not right here.” Tapping the controls, he zoomed in on the planet’s surface. “Master Windu’s intel was spot-on about the listening post, however.” He opened a channel to the attack cruiser. “Admiral Block, we’re going to go ahead and descend. We’re prepared to encounter resistance from the ground.”

  “Of course, General Kenobi,” the admiral said. “Do you wish the second wave to launch?”

  “Yes, go ahead,” Kenobi said. “Better safe than sorry.” He changed the comm channel to address his team. “It’s far too still for my liking. There may indeed be a trap. We go in expecting hostile fire.”

  “That’s more like it,” said Anakin. As usual, the boy was all on fire to be out in front and in the thick of the action. The Force, Kenobi mused, had to be protecting him. Otherwise, Anakin’s impulsiveness would have gotten him killed a thousand times over.

  “Remember,” Kenobi said, “there’s no room for rash decisions. Stay the course. That means you, Anakin. No fancy maneuvers.”

  In response, Skywalker’s ship suddenly dropped and executed a loop. “Sorry, Master Kenobi, you’re breaking up! I think something might be wrong with my comlink.”

  “Anakin!”

  “Some say I’m reckless, others would say I have guts. It’s subjective,” Anakin—who clearly had nothing at all wrong with his comlink—said.

  “It’s really not.”

  Vos laughed. “You two kids never change.”

  More elegantly than his former apprentice, Kenobi tilted the nose of his Interceptor down. The surface rushed up to meet them. He glanced at his readout, then used his own eyes and the Force.

  Listening posts were precious things. The Republic had a fleet ready to defend them at a moment’s notice, and, according to Vos, Dooku kept sufficient defense on site. The design was similar to the Republic’s—a simple station with a large tower to which a dish was affixed. Unlike Republic stations, which had a single, rather small landing pad, the area around this post was clearly designed to accommodate several vessels. Vos was right—there should have been at least few dozen fighters to safeguard the post. And yet—it looked…