Dark Disciple

by Christie Golden

  “Yes, it’s me, old friend.”

  “Is Ventress…?” Vos looked around and his face lit up. “Asajj!” Wincing at the pain the motion cost him, he reached out to her. But strangely, she hung back, reminding Obi-Wan of a wild animal about to bolt. Vos appeared not to notice. “I dreamed of you. I’m so glad you’re here, so glad…”

  “Can you walk?” Kenobi asked.

  “Yes, I think so…” With Kenobi’s help, Vos awkwardly got to his feet. His gaze was fixed on Ventress, and his smile faded at the look on her face. “Asajj?”

  Vos moved toward her. She took a step back, narrowing her eyes. “I’m so sorry I attacked you. I had to.”

  She scoffed. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

  “You know Dooku.” Even speaking seemed to tire Vos. “He records everything. There were devices in my cell, and I had to let him think he’d turned me. But I—I couldn’t keep up the act.”

  Again, Vos reached out for her. “He suspected I hadn’t turned and put me back here. He comes and tells me all the things that I’ve done as his ‘admiral.’ Ventress, I—”

  “Stop it!” she shouted. “Kenobi—we’re too late!”

  “What?” Kenobi was shocked.

  “I saw his eyes then, and I can feel the fury inside him now. He’s just itching to break our necks!” Ventress activated her lightsaber and brought it in front of her, holding it with both hands and poised to attack. The green light illuminated the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Now, hang on a moment, Ventress—” Kenobi said soothingly, trying to calm her through the Force.

  “Asajj, how can you say that? It’s still me.” Vos put a hand on his chest, which was also bleeding from recent lacerations. “It’s still your Quinlan. I’ve not changed, I swear. I’m the same.”

  “The same as you were when you tried to cut my head off with your Master’s lightsaber?”

  “Wait, what?” Kenobi looked at Vos searchingly. The other Jedi turned to him, pleading. Kenobi reached into the Force and tried to sense what Ventress claimed to feel. Vos was physically weakened, disoriented, and in pain both physically and emotionally, but any darkness Kenobi could pick up on was that of simple despair.

  “I don’t sense anything sinister, Ventress,” Kenobi said slowly. “I think perhaps your emotions are clouding your judgment.”

  She looked at him as if he had suggested they sprout wings and fly. “My emotions allow me to see the truth! This is a trick! How can you not sense it? The hatred is seeping out of his pores!” Ventress looked back at Vos, shifting her weight on the balls of her feet. “My connection to the dark side was tenuous at best, and even I could barely pull away from its grasp.” She swallowed hard. “Vos…has been consumed.”

  Shock rippled through the Force as Vos stared at her, stunned. “Ventress—”

  “Shut up!” she screamed. “I can’t listen to your lies any longer. I…” Again, the tears glittered in her eyes. When she spoke, it was in a broken whisper.

  “I am so sorry. This is the only way you can be free.”

  And she brought the lightsaber sweeping down.

  Obi-Wan sprang in front of Ventress, his lightsaber hissing and crackling against hers. He pushed her back, shouting her name, but she was beyond reason. She leapt over him, landing in front of Vos. The Jedi fell to his knees, throwing up his hands to Force-shove her backward. He was so weak that even this attack to save his own life merely pushed Ventress back a few steps. That was enough for Kenobi to land a flying kick to Ventress’s hip and she stumbled, turning the fall into a flip and landing facing Kenobi.

  “Why can’t you feel it?” she cried, and her sincerity and pain were so real that Kenobi felt a rush of pity.

  “Ventress, think for a moment! This place is steeped in dark side energy! And Vos is in terrible pain!”

  Ventress didn’t pause. She was a righteous angel, intent on destroying the thing she believed Vos to have become, and for a fleeting instant Kenobi wondered if he ever appeared that way to those he was forced to slay. Then all thought needed to be focused on preventing Ventress from murdering the very man they had come to rescue.

  “Get out of the way!” Kenobi shouted to Vos. Vos obliged, supporting himself by leaning on the wall as he put distance between the two combatants.

  “You don’t understand,” Ventress cried. “You weren’t there!” She whirled, targeting Kenobi now instead of Vos. Her green lightsaber was a blur and Kenobi was hard-pressed to parry.

  “You know,” he said, slipping his blade alongside hers then twisting it to throw her off balance, “I rather think fighting you was easier when I was trying to kill you.”

  Vos leaned against the wall, panting, his torso slick with blood and sweat. From his position he could see down the next corridor. “We’ve got company!” he shouted, and sure enough, Kenobi could hear the clatter of metallic feet.

  Ventress abruptly dodged Kenobi’s blow and returned her focus to Vos. By this point Obi-Wan was not just alarmed by Ventress’s single-minded and inexplicable distrust of Vos, but growing profoundly exasperated.

  “Ventress, by all that is good in this galaxy, can we please settle this later?” He reached out in the Force, lifted her up, and plunked her a few meters farther down the corridor the way they had come. “Go!” he shouted.

  In their many previous encounters, Kenobi had taunted Ventress by reminding her how good she was at running away. But this time, for one terrible moment, Kenobi was afraid Ventress was willing to sacrifice them all if it would ensure Vos’s destruction. Fortunately, her survival instinct kicked in and with a frustrated growl, she sprinted off.

  The droids were closing on them. Blasts ricocheted off the curving metal walls and illuminated the hallway with red light. Kenobi pulled the weaponless Vos in front of him, supporting the weakened man with one hand while partially turning around to bat back the blasterfire.

  Abruptly Ventress skidded to a halt. Vos and Kenobi almost ran into her. A fraction of an instant later a circular chunk of the corridor’s ceiling crashed straight down in front of them. Standing in the center of the metallic circle was Anakin Skywalker. His lightsaber was still lit, and the circle’s molten rim was orange.

  “Hi, Vos,” Anakin said. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Nice to see you too, Anakin,” Vos said, peering up, baffled, through the hole Anakin had just cut in the ceiling. Blasterfire pelted down, and the four of them leapt forward, heading toward the hangar and escape.

  Droids dropped through the hole, some of them landing atop their fellows that had pursued the group from Vos’s cell. Squeaks of “Hey, watch it!” and “Ow!” ensued from the hapless droids, but soon enough the clankers were again in pursuit—and firing.

  The Jedi and Ventress made it to the hangar and raced up the ramp to the Banshee. Vos all but fell into one of the seats in the hold, fumbling at the straps. Kenobi stilled his hands and began to secure his friend while Ventress began to fire up the ship.

  “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, then cursed. “They’ve changed the code for the shield! I’ll have to try to figure it out again.”

  “And now they’re closing the doors,” Anakin said. Kenobi looked up from Vos to see that Anakin was right.

  “Can you get us free?” Kenobi asked.

  Ventress’s fingers flew over the controls. “Maybe,” she said, “but that door is closing fast and the droids will be here any minute!”

  Vos looked up. “I know where both sets of controls are,” he said. Before Kenobi could stop him, the injured Jedi had risen and was opening the ramp.

  “No!” shouted Ventress. She sprang from the pilot’s chair and jumped down into the hold, trying to tackle him. Kenobi grabbed her arm. Startled, she wrenched it free, but Vos had already jumped to the ground and raced out of sight.

  “You let him get away!” Ventress snarled. “Don’t you see? He’s not coming back!”

  She drew back her fist, but Anakin’
s hand shot out to grab it. “Settle down, Ventress,” Anakin snapped. “We don’t know anything for sure!”

  “I do!” Ventress stabbed at her chest with a forefinger so hard that Kenobi thought the gesture would leave a bruise. “I know he’s fallen! And I know he can’t be brought back.”

  “Um…Ventress?” Anakin pointed, and Ventress looked through the viewport. The hangar doors had stopped closing, and then a heartbeat later, they began to reopen.

  “Check the controls!” Kenobi said. “Is the shield deactivated?”

  Ventress was already back in her seat. “We’re free,” she said, confusion in her voice.

  “And here comes Vos,” Kenobi said, unable to keep the triumph out of his voice as he waved his friend forward. Ventress turned to look, emotions warring on her face. Blasterfire screamed, and it seemed impossible that Vos wouldn’t be struck by it.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Vos shouted, leaping for the ramp. He struck it clumsily, crying out with pain, clambering aboard as it retracted. Ventress didn’t give him a second glance—all of her attention was on getting them out of there. They were out of the hangar just as the ramp door closed, with the droids’ blasters catching the stern of the ship.

  “Great job, Vos!” Anakin enthused. “It’s good to have you back.” Vos had his eyes closed, gritting his teeth against the pain. Some of his wounds had reopened and were weeping blood.

  “Strap yourselves in,” Ventress called back to them, “we’re not out of trouble yet!”

  Ventress’s warning had come just in time. Dooku had launched fighters after them. Kenobi’s spirits sank even farther when he realized that these were droid tri-fighters, so called because of their trio of arms, each fitted with a light laser cannon. The arms surrounded a gyroscopic ball in which its droid pilot was seated. The core was equipped with a large laser cannon. Devoid of sentient, living beings, the tri-fighters were not only flown by an integrated droid brain, but dispatched discord missiles bearing buzz droids—small droids that attached themselves to the target and set about disabling it. Everything hinged on Ventress’s skills now.

  “How fast can you jump to hyperspace?” Anakin asked.

  “Not fast enough,” Ventress said. “Skywalker, I need you on the triple blaster. Kenobi, you’re on one of the laser cannons.”

  “What about me?” Vos asked her.

  “You stay put.”

  “Ventress, this is foolish, I know this ship like the back of—”

  Kenobi’s stomach dropped out as Ventress plunged, darting beneath one of the tri-fighters, then soared upward in a loop, coming perilously close to another one.

  “Ventress, what are you doing?” shouted Anakin as he lurched into the cockpit. “Are you trying to get us all killed?”

  “I’m trying…to do the…exact opposite,” Ventress grunted. The ship veered hard to port, then lurched up again. Kenobi understood her tactics. Ventress was flying like a madwoman because that was the one thing the droids could not counter—irrationality. They expected their enemy to behave in a logical fashion. For instance, Ventress’s present tactic of flying straight at them—

  “Damn it, Ventress, let me help!” shouted Vos.

  It was obvious Ventress wanted Vos to touch nothing on the ship, but Kenobi had an idea. “Vos,” he called as he fired the laser cannon at one of the enemy vessels, “keep an eye out for the buzz droids! If you see them coming, use the Force to send them back to their ships!”

  “Whoa!” exclaimed Anakin as the ship turned upside down—and kept flying that way.

  “Here we go!” shouted Ventress. And just as one of the droid ships directed a blossom of laserfire at them, Kenobi saw the welcome sight of the stars appearing to turn into streaks of light as they made the jump, at last, into hyperspace.

  Everybody leaned backward, indulging in relief. “Now then,” Kenobi said briskly, unfastening Vos’s shoulder harness and locating a medpac, “let’s see about your injuries, Vos.”

  “I’m fine,” Vos replied.

  “No, you’re not,” Skywalker said, “and I bet Ventress doesn’t want blood on her containment chair.”

  Vos tensed at the mention of her name. Kenobi shot his former apprentice a glare. Too late, Anakin realized his faux pas and mouthed, Oops, sorry.

  Vos’s wounds were sterilized and bandaged in awkward silence. There were so very many of them, Kenobi thought. He stepped forward when Anakin was done.

  “I brought an extra cloak,” Kenobi told Vos. “Here.” Vos accepted it, shaking his head as Obi-Wan tried to assist him. He paled slightly as the rough brown fabric touched his brutalized torso, but made no word of complaint. For a moment, Vos seemed lost in thought, then he rose. He ascended the ladder to the cockpit slowly, lips tightly closed against any utterance of pain. Kenobi and Anakin exchanged uncomfortable glances; they were close enough to the cockpit so they’d hear everything the two said. Which was, honestly, the last thing Kenobi wanted.

  “Ventress,” Vos said quietly, “I never meant…” His voice trailed off. Kenobi thought that would be the end of it, but Vos tried again.

  “I thought for sure you would understand what I was doing. You know how Dooku thinks. Did you believe that there would be a minute when I wasn’t under surveillance? I never meant to hurt you. I was just playing a part. We—”

  “There is no ‘we’ anymore.” Ventress’s voice was pure acid. Kenobi sensed the underlying anguish that turned it so very bitter. “The Quinlan Vos I knew is dead.”

  Kenobi could feel how the words bit. “Please…,” Vos began.

  “Stay out of my way, or I will kill you.”

  Even Anakin winced at that one. A moment later Vos made his painful way down the ladder and slumped back in his seat. He looked as if all the pain of the entire galaxy had descended upon his lacerated shoulders.

  The three Jedi sat in awkward silence. Anakin and Kenobi couldn’t pretend they hadn’t overheard. Although Vos was clearly distressed by Ventress’s cutting words, in the long run a Jedi could not have attachments. Vos would, one day—soon, Kenobi hoped—be grateful to Ventress for not prolonging what could not be. Even so, he found himself wanting to offer words of comfort. He was surprised when Anakin beat him to it.

  “She’ll come around,” Anakin said kindly. “We know it’s really you who’s come back to us.”

  “Yes,” Kenobi said. “She’ll realize the truth soon enough.”

  Vos looked at them with anguished dark eyes, then buried his face in his hands.

  It was a long trip home.

  Desh stood just outside the Jedi Council Chamber. His muzzle was split with a huge grin, revealing sharp white teeth. “You’re late,” he said. “As usual.”

  Ventress watched as Vos’s eyes lit up and he extended his hand to his friend. Desh moved as if to clap Vos’s shoulder, then paused as he noticed the cloak—and a glimpse of the bandaged flesh it hid. His ebullience faded and he said, “I’ll save the welcome-home roughhousing for later.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Vos said. He gave a tired smile.

  How could none of them feel it? Ventress wondered. Vos’s eyes hadn’t changed color, not once, but the dark side wrapped his soul as the cloak wrapped his body. Her heart broke every time she tried to second-guess herself and opened to the Force. She hadn’t lied to him. Vos—her Vos—was dead. Murdered by Dooku…and, Ventress had to acknowledge, by her. She’d thought she was strengthening Vos by lying to him about Tholme, but instead she had handed Dooku the perfect weapon.

  He also hadn’t been ready for the Sleeper. She’d pushed too hard, too fast. He had needed more time—time to work with both the dark and the light, to understand the balancing point between the two so that he could do what was needed and still stay himself.

  Perhaps it would have been better if they had died, together, fighting the count, never knowing what pain lay in store.

  “Ventress?” Skywalker said, in a tone of voice that indicated it wasn’t the first time he’d spoken her
name. Ventress snapped out of her bleak reverie and followed them into the Council Chamber. The wary looks cast in her direction did not escape her notice, nor did the fact that every Jedi present, with the exception of Vos and Yoda, had a hand on his or her lightsaber.

  “Master Quinlan Vos,” Yoda said, his voice warm with affection. “Happy you are back, we are.”

  “Thank you, Master Yoda. It’s good to be back.”

  “A difficult time, you have had. Yet strong, you have stayed.”

  “Most would have broken under Dooku’s…tutoring,” Mace Windu said. “Master Kenobi and Jedi Skywalker have assured us that is not the case.”

  Ventress bit her lip, hard. She’d tried to warn them. If she protested now, they wouldn’t believe her. She could only hope that Vos would give himself away at some point. It was not her job to save the Jedi from their own blindness.

  “Asajj Ventress,” Yoda said. She looked up, meeting his eyes evenly. “Return something that was lost, you have. Grateful, we are.”

  “To show our appreciation for your aid in the rescue of Master Quinlan Vos,” Windu said stiffly, “the Council honors its promise to grant you an official pardon for all of your past misdeeds. From this moment forward, consider yourself an unmarked woman.”

  Ventress felt Vos’s gaze on her. She refused to look at him. She shrugged, uncomfortable for about a thousand reasons with the words Windu spoke. “Thank you for your…generosity,” she managed. Her voice sounded strangled to her own ears, and by their expressions, to theirs as well. She didn’t care. She just wanted to be out of this room.

  Away from the monster that wore a lover’s face.

  “May the Force be with you,” Yoda said.

  Ventress bowed perfunctorily, turned on her heel, and headed out—away from the Council Chamber, away from the Jedi, and away from Vos. As she passed Desh, he asked, “Hey, are you all right?”

  Ventress paused. “No,” she said, “and neither is he.”

  Desh looked at her, confused. Ventress continued down the hall, struggling not to break into a run. She was no longer a criminal; she had no need to flee. She heard footsteps behind her and grimaced. She probably shouldn’t have said anything to the Mahran.