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Zygerrian Triumvate; the Rescues of Obi-Wan Kenobi	By : Jade_Max Category: +S through Z > Star Wars: The Clone Wars Views: 6748 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Star Wars is George's sandbox, I'm simply destroying the sandcastles and make no money off of this

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Author's Note: None of these Rescues are related; they're all 'stand alone' sequences. Enjoy.
Author's Note 2: Kalinda Halcyon and the members of Shadow Squad are borrowed with permission from laloga. Big thanks to her for the loan - and the revision before hand to ensure I got their characters right :)
Rescue #3
Obi-Wan was not a happy Jedi.
Ahsoka's slaver role had gone off without so much as a glitch with one exception; the Queen had asked for him, in addition to the hefty, heavily discounted fee Ahsoka had negotiated for the Togrutan colonists before the slave auction. Not in the position to refuse, she'd submitted gracefully - which had left him in the Queen's court while Ahsoka, Anakin and Rex had departed to collect their acquisitions.
And likely, knowing Anakin, destroy the facility that they were being kept at.
Should Anakin act rashly, it could jeopardize his cover and expose the his charade as a slave but Obi-Wan knew Anakin was hardly predictable. It was entirely possible Anakin would leave things be. His lips twisted before he carefully blanked his expression, holding the tray for the Zygerrian Queen, Miraj Scintel, so she could sip from a cup without the need of a table.
His hands ached, his back ached and the indignity of his little golden costume remained. Miraj had been enamored with his physique, he would have had to been blind to have missed it, and hadn't changed a thing; even now the fine chain that was attached to his collar was threaded through the fingers of the Zygerrian Queen, though his good behavior and exemplary manners had apparently earned him the right to forego the shock collar.
Appreciate the small things, he told himself silently as his arms began to protest the continued immobility; he'd been standing, holding the tray at waist height, for the better part of the last two hours. Calling on the Force, he eased the aches and prevented the muscle spasms that would have spilled her drink. Anakin will come back, he reminded himself with an inward sigh as he examined the Zygerrian Queen and counseled himself to patience.
Anakin, having been a slave, would find some way to free him, of that he had no doubt. Until he did, unfortunately, Obi-Wan was left playing the role he'd drawn from the start of their deception. It was not an unpleasant task, nor a difficult one, simply tedious and he mentally, silently, urged Anakin to hurry.
++++++++++
“I’m sorry, he’s where?”
The image of Anakin Skywalker looked chagrined on the other end of the holo. “He’s been captured by the Zygerrian Queen, Kali. I wouldn’t normally ask this of you and the Council doesn’t yet know but-”
Kalinda Halcyon’s laughter, bubbling up through her chest and resounding with an amused peal through the cockpit of her ship, cut off the other Jedi. “Obi-Wan Kenobi got captured by slavers? You don't really expect me to believe that, do you? There’s more to this than you’re telling me, Anakin; what’s the real story?”
His image winced. "Did you hear about the missing Togruta colonists from Kiros?"
"Something in passing," she conceded, "I've been out of touch."
The two Jedi shared a look and Anakin smiled faintly, ruefully, an edge of self depreciation on his lips. "So have we," his expression hardened almost imperceptibly, taking on an edge. "They were taken by Zygerrian slavers as a way to resurrect their slave auctions. Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex and I went undercover to find and free them. Things... didn't exactly go as planned."
Kalinda's eyebrows arched. "Do they ever when the two of you are involved?"
"Sometimes," Anakin retorted defensively. "Obi-Wan was part of the price we had to pay to free the colonists."
"Part of the price?" Kalinda lifted one hand to cover her lips, trying hard not to laugh. The whole situation was ludicrously ridiculous. "Price to whom?"
"The Zygerrian Queen."
Her laughter and amusement died and she sat forward in her chair as she tramped down a surge of concern. "The Queen?"
"To make a long story short, Ahsoka was playing a Togrutan slaver and Obi-Wan was her slave; he... caught the Queen's attention."
She would just bet he'd caught the Queen's attention; Obi-Wan was nothing if not a physical feast and ocular delight to observe. She couldn't really blame the other woman - female - for the interest, but Obi-Wan was hardly cut out to play the slave. Anakin continued and her brow furrowed at the bare bones information she was being fed; it wasn't much.
"Ahsoka was trying to bargain for her people's freedom. The Queen agreed to a discounted price based on her heritage but insisted Obi-Wan be a part of it. Ahsoka couldn't refuse without making her suspicious."
"I see. Where is he now?"
"Last I heard, in the palace. The Queen's quite taken with him," Anakin shook his head in frustration. "I'd go back for him myself, but they've seen me already and you're the only other person I know who might stand a chance of getting him out."
Code for saying she was the only other person he knew that cared as much as he did to try instead of let Obi-Wan sort it out on his own. "I don't see how I'm going to rescue the great General Kenobi if you can't."
"Zygerrian's are partial to music," was the immediate reply. "Dulcimers in particular."
Ah; she understood now. "I'll do what I can Anakin," Kalinda promised. "I'll be in touch once we've left the planet."
"I know you will; thanks, Kali. We'll be here if you need assistance; coordinates being transmitted now."
The transmission ended and she sat back in her seat, absently reaching down to rub her knee as it began to ache. Obi-Wan was the personal slave to the Queen of a slaver empire. Life as a Jedi, she reflected, reaching forward to program in the coordinates Anakin had thoughtfully provided into the navcomputer, is never dull.
A quick calculation to confirm the trajectory later and she knew she'd have several hours to prepare
"Problems, General?"
Traxis, the weapons expert of her special operations squad, stood in the doorway to the cabin, his hands folded behind his back, looking at her expectantly; he'd drawn night watch with her and had just returned from the 'fresher. Kalinda exhaled softly and forced a smile. "Apparently we're off to rescue Obi-Wan."
"General Kenobi, sir?"
She nodded and pushed back from the chair. "Wake the guys, would you? This one's going to be interesting."
++++++++++
Nearing the end of the first full rotation on Zygerria, Obi-Wan's optimism was starting to wane.
He'd been acting the slave since that morning and the role had begun to chafe. Obedient he could be, but he'd not suffer such indignities since he'd been a Padawan; and Master Qui-Gon had ever treated him with more respect than the highest ranked of the slaves in the palace received.
Towards sundown, he was still standing, tray in hand, at Miraj's elbow, the chain to his collar wrapped around her long, slender fingers as she drew him absently with her everywhere she went. He was like a new toy, a new pet - one she didn't wish to let out of her sight.
Despite the Queen's constant presence and vigilance, Anakin should have rescued him by now.
Unless something had come up, which he doubted, as Anakin was never one to leave him behind and certainly not in the hands of slavers. As if he needed the reminder, a tug at his collar drew him forward and back into the main audience hall, pulling his attention from his thoughts. They'd spent most of the day in that hall, with Obi-Wan holding a tray, simply for the Queen to have someone to place her belongings. Having tuned out a good deal of the more mundane aspects of Zygerrian life, his attention was caught by the familiar echo of a Force presence.
Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he keep his gaze on the floor while shooting a look towards the main doors that had yet to open. What was she doing here? The only thought that came to mind, that made any sense, was that Anakin had called her.
Anakin, he wondered silently as the doors suddenly began to open, what have you done?
Pulling back, the massive portal swung around and retracted, revealing a slender woman of average height, a slight limp in her walk as her dark hair swayed about her shoulders, her dark eyes taking in the throne room at a glance and skimming over his own scantily clad form without a moment’s hesitation. Dressed in a brilliant swirl of purple and red that Obi-Wan had never seen her in before, she had a very familiar instrument, a dulcimer he’d often before seen, strapped across her back as she stepped to the base of the throne.
“Kamala Ki, your majesty,” an aid announced. “Traveling minstrel.”
Kamala Ki? It was all Obi-Wan could do not to smile, or worse, laugh. That was the best she could do – resurrect a stage name from the past? Part of him was disappointed; she could have at least made an effort towards something new with it being a ‘special’ occasion and all.
'Kamala' swept into a bow with a flourish, one hand on the rounded curve of the dulcimer, her voice deferential but strong. “Your majesty.”
“Minstrel Ki,” the Queen leaned on one arm of her throne, her gaze sweeping over the Jedi in disguise and Obi-Wan watched them both covertly and, after a moment, was relieved to see the Queen’s nonchalance wasn't feigned. She was intrigued but not alarmed. “What brings you to my court?”
“A search for dancers, your highness.” Kamala lifted one hand with a twist of her wrist, indicating the court in general, and smiled. "Ones who won't leave me for fame and fortune."
Miraj leaned forward in her chair. "Not unless you should wish them to," she agreed with a short laugh. "You could easily have come to the auction, Mistrel Ki; why approach me here?"
"I'm afraid I learned of the auction too late, your majesty," Kamala inclined her head and crossed her free hand over her chest. "I beg your forgiveness."
Watching her for a long moment, the Queen suddenly stood with a chuckle, forcing everyone present, except 'Kamala' to their knees. Descending from the throne, Miraj reached the ground with a smile that Obi-Wan only caught from the corner of his eye before all he could see was her back. Slowly getting to his feet, he watched as Miraj stopped, cocking her head at the travelling minstrel in a manner that was both curious and considering.
"My forgiveness. Whyever for?"
"I had hoped to offer my talents to please you and your honored guests."
"And perhaps steal a slave or two who has rhythm?"
"Never steal, your majesty," Kamala assured her with an amused grin. "I am more than willing to bargain for good help."
The Queen regarded the other woman for a moment and then chuckled again before turning back to her throne. "I see you have a dulcimer with you, Mistrel Ki." Obi-Wan took a knee once again as Miraj's foot touched the first step. "It would please us greatly if you would play for us."
"I would be delighted to, your majesty," the Minstrel assured her with a toss of her head, though she waited to continue after a moment, brash as the Minstrel she portrayed. "Might I beg refreshments and a few moments to prepare?"
"You may. Slave," Miraj waved at one of the slaves who had been present when Obi-Wan had been presented as Ahsoka's, and the Twi'lek bowed low, keeping her gaze on the floor. Obi-Wan didn't miss the flash of amusement from 'Kamala' though; she'd certainly seen him next to the female. "Take her to the guest quarters off the dining hall. You will dine with us this evening, Minstrel Ki, and regale me with a tale of your travels."
It wasn't a request.
Kamala swept into a bow with a flourish of one long sleeve as the slave turned to lead the way out, Obi-Wan keeping his gaze just shy of hers. "Of course, your majesty; I would be delighted to sing for my supper."
The Queen's delighted laughter with her wry reply followed her, as did Obi-Wan's gaze, out of the hall.
++++++++++
Obi-Wan next saw 'Kamala' later that evening when he was assigned to the Queen as her server. The Twi'lek that had assisted Kamala initially had become her personal care assistant, ensuring her glass was always full and she had small bites to eat instead of the larger ones the Queen preferred, to ensure she would be able to sing after dinner.
After the first course, the Queen made her request.
"A song, Minstrel Ki," she commanded with a twist of her wrist. "I would hear the tones of the dulcimer that have not graced my court for so long."
Kamala obliged with a faint smile, pulling the instrument off her back and checking the tuning with a soft chord. "Whyever not, your majesty?"
"Truly skilled players are never slaves."
Kamala simply inclined her head and launched into a soft ballad about her adventures. Detailing a brush with pirates and mercenaries who would have sold her for just such a purpose, the rich tones of her voice filled the room and sent a shiver down Obi-Wan's spine.
He well remembered that voice.
Miraj seemed equally enthralled and sipped her wine in silence, her eyes gleaming with pleasure, the fur along her ears and head rippling with unconcealed delight. Obi-Wan stood quietly at her elbow and topped off her glass as it reached the half full mark.
Entering into a brief bridge with a complex series of fingerings, Kamala bent her head to the instrument, as if listening for imperfections, before straightening, finding her voice again, and finishing her tale. The final, full note of the song echoed for a brief moment in the silence of the room before Miraj straightened, placed her goblet back on the tray Obi-Wan held and, to his surprise, clapped.
"Excellent. Minstrels often oversell their talents but you truly deserve the recognition, Minstrel Ki."
"I'm afraid I'm not well known, your highness."
"You should be!" The words were sharp. "Play me something else; something more lively."
"I know a tune or two that I believe your majesty would appreciate," Kamala took a sip of her own drink, a positively devilish sparkle in her eyes that Obi-Wan suspected didn't mean good things for him. "But they are best with dancers to interpret the chords."
The Queen clapped and two more slaves appeared. "Dance to her music," she instructed the females.
Obligingly, Kamala launched into a rollicking tune that made Obi-Wan's feet tap and the Queen keep the beat against the fabric of her dress as the three female slaves - Kamala's having joined in at a gesture from Miraj - undulated and spun, keeping time with excellent rhythm.
Had he been in the room as Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, he might have even offered to dance with the Queen, for she certainly longed to join the dancers. The tune Kamala had chosen was a long one, ripping back and forth between quick stanzas, ever increasing in tempo, her voice being used as an extra instrument to lend a sense of urgency to the song.
Their whirled, turning and dipping and spinning, faster and faster, and Obi-Wan nearly shook his head to keep his eyes from crossing as the three Twi'lek's seemed to integrate into one another, surging with such precision and beauty it stole his breath as the song reached its crescendo-
And stopped.
The dancers froze with the abrupt halt, as if caught in some kind of spell, their ragged breathing echoing through the chamber before, almost as one, they collapsed in on one another with a unified groan.
Even 'Kamala' Obi-Wan was amused to note, looked a touch winded by the rousing piece. She flexed her fingers across the strings as he watched, a subtle move he'd not have noted if he hadn't spent so much time with her and her dulcimer in their youth. He wondered if she'd had a chance to practice much before this. Likely not, since she couldn't have known the part Anakin had asked her to play.
Still... she was a skilled musician and more than up to the task of entertaining even as demanding an audience as Royalty.
As exhibited by the Queen's next statement. "Excellent! You are truly talented, Minstrel Ki; that was the most exquisite rendition of that piece I have yet heard."
Kamala inclined her head demurely. "You honor me your Majesty."
Miraj waved the slaves away, leaving just the three of them in the room. "One must always nurture and honor talent."
Recovered after several slow ghost chords across the body of the instrument, Kamala flashed the Queen a nearly unreadable smile; one that made Obi-Wan wary. She was up to something; something he wasn’t likely to like. "Does your slave have any talents we might nurture, your majesty?"
"You saw her dance."
"Not her; him," she nodded to him and Obi-Wan did his best to keep his gaze on the floor.
"Him?" The Queen turned her head his way and, even without seeing it, he knew the look on her face was considering. "I had thought him little more than decorative, Minstrel Ki."
"He's certainly that, your highness," she agreed, an almost mischievous tone in her voice. "But surely he's good for something other than just looking."
"You find him pleasing?"
Don't even think it, Kali, he couldn't resist sending a stern warning her way.
Despite it, she didn't answer him or so much as miss a beat. "I'd find him more so if he were able to dance; rhythm is such an essential skill in all of life's most important endeavors. Not everyone is able to follow the upward thrust of the beat or the downward slide of the chords with a degree of skill."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the images that conveyed, forcing himself not to react. She will never be able to repay me for this humiliation, he sighed silently. Not that he didn't appreciate the rescue, but surely it could be done without this? Still, knowing Kalinda and her impishly wicked streak, he knew better.
"Hmm," the Queen's consideration drew his attention. "Perhaps I should see if what I have acquired is more than just a decorative piece. Slave," her tone turned sharp and commanding as she looked directly at him. "Place the tray on the table and move to the center of the room."
He did as he was told, knowing what was coming and wishing there was some way to avoid it.
Don't be such a spoilsport, Ben, Kali's admonishment was as amused as her expression wasn't as the words slid into his thoughts. It's nothing you haven't done before.
We were alone, Kali.
Then imagine we are again.
She stamped her foot, tapping out a rhythm on the body of the dulcimer as she launched into an almost haunting tune he immediately recognized, her voice pitched so low it deliberately warbled along with the beat as her fingers picked up the first of chords. Obi-Wan reluctantly began to move, his limbs stiff, his self-consciousness evident.
Without missing a beat, or the words, her voice slipped into his thoughts again. I didn’t realize you liked being the slave of the Zygerrian Queen so much, Obi-Wan. If I had, I wouldn’t have bothered to come.
He shot her a glance that spoke volumes, concentrating as he spun in place, but didn’t risk a response lest he lose his place. The song she’d chosen was difficult enough to follow without the distraction.
She tapped the dulcimer in challenge, a counterpoint to the song that was as improvised as it was unexpected. If I’m going to persuade her to let me purchase you, you have to somehow showcase you’re worth my while. Minstrels don’t have a lot of creds, you know; we’ve very picky on our acquisitions.
He would make her pay for this later, he decided as she tapped her dulcimer again and, this time, he counterpointed it with the stamping of his feet. Picking up the offbeat of the chords with his footwork, his torso and upper body moved with precision to the main line. The wailing tune was as at odds with the intensity of the lyrics as his footwork was with the rest of his body.
Immersing himself within the beat of the song and the ebb and flow of the music, he opened himself to the Force – and let it guide him.
It should have been discordant; it shouldn’t have worked.
Instead it was a mesmerizing display of exquisite timing and athleticism combined with the power behind her voice and it caught and held the Zygerrian Queen in thrall for the whole of the five minutes it took to reach the end of the song.
When the music dropped with a final tap against the body of the dulcimer, Obi-Wan’s chest was heaving, sweat beading his body and dripping with glistening lines down over the bare expanse of his flesh. He could feel it; his muscles ached, tensing with the final pose, not quite cramping from the athletic precision the dance had required.
It was one of the more complicated tunes she’d ever played for him and one of the more complicated dances she’d ever explained. Unable to do it herself because of her knee, she’d once told him of the fascination this particular piece had held for her – and he’d obliged by learning to perform it.
That, however, had been many, many years ago, before they’d mutually parted ways.
Clapping brought him around before he remembered where he was and what he was supposed to be, his gaze dropping to the ground, but not before he caught the almost daze, but totally appreciative look, in the Queen’s eyes.
“Amazing.”
Daring to glance at her again, Obi-Wan placed the force of a Force persuasion behind his words as he spoke upon seeing she hadn’t yet recovered. “Thank you, Master, for allowing me to dance; it has been my privilege to perform with such an accomplished musician.” Turning to face ‘Kamala’, he bowed deferentially to her, meeting her gaze but careful not to let the Queen see. “I would be honored to do so again.”
The sound of an energy whip activating was loud on the tail end of his speech and he braced himself for the impact.
“Slaves do not-”
“Your highness,” Kamala daringly cut her off, “please; if I may?”
Miraj stayed her hand at the Minstrel’s words, but the menacing hum of the whip remained; Obi-Wan took the hint and remained where he was, eyes on the floor. She must have made some gesture with her other hand for ‘Kamala’ began to speak.
“Few are able to master the steps to the Butoh and fewer still with such proficiency.” She paused, obviously gathering her thoughts and Obi-Wan wondered what was happening inside her head. He wasn’t left to wonder for long. “Slaves in particular are difficult to come by with such… enthusiasm.”
“Have you a proposal for me, Minstrel Ki?”
“I do indeed, your highness.”
Behind him Miraj was silent and Obi-Wan pictured her as rolling her wrist, urging the other woman to continue over the hum of the whip. Despite Miraj’s patience, he could feel it wearing thin. She wanted to punish him and didn’t appreciate the delay.
“I would like to purchase your slave.” ‘Kamala’s’ eyes twinkled; he could see it from the corner of his eye and, no less important, he could feel her amusement despite the seriousness in her voice. “The Butoh is difficult for both musician and dancer, rarer still to find ones who flow with such effortless grace as this. It would be a crime to have such talent and never again use it with such perfection again.”
“It would seem my slave had a hidden talent; one that makes him infinitely more valuable.”
“Only to one trained such as I, your majesty. I offer you cost plus ten percent; a more than a reasonable trade.”
“You offer this without knowing his purchase cost?”
“I trust one such as you, with your knowledge and appreciation of music arts, can be trusted to set a fair price.”
Kali.
Trust me.
“I had thought to put him in the grand auction once I tired of him,” the queen confessed.
It was news to Obi-Wan. He was wise enough not to move or jerk or show any kind of surprise; a true slave, especially one as docile and well broken as he was pretending to be, wouldn’t be surprised by a change in masters. He must have done so admirably as the queen continued without so much as a pause.
“For his manners alone he would fetch a large sum.”
A set of sharp nails unexpectedly traced down his spine and Obi-Wan tensed before he could help himself, wincing as they dug in at the base of his neck ever so briefly, drawing blood, before continuing downwards. Unable to quell the reaction, he arched slightly away from the proprietary scratch before being able to mentally prevent further withdrawal.
“Or perhaps… not so large a sum?” Kamala’s impish question halted the queen’s pawing of his person.
“Perhaps.”
Obi-Wan winced inwardly at the agreement; his flinch had not gone unnoticed. Meeting her gaze as she bargained with the Queen, Obi-Wan considered what Kalinda was thinking and got nothing. She simply turned her gaze away and cocked her head. There was a laxness to her pose and a teasing in her expression that hid the steel in her words.
"Do we have a deal, your highness?"
The Queen was obviously considering the offer and Obi-Wan managed not to stumble as she pressed her nails into his back once more before pushing him away.
"Speak with me, Minstrel Ki," Miraj invited.
"Of course, your Majesty."
Kali.
Trust me, Ben, she admonished in return, I do have a plan.
As long as it means getting me out of here, my dear, his thoughts were as dry as he wanted to say the words. Preferably without having me spend the night in the good Queen's company.
He didn't see the reaction to his statement, though he did hear her cough and then apologize to the Queen as they moved beyond the room and out into the hall. They were then beyond earshot and he sent his senses outwards - except Kalinda wouldn't let him in.
Kali?
There was no answer as he turned carefully to face the door, relaxing his posture and straightening as he realized he was well and truly alone. For the first time since he'd begun this masquerade, he was alone and not just alone, but alone in an outside room with a window.
Looking around once more, he stretched his senses out - and grinned. There were familiar presences on the outside of the complex; ones he'd expected the moment he'd seen Kali and weren't as much of a surprise as they should have been.
Their formation though, after a moment of concentrating, made him frown.
Stonewall, Kalinda's Captain, was near the main entrance and the demolitions expert of Kali's team, Crest, no doubt the presence nearby him. Ready, he was certain, to come surging in the moment she showed signs of distress. Kali, though, had things well in hand and the Queen appeared to have taken a liking to her.
Stretching his senses further, he found just the faintest trace of two other familiar clones. Milo and Traxis were set up somewhere on the other side of the Palace from the room he was in, Traxis no doubt playing spotter for the young sniper, ready to defend him with a myriad of weapons. And, of course, awaiting Kali's signal.
Whatever that was.
What confused him, however, was that Weave, her medic, and his very unique signature was not present.
It was rare for the medic to miss a fight where he might be needed, either by the men under Kali's command, or the object of their mission. In this case him. unless Kali had informed Weave that his expertise wouldn't be necessary; somehow he doubted it.
"Human slave!"
He spun around, moving swiftly to the door where he bowed deferentially to Miraj and 'Kamala', careful to keep his eyes on the floor. "Yes, Master?"
"Entertain my guest," Miraj commanded. "You are hers for the evening. Please her well." Obi-Wan bowed, not having a choice in the matter and Miraj turned to walk away. "Show her to the guest quarters."
The order was thrown back almost lazily as Miraj left him alone with 'Kamala' for the first time since she'd arrived. Dutifully, knowing they were likely being watched, he bowed. "My Lady."
Go with it, the words slipped into his mind as she motioned for him to lead the way.
Without responding, he bowed again and stepped back into the hallway, reluctantly surrendering the room to follow what he assumed was her plan. Moving into the palace proper, he passed through the edge of the throne room and into the hallways beyond to the guest wing. Keeping one eye on the hallways beyond him, he kept his attention mostly focused on his surroundings but also one ear on her uneven gait behind him. The last thing he needed to do was get them both lost.
Finally arriving at the rooms he knew were assigned for prominent guests - it had been covered in his basic orientation earlier - he opened the door with a deferential nod of his head. "I hope these quarters will be to your liking, mistress," he offered with a hint of a smile. "Do you require anything further?"
"Stay with me," she commanded, stepping into the room. "There are refreshments on the sideboard; fetch them."
He bowed, following her into the room, and closed the door behind him. Across the room, Kalinda held up her hand, indicating he was to continue with his task. Don't say anything, she told him firmly, in contrast to her almost lazy hand signal. I need to scan for transmitters first.
Moving to the sideboard to get the refreshments she'd requested, he kept his expression bland as she pulled a small filament of an object from the decorative wrapping around the neck of her dulcimer. Setting the instrument to her back, she casually walked around the room, twisting the filament around her fingers like a piece of worry wood, the strand flashing with incandescent lights as she wandered around.
Obi-Wan poured the drink she'd requested, taking a sip like the good slave he was pretending to be. Ahhhh, he thought with a quirk of his lips. An excellent vintage.
Tasty Ben? She sounded amused. You always did have a weakness for good wine.
I have excellent taste, he returned, taking another sip just to reinforce his point before starting to pile several of the fresh delicacies that were next to the cold carafe onto a plate. You have certainly never complained before.
"Why complain when I benefit?" Kalinda stepped into the room with a grin. "We're clear."
"Are you certain?" he collected her plate and the goblet of wine, carrying it across the room.
"As I can be," she held up the filament, "something my boys came up with."
"Ah; I see. Very useful." Handing her the plate, he kept the goblet an took another sip with the faintest of smiles, turning away and pretending to ignore her amusement as he took in the room. "Not something in regular circulation, I gather?"
"No; prototype stage only - give me the goblet, Ben."
"Respectfully," glancing behind him, he held up the glass with a faint smirk and headed for the door to the bedroom, "get your own, my dear."
Her eyebrows shot up and she broke into laughter. "Ben!"
"What, am I stepping out of character?"
"Force forbid," she picked up a small round fruit. "I should have told you we were being watched simply to have you at my beck and call."
"Is your dear Captain not enough, Kali?" His tone was teasing, their shared history between them like a whisper of suggestion that would never be fulfilled again. "Must you have a Jedi at your feet as well?"
"Do you really need me to answer that?" she returned with a wicked smile, popping the fruit into her mouth.
"Certainly not." Stepping into the other room, Obi-Wan did a visual inspection of his own. "Did you bring me anything to wear, my dear?"
"And miss the entertainment?"
Her tone brought his head around to find her watching his very scantily clad form appreciatively. Her next words, however, made him wince.
"Anakin was right; you do look good in those shorts."
Staring at her for a moment, aghast, it took him a few second to find his voice. "Anakin would never-"
Kalinda's laughter cut him off as she doubled over, nearly dropping the plate. "Oh Ben, if you could see your face."
Stung, he drew himself up to his full height. "That," he told her mildly, "was uncalled for."
Straightening, though she didn't wipe the smile from her face, Kalinda placed the plate on a nearby side table and advanced on him. "A little," she conceded, "but only because you have an uncanny ability to keep your damned serenity after being forced to wait on a Queen for a day. Tell me, Ben, how did you manage?"
"With tact and silence," he returned dryly. "Why the overnight wait?"
"I figured," she stepped closer, placing one hand on the center of his bare chest, her fingers splaying over his heart as she lifted herself on tip toe, "that getting reacquainted would be something you wouldn't object to."
"Under normal circumstances-"
Her hand slid upwards without hesitation, covering his mouth as her own came in just behind it, only her fingers separating their mouths. "These are hardly normal circumstances," she whispered, stepping closer. "Wouldn't you agree?"
He nodded, searching her gaze, unable to get any kind of indication as to her thoughts. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing shallow, but they hadn't been lovers for a long, long time and she now had Stonewall in her life; surely she wasn't thinking-
"Ben?"
He swallowed hard at the suggestive tone in her voice.
"Close your eyes."
Searching hers for a moment, he hesitated.
Trust me, Ben.
What about Stonewall?
Just... trust me.
Reluctantly, he did, closing his eyes and much to his surprise she withdrew.
"Kali?"
"Stay there," she told him, keeping her voice low, "and keep your eyes closed."
A silky fabric slid across his eyes before a blindfold was tied behind his head and he smiled faintly as she placed a kiss to his shoulder. A padded bracer slid around one wrist and then the other as they were pulled in front of him without Kalinda touching him before there was a soft click. As the bracers closed, he felt the Force disappear.
Obi-Wan tensed; this was new. "Kali?"
Her tone of voice had changed, but her words were the same and held her familiar inflections. "Trust me, Ben."
He did, but this whole scenario was suddenly more dangerous than it had been; they were behind enemy lines and she was playing games better played in the safety of their own chambers. Unlike her - but not. He felt her step away, the pressure on his arms increasing as she drew him around several times, his bearing disappearing, before she turned him one last time and led him into one of the rooms.
He wasn't certain which as she drew him to a halt, leaned in close and pressed a gentle, whisper of a kiss to his lips. It was like a hug, a gentle, persuasive hug that urged him to trust her. "Stay here."
"Kali-"
"And Ben?"
"Yes?"
"Leave the blindfold on."
"Kali, what-"
"Trust me," she chided, her tone suddenly teasing, "you used to like this kind of thing."
"You'll have to forgive me if I have my reservations," his tone was dry, "this is somewhat unexpected."
"As unexpected as being sold to the Queen as part of a slave exchange?"
"Touché."
"Trust me," she reiterated once more, "it'll be worth it."
He had no chance to object further for she left the room; he heard a door close behind her and click into place. The 'fresher? The bedroom? The secondary sitting area that doubled as a room for misbehaving slaves or those their masters didn't wish to have in their beds?
He didn't know.
There was a rustle of fabric his mind interpreted as disrobing before the gentlest of touches brushed his back. Disappearing, it was feather light and just as soft only to return on his front before touching his shoulder and retreating.
“Kali?”
A soft laugh, husky and teasing came from behind him and he made to turn only to hear the clinking of a chain. The feather slid against his upper thigh, along the edge of his shorts and then around to the curve of his buttocks before sliding away again. He turned the other way as the chain echoed his movement once more. The feather returned at his back, brushing against the small of it, following the line of his spine, chill bumps breaking out on his skin as lips replaced the feathers at the base of his neck, her breath blowing softly across his skin.
Her lips travelled upwards, along the line of his jaw, lingering, her finger tips sliding to cup his face, into his shorn hair and under the blindfold. Her touch sent warning signals through his senses.
This was not the touch of a woman tied to another man.
It was the erotic sort of caress that lovers shared, both familiar and unfamiliar; Kali had never been one to tease in such a fashion, especially with such low laughter; delight and affection heavy in the sound. Not with him anyway, she sounded more like-
His thought process was disturbed as she kissed him full on, shattering the line of his thoughts and sealing the certainty in his mind. The blindfold was ripped from his head as he cupped her face, staring down into the eyes of a woman he’d not expected to see. For it wasn’t Kalinda he held in his arms, but-
“Aala.”
The blonde haired, light eyed young woman he’d not seen in some time stared back at him; he’d thought her safe on Coruscant.
“Ben.” She breathed his name, listing on tip toe to kiss him again, her hands sliding lovingly over his chest, pressing herself close, flesh to flesh for it was only then that he noted she was naked.
“How-”
She kissed him into silence. “Don’t ask,” she murmured between kisses, “just accept it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ben,” she murmured, her hands sliding through his hair and over his scalp before returning to cup his face briefly; they seemed everywhere as she touched him for the first time in what seemed like ages. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
His joined hands slid down around her, cupping her buttocks and dragging her close. They shared a soft smile as he touched his forehead to hers. “Can’t you tell?”
“I take it the surprise is worth it?”
Obi-Wan lifted his head and turned slightly, glancing back over his shoulder as he shielded Aala from Kali’s view. In the doorway – for it was then he noted they were in the spare bedroom that the suite had boasted – stood Kali and her Captain, Stonewall, arms around one another, the clone’s hand already working its way under Kalinda’s shirt.
“This is most imprudent.”
“Ah,” Kali’s eyes sparkled. “The Queen would be most disappointed for us to appear in the morning as anything resembling rested. Seeing as how you have been spoken for,” she nodded towards the mostly hidden Aala, “and I have Stone, what’s the harm in mixing a little pleasure with business?”
“We’re still behind enemy lines.”
“Undisturbed until morning.”
Her words held a persuasive note as Obi-Wan glanced down at the woman in his arms and then back to the doorway where Stonewall now had his arms around Kali, his hands sliding across her stomach and upwards to cup her breasts, his lips on her neck. The diminutive Jedi was pulled flush against the clone Captain’s back, her eyes half closed though he could see she was still trying to convince him. Stonewall, it seemed, couldn’t have cared less for the audience for he was already loosening the fastenings on Kali’s clothing.
“Might I suggest,” Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, “you retire to your room?”
“No more objections, Ben?”
“Would they matter?”
Kalinda’s eyes sparkled as she shook her head, reaching one arm up to loop it around Stonewall’s neck from behind, visibly pressing back into his touch. “Not as much as this.”
“Kali-”
“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”
The door closed but not before Obi-Wan saw Stonewall turn Kali in his arms for a commanding kiss, lifting her against the wall. His gaze turned back to Aala and he arched an eyebrow at her suggestively, deliberately looking to his left..
“The wall, Obi-Wan?”
He gave her no time to object, lifting her with the hands still at her seat and turning, taking two steps to the nearest wall and pressing her against it.
The muffled sound of the other couple’s enjoyment was background noise as he bent his head to kiss Aala, all his affection and love for her translating into the press of his body against hers. There was a difference in her touch, the way she lingered over his skin, her knees hooking about his hips as their bodies aligned, separated only by his shorts.
“I was not expecting to have you in my arms tonight, Aala.”
‘Or anytime-“
She gasped, cut off, and tilted her head back as he nuzzled the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent, one he’d been certain he wasn’t to smell for some time to come. Having her there was like a dream; a fantastic, impossible dream – one he would take full advantage of.
“Aala,” he murmured, tasting her skin, feeling her fingers as they dug into his shoulders, her heels digging into the small of his back. Freeing his hands from her backside, he growled as the binders dug into his wrists and she laughed.
“Ben…”
“Do you have the key, love?”
“Kali has it,” she shifted with a gasp, rubbing her breasts against his chest, her nipples dragging like points of a blade up his chest, his blood simmering, heating, his control edging towards fracture. “Ben; it’s been too long… please; love me.”
“I do,” he swore fervently, his hands sliding down, “Aala, I can’t-”
She kissed him, one hand slipping between their bodies as her tongue slipped into his mouth. The kiss was passionate, a touch wild and held the pent up passion and desire that he normally held in check. After such a long absence, after such a long separation, the feel of her fingers as they slipped into his shorts and cupped his erection boldly almost sent him to his knees.
As if sensing his urgency, she pulled him free of his shorts, her hand and his shaft caught between their bodies, the pressure from both making him gasp into her mouth.
“Aala!”
Something in his tone must have warned her that he was dangerously close to the edge for she angled her hips and lined him up to her body, pressing downwards as her body opened, her core wet and willing, pulling and welcoming him into its embrace.
He gasped, the feeling of homecoming, of pure and utter rightness that accompanied the merging of their bodies one he welcomed completely. He kissed her again, his lips moving across hers as his body remained seated within hers, sheathed as it was meant to be. His lips traced the curve of hers, his tongue delving between them in an echo of the act that would shortly follow even as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth and gently bit it.
Aala moved first. Her hips rocking and twisting as she sought the rhythm that would alleviate the agony in her body; and agony his own echoed.
It was the breaking point and, with a whispered apology that was unnecessary, he cupped her seat firmly in both hands and began to move.
It was over embarrassingly quickly.
Their bodies surged together in an intense and furious meeting of souls, Aala letting out a cry that was muffled only by his shoulder, echoed from the room beyond by the other pair of engaged lovers only to be drowned out a heartbeat later as Obi-Wan tilted her hips and his own bucked, his knees giving out, as his cry echoing through the room.
Trembling in her arms, and she in his, he touched his forehead to hers as he struggled to catch his breath, nearly blacking out from the force of his pleasure. It was several long moments before her caught his breath, their bodies joined as intimately as possible, and he could feel the beating of her heart in time with his own. It made him smile; yet more proof that she was the very beating of his heart.
“Aala?”
She lifted her head, her smile almost dreamy but it also held a teasing note. “Never say no to a Jedi.”
He laughed, kissing her fiercely, with every pent up emotion he felt for her once more. “I am so very glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she snuggled closer in his arms. “Take me to bed, Ben.”
He did just that, taking a few minutes to ensure he could stand before lifting her in his arms and carrying her to bed. Once there, though still chained, they found a comfortable position and settrled in. Before Aala fell asleep however, he nuzzled her forehead. “Aala, darling?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you get here undetected?”
She yawned and smiled at him sleepily. “Kali sent Weave for me; he smuggled me in.”
She drifted off moments later and, in the dark of the room, Obi-Wan smiled. He would, when they headed for home, have to thank the medic for taking such good care of her.
Morning came with speed and getting home was surprisingly easy.
Kali bought him, Shadow Squad escorted him and, in the end, Kali handed over the deed of his ownership to Aala when they returned to the ship. The very first thing he did when they arrived, after being turned over to Aala’s company, was thank Weave for bringing her with such speed and care to his company.
“It was my pleasure General,” the clone medic returned easily. “After all; General Halcyon shouldn’t be the only Jedi to enjoy some fun.”
He’d had no response and hadn’t needed one; Aala was in his arms and now, literally, he belonged to her forever. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
fin

Author’s Note: Aala Naberrie belongs to Ashley and is used with Permission – Thanks for the idea Ash; you did say she wanted to play ;)

[End of Rescue #3]
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Zygerrian Triumvate; the Rescues of Obi-Wan Kenobi