The Sandwich of Solidarity (shane_mayhem) wrote in bound_ewan,
The Sandwich of Solidarity

More story....

Title: The Hand of Cain (1/4)
Author: Shane Mayhem
Rating: R (overall)
Spoilers: None.
Category: Obi/Other, Crossover, AU
Disclaimer: The Star Wars universe and all its inhabitants belongs to
George Lucas. The Star Trek universe belongs to Paramount, and the late
great Gene Roddenberry.
Warnings: Non-Con, bondage, non Q/O. Unbeta'd.
Feedback: Very helpful. I need help.
Summary: Sequel to "Closer", in which Obi-Wan sees the face of his
captor and realizes that the universe just got a lot more complicated. The
"official" timeline of this story is after TPM, given that Qui-Gon
doesn't die, and directly before Obi-Wan's knighting.


The hum of machinery and a stab of light through the blindfold woke
Obi-Wan out of his troubled sleep. His body was sore, his arms and legs
agonizingly stiff after being held in position for so long. His spine
felt bruised, and he ached deep inside, but meditation had helped him
to marshal his strength. He pushed tentatively at the force-field
surrounding him.

"Interesting." His captor spoke from across the room. "I've isolated
some kind of particle in your DNA. Like a parasite....a living
thing..." The voice was filled with curiosity.

Obi-Wan realized he must be talking about the midichlorians. But how
could he measure such a thing without the right equipment? Only the
Jedi had midichlorian counters, which they used to test Force-sensitives.
He pushed again and felt the force-field shift a little.

"They're called midichlorians," he said, his own hoarse voice
surprising him somewhat. It seemed loud in the room, and he guessed the chamber
was fairly large, with a high ceiling. He shifted, cold. "They bind
us to all other living things, connect us to the universe...." He felt
like an instructor, lecturing to a class of initiates.

"Fascinating." His captor's tone of voice sounded anything but
fascinated. Obi-Wan felt a brush of air as the man moved closer. He pushed
at his bonds again, and was rewarded with a feeling of relief, like cool
water over a fevered body. The Force filled him again, making him feel
more real and solid, though he still could not get a sense of his
captor. There was a computerized beeping sound, directly over his head.
"Like an aura. What else do these...midichlorians do?"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, his entire being rebelling at the nearness
of the man. His skin remembered the tantalizing touch and prickled in
unpleasant anticipation. His body's reaction elicited a sharp laugh.

"You miss me?" The voice slid like oil over him and he found himself
shuddering, his stomach churning with revulsion.

"Don't touch me."
Obi-Wan's voice shook, though he didn't intend it. Desperately, he
Force-pushed at his captor, and there was silence, save for the soft
beeping of whatever instrument the man held.

"Well, well, well. Isn't that interesting." There was a long pause,
then the voice was breath against his ear. "I guess these
particles...symbionts...are the source of your abilities. They are emitting a very
low, constant pulse. One that echoes your heartbeat, your brainwaves."
The soft footsteps moved away and there was more beeping. "How
poetic." The tone was sarcastic.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated, reaching for that
pulse of which his captor spoke. It echoed softly around him, reassuring
him, and gathered in him slowly, like water behind a dam. He spoke,
keeping his tone casual, despite the seething hatred he felt.

"It's also interesting that I can't sense you with the Force. I can
sense the field you've erected to contain me..." he allowed his voice to
bite a little. "This pulse you've the Force, and it
binds all living things. I should be able to feel it from you, as well."

He could almost hear the smirk in his captor's voice. "Whether or not I am a
living thing is a subject that has been debated."

Obi-Wan's spine turned cold as his mind whirled, trying to anticipate
what that could mean. He had clearly felt the man's body--yes, all too
clearly--and it seemed human, if strangely cool and somehow alien.
*What is alive, and yet not alive?* It seemed like the sort of riddle that
Jedi masters gave to young padawans, to test their skills of creative

A speculative noise issued from the corner of the room. "These
midichlorians don't react to radiation. I'm modifying a electro-magnetic
pulse to bombard them with..."

Obi-Wan's stomach twisted, and sweat formed like ice along his ribs.
"What? Why?"

The voice was casual, almost bored. "To see if anything kills them."

Obi-Wan laughed, sounding more confident than he felt. "You cannot kill them.
They are life itself."

Bootsteps echoing closer, and more soft beeping. He was being scanned
again, and uncertainty made him sweat.

"Is that so? In that case, you and your little midichlorians might
serve me very well indeed." The arrogant confidence of his captor's tone
caused an eddy of dark anger through Obi-Wan, and he tensed, waiting.

Casually, a hand stripped the blindfold away from his eyes and light
seared his brain. He recoiled sharply, then -pushed- again, and the dam
broke. Straining upward in his chains, the young Jedi gathered the
Force and punched through the dampening field holding him in place. It
flowed through him like raw electricity, and he seized upon the nearest
un-anchored object--a metal crate of some sort--and flung it at his
captor's head. There was a crash of impact, against the far wall, and a
hand around Obi-Wan's throat, squeezing dangerously. A cold feeling at
his temple, then the Force broke like a school of fish, swirling into

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Obi-Wan's sea green eyes were wide as they met his captor's face, and
he found himself staring into nearly colorless eyes. Cold eyes, but
real--and the mind behind them was a blank to him. As if the man were not
there. His vision greyed at the edges, and the hand released his
throat, letting blood flow again. He took a deep breath and realized that
he had nearly blacked out and that his throat was bruised. Everything
had happened in less than twenty seconds; he began to feel a cold, real
fear in his gut.

"Who are you?" He demanded, getting a better look at his captor. The
man was not much taller than Obi-Wan himself, his body was slender,
broad-shouldered, and encased in a tight black shirt and trousers that
tucked into calf-high black boots. His skin was the color of his
eyes--shockingly pale, yellowish in tone, his hair dark and slicked back. He
was not imposing at all A hot flood of shame and anger colored Obi-Wan's
face, and his eyes stung. " me..."

His reply was a sarcastic smile, twisting the pale lips. "Oh, is that
what that was? Looked to me like you were enjoying it..."

He rested a cool hand on Obi-Wan's bare chest, and his fingers curled,
sliding along the whip abrasions. Obi-Wan's breath fluttered through
his lips as he tried not to react.

His captor turned and strode across the room to a computer bank on the far wall.
He moved with effortless, arrogant grace and Obi-Wan hated him with a personal
hatred he'd seldom felt for any being before. He watched balefully as his captor
quickly pressed some keys and an ident screen came up with the familiar
series of beeps signifying entry into the Coruscant Temple's main
computer. Obi-Wan stared; how had he broken the code??

"Here you are. One Obi-Wan Kenobi. Listed as Apprentice to Jedi
Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Whatever that means." The tone was light and
dismissive and Obi-Wan's breath hissed out loudly. His captor turned to him,
pale eyes raking his half-naked form. "Nice to meet you, Obi-Wan," he
said with a sarcastic laugh. "You can call me Lore."

Sliding what looked like a data chip out of the computer bank, Lore
turned and left the room. The metal doors slammed shut behind him.

Obi-Wan only let himself relax by increments, his mind trying to make
sense of the information it had collected. But somehow, seeing the form
of his captor made things worse. He could not forget those cold
fingers on his body....cold, yet charged with that traitorous electrical
heat. Touching him....hurting him, and bringing him such exquisite

He trembled. Laying back on his stone altar, he stared at the blank


He retreated into a half-trance. He
let his mind sink into the sightless miasma of the Force, washed along
by its eddies and currents. Only in this state could he feel the solid strength
of the Force, and he discovered that this was because of some sort
of device attached to his temple: a small metallic object that
disrupted the forming patterns of the midichlorians. His unease grew.

He felt, as through a fog, the stirring of his link with Qui-Gon, his
master's frantic worry. They had parted only for the evening; both of
them were on Bandomeer for a mission that his master kept half-secret.
They were supposed to investigate the illicit marshalling of
non-Republic military forces, an upstart militia in violation of the
Interplanetary Trade Treaty. That was the official story.

Obi-Wan had thought it odd that they were sent so soon after his
Master's shaky recovery from his wounds on Naboo, and so soon before his
own Knighthood ceremony. It was somewhat frustrating. But both Qui-Gon
and Yoda had been unusually tight-lipped, and as Obi-Wan went off to
dig up information on the ringleaders of the militia, Qui-Gon had been
away on some mysterious business of his own, something having to do with
a secret weapon, a technology so dangerous that it wasn't even allowed
to be mentioned. He hadn't even been able to tell Obi-Wan what it was.

Obi-Wan could sense his master's guilt, his all-consuming fear that he
had caused Obi-Wan's death or capture. He tried to send a reassuring
thought, but could not shake his own rising fear. *Master, I'm

He could almost feel the rhythm of Qui-Gon's deep breathing, a shudder
of awareness, a tremor of relief. *Obi-Wan!*

Obi-Wan tried to focus, despite the cold and the disruption caused by
the device. His master's Force signature--a resonant sort of
deep-water blue--seemed to grow stronger. The communication was more a series
of feelings than words or even thoughts, but Obi-Wan felt nearly faint
with relief. He fought the urge to pour all of his fear and hurt into
his thoughts, like a very young padawan crying into his master's robes.
That would not suit a Jedi Knight at all. He tilted his head and let
the currents of the Force calm him.

Was he hurt? was alright. For now.
Where was he? Were there many?
..there was just one...strange....powerful....
The sense?
Yes...strange devices...knows about me....Temple computer on
A pause, then the question, filled with frightening urgency.
Obi-Wan tried to convey everything he saw or felt about the place,
though his concentration was waning. is a ship....not far...master....

*Hold on, padawan. I'm coming.*

Then all coherent sense washed away and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, brow
furrowed, trying to sort out what his master had been telling him. The
contact, however brief, had given him strength and hope. Yet it had
also disturbed him and he knew he could not just wait. Stretching his
sore muscles, Obi-Wan tried to relax and call the Force back to him, to
his hand.

There was some sort of laser cutting tool on a console across the room.
He drove all of his focus into a needle point, forgetting his pain and
fear, and reached for the tool.


It was hours later when he heard the rush of the door opening
at Lore's entry. He craned his head carefully to watch as Lore plugged
something into the computer, closed the door, and turned towards him.
His motions were fluid, economical, like a dancer's, perhaps, or a
military man's. His pale eyes snapped to Obi-Wan's face and he smiled
unpleasantly as he approached the Jedi. He held another foreign device in
his hand, one which, Obi-Wan realized with a start, was attached to a
Jedi midichlorian scanner.

"You look so pretty, lying there...waiting for 'master,'" Lore said,
his voice like silk. Obi-Wan tensed, as he drew close, dreading his
touch. "And scarcely a mark on you." He purred slowly, his eyes
slitting as they roved over Obi-Wan's light-bathed form. "Master must be a
very lucky man."

Obi-Wan's jaw clenched, glaring at the side of Lore's face as he bent
over the device, his fingers flying over its buttons with inhuman speed.

"If you think one Jedi is such a prize, wait until the others come for
me!" Obi-Wan spat, his body tensing.

"Is that a threat?"

Obi-Wan lunged. The severed chains fell away with an echoing clank as
he propelled himself up off of the stone table and aimed a stunning
kick at Lore's head. His foot connected with thin air and he stumbled a
bit, his muscles cramping from remaining still so long. He landed in a
crouch and slammed spine-first into the wall as Lore's hand plowed into
his sternum. Stars crowded his vision, and he threw himself out of the
way, coming up in a defensive position, eyes darting to his opponent.

Lore stood in the middle of the room, looking considerably less than
perturbed, still programming his small device.

"You've been busy. Little fucker."

Obi-Wan's chest heaved with his breath, adrenaline pushing the Force
into every corner of his body. He reached up to tear the disrupting
device away from his head, but a sharp pain told him that it was implanted
into the muscle. He pulled harder, wincing as blood began to run down
his face, but there was no time to complete the action. Without the
slightest motion of warning, Lore dashed across the room at him, and
before Obi-Wan could catch a breath he was being slammed against the wall,
arms like supple iron chains constricting his chest. The air rushed
from him in a huge whoosh and he struggled, his feet barely touching the

There, for a moment, they were so close he could feel the other's heartbeat,
steady and unhurried. Obi-Wan gathered the power of the Force, as much
as he could, letting himself go utterly still and limp in an effort to
catch his opponent off guard. But the arms merely constricted more,
until Obi-Wan thought his ribs would be crushed. He readied himself to
throw Lore across the room, but suddenly the Force dissolved, scattered
by another power, emanating from the hand on his groin. Obi-Wan's
intent shuddered out of him in a shaky breath.


He felt Lore's smile as his lips brushed Obi-Wan's throat, the electric
spark between skin and skin, and the dark burning between his legs as
Lore's hand slowly caressed him.

"Bad boy...trying to escape. I don't think you really want to do

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest; a Jedi was above such desire. They were weaknesses that could undo him. Yet
Obi-Wan had given in to such weakness before, and now the Force must be
punishing him. Desperate, he tried to repel Lore, but all he could do was
throw back his head, panting raggedly. His slender hips jerked forward
of their own accord, it seemed, against Lore's hand, which was no
longer cold but as the mouth that was now sliding down Obi-Wan's
body, trailing down his bare chest, closing over the front of his
trousers and teasing his growing erection. He gulped a breath and slammed
into Lore with an invisible fist, trying to dislodge him. Lore's head
snapped briefly to the side as though he'd been slapped, but he did not
move. He grinned, and planted one fist firmly above his head in the
middle of Obi-Wan's belly, pinning him to the wall.

"You like it rough?"

"I don't like it at all!" Obi-Wan barked, his voice cracking. Yet his
body betrayed him again, as Lore's mouth closed over his groin,
prodding with his tongue. Obi-Wan jerked, and fought to regain his composure.
*There is no desire, there is only the Force....*

But the Force was shot through with dark bands of desire, corrupted,
fractured. Obi-Wan felt his gut churn in terror. "What are you?" He
asked again, shaking. Could Lore be one of the Sith? He tried again to
sense something of the other's mind, but could not. He felt only the
unbearable tightening of his own cock as Lore began to suck him through the
rough fabric of his trousers. *There is no desire...*

In desperation, he cuffed Lore in the head with one fist and cried out
as something in his hand snapped. It had felt like hitting a steel
door. The hard fist in his belly pushed harder, until Obi-Wan thought he
would be sick. He lashed his body outward, away from the wall, trying
anything to disengage. But Lore merely pinned him again, as though
such an action required no effort, and barely a thought. Obi-Wan moaned
and thrust his hips forward, his body clamoring for more. The electric
pulse emanating from Lore's hand continued to race through him,
prickling his skin, heating his very blood, it seemed. He was losing,

He twisted his body and kneed Lore in the throat, throwing himself to
the side and using the Force to hurl the crate at him. Obi-Wan winced
as his spine cracked against the floor, his sea-colored eyes narrowing
in concentration. Lore gained his feet and batted the metal crate away
as though it were paper. His pale features twisted in a snarl, and in
a flash he had Obi-Wan pinned again beneath his weight.

"You're going to have to tell you do that," he growled in
Obi-Wan's ear. The Jedi twisted beneath him, caught in agony between
hatred, fear, and sexual need.

"Get off!" Lore's weight on his chest made it more of a whisper than a
demand. Obi-Wan felt his mouth forced open, Lore's long tongue
inside. He moaned again, hands that meant to hit instead clutching at
the sleek, muscled back, as he writhed slowly beneath him.

"Pretty neat what you can do with just a little electricity, huh?"
Lore's mouth, centimeters from his, was drawn up in a smirk, and his pale
eyes stabbed into Obi-Wan's. So that was it! The electric pulse he felt
was intentional, used to manipulate him! Obi-Wan snarled and bucked
his body frantically, but Lore was heavy as stone. Anger was like a
white heat behind his eyes, and his mind lashed out like a whip, without
direction, intent only on hurting his captor.

The heavy body upon his jerked, startled, and Lore let out a low
whistle of breath, sitting up. His face was cut open just below the left eye
where the laser cutting tool had flown across the room and sliced him.
His eyes were narrowed to dangerous, colorless slits. Obi-Wan stared,
all anger momentarily forgotten, as his heart hammered in his throat
and his brain reeled in shock.

A thin greenish fluid smeared Lore's cheek, and where there should have
been a bloody wound, Obi-Wan could see complex wiring and tiny blinking
lights. *A droid...*

He lay there unmoving, his mouth hanging open, as realization began
to curl its dark tendrils around his brain.

"'re the thing...they're looking for..." he stammered,
hearing his own voice from a long distance. "You are the weapon!"

Lore slowly stood, pacing around Obi-Wan's body like a predator over
downed prey. It began to make more sense now--his great strength,
Obi-Wan's inability to sense him using the force, his master's forced secrecy
about the mission. A machine. A sentient machine, the likes of which
Obi-Wan had never imagined. His stomach curled uncomfortably, and his
spine went ice cold at the thought of what this...robot...had done to

"No, Jedi," Lore said. "You...are the weapon."

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