Covalent Bonds

Chapter 32

So this is the secret of the Shrine of Kooroo, Obi-Wan thought as the nearer of two dripping, glowing things emerged from the water and grabbed his left ankle, dangling him above the flat black pond.

"Some kind of gripvine. Watch out!" Quicker than Sith lightning, the phosphorescent plant flung putrid loops about the clones and their Jedi commanders.

Anakin had cast about with both inborn and Jedi-developed Force senses as they had breached the third and lowest level of the Shrine on their twenty-second day on Gelgelar, only to have Force-feedback echoes blur his mind. Do. Or do not. So he did not, becoming just a man straining his senses unaided. In the torch-lit gloom, it was the purling scent of rotting vegetable matter that assaulted first Jedi noses and then their clones'.

"Phew!" exclaimed ARC6754. "That's rank!" And then upheaval ripped their underground world, tough ropes imprisoned waists and arms and ankles. Seven beings were picked up and shaken, five were discarded.

Anakin's long hair, natural and extensions, attracted the plant's startling kineticism. Rooting as rapidly as a doiseybird could fly, palps as thick as a clone's wrist encircled his shoulders while their roothairs, literally pulsing with life, wove into the lattice of Anakin's hair. Even the feathers on the belt that Anakin wore to accentuate his femininity and disguise his lack of a woman's waist acted as a matrix for sticky, pasty-white suckers. Soon he couldn't wriggle so much as a booted toe.

"If they," an inverted Obi-Wan panted, "are like gripvines ... they are more mobile in their breeding ... season ... "

"Who isn't?" Anakin groped for his lightsaber in his suit's inner neckline pocket, but failed as the roothairs took hold. The lightsaber at least worked, even if the guiding Force of his life led him in too many directions down here. He grimaced when the roothairs' stickiness throbbed next to his skin as they penetrated the weave of his clothing. The main vine squeezed his shoulders harder and harder. His jumpsuit's sleeves tangling his arms, his head wrenched backwards by its hair, he looked to Obi-Wan struggling above him.

"I'm coming, Padawan!" But by now Obi-Wan was equally ensnared and even though his nerf-hide boots' porosity was less than his jumpsuit's, he was immobilized by the slithering suckers except for his left arm. He fumbled out his own lightsaber with two fingers, switched it on but dropped it as the next shake rattled his teeth. The blue glow sank into the pond's murk.

"Hold your breath, Anakin!" Obi-Wan shouted as the glowvine enveloped the young man's jumpsuit with the precious body inside and dark water closed over Anakin's head. With Obi-Wan's shout came an angry ripple from the palp and it flourished Obi-Wan as might a cheerleader its pompom at the Galactic Games. He saw Anakin's chest heave, but the vine constricted his torso too much for a deep inhalation. Jedi breath control would have to help, Obi-Wan thought as he was cracked to and fro. But can he do it in this kriffing muddled place? Whipped upright and then dunked himself into the waters, Obi-Wan's own situation was dire.

ARC6754 picked himself up as the Jedi disappeared beneath churning waves, Obi-Wan's white fingertips the last part that he saw. "Did you ... notice that the vegetable went straight for them?"

ARC397 massaged his bruised throat. "What next?" he croaked.

"What we were made for." The five needed no further words.

No gripline -- make do. ARC7811 anchored one hand to a waist-high stalagmite.

Dampened hand-to-hand contact -- I miss my traction-grip gauntlets. ARC1830 grabbed his brother's extended hand and reached out his own.

I hate swimming. ARC397 plunged into the pond.

I can see the lightsaber's glow from here. ARC58134 clamped on.

Can't reach the Jedi -- the thing has gotten them too far from the edge. ARC6754 did what all his training and inclination told him not to; he broke the chain with his brothers. He splashed ten steps further into the hip-high water, ducked his head under to ensure he grabbed the hilt and not the business end of the lightsaber and dove for the drop off point one step beyond. The Jedi and the bulbous translucent glowvine base formed one pale shimmer six meters down. This weapon is like a vibro-shiv, yes, aim it like a spear, no, when I close with the thing I'll hack with both hands. ARC6754, known familiarly as Six, cursed his reduced kit as he slowly, deliberately, inserted his rebreather. Plan your work, work your plan. Make do. The thing's two palps were inserting the Jedi in a slit leading to a cavity inside the four-meter-in-diameter body whose greenish, almost-clear mantle sheltered round things that looked like seeds. It wants them for ... fertilizer? No, I won't let you! He kicked powerfully downward.

Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope. Anakin's sight dimmed further as the burning spread from lungs to stomach to throat. Compressed with the embrace of vine and stiffened clothing and inert hair, his next convulsion flexed his head nearly hard enough to break his own neck. His control waning to a bleak desire to breathe, to open his mouth and gasp in the water that would drown him, one final event claimed his attention. Something blue-white flashed, yes, a lightsaber, boiling bubbles with slashing strokes in no Form that he recognized and he did not care because the main glowvine released his shoulders. The roothairs were severed by the abruptness of the move, leaving their immobilizing woven surfaces in place as the semi-sentient plant pulled him back through the slit by one foot, releasing his irritating presence. Now I know why I don't wear all the clones' armor if this is how they feel most of the time. He floated, body stiff, head thrust backwards. If only I weren't so tired ... The galaxy grayed out.

Slightly better off, Obi-Wan felt Anakin's grip on life loosen through their muddied bond. No, I won't let you! There is another way to survive this, there is another ... Before the plant could make a move other than to release its grip on his ankles, there was a bubbling blade of blue that cut open the plant's midsection and a hand grabbed his collar to pull him through the gap. Obi-Wan struggled in his own stiffened clothes, then an exquisitely wielded lightsaber flicked from bootheel to waist to sleeve to neckline and down the other side, bisecting his entire outfit. The same hand pulled the front half away from him and Obi-Wan kicked the rest of his body free before grabbing for his lightsaber. In Obi-Wan's weakened state, it was possible for Six to keep it from him.

He's running out of air and he will forget about breathing for himself while his partner is in trouble oh no you don't General Kenobi. A concussion wave slapped Six as another brother dove to join the battle. Six pulled the Jedi to him and jammed the rebreather between his lips. The Jedi finally seemed to see sense and they buddy-breathed over to the General's partner's suspended form. A trooper was already there performing the same breathing maneuver, trying with no success to straighten the Commander's neck. Can't see you well enough to know your name, brother, but that doesn't matter. You came through for them.

You see, Anakin, there was another. I'll have no more about you dying. Obi-Wan squeezed Six's hand in gratitude as he took back his lightsaber. I dropped it, I dropped it, sorry, Master Qui-Gon. Anakin's eyes fluttered open and he jerked a thumbs-up to Obi-Wan after a while. Obi-Wan denuded Anakin of his strangling clothes and hair extensions, leaving the braid in place after an agonized look from the Padawan. The braid he prised away from the freed wad of clothing with deft strokes, any amputated roothairs still alive twitching for purchase anywhere, anyhow. Anakin's dislodged breasts bobbed to the surface as Obi-Wan retrieved Anakin's lightsaber for him, for once unable to lecture about absentmindedness. With Six's and ARC397's help, the two rose away from this dark tomb.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Don't be like Adi, Anakin. Not everything deleterious to our health is of the Dark Side," Obi-Wan said half an hour later. "We were most likely its only nutrient source for its seeds in days. You've noticed how it is the slow season for pilgrimages. We would have made an enormous difference to the seeds' development."

"Next you'll be feeling sorry for it."

No. That was Qui-Gon's territory. "Not at all. Simply understanding without condoning."

Away from the Shrine, the Force flowed as smoothly as it ever did over Anakin as he trudged through bracken behind Obi-Wan in a light rain. He had stopped shivering fifteen minutes ago. "When we get to the redan, I'll run an analysis on this whatever-it-is." Apart from a disturbing sense of a Force-signature of either a Dark Side user or a Jedi which their befuddled minds could not differentiate, the only worthwhile result of their trip to the Shrine was a palm-sized metal shape that ARC397 had spotted by the pond's edge. Its bottom showed a grooved male protrusion, obviously meant to fit inside a female receptacle. Its top formed a stylized Grek, incised with irregular lines, their pattern resembling mudcracks that had baked in the sun. It doesn't get sunny much out here. This must be a rare and precious design to anyone familiar with Gelgelar's gloom. Anakin couldn't wait to reach technology and fresh clothing.

To establish their backstory, their small transport remained at Loro Ecls' starport, but Obi-Wan's circumspection was such that he insisted on caching macrobinoculars and other gear that didn't comport with a hasty departure from Republican forces. There was also a stash of food and clothing in the disguised redan that the clones had constructed in an astonishingly small amount of time. The curving structure perched on a small rise overlooking the starport. It was fashioned from leafy bushes and bits of driftwood and could conceal all of them comfortably while one warrior at a time observed the starport through a slitted viewport. On the days when they weren't playing out-of-work soldiers, they came here to spy.

The mood remained as gray as the weather as the clones prepared for departure from Gelgalar and the Jedi clad themselves in their regular tunics and leggings. Obi-Wan rubbed the hair restorer over his scalp. It tingled as it restored his hair to its original shade and texture. I'm not looking forward to reporting to the Council. We've added to the general mystery, not diminished it. A piece of metal, an obscured Force-signature, plus a shard of crystal that the Analysis droids are still working on. Well, that's probably unrelated. Anakin dressed quickly, scratched off his makeup and dove for the rudimentary analyzing equipment inside the redan. Hmmmph. Always on the move. Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders, stretching out his hamstrings at the same time. It was peaceful out here, away from the boarding house's lunchtime throng. Their beds were all right, no pests, Threxa amiable enough and ... uh. Just got dressed and now I need to use the latrine. Too much good food on Gelgelar, Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan crawled into the redan and undid his leggings' laces and zigzagged them back up again, easing in more fullness to allow him to squat down comfortably next to Anakin's observation post. You are, too, getting a paunch, I don't care what Anakin says. There was a puffiness in his lower abdomen and a small ache there and in his back. He flung out a pulse of self-healing and relieved everything a little. His headache and heartburn subsided, too. Anakin sensed his unease and lowered his analyzer to raise a scarred eyebrow. Obi-Wan motioned off any concerns with a dismissive flip of his wrist. "Paper?" he signed in Jedi silent code. It couldn't hurt to be cautious.

Anakin nodded in quick understanding and handed him his own stash of personal tissues, the last from his belt pouch. Obi-Wan wriggled on his belly out the exit of the redan to the squad's designated latrine behind a bush with sheltering pale leaves that huddled below the skyline. He viewed the whole necessary trip with stoicism tinged with distaste, but there it was: he was human, not Neti like T'ra Saa, and needed to release waste. While staring down at his pooled leggings, balancing himself with one hand on a knee as he pulled apart his dropseated undergarment with the other, he admired the wispy purple grass that surrounded the circular hole that the clones always dug so perfectly. Obi-Wan cleared his mind of all discomfort. He and Anakin were together again, as close as they had been on Trow, and all would be well. He lost himself in the sensation of anticipating happiness as his body did what it needed to do. When he came back to himself and cleaned up, an unusual feeling made him examine Anakin's wad of donated tissues before dropping it into the latrine. He gasped at the bloody smear on it. An aftereffect of the drenching pond or the all-over invasion of the roothairs? Obi-Wan shivered at the memory. Or could it be spore sickness or spleen-rot from that last time I was on Drongar? Kriff, am I in battle and was there a shrapnel burst just now and am I deaf and shocky and failing to notice a hole punched through my gut? He jerked his head up to search the small bit of green sky through the cloudcover, nearly over-balancing and falling backwards into ordure, but no flare of artillery, no stench of ozone, no rumble of explosions assailed the hillside. In fact, a peaceful, easy feeling flowed in the Force, Nature coursing as it ought, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Clones and Anakin and even himself were in tune with the Force, as he had sensed three weeks ago when they had built their redan in this particular spot. There was even a small advantage that the Force showed him, an extra sense of peace that had eased his and Anakin's pillow talk last night. His body was doing something it had never done before, but the sense of rightness persisted. 

Obi-Wan shrugged, dropped the tissues and refastened his clothing. Luminara would figure it out. Or Stass. Or dear Bant. He missed Bant's steady caring suddenly in a burst of emotion that shot to a peak and then plunged to a very deep valley. It had been two years since their schedules had coincided enough for them to see each other, and the little notes and keepsakes they left in each other's quarters did not seem enough anymore. Her silvery eyes would fill, she would enfold him in a supple embrace as she did when they were unpledged Initiates worrying about being accepted as Padawans and he would be at peace. As he slithered back to the redan, he wondered at his nostalgia. He took a moment to center himself before facing his command. The clones would have such memories, he thought, but at an accelerated pace. Like my horror vids on quickplay.

The tension in the redan slapped him in the face. Anakin's spine was rigid, his posture as stiff as in the pond and the clones mirrored his attention. Obi-Wan knelt by his Padawan. Wordlessly, Anakin handed him the macrobinoculars. Obi-Wan hissed as the focus adjusted to his eyesight. A MagnaGuard strode to Ecls' tatty speeder, the Sullustan officiously offering to hold the electrostaff while the droid arranged its Kaleesh war robes before climbing in the vehicle. The MagnaGuard declined with harsh words, Obi-Wan guessed, because Ecls' sad face turned even sadder. Ecls gunned the speeder and took off for the main part of town.

Meanwhile, back in the Temple Lab ...

"Metamethylduracobamite."

"What, sir?"

Plo Koon handed ARC5231 a lozenge. "It's sort of an enhanced vitamin. Put these under your tongue. Don't chew."

The trooper sucked the three pills, slowly, carefully. Plo busied himself with taking notes, nearly reporting every breath from the man with the clean-shaven head.

ARC2813 entered the lab every day at this time, regularly as the sunrise. In fact, the sun had risen forty minutes ago after another all-nighter from Plo. ARC2813 tiptoed next to his brother, questioning the two of them with raised brows that were as thick as they were at his deployment three years ago. ARC5231 continued sucking.

"Future, Perfect" litany, here we go now, chant with me. Plo wished that he had lips to smile with when he saw ARC5231's lips curve upwards.

"Take off for flight and

Take off for cares dis-per-singggg

Make way for the dawn."

"Lift me up where I can breathe free!" Plo shouted the response. He handed ARC2813 four lozenges and picked up his datapad.

TBC

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