Star Wars: Lost and Found

Chapter 1:

Alone.

Out here, in the mesmerising blue void of hyperspace, she was alone.

Completely alone, stuck in a tiny durasteel box as it hurtled through hyperspace. Nobody else around for lightyears in every direction.

That was the situation that Siri Tachi found herself in at this moment. Ironically, it also seemed to be a metaphor for the way she had felt, ever since that day – that awful, horrible, heartbreaking day – a little over three months ago.

Since the war began all those months ago, in the arena on Geonosis, she had been involved primarily in an espionage role, infiltrating Separatist facilities, running spy networks and acting as an occasional double agent, feeding false or useless information directly to the CIS high command. When Master Tholme had recruited her for such a role, it had not really come as a surprise. After all, it was essentially the same thing as she had been doing since her mission to infiltrate Krayn's organisation, before she had even officially been knighted.

As a result, she had hardly seen the frontlines of the war and had walked the familiar corridors of the Jedi Temple even less frequently.

Nevertheless, she did have occasion to return home sometimes. Three months ago had been the last such instance. She remembered it vividly. With the Order stretched thin by the war, her debriefing had been carried out by just Tholme and Windu.

She had recounted her experiences of the previous month, spent posing once again as the bounty hunter Zora Katana as she fed the Republic information from within Admiral Sholn's fleet, before slipping away during the Republic victory at the Battle of Sardos Major.

After giving her report, the Jedi spymaster and the Councillor had been updating her on the progress of the war, when Windu had made the offhand remark.

"... and we have yet to appoint a successor for Master Kenobi on the Council, since he was lost on Jabiim."

Siri had completely tuned out after that. She had been stunned. Obi-Wan... dead... it just couldn't be happening.

Making things even worse was the way that Windu had just mentioned the death of a senior member of the Jedi Council – supposedly one of the man's friends – as little more than an afterthought.

In all honesty, she was amazed that she had survived her latest mission. For every day of those three months, she had been so distracted, unable to tear her thoughts away from her lost friend for more than a few minutes at a time. Every time she entered a new street, she saw his face amidst a crowd, or heard his voice reaching out to her. Several times, she had nearly called out his name, only to stop herself at the last second.

And every time, she had found that it was simply her mind playing a cruel trick on her, as she always knew it was from the beginning, despite wishing the opposite.

Above all though, she just couldn't fight the feelings of guilt that constantly threatened to overwhelm her. Obi-Wan had loved her – and she had loved him. Even now that he was gone, she still loved him. The worst thing was: she had denied that to both of them. She had been the one to insist that their relationship must end – that their duty to the Jedi Order had to come first. She could tell at the time that he was deeply hurt by her choice and yet, like the gentleman he was, he had agreed and had kept his promise ever since. Not once since that day, over a decade ago, had Obi-Wan mentioned their feelings for each other.

Now that he was gone forever though, Siri couldn't help but feel how stupid her choice had been.

She couldn't help but wish that Obi-Wan had pressed the issue – had forced her to face her feelings for him.

But that wasn't who Obi-Wan was.

Now, it was too late. He had died on the killing fields of Jabiim.

Jabiim.

She had never visited that miserable, rain-soaked rock and yet Siri Tachi despised Jabiim with a passion.

So many friends had perished in the quagmire of Jabiim. First her childhood friend, Reeft, had died in the Republic landings, his gunship shot from the sky. Next had been Garen Muln, crushed by a falling walker as he launched a desperate counterattack. Then there was Erin Leska, another childhood friend, felled in the final days of the battle shortly after command of the Republic forces was thrust upon her.

And finally, there was Obi-Wan. Dear, sweet, noble Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Every death had been like a hammer blow to her soul, but it was news of Obi-Wan's death that had finally shattered her.

After the explosion that took his life, there hadn't even been anything left of his body to give him a proper funeral pyre like he deserved.

In the end, deciding to try to meditate – to try and find some peace of mind amidst the chaos and pain – Siri moved from the pilot's chair and knelt down on the cold durasteel floor. Closing her eyes, she attempted to lose herself in the swirling currents of the Force.

Every time she had tried to meditate since hearing of Obi-Wan's death, her concentration had failed her but this time her connection with the Force seemed to come to her more naturally than ever.

The moment Siri was immersed in the mystical vortex of the Force however she felt a searing pain tearing through her mind; an overwhelming sense of despair enveloping her entire being.

A moment later, horrific flashes of images started to rush through her mind, each only lasting a matter of seconds, but being played out in horrific clarity.

A darkened room with bare duracrete walls, stained black with dried blood. The stench of death and filth seemed to permeate every molecule of the fetid air.

A terrible scream of anguish caused Siri to spin round.

That was when she saw it – the figure of a man, suspended from the ceiling by chains around his wrists, with a black mask obscuring all his facial features, save for his eyes. The man was clothed only in rags. It was several seconds before Siri realised that those clothes had once been a set of Jedi robes.

In front of the prisoner stood the bald-headed figure of a woman, clothed in a close-fitting black outfit, the dim light reflecting off her pale skin, giving her a wraith-like appearance.

Ventress. There was no-one else it could be.

As Siri watched the scene with morbid fascination, Ventress slowly began circling her prisoner, whispering something in the man's ear. By this time, Siri could see a whip curled in one of the Sith Assassin's hands and a wicked-looking blade in the other. Slowly pacing around her captive, Siri could see Ventress leaning in every now and then to whisper something indistinguishable.

Suddenly Ventress lashed out, slashing open the man's back with her knife. Her victim arched his back as he hissed in pain.

Ventress kept on pacing, then stepped away a few paces before lashing out with the whip, striking it against her prisoner's back, flaying his skin. A cry of pain.

The whip cracked again.

And again.

And again.

Finally Ventress paused in her torture of her victim and walked back around to face him. She tilted his face up to meet her eyes, ignoring the muffled whimpers of pain.

Finally, the Darksider spoke clear enough for Siri to hear.

"Why do you endure? Why won't you break!" She screamed, punctuating her shout of fury by slashing the man across the chest again with her knife, eliciting yet another cry of anguish. "Surely you must see the futility of your resistance? No-one knows you are here. No-one is coming to save you. You will continue to suffer until you submit to me."

The man mumbled a short reply that evidently displeased the Sith assassin.

With a scream of rage, she punched her victim hard in the face before delivering a flurry of brutal blows to his abdomen. The beating went on for a whole minute before she stepped back again, breathing heavily.

"You are weak!" She spat. "You are weak, and when I have broken you, I will show your pathetic form to Dooku. He will see that you are not worthy to be his apprentice! He will see that I am the only one worthy of being his apprentice! And then – and then you will die, Kenobi!"

Siri's yes sprang open as she gasped in shock.

She could feel the cold beads of sweat on her forehead and could feel her whole body shaking.

Clenching her fists, she tried to keep herself from trembling, at the same time squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to block out the horrific images that the Force had just shown her. It didn't help. The awful visions of Obi-Wan – her Obi-Wan – suffering at the hands of that sadistic witch seemed to be seared into her memory.

Yet amidst the horror, there was the faintest glimmer of hope.

Obi-Wan was alive.