Chapter Text
Obi-Wan was still absentmindedly thinking about the Sith problem the next morning when he had to go into the government building for a meeting. Weeks ago, before Anakin's arrival, he had been placed on a committee that was supposed to be serving as a quick-acting task force for problems on the border. Theoretically, they were keeping an eye on disputes with the Sith and escalating anything important up to the Mand'alor, but primarily what they did was sort out logistical snarls at the edges of the Empire. The group had jokingly named itself First New United Border Surveillance, Sol'yc Hoyirad Eosise Evaar'la Solus, or SHEEvS, a pun on shebs or backside, which more or less summed up Obi-Wan's own feelings about being assigned to work on it.
Torjorur Bralor was currently giving a long and overly detailed report about food-supply issues at the outer garrisons while the rest of them sat around a long table. Torjorur was an older human man with a methodical, careful mind and a speaking voice to match. He spoke in a near monotone which was very calming to listen to, but it also made it something of a struggle to focus on his actual words. Obi-Wan was not entirely sure why the SHEEvS was even meeting about this and was vaguely annoyed that it hadn't been kept to a holomessage that he could have ignored.
Although, in truth, he was glad he had something to do today rather than spending it worrying about Anakin and waiting for their evening visiting hour. Anything could be happening to Anakin right now. He was probably already in the middle of some kind of military exercise or sparring session, possibly even facing off against one of those Sith soldiers.
Obi-Wan had been assuming the Sith were unwilling captives like Anakin, but as he thought about it now, he realized there was another possibility. They could have been captured on purpose in hopes of escaping the Sith and being accepted on Mandalore. Sith soldiers were nearly all conscripts and their forces had a high rate of desertion. It was only the Sith's harsh disciplinary tactics and tendency to execute the families of deserters that kept their soldiers from defecting en masse.
In that case, it might explain why they had it out for Anakin. What better way to ingratiate themselves to their new masters than by harassing a shared, ancient enemy? The Indoctrinators didn't really think like that—to them, Anakin had been a former Jedi from the moment he stepped into the Center—but to a Sith, attacking the Jedi in their midst in order to gain favor would seem like a logical, even sensible thing to do.
Now that he thought about it, Obi-Wan was surprised that there weren't more Sith soldiers in the Indoctrination Center. The Mandalorian system was so effective in part because it welcomed people who had no other home or safe haven. In exchange for accepting the Resol'nare, new Mandalorians were given a place to belong and a new sense of purpose in defending and expanding the Empire. Obi-Wan knew how appealing that could be first hand and he'd seen it work on the dozens of other captives in his class. Some of the most intransigent and cynical at the beginning were the most loyal by the end.
"You agree, don't you, Obi-Wan?" Torjorur asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Obi-Wan made a thoughtful noise in hopes that Torjorur might elaborate. When he didn't, he paused to see if he could remember what Torjorur had been talking about before he zoned out. "About the garrison?" Obi-Wan hazarded. "Yes, certainly."
Soft laughter around the table made clear that that was not what they were currently discussing.
"Sorry, Torjorur," Obi-Wan said. "I'm afraid I was distracted. Could you run that by me again?"
Torjorur shook his head ruefully. "As I was saying—"
Obi-Wan shifted in his seat and tried valiantly to pay attention. It was stuffy in the meeting room and he rather regretted putting on his armor that morning. It still felt silly to Obi-Wan to wear full battle dress when he wasn't anywhere near a battlefield, but he knew traditionalists like Torjorur saw it as a mark of respect. Everyone else around the table was in full armor, most of them considerably better outfitted than Obi-Wan was. He only had a few pieces of armor rather than a full set, and what he did have was as light and scanty as he could get away with. It wasn't too different from his GAR armor, although the durasteel plate was several times heavier than the plastoid that the Republic favored.
Torjorur was just getting back to his main point about the need for more strategic grain reserves when Obi-Wan felt an odd pain in his stomach on his right side. It was sharp, but it didn't feel like a muscle cramp. He was mentally reviewing everything he'd eaten that morning when the pain intensified. He couldn't help a muffled grunt as he shifted and reached down to touch the spot. It almost felt like...
Obi-Wan looked down and was surprised to see blood on his hand where he was holding his stomach. Quite a lot of blood, actually. It had already soaked through the bottom of his tunic. No, wait, that wasn't his tunic, and it wasn't his mechanical hand either—
That kriffing sleemo stabbed me! Obi-Wan thought, in a voice that didn't sound at all like his internal monologue. How did he—kark!
Obi-Wan realized what was happening in the same instant Anakin did, understanding passing through both of them so quickly that it wasn't clear who had had the thought first.
Obi-Wan! Anakin sounded panicked now, his fear carrying through their bond along with another wave of pain as he reached out for him. Help me, I can't—
"Anakin!" The vision cut off as abruptly as it had come. Obi-Wan found he was standing up and the others were all staring at him around the table.
"Is something wrong?" Torjorur asked.
"I have to—sorry, excuse me," Obi-Wan said, and rushed out of the meeting room.
He was barely aware of where he was going, hurrying through the corridors at a near run as he searched for Anakin in the Force. He could still sense their bond, the firm shape of it like a knot at the back of his head, but now that the momentary connection overlapping their minds had broken, they were too far apart for him to get anything more than a vague sense of turmoil from Anakin's end.
Obi-Wan managed to requisition a speeder from the soldiers patrolling the government district. He didn't even have to mind trick them into doing it; he was distraught enough that they accepted that there was an emergency without asking any further questions.
As he raced to the Indoctrination Center, Anakin's end of the bond grew silent, a blank space where earlier there had been pain and fear. Most likely that meant he had passed out. Obi-Wan didn't want to think too hard about what else it could mean. Instead, he focused on driving the speeder through Sundari's streets as quickly as he could manage without wiping out against the side of a building.
There were four indoctrinators on guard at the entrance to the Center when Obi-Wan arrived. They were clearly on edge and darted glances between themselves as he approached.
"We're in lockdown," one of them told Obi-Wan as he tried to enter. "No one in or out."
Obi-Wan spotted a familiar set of red and black armor behind the indoctrinator at the door and called out, "Zena! Zena, let me in! I have to see Anakin."
Zena took off her helmet. She looked stressed and her hair was damp with sweat. "He's not here, Obi-Wan," she said. "They took him to the medcenter for treatment."
"What medcenter? Where? What happened?" He realized his voice was very loud and took a breath as he tried to control himself.
"It was—there was an accident," Zena said. "An injury during sparring."
"Not really an accident." One of the guards behind her grumbled as he removed his helmet, revealing Neeshik underneath. "I'm pretty sure the coward meant to kill him."
"Sparring?" Obi-Wan said in shock. "Shouldn't they only be allowed hand-to-hand? How did one of them get a vibroblade?"
Zena jerked back in surprise while Neeshik gave him a puzzled look.
"Uh, it was an improvised knife, not a vibroblade," Neeshik said. "Very crude. He must have stolen some cutlery and sharpened it somehow."
That was a huge breach of security. Obi-Wan was shocked based on his previous experience at the Indoctrination Center that it would even be possible. "How the hell did a recruit manage that?"
The indoctrinators all exchanged nervous looks, clearly not having an answer for him.
Obi-Wan sighed. "Never mind, it doesn't matter now. What medcenter did they take him to?"
After conferring with her supervisors, Zena got permission to take Obi-Wan there herself. She drove him in one of the Center's speeders since she knew the way, leaving Obi-Wan impatiently tapping his foot in the passenger seat. Zena was very circumspect about following traffic laws, which normally Obi-Wan would have appreciated but today it was an aggravation. He kept reaching out for Anakin and only finding blank darkness. It was unconsciousness. He was sure it was. Obi-Wan knew what it felt like to have a bond violently severed and this wasn't it.
Zena kept darting glances at him whenever they slowed down or were forced to stop momentarily. They were looks full of apprehension and a hint of fear.
"What?" Obi-Wan asked, finally fed up with waiting for her to ask him about whatever was bothering her.
"Did Director Fett com you?" she said. "You arrived so fast."
"No," Obi-Wan said. "I felt it happening."
Zena startled a little and shot him a wary look before returning her eyes to the windscreen. "Through the Force?"
"Yes."
"Can you—is that... normal?" she asked. "Feeling things?"
"Uh, yes and no." Obi-Wan said, quashing a wave of irritation. He was too distracted to launch into a full explanation of the Force at the moment so he kept his answer simple and to the point. "Visions are relatively rare, but this one was probably because of my training bond with Anakin."
Zena blinked in confusion and Obi-Wan sighed realizing he was going to have to go into more detail.
"There's a mental connection that's forged between Jedi masters and padawans as part of our training," he explained. "Anakin and I can feel each other's emotions through it. Well, I can," he amended, "he can't right now."
"Whoa," Zena said in surprise. "I didn't realize—I thought it was more of an extra sense than telepathy."
"It's not," Obi-Wan said, although she was clearly speaking colloquially and he really didn't have the energy to get into the nitty-gritty of the many different types of Force abilities. "Not exactly. Sending actual words through the bond is difficult and rare. Usually it's an exchange of feelings and sensations. He must have reached out for me when it happened and I experienced it as if it was happening to me."
"I thought the drugs were supposed to prevent that?" Zena said in surprise.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I'm not a healer, I have no idea how they work or if they should have prevented it." Although most likely it was because the drugs had been formulated for someone with a good deal less raw power than Anakin possessed.
Zena fidgeted, still uncertain about something. "But this is… that was… normal?"
"Uh, well, it was unusually clear and over a quite a long distance," Obi-Wan admitted, not sure how much he should tell her. "But in extenuating circumstances...? It's not out of the norm for Force-sensitives that are close, no."
"Huh," Zena said. "I wish I could sense my kids that way. Maybe I could actually keep them out of trouble."
Obi-Wan managed a smile. If he was less stressed he might have laughed. "It hasn't done much to keep Anakin out of trouble, I'm afraid."