DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox.  This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it.  Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.  Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.  Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).

The flames raged, higher and higher, reaching out their destructive tendrils to engulf and destroy the laboratory. Bottles on the wall beneath the flames popped and shattered like explosives as their chemical contents were heated by the fire. The shelf gave way, sending what was left of its load crashing into the building inferno. The fire writhed and momentarily changed color as it was inundated by the dangerous mix it had just consumed.

Qui-Gon Jinn noticed with alarm that the flames were heading for the large oxygen drums on the far wall. When those went up this whole place was going to be cinders. "Come on, let's go! Move, move, move!" he urged the fleeing scientists. The room shook as something exploded down the hall.

A moment later, the Jedi Master was relieved to see his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, enter the room. The apprentice's clothes were singed and his face and hair darkened with soot and streaked with sweat, but he was otherwise unharmed. The young Jedi clutched two children in his arms and four more hung onto his robes, wide-eyed and scared to death. Obi-Wan did not stop to speak to his Master but hurried the children out of the building. Blaster bolts exploded around the fifteen-year-old Jedi's head. Instinctively, he ducked; jumping back and shoving the children out of harms way as well.

The soldiers who had set the building ablaze ringed the flaming structure, mercilessly shooting down those who fled. This door had been safe last time Obi-Wan had ushered people through it, but it was no longer and he would have to find another way to get these kids out of here. His mind could not comprehend the ruthlessness behind all this, torching the building, shooting people, shooting at children of all things! "It's okay kids," he tried to sooth as he dragged them back the way they had just come. "It'll be okay. Just stay with me."

"Master! Master Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan called, finding him once more. "The east door is no longer safe." Qui-Gon swore silently under his breath. "Neither is the west door," he said with forced calm.

Obi-Wan bit his lip. They were trapped. "Is everyone out of the building yet?" Qui-Gon asked, his gaze sweeping over the children that huddled around Obi-Wan like frightened koka's.

"Most everyone, except maybe a handful scattered about, and these children," Obi-Wan confirmed what Qui-Gon already knew. The air was stiflingly hot and choked with acrid smoke. The children coughed and Obi-Wan had to resist the urge to do the same.

Leila, one of the scientists who had stayed behind to help everyone else get out ran up to them. "This building is as empty as we're going to get it. The fire's progressing too fast, we have to get out of here now!" she reported breathlessly, pushing her thick bundle of short, black braids back over her shoulder.

"That will be a little difficult," Qui-Gon said, searching for a plan. "The Drojan army has us quite thoroughly surrounded." Leila hissed through her teeth, wiping perspiration off her brow with her sleeve. "Pigs!" she spat, referring to the Drojans. "This is exactly why we refused to create biological and chemical weapons for them, because they're animals!" she raged. "This was a research station, not a weapons lab, we tried to tell them that..." her eyes turned hard and hopeless. "I guess that isn't what they wanted to hear."

"You made the right choice," Qui-Gon assured.

"Yeah, I guess this is proof of that," Leila shook her head. "Come on, there's a maintenance entrance in the back of one of the labs, with any luck, they won't have discovered it yet." The two Jedi, children in tow, followed Leila down the smoke- filled corridors. The lab in question was already engulfed in flames. Each adult took two children in their arms and made a dash through the raging fire.

Smoke, laced with chemical fumes choked them and stung their eyes. Leila struggled with the door. "It's locked!" she cried in dismay.

Drawing his lightsaber, Qui-Gon quickly took care of that. Kicking the door open, they tumbled outside, into the pale light of the Driosian day. They found themselves in an outdoors storage area behind the building. A high fence with no door, twice as tall as Qui-Gon ran around the area.

"Do you think we can climb it Master?" Obi-Wan asked, looking uncertainly up at the imposing barrier.

"No," Qui-Gon shook his head. "It's electro-charged," he said, testing it with a gentle touch that left his finger numb. "Only one way then," the apprentice said, setting down the children he carried.

Qui-Gon nodded, releasing his burdens as well. "Leila, stand there by the wall with the children. We're going to lift you over and then pass the children to you. Whatever you do, you have got to be calm and trust us, all right?" Leila nodded. She was not sure what the Jedi had in mind, but she did trust them. Clutching two of the frightened four-year- olds to her breast, she waited.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both closed their eyes and their powers joined.

Leila felt herself rising off the ground, the children still in her arms. She resisted the urge to look down and tried to remain calm as Qui-Gon had told her to, but it was not easy. Slowly, she rose up, over the fence and was set down gently on the far side.

"Leila, are you all right?" she heard Qui-Gon's voice call to her from the other side of the barrier.

"I'm fine, and I'm on the other side. There's no one in sight for the moment," she reported quickly.

"We're sending the children over," Qui-Gon told her as he and Obi-Wan prepared to hoist two more of the youngsters into the air. Qui-Gon wondered if perhaps he should have his apprentice hold two of the children and send them over together, bringing the remaining two with him on the next trip, but he mentally checked their reserves and decided against it. Neither Master, nor Padawan had slept in over 72 hours. This last business of evacuating the burning research station had used up nearly the last of their energies. It took both of them concentrating together to safely levitate anyone at this point. They would send the children over, and then follow themselves.

In groups of two they sent the quiet, but terrified youngsters over the fence and deposited them safely with Leila on the other side.

"Okay, I've got them, now you two come. Hurry! I think I hear people coming!" Leila called urgently.

It was too late. Snipers from the nearby buildings opened up fire on the little group below them.

"Leila run! Take the children, get out of here!" Qui-Gon commanded urgently, igniting his blade to deflect the shots aimed at them. Obi-Wan did likewise.

Leila did not hesitate but took the children and cleared out of there as fast as she could. She knew the Jedi could take care of themselves.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan blocked the shots raining down on them, but it was a losing proposition. They were trapped behind the fence with nowhere to go but back into the burning building. They could not possibly levitate themselves out while they were being shot at, and the fence was much too high to jump. Well, they couldn't stay here, Qui-Gon realized grimly as the sniper-fire intensified. It was literally like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, yet they had no choice but to retreat back into the burning laboratory.

The flames were very thick now and the ceiling groaned an ominous warning that it was not going to stay up much longer. A hail of burning ruble collapsed directly in front of them, blocking the doorway back into the rest of the building. The flames were all around them, licking at their long robes and searing their lungs.

Obi-Wan whirled around when he heard a loud, shrieking pop. Heated beyond endurance, a test tube exploded like a missile had hit it. Just as he turned, another beaker blew up, shattering and projecting its contents all over the room, and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan did not have time to duck and the burning chemicals caught him directly in the face and eyes. Shards of glass embedded themselves in his robes like shrapnel and tore his arms and hands as he flung them up in a delayed attempt to protect himself. The young Jedi felt the chemicals burn like liquid fire on his skin, making him cry out in shock and pain. Obi-Wan's hands flew to his face in a desperate attempt to wipe the stinging fluid away on the sleeve of his tunic. Qui-Gon jumped to his Padawan's side. Just then, a huge explosion shook the building, signaling it's last moments. Obi-Wan fell to his knees. Fire rained down around them like the world was coming to an end. The ceiling above gave way, crashing down.

Qui-Gon threw himself over his Padawan, pressing the boy to the floor as the world fell down around them. Obi-Wan dimly felt his Master's body over his, but he was really aware only of the burning pain in his face and eyes. Then, everything faded to black and he remembered no more.

When Obi-Wan woke up, the pain in his face was the first thing he noticed. Then the pain in his hands, then the rest of his body. At least that meant he wasn't dead, the apprentice tried hard to look on the bright side. But where was he? He was lying on his back on a hard, lumpy surface, but the room was pitch dark and he could see nothing. Somewhere, nearby, he felt Qui-Gon's familiar presence, and that made him feel better. If they were together, than things couldn't be that bad.

Qui-Gon moved to his Padawan's side as the increased level of pain he felt emanating from the boy told the Jedi Master that Obi-Wan was waking up.

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked groggily, deciding against trying to sit up just yet.

"I'm here Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's mellow voice was comforting. Obi-Wan could hear the gentle rustle of his Master's robes as Qui-Gon settled himself next to his apprentice. Obi-Wan blinked, trying to force his aching eyes to adjust to the darkness, but it didn't help, he still could not see Qui- Gon. "Where is here?" Obi-Wan wanted to know. "Where are we, Master?" Why was it so dark?

"A Drojan prison cell I'm afraid," Qui-Gon replied. Obi-Wan admired his Master's control. There was almost no emotion in the older Jedi's voice and he might as well have been telling Obi-Wan that they had been invited to a high tea... come to think of it, that was almost as bad... Obi-Wan's lips twitched slightly in spite of himself. Unfortunately, even that much movement in his facial muscles was acutely painful to the Padawan.

Obi-Wan put his hand to his face, gently touching the smarting burns that ran across his features. They didn't seem too bad, just painful, and half of that was probably a reaction because it was a chemical burn as well as a normal one. "What happened?"

"The research station collapsed," Qui-Gon said calmly. "We were trapped underneath, but miraculously, were not killed. The Drojan forces extinguished the fire to keep it from spreading to other buildings. When they went through the rubble, they pulled us out. You were unconscious by that time and I was... not in a condition to oppose them, so they brought us here," Qui-Gon explained wearily.

No, Obi-Wan realized with a shock, it wasn't just weariness he heard in his mentor's voice, it was pain. Qui-Gon was in pain and Obi-Wan hadn't even realized it. Obi-Wan kicked himself for being so unobservant and wrapped up in his own suffering. *"Not in a condition to oppose them..."* Qui-Gon must be hurt, but how, and how badly? Obi-Wan wished he could see his Master, blast this infernal darkness! Did the Drojans always keep their prisons this dark? Perhaps it was meant discourage escape, or to drive the inmates insane.

Obi-Wan sent out a probe through the Force, trying to get a reading that way. "Master, you're hurt!" he said in dismay when the probe came back to him. He couldn't tell specifics, but whatever the injuries were, they were substantial. Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed slightly in surprise. Obi-Wan only just noticed this? He looked down at the double slings that bound his broken arms to his chest. That he was injured was readily apparent to anyone with eyes...

A cold chill ran up Qui-Gon's spine and his stomach tightened uncontrollably. Obi-Wan was not looking at him. He was not looking at anything. As he lay on the rough cot, the boy's blue eyes wondered aimlessly, but focused on nothing. Qui-Gon passed his hand over his apprentice's face, not three inches away. No reaction. Obi-Wan did not even seem to notice. Qui-Gon's gaze lighted on the red burns that traced across the boy's face, especially the large, blistered one that arced across Obi-Wan's cheekbones, the bridge of his nose... and straight across the Padawan's eyes. The tightness in Qui-Gon's stomach solidified into a hard lump.

Obi-Wan felt the sudden change in Qui-Gon's calm demeanor. "What is it Master? What's wrong?"

*"He doesn't know..."* Qui-Gon realized in anguish. "Obi-Wan, what do you see?" the Jedi Master asked carefully.

"See?" Obi-Wan was surprised by the question. "I can't see anything Master, it's too dark in here."

Qui-Gon bit his lip, unsure what to say.

"Master?" a note of alarm crept into the boy's voice. He could tell something was wrong.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice was low, too low, he was sad about something... "This cell is fully lighted. I can see you quite clearly," the Master's voice cracked just slightly.

For a moment Obi-Wan did not understand. Fully lighted? That was impossible! He couldn't see a thing... Suddenly what Qui- Gon was telling him hit the teenager like a blaster bolt in the gut. Obi-Wan's chest tightened so badly he couldn't breathe. He gasped for air and ended up hyperventilating. *It couldn't be true! It couldn't! Oh, please don't let it be true!* But it was true and he knew it, Qui-Gon wouldn't lie to him about something like this. That burning he felt in his eyes...

"Master, Master I can't see!" he cried in dismay and alarm. Sitting up despite the fireworks it set off in his head, he groped out, trying to find his Master by feel.

Qui-Gon managed to catch one of his apprentice's searching hands in the still slightly movable fingers of his right hand. The motion and strain hurt incredibly, but Qui-Gon barely noticed, his whole attention was on Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon moved closer, pulling the boy to him with the Force in lieu of the arms he did not have the use of at present.

Obi-Wan buried his face against Qui-Gon's shoulder. The fabric of the older Jedi's tunic smelled of smoke and bacta, the later no doubt applied to treat the burns and other injuries Qui-Gon had received when the ceiling fell in above them. Qui- Gon had covered Obi-Wan with his own body and the apprentice had come out virtually unharmed, except for his vision...

A single tear slipped from Obi-Wan's sightless sapphire eyes, yet he did not feel like crying, not really. He was too numb to cry, too shocked to even fully absorb the meaning of what he had lost.

Qui-Gon did not speak empty words of comfort to him, did not try to trivialize what the apprentice had lost, nor say that everything would be all right when it was not. The big Jedi just held him close, using the Force to replace his useless arms, and letting Obi-Wan know that he was not alone in this darkness.

Obi-Wan leaned against Qui-Gon for a long time. It was comforting to be near him, to feel his Master's presence so close, the touch of his mentor's mind and body, the familiar smell of Qui-Gon's robes that was still apparent underneath the scent of smoke and bacta... Obi-Wan had never realized how much all these little details played into the image he had of his Master. Now that he could not see, he seemed already much more aware of sounds, smells, feelings and even tastes.

What did this mean for the future? Obi-Wan wondered. Was this blindness permanent, or could it be fixed? And if it could not, did his loss of sight take with it his dreams of becoming a Knight? He knew at least one other blind Jedi, but Tahl was already a Knight when she was blinded. Could he continue training to become one if this condition was permanent? Could he ever hope to be allowed to face the trials, and even if so, did he stand any chance of passing them? He must not rely on his eyes, since Obi-Wan was little he had been taught this, but could he live without them? He didn't know.

"Walk to me," Qui-Gon instructed yet again.

Obi-Wan took an uncertain step forward, reaching out with his feelings to find where Qui-Gon was and moving towards him. The elder Jedi circled slowly and was pleased to see that Obi- Wan continually adjusted his course to keep heading towards his Master. Unfortunately Obi-Wan was so centered on tracking Qui-Gon that he neglected to fully probe out the path he was taking and ended up tripping over the chair that Qui-Gon had placed in his way.

Obi-Wan restrained himself from punching something in frustration. He should be able to do this! Hadn't he trained, blindfolded, for enough years at the Temple to know how to maneuver without sight?

*"Deceive you they can, trust your eyes, do not,"* he could still hear Yoda say to him. Why couldn't he do it now, when it mattered the most?

Qui-Gon shook his head. "You're trying too hard Padawan," he corrected gently. "You're trying so hard to see, that you tense up and miss things. Open your mind and let it happen naturally. Let the Force flow around you Obi-Wan, only then you will be able do it," Qui-Gon instructed, his presence was strong, but his voice held traces of weariness and sorrow.

"See through the Force," the Master urged. "Don't just see me, or other life forms, see the room, the objects in it. Especially the objects in your immediate path."

Obi-Wan righted himself to try again. Leave it to Qui-Gon to turn even a prison cell into a place to train. Then again, what else were they going to do here? Escape, in their combined conditions was a sadly ludicrous idea. The Jedi Council would send search parties for them if they did not report in again soon, but would they be able to find them? Obi-Wan made it on his second try, evading all obstacles and finding his way to his Master's side.

"Good," Qui-Gon approved, letting a smile creep into his voice since he knew Obi-Wan could no longer read his facial expressions. "You're learning fast."

Just then, the cell door slid open and both Jedi looked up, although it was merely a gesture of habit on Obi-Wan's part. Two soldiers entered the cell; six or seven more waited outside the door. "You will come with us," the men informed the two Jedi brusquely, gesturing towards the door with their blasters.

With little choice, the Jedi acquiesced. Obi-Wan caught Qui- Gon's elbow for guidance and they followed the soldiers out. Qui-Gon was a good and careful guide. With his friend Tahl he had learned how to lead and still allow the sightless person the freedom to navigate on their own and Obi-Wan had no trouble keeping up with him. Qui-Gon only hoped that unlike Tahl, Obi-Wan's eyesight would be fixable. "Where are you taking us?" the big Jedi asked calmly.

"To the Camps dolt," one soldier responded with a rude laugh. "Can't have all you people cluttering up our prison space and eating our food. Gotta work for your keep here. You work, or you die."

They stopped in a large room where many other prisoners were also waiting, ringed by soldiers and well guarded. The room was actually a platform of sorts and the tracks at the far end suggested that they were waiting for some form of transportation to arrive.

As they came to a halt, one of the soldiers noticed the way Obi-Wan was holding Qui-Gon's arm. The man jerked Obi-Wan away, giving a short, rough, laugh. "How many fingers am I holding up boy?" he jeered, not holding up any. Obi-Wan tried to pull away from him and got slapped across the face for it.

Qui-Gon tensed, stepping towards them, but two or three soldiers caught him by his injured arms and pushed him back against the wall. "Hey pops, where do you think you're going?" they asked, giving his tightly wrapped, but un-casted, broken arms an intentionally vicious twist. Qui-Gon gasped, gritting his teeth in pain.

"Huh boy? Come on, how many?" the soldier shook Obi-Wan back and forth mockingly. One of the other soldiers pulled a short whip off his belt with a cruel laugh. "Hey Tacin, see if he can see this coming," the man jeered, snapping the single- tongued lash and catching Obi-Wan in the chest with it. Obi-Wan clenched his teeth, struggling to remain calm. Anger would only cloud his thoughts, he had to be in control... the next time the soldier took a swipe at him, he was ready and dodged out of the way. He dodged twice more as the soldier attempted in vain to land another blow on him. Obi-Wan felt a quiet sense of satisfaction, he may be blind, but he still had the Force.

The soldiers laughed, grouping around Obi-Wan, but their laughter was more measured now. "Ooh, he's good," they half admired, half taunted. "Look at the blind boy go." "Hey Elu, whatsa matter? Can't even nail a blind kid?" the taunting turned on the soldier now as well, which made the man they called Elu mad.

Qui-Gon watched helplessly as some of the other soldiers joined in the sport, pulling the whips off their belts as well and circling around Obi-Wan like over-grown bullies on a playground.

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, trying to dodge the hissing blows, which came from all around him now. He did a good job of it too, evading nearly all of them. This made some of the soldiers respect him a little, but others it made angry.

Obi-Wan jumped to avoid a swipe aimed at his legs, but he did not sense the boot that was thrust out suddenly where he was to land until it was too late. The soldier kicked the apprentice's legs out from under him roughly. Obi-Wan fell forward, catching himself on his hands and knees.

Most of the soldiers backed off, content to have brought him down, but Elu, the one who started it, was still angry. Kicking Obi-Wan in the face and arms, he brought the boy all the way down to the ground and lashed out at him, catching him across the back and ribs with his lash.

Obi-Wan started to roll away, but several pairs of rough hands stopped him, grabbing him, holding him down. A thrill of panic swept through his body. Hands were holding him, grabbing at him, but he could not see who they went with. For a brief moment it reminded him of a time back at the Temple when he was eight. Bruck and several other boys had wrapped him up in a blanket and sat on him after he inadvertently got them in trouble for something. It felt like that now, held down in suffocating darkness and unable to fight back, only this time there was no one to make them stop. The sudden surge of fear disrupted his connection to the Force, making him feel even more helpless.

He bucked and struggled with them as Elu's whip caught him again and again, cutting through his tunic and drawing blood. The soldiers held him at first, but after a few moments they let go. Whether because there was some decency in them still somewhere, or because of a heap of mental effort on Qui-Gon's part Obi-Wan did not know.

"Okay Elu, that's enough, you made your point," one of them pulled the angry soldier away from the bleeding boy. Obi-Wan rose to his feet, and for a moment he just stood there. He wanted desperately to run to Qui-Gon's side, but he didn't know where that was. The beating had disorientated him and he realized with a chill that he had no idea where he was or how to navigate.

The soldiers let go of Qui-Gon and he quickly made his way to his apprentice's side, feeling his heart twist at the helplessness in Obi-Wan's sightless eyes.

Obi-Wan tried to be strong, tried to gain control of himself once more, banishing the fear and hopelessness that tugged at him. He took Qui-Gon's elbow again, but did not fling himself into his Master's arms as he would have liked to do.

Elu laughed with his friends as the soldiers moved away. "What's it matter anyway? Those two are useless. A blind boy and a cripple? They'll be sent to the ovens as soon as they step off the transport."

Qui-Gon realized Obi-Wan's hand on his elbow was shaking. "Are you all right?" the older Jedi inquired gently.

"Yes," Obi-Wan started to respond automatically, but then he stopped, hanging his head and shaking it. "No, Master."

Qui-Gon did not blame him. "You did well Padawan," he tried to comfort. "Your use of your training does you credit. Just remember, if you let the fear of being helpless take over you, you become helpless."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan understood. He also knew that understanding and doing were two completely different things.

"We'll find a way out of this Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, giving his Padawan a mental squeeze. "I promise we will."

The transport lumbered to a halt. Finally. The trip had been a long one. Crammed into transports much too small to accommodate such numbers, the long journey had been an introduction to hell for the prisoners being transported to the work camp.

The doors slid open with a bang and the prisoners were forced out. Qui-Gon saw that the soldiers were forming two lines. One held all the mostly healthy looking people and the other seemed to be for the ill, the weak, the disabled and children under twelve. The Jedi Master was under no illusions about the fate that awaited those considered unfit to work.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered softly. Shaking his arms slowly he made his long sleeves fall down to hide the pressure-wrap around the broken limbs, ignoring the pain that the motion caused him. "Obi-Wan, you must not let anyone suspect that you cannot see. Your life depends on it," he said bluntly. "If they classify us as handicapped, they will kill us both out of hand."

Obi-Wan nodded grimly and let go of Qui-Gon's elbow. It was not easy to stick by his Master's side in the teeming crowd, using only the Force to know where Qui-Gon was, but Obi-Wan managed.

Their illusion worked and the guards placed them in the good line with only a cursory glance. From there, the prisoners were herded deeper into the camp.

Obi-Wan struggled to keep his attention on staying by his Master and not running into anyone else, but the misery and fear that emanated from the people around them and the other occupants of the camp made his senses recoil. He stumbled on some uneven ground, but felt Qui-Gon steady him through the Force. *"Sorry Master,"* he apologized.

Darkness was already beginning to fall, so the hapless prisoners were shown to rows of dark, musty barracks filled with tiers of beds reaching four or five beds high. Of course, calling the slated wooden platforms beds was a bit of a stretch, but that was obviously their function. The prisoners were crammed five to a bed and Obi-Wan, on the edge, was very afraid that he was going to fall, or be pushed out. Since they were on the top of a tier, that was not a pleasant notion. Qui-Gon silently switched places with his padawan, putting Obi-Wan towards the inside and taking the more treacherous outside position himself. He figured it would be a little harder for a big man like him to be pushed out, than it would for a more slightly built teenager like Obi-Wan.

"Sleep well scum!" the guards taunted from the doorways. "Tomorrow the work begins!"

"Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice woke Obi-Wan gently. Obi-Wan sat up, momentarily disorientated. "Be careful," Qui-Gon warned when it looked as if Obi-Wan were about to attempt getting out of the bed. "It's a long way down."

Then Obi-Wan remembered where they were and allowed Qui-Gon to help guide him through the climb down to ground level. Once at the bottom Obi-Wan took a moment to wonder how his Master managed the climb without using his arms and decided he must be using the Force instead. Obi-Wan knew that that was what he should be doing, not relying on Qui-Gon for everything. Roll call came first and then the prisoners were served a thin, nasty gruel that was supposed to pass for breakfast before they were herded off to various work sites and stations.

Through a little bit of manipulation Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan managed to end up together. The job they were assigned was in a parts production factory and required them to manipulate a series of gears, levers and plugs according to the readouts flashing across the data screen.

Obi-Wan stood in front of the panel and bit his lip. How could he do this without being able to see the readout or the things he was supposed to move? How was Qui-Gon supposed to do this when he could not move his arms to reach the gears, buttons, plugs and levers?

"We have always been one in spirit Padawan," Qui-Gon whispered softly in his ear. "Now we must be so in reality if we are to function."

For a moment, Obi-Wan did not understand, then he did. He opened his mind entirely to Qui-Gon and felt his Master do the same. Suddenly, Obi-Wan found that he could "see" through Qui- Gon's eyes, and Qui-Gon could move through Obi-Wan's body. It was strange at first, but Obi-Wan quickly got the hang of it. Qui-Gon channeled what he saw directly into Obi-Wan's mind, so it was as if he could see it. He guided the boy's hands to the switches and plugs they were supposed to manipulate. It was not easy for either of them, but it became easier the longer they worked together.

Obi-Wan realized just how much they had become a part of one another when, during work one day, he found himself swiping absently at something that seemed to be hanging in his vision. When he remembered that he could not really see anything out of his eyes he realized it was Qui-Gon who was having trouble. Qui-Gon shook his head, trying to swing his long hair out of his face with only partial success, unable to push the hair back because of his arms. Before he could contemplate using the Force to do it, Obi-Wan made his way quickly over. Tearing a small strip of cloth off the hem of the drab, grey prison suits they had been issued when the guards made them give up their Jedi clothing, Obi-Wan used it tie his Master's hair back in a tight ponytail, keeping it out of Qui-Gon's eyes. Qui-Gon smiled at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan fancied that he could see it. He also fancied that he felt Qui-Gon's hand ruffle through his short, Padawan hair. Neither was possible of course, but sometimes, something didn't have to be possible for it to be real.

Nights were both a relief, and a pain. Relief from the work and worry of the day, but a pain because all the fear and hopelessness made some of the other inmates downright antagonistic. There were times when Master and Apprentice decided it was simply not worth the struggle to try to occupy their place on the uncomfortable wooden beds and they spent the night sleeping in the walkway, leaning against the bed frames. On one such night Qui-Gon sat, staring into the dark space before him. As he stared, eyes open but seeing only darkness, he knew that that was how Obi-Wan spent every day and it made his heart ache. He feared that each day they were stuck here, the chances of being able to reverse whatever damage had been done to take his Padawan's vision away became more and more remote. Qui-Gon sighed. Worrying did no good. He wanted to sleep, but could not, his arms hurt too much, so he tried to settle into a healing trance instead, trying to keep his feelings to himself so as not to disturb Obi-Wan's rest.

Obi-Wan however, was not asleep. He too stared into darkness, but he knew that the blackness before his eyes would not vanish with the light of dawn. His light was lost and he carried his night around with him. Obi-Wan leaned his head back against the hard sideboards of the bed behind him. He must not allow himself to wallow in self-pity; he had to think of other things, of getting out of here, of his Master...

Qui-Gon felt cool hands on his painful arms. They were small, but strong. "Obi-Wan, you should be asleep," he whispered softly. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you." Obi-Wan shook his head. Qui-Gon could barely see him in the darkness, but he felt the gesture. "You didn't disturb me." Gently, as his Master had done so many times for him, Obi-Wan reached into Qui-Gon's body, easing the pain, encouraging healing.

*"Thank you Padawan."*

Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's mild surprise and pleasure at the strength of the power he felt emanating from his student's touch. Obi-Wan smiled. *"That's because I've had such a good teacher,"* he thought back.

Other nights, especially if the day had been a very trying one, Qui-Gon would hold Obi-Wan on his lap, ignoring the boy's feeble protests that he was too big, or too old for that kind of coddling and wrap him in a blanket so secure, that it drove away all the sorrow, pain and despair that assailed the Padawan. Obi-Wan gave up even pretending to resist and let himself enjoy his Masters unusual show of overt affection and protectiveness. He supposed it was a result of this place, the uncertainty and death all around them and the very real possibility that each day was going to be their last. That, coupled with their nearly total dependency on each other, seemed to have brought them even more firmly together and aided in letting the closeness that they had shared on a deep level come to the surface and be expressed. It was true the old saying that adversity either blew people apart, or bound them together like tyranium.

Qui-Gon, for his part decided that if they did die, he did not want Obi-Wan to die without knowing how much his Master loved him.

Day after day as they worked they found out just how deep their connection could really go. Just how much they could truly work as one. They formed a symbiant circle now, in the purest meaning of the word. Obi-Wan was his Master's arms, and Qui-Gon was his apprentice's eyes. As long as they were together, they could handle just about anything. But fate had other plans.

"You, boy, I have an errand for you," an officer with ribbons on his uniform pulled Obi-Wan out of roll call one morning not long after. At first Obi-Wan did not realize the man was talking to him, until a gloved hand grabbed his ear and gave it a painful tug, dragging him out of line. "I'm talking to you boy!" the man said impatiently. "Go to building four and tell the officer on duty to tell the Head-Warden that the new task force is being assembled as ordered and operations in the Task'tow are on schedule. Can you remember that boy?" he asked roughly.

"Yes, sir," Obi-Wan nodded, keeping his eyes downcast so that the officer would not notice that he could not focus them. "Good, if you mess up I'll have your hide for it," the officer threatened.

"Sir?" Obi-Wan ventured hesitantly. "Where is building four?"

The man slapped Obi-Wan, thinking he was trying to be impertinent. "Right after building three idiot. Read the numbers on the sides of the buildings and don't give me any more lip or you'll regret it."

"Yes, sir," Obi-Wan battled down the panic that tried to grip him. He couldn't read the numbers on the buildings; he could barely tell where the buildings were. *"Master,"* he called desperately for help as he shuffled away in what he hoped was the right direction.

Qui-Gon watched helplessly as the officer sent Obi-Wan on an errand Qui-Gon knew was almost impossible for the sightless boy. *"Master,"* he heard Obi-Wan's pleading voice in his head. *"Be strong Obi-Wan, let the Force guide you,"* was all he could tell the apprehensive Padawan. As much as he wished otherwise, Qui-Gon knew he could not go with the boy this time. Qui-Gon gave his apprentice a push in the right direction, but other than that, he realized sadly, Obi-Wan was on his own.

Obi-Wan tried to hold on to what Qui-Gon had told him before, about the fear of being helpless making you helpless, but it was not easy. He moved slowly, stretching his feelings and abilities to their maximum limits in an attempt to navigate the unfamiliar place. It was not really very hard to avoid running into things or people, he could feel where they were, feel the people bustling around him, feel the buildings looming above him, but which building was the right building? He could feel where the structures were, but unfortunately, nothing he had ever learned prepared him to try to read numbers he could not see through the Force. Taking a guess, he counted four buildings down and hoped he was at least close. Approaching someone he hoped was a fellow prisoner, and not a guard he asked politely, "Excuse me, is this building four?"

The prisoner shook his head. "Nope, this is building eight. Building four is down that'away. Read the side numbers."

"Oh," Obi-Wan nodded, trying to sound as if he had not known. "Thank you." The apprentice tried to decide which way "that'away" was. Dang! He never realized how much one relied on gestures and body expressions.

"Not that way, the other way," the man he had spoken to laughed, halting Obi-Wan mid-step.

"Oh," Obi-Wan tried to laugh at the mistake. "Where's my brain? Thanks." He quickly headed the other direction. Eventually, he did find building four and delivered the message. Then, he wanted only to get back to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan leave with trepidation. He hoped the boy would be all right.

"Special work detail needed today," the duty officer was saying. He started calling out numbers and the corresponding prisoners were required to step forward and form a line.

"5807," Qui-Gon heard his number called. "5807," the duty officer repeated, his voice sharpening when Qui-Gon did not move. Qui-Gon slowly moved to join the new line, but his mind was racing. Where was this crew to be assigned? Were they still going to return to the same barracks at night? Separation was not something that either he or Obi-Wan could afford.

"Excuse me, where are we going?" Qui-Gon asked as they moved out. He doubted he would get an answer, but he still had to ask.

"None of your business," the duty officer snapped predictably. "You'll find out when we get there."

Qui-Gon's heart sank as they were loaded into yet another transport. If they were using transports, then wherever they were being taken was quite a distance away. *"Be strong Obi- Wan, cling to the Force and you can make it,"* Qui-Gon bid his Padawan silently, wherever he was. Then the transport doors clanged shut with a metallic bang and the transport lumbered off, carrying Qui-Gon further and further away from Obi-Wan.

By the time Obi-Wan got back, roll call was over and the area was deserted. He searched for Qui-Gon, but could feel him nowhere. For several moments he just stood there in the empty yard, not knowing what to do or where to go. He decided that Qui-Gon was probably already at their workstation in the parts plant. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably; he knew he should hurry there at once, his Master could not manage the post without him, but how did he find the place? He had always followed Qui-Gon and the other workers, but now he was on his own.

*"Okay Kenobi, be calm and think hard,"* he told himself. *"You've made this trip a dozen of times if you've made it once, you can remember it."* Obi-Wan found the barracks door and started from there, imagining that they were lined up for roll call and then marched off...

Slowly and laboriously, Obi-Wan did manage to trace their usual route and end up at the factory. The guard outside was quite put-out at his being late, but Obi-Wan explained that he had been sent on another assignment by an officer and the guard only grumbled that he better make up the lost time.

"Where are you going boy?" another guard stopped him inside the plant.

"Workstation twelve sir," Obi-Wan replied.

The guard took him there to be sure that's where he really was heading and then returned to his post. Obi-Wan was glad to have had help finding the right place, but was surprised and dismayed when he realized that the other person at the station was not Qui-Gon. For a moment he just stood there, trying to figure out if he was in the right place, or if the guard had made a mistake.

"Don't just stand there kid, give me a hand," the disembodied voice of the other worker barked gruffly.

"I'm not sure I'm in the right place," Obi-Wan said, disorientated. "Is this workstation twelve?"

"Yup, none other," the man laughed roughly. "So get on it already. I can't run this all by myself."

"Where's the other man who usually runs this station?" Obi-Wan asked in shock, once more fighting away the clammy fingers of panic that tried to wrap themselves around his heart.

"How the hell should I know? I'm assigned to it today, that's all that matters to me. There was some big, special force that was assembled and moved out this morning; maybe he's part of that. Now move or I'm gonna call a guard!" the man said, impatient with Obi-Wan's questions.

Obi-Wan moved forward slowly, trying to see the layout of the station in his mind. He could find everything on the control board all right, but had no way to tell what was going across the readout screens. He tried to tap into the mind of the man beside him, but could not use him to see through as he had with Qui-Gon. The best he could do was mimic what the man was doing and hope that his readouts where the same as the other man's. Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He had worked both stations by himself under Qui-Gon's guidance and he knew just how thin that hope was. For a few minutes all worked fine, but that did not last long.

A grinding screech and an alarm claxon sounded from the console before him, reporting that all was not well.

"Geez, what'd you do kid?!" the other man shouted in alarm. Several guards and overseers appeared immediately and called a technician. The Technician was able to stop the claxons, but the damage would take about an hour to fix. The Tech identified the problem as having originated from Obi-Wan's control panel. He had apparently not only pulled the wrong thing at the wrong time, but had done an entirely wrong sequence at the worst time possible.

The overseers swore at Obi-Wan in Driosian. This delay would set production back hours and they would be reprimanded for the drop. "We know how to deal with saboteurs," they threatened angrily, thinking the damage done was intentional.

"It was an accident," Obi-Wan protested, but they were not about to believe him.

Under orders from the overseers, the guards dragged Obi-Wan outside. Thrusting his hands through the iron bars of the fence that surrounded the factory they clipped a set of binders around his wrists on the other side. Effectively trapping the boy against the fence, they ran charged electro- jabbers up and down his sides.

Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut against the dizzying pain that tore through his body. His knees buckled and he sank down the fence until a crossbeam caught him, but he refused to make a sound.

Unfortunately, the guards were not about to stop until they knew they had made their point. Agony engulfed Obi-Wan until it was all he could feel. Eventually, they did make him cry out, his body could take no more.

The guards removed their cruel instruments at last and Obi-Wan struggled to catch his breath.

"Make sure he's not going to forget this anytime soon," one of the overseers said from behind them.

Obi-Wan stiffened. He did not know what they intended to do, but he was sure it would be painful. He was right.

One guard pulled the Padawan's loose prison shirt up, exposing his back and the other gave the boy ten measured, but searing strokes with a heavy coil of barbed wire.

As the cruel barbs bit his back and shoulders Obi-Wan jerked and cried out. His pain threshold was already surpassed, and the added torture was too much for him to handle. The guard actually went pretty easy on him, but Obi-Wan's back was left bleeding anyway.

"Put him on duty five," someone ordered and the guards removed Obi-Wan's binders.

Obi-Wan stumbled after the guards. He battled pain and dizziness, but more difficult was the war he fought against the depression and despair that sought to claim him. He tried to cling to Qui-Gon's promise that they would get out of here. His Master had never broken a promise to him before, but where was Qui-Gon? Besides, in reality, what did he expect Qui-Gon, or himself, or anyone to do to get them out of this? Perhaps there was no way out, no way except death... No, he wouldn't let himself think that way, it was un-Jedi. He could not let himself give up hope. Yet he had never felt so helpless. Where was Qui-Gon? His mind kept returning to that question like a Hopi to water.

*"Be strong Obi-Wan, cling to the Force and you can make it."* Obi-Wan heard his mentor's voice, but it was more of an echo than a direct communication. It was as if Qui-Gon had left the message for him and he had just stumbled across it. In that instant, Obi-Wan knew he truly was alone. They had taken Qui- Gon away and if he wanted to live long enough to even hope of ever seeing him again, the apprentice was going to have to manage on his own.

*"You can make it,"* Qui-Gon's words echoed in his head. His Master had faith in him. Obi-Wan just had to believe in himself. He squared his hurting shoulders. Whether he lived or died, he would do it in a way that would be deserving of Qui- Gon's faith in him. *That was one promise that he knew no one could stop him from keeping.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. His arms were screaming at him in pain for the merciless way he was treating them. Stoically ignoring them, he forced the injured limbs to move, miming the motion of lifting his side of a large, twisted sheet of plexi- steel. The man carrying the other side of the piece had no idea that his companion suffered from two broken arms. Had no idea that Qui-Gon lifted, not with his arms, but with his mind, through the Force.

Qui-Gon mimed with his body the actions it was not capable to carry out, and did the rest through the Force. It was the only way he could function, but it was wearing him steadily down. In reality, his arms could bear no weight. Just the movement made them hurt so bad that it could almost disrupt even the Jedi Master's concentration, but he did not let it. He dare not let it. Or he would be killed, and he would not abandon Obi-Wan like that. No matter what he had to do, he was going to get back to his apprentice. They were going to get out of this. Somehow...

*"Your focus determines your reality,"* he told himself, closing off the pain, pushing past it. He knew that to heal he needed to accept the pain and welcome it as the indication that it was, but that was a luxury he could not allow himself right now. The pain was too overwhelming. To accept it would immobilize him, and he could not afford that. For now, he just had to keep shutting it out. Qui-Gon winced as they put the twisted piece of the wreck down and it scraped slightly against his wrists, pulling against his broken bones. Even shutting it out was not entirely possible.

Qui-Gon realized that as much as Obi-Wan had needed him, he had needed Obi-Wan. This could not go on. As much as he would like to believe otherwise, a part of him knew that he could not keep this charade up on his own indefinitely.

The special detail had been assembled to clear away the twisted, burned-out wreck of an exploded supply transport that was blocking the tracks. The transport had been blown up while entering a station, and so the mangled hulk of the building hung over the hapless prisoners as they worked, making the task hazardous as well as grueling. Every now and then some part of the ruined station would fall, or collapse down, sending the prison laborers scattering in all directions until the guards forced them back with their blasters, whips and electro-jabbers.

Sweat from the exertion and the warm day beaded on Qui-Gon's brow and stung his eyes, but he couldn't wipe it away, he was already stretching the limits of how much movement he could coax from his injured body.

Verjl Owskar swiped a hand across his brow, pushing his tightly curling raven hair back under the carefully polished brim of his hat. The day was unmercifully hot, as if the sun was determined to scorch the land as a punishment for its bloodthirsty government's many sins.

All around Verjl, prison workers slaved away under the punishment of the intense heat and the merciless guards. They crawled over and through the remains of the transport wreck like so many ants, forced to attempt preposterously heavy loads that should have been left for the automated strength of mechanicals. Verjl kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his jaw firmly set so that his escorts had no indication of just what he thought of them, their wretched death camps and the whole blasted Drojan party.

"As you see Administrator Owskar, this explosion was a deliberate attempt to slow down our supply and munitions lines by treacherous insurgents, but you may assure his Excellency that the guilty parties have been apprehended and dealt with,"

Verjl's lips tightened a little. He could just imagine how they had been dealt with. Of course, they had been fools for attempting it in the first place.

"... and everything is being done to insure a speedy return to schedule," the camp Head-Warden informed Verjl confidently.

"If everything is being done, then why are the prisoners doing this work?" he asked calmly, stepping carefully through the piles of debris near the partially decimated wall of station. "Would it not be faster to employ droids to remove this rubble?"

"Perhaps so Sir, but as you know, his Excellency requires all new droids that are bought or manufactured be for fighting and there just aren't enough of the old ones to go around to risk them on a project like this. Besides," the Head-Warden shrugged. "Slaves are much more replaceable. What they lack in skill and strength, we make up for with numbers. We will have this clear with in the next three days. His Excellency has nothing to worry about."

Verjl nodded clippedly. As Second Administrator to his Supreme Excellency the Krallnorn, Leader of the entire Drojan party, he was used to people trying to curry favor with him. Little did they know how much their words and assurances had just the opposite effect on him. He wasn't really surprised. Verjl already knew that the Krallnorn put little value on life, except perhaps his own. Still, to hear the Head-Warden actually say that these people's lives were worth less than a collection of parts and bolts touched a cord in the Administrator's buried conscience. If only they knew what he really thought of them... Verjl dismissed the suicidal thought. It was the way things were, at least, for now.

"Hey, you," the Head-Warden snapped at a middle-aged man who momentarily blocked their path with the large gear strut he was dragging. The man looked up. Verjl took in the prisoner without much interest, glancing swiftly over his strong features and long brown hair, which was slowly working it's way out of the ponytail it was pulled back in and hung in loose strands about his face. However, when his gaze flittered over the man's eyes, they stopped. There was something in those intense blue eyes that he didn't know how to describe, but it was definitely not what he had expected. He knew from experience that prisoners in these camps usually wore one of two expressions, angry, or hopeless, but he saw neither in this man. Intriguing.

"Watch where you're going fool!" The Head-Warden shoved the inmate.

The tall prisoner stumbled sideways, but did not fall. One of the guards clouted him between the shoulder blades with the butt of their blaster-rifle in a strong command to keep moving. The man grimaced. Paling a shade, he stumbled forward, this time falling to his knees. The guard raised his weapon to club the prisoner again, but Verjl moved between them, raising his hand in cold disgust. "The heat is miserable out here, must we prolong this? It would have been quicker if you just let him pass by," he said in haughty disdain.

"Apologies, Administrator," the Head-Warden looked chagrined at having in anyway displeased his distinguished guest. "Get out of here scum!" he added, half under his breath, in Qui- Gon's direction.

The Jedi was gathering himself up to move on, when an alarmed look crossed his face his as his keen senses caught a sudden warning. "Move!" he shouted quickly.

An instant later, there was a horrendous screeching sound from above them and Verjl looked up just in time to see a huge section of the station wall tear loose from the steel girders that it had been dangling from and fall down, straight towards them.

The little knot of men seemed heedless of Qui-Gon's warning, frozen in horror.

Qui-Gon however, had no intention of being crushed. He leapt to his feet and jumped out of the way, throwing himself against the man nearest to him, and, almost without thinking, pushing him clear too.

Carried backward by the prisoner's lunge, Verjl found himself flying backward as the wall crashed down. Hitting the rubble with a breath-stealing jolt the two men rolled down the steeply sloped incline to their right. They ended in a heap at the bottom, bruised and cut from the sharp debris they had scraped across, but alive. That was more than could be said for the Head-Warden and the two guards.

As the dust cleared, Qui-Gon sat up slowly. This last bit of strain and jarring had been a little too much for his injured arms. His face was pale as a wraith and his jaw was clenched tightly, but he gave no other indication of the incredible pain that was making his vision swim.

Verjl wiped blood and dust out of his eyes and pulled himself to his knees. His heart was racing and he couldn't believe he was still alive. He looked at the prisoner that had saved his life. The fellow did not look too good, yet he was on his feet first anyway.

"Come on," Qui-Gon said, his voice a trifle thick despite his best efforts. He started to climb up the embankment they had just rolled down. "We've got to see if we can get your companions out." The Jedi Master doubted that they were still alive, although his own pain was taking too much of his attention for him to scan the rubble to be sure. At least they should try...

"They're dead," Verjl said dispassionately, getting up and dusting off the front of his formerly spotless uniform. It did him little good however, the dust clung to him and the sharp rubble had cut both he and his clothing, leaving the olive- green uniform torn and bloodstained. "And you should be glad they are."

"No," Qui-Gon shook his head, surprising Verjl for the second time that day. "Wasted life never makes one glad." "Is that why you saved me?" the Administrator asked as some of the guards hurriedly formed groups of slaves to start trying to dig the Head-Warden and his guards out, although Qui-Gon suspected that Verjl was right and they were dead. "Because it would have been a waste of life?"

Qui-Gon considered for a moment. "I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "In all honestly, Administrator I would have to admit that I did not think very much about it," Qui-Gon said truthfully, referring to Verjl by the title he had heard the Head-Warden use. "There was hardly time to philosophize." Qui- Gon leaned back a little, looking to the wall of debris for support as the swimming in his head turned into a veritable whirlpool of dancing sparks and ominous black spots. The pain did not relent. He realized he had really done something to himself this time, probably moved the broken ends of the bones out of their semi-alignment.

Verjl cocked an eyebrow. This man was certainly a calm character. He had just saved the life of the second most powerful man in the Drojan party, and he acted like he'd done nothing. The Administrator liked that. The fellow wasn't a boot-licker or a favor-seeker. Verjl despised both. "You're not well," Verjl said, knowing it was a rather un- brilliant observation. No one was well here, but that wasn't exactly what he meant.

Qui-Gon did not bother denying it, at this point, there was no way he could. It was all he could do to battle his blurring vision and the rushing in his ears that threatened to drown out the other man's words. Suddenly Qui-Gon sank to his knees, the last of his strength draining away from him.

"Your hurt," Verjl's brows creased. "Guard!" he called. "Guard!"

Consciousness was fading fast. Qui-Gon fought, but he knew it was a battle he could not win. The last thing he remembered was regret that he failed Obi-Wan. They would find out now, they would kill him... *"I'm sorry the only promise I ever broke to you would have to be the last..."* he thought, but had no power left to even attempt sending a message. His large frame slumped to the ground, senseless.

Obi-Wan stumbled for the hundredth time. He had stopped berating himself for missing the rough, uneven patches of earth a while ago. They were everywhere, too numerous for him to avoid. Not surprising really, considering that the inmates of the camp were busily engaged in digging the area up, himself included. The work was arduous and the duty-officers harsh. Duty five was a punishment detail.

Snap!

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, goaded on by the stinging touch of the guard's whip across his shoulders.

"Me'ell!" the guard shouted at him. "Me'ell!"

Obi-Wan didn't know exactly what that meant, but he didn't really care. It was probably something like "Faster," either that or "Stupid..."

Obi-Wan dumped his load of rocks and headed back. Sweat trickled down his body, unmercifully stinging the bloody welts he had accumulated across his back and shoulders, both from the beating the day before, and from the continued abuse of the guards. The thin, rough material of his torn, grey prison shirt clung to the lacerations, making them burn when he moved. The pain and his own swirling emotions made an already difficult situation worse, preventing him from affording full concentration to his surroundings. He stumbled again; painfully scraping his hands and knee, already raw from his many falls.

His lack of coordination and balance grated on him almost as much as the pain he was in. Had he lost so much when he lost his eyes?

A deep feeling of regret washed over Obi-Wan, but surprisingly, it was not his. His breath caught with a jolt as he realized that it was Qui-Gon's. He reached out, beyond himself, beyond his pain, searching for his Master, but could not find him.

That was not new, he had been unable to reach his Master since shortly after they were separated. At first, after he had gotten over his fear at being left alone and had calmed himself enough, Obi-Wan had been able to make contact with Qui-Gon. Their bond had been strengthened so much over the past few days that Obi-Wan had still been able to catch momentary glimpses of Qui-Gon's surroundings now and then.

When several guards took it upon themselves to beat Qui-Gon nearly senseless a few hours after his arrival at the wreck site, Obi-Wan not only saw, but felt it. The teenager had nearly gone berserk, getting himself a fair amount of abuse from the guards he was working under.

When Qui-Gon realized what was happening, he had cut their connection from his end, saving Obi-Wan from knowing what was happening with him, but also leaving them both truly alone. Obi-Wan had searched and floundered, but was unable to reestablish the connection while Qui-Gon was closed to him. He knew his Master had done it to protect him, but it still broke the Padawan's heart to be so totally cut off from his Mentor. At last Obi-Wan gave up and no longer let himself think about it.

But now... Obi-Wan felt apprehension grip the pit of his stomach. The regret had not been a communication per sé, but it had seemed aimed towards him, and it had felt frighteningly like good-bye.

Obi-Wan did not realize he had stopped dead in his tracks until a guard's vicious blow sent him sprawling once more.

"Stop daydreaming! Get back to work!" the guard screamed at him. "Me'ell!"

Qui-Gon stirred. His throat was dry as dust and his body burned with a raging fever brought on by the stress of his injuries. Someone put something to his lips, which his foggy brain somehow managed to recognize as a cup. Cool liquid assuage his driving thirst, but he had no recollection of if it had any flavor, only that it was cool and blessedly wet. He could see nothing, and for a confused moment found himself thinking that that wasn't right, it was Obi-Wan who... then he realized that he couldn't see because his eyes weren't open. For a moment he entertained the idea of leaving them that way, but a cool cloth placed on his forehead made his eyes open, almost automatically, to see who was there and where he was. He found himself on a bed, a real bed, in a small, but comfortable room.

A Nurse-droid hovered over him. The lines of the model showed that it was at least ten years old, but in excellent condition. The soft whir of the droid's internal motors created a comforting, steady hum that filled the silence of the small room. There was no one else around.

Qui-Gon tried to sit up but found that he could not. He was not restrained in anyway; his body simply refused to respond to his commands. He was confused. Something was missing... the pain. The pain from his arms was missing. He did not realize just how used to it he had become until now. But how? Why...? The Jedi may not have been in pain, but his head was still as cloudy as a night on Bespin.

"Relax," the droid hummed, it's voice set to a soothing pitch. "Movement will return in time. Your injuries were severe, I was required to give you quite a large dose of Anapathil."

Qui-Gon did not know what Anapathil was, but as long as it had helped as much as it felt like it had, he didn't care. Looking down he saw that his arms were firmly casted in thin, sturdy fiber-plex. The cast on his left arm spanned from his wrist to just below his shoulder, holding his elbow in a half-bent position. The one on his right arm encompassed only his forearm, leaving his elbow free to move. Probing the limbs more closely Qui-Gon realized that the broken bones had been set and cell-bonded to hasten healing.

"Wher-where," Qui-Gon tried to speak and found his lips curiously unresponsive. He supposed that that too was a side effect of whatever the droid had given him.

"You are a guest in the house of the gracious Administrator Verjl Owskar," the droid responded, even though he had not yet finished his question. "No more questions now," the droid continued, preempting any further inquiry on Qui-Gon's part. "You must rest."

Qui-Gon started to protest, but when the droid saw that her patient was not going to obey her, she clucked her mechanical tongue and pressed a hypodermic to the side of Qui-Gon's neck. Swirling blackness pulled Qui-Gon back under once more.

Obi-Wan clutched his knees to his chest and shivered, whether from actual chill or just loneliness, even he didn't really know. He sat on the barracks floor wrapped in the shadows of night. Even for sighted people it was dark now. Obi-Wan leaned against the rough panel of the bed-frame behind him. He supposed he could have gotten in the bed if he had tried. It wasn't so crowded now that Qui-Gon was gone... Obi-Wan hugged his knees a little tighter. He probably could have even managed the climb up on his own if he had to, but he didn't really care. He'd just as soon be here, where he and Qui-Gon had spent so many nights together...

The barracks creaked and groaned in the gusty winds and from outside he could hear the faint warning hum of the electric fencing that cut the camp off from the outside world. But that was not all the young Jedi could hear. Misery, fear, hatred and despair saturated the air of the camp like the clouds of smog that billowed from the tall, wicked looking smokestacks at the far end of the compound. Obi-Wan could feel it around him, cold and dark. He could hear the swirling emotions like voices, shrieking, screaming, pleading...

The Padawan pressed his hands to his ears in an ineffectual attempt to block the voices out. Unfortunately it was not those ears that he was hearing with.

*"Where are you Master?"* Obi-Wan pleaded with the silence around him. He felt utterly cut off and alone. Deserted. *"I don't care what's happening, please Master, I don't want to be alone here!"*

There was no answer. Obi-Wan wondered with a shiver if that was because Qui-Gon could not answer him. With their bond severed this way, Obi-Wan wondered if he would even be able to tell if Qui-Gon died. Was that what he had felt earlier? *"Please Master, if you're out there, answer me! Answer me!"* Nothing. Only darkness and the screaming shriek of the despair that enshrouded the camp like a cerecloth.

Obi-Wan slumped further down, wrapping his arms around his chest. There was nothing he could do, no way he could help these people or change this place. No way he could help Qui- Gon or himself. He was so weary. He didn't want to hear anymore, he wanted quiet. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and put up shields around his mind, just as impassible as the electric fences outside. Qui-Gon was out of reach, had made himself out of reach, Obi-Wan thought with a twinge of bitterness. Anyway, there was no one else he cared to leave his mind open to, so he drew up his barriers and withdrew inside himself. He could still reach out and feel through the Force, he could hardly function if he did not, but nothing could reach him unless he opened up to let it.

With the voices at last stilled, he leaned his aching head on his knees and drifted off into a troubled, dreamless sleep.

Qui-Gon lost track of how many times he phased in and out of reality, or how long his semi-delirium lasted. Finally, he awoke and found the cobwebs were gone from his brain.

When the Nurse droid checked on her patient, she found him sitting up and talking coherently. "Good," she approved. "You're on the mend." But she stopped him when he attempted to get out of bed. "I'm sorry, but I must insist that you remain immobile for the time being. Please comply with me willingly, I do not wish to have to sedate you."

The truth was, Qui-Gon may have been awake, but he felt far from strong, so he gave in to the droid's threat. For now. Settling back, he examined his surroundings. Apparently the Administrator was a powerful man, at least powerful enough to get him out of the camps, although how long that would last Qui-Gon did not know. Would he be sent back when he was well? He didn't intend to wait to find out, but there was nothing he could do about it right now, he was still too weak. Anyway, there was no way they could send him back in his current condition, it would be a pointless waste of their effort to heal him. He was going to have to bide his time as he regained his strength.

*"But what about Obi-Wan?"* his heart cried. What might be happening to his Padawan while he was stuck here? The Jedi Master closed his eyes, searching for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stood at attention with the other prisoners from his barracks. He felt the restlessness and heard the shuffling and swaying of the people around him during the longer than usual roll call. This at least, was not a problem for him. If there was one thing being a Jedi taught it was patience. Although that was hardly his favorite subject, Obi-Wan could call on it when he needed to. Being able to stand still for very long times without fidgeting or showing visible impatience was an essential skill considering how many long and boring negotiations Jedi were doomed to attend during their lives. At least here, Obi-Wan did not have to feign interest or keep track of what was being said. Besides, the less attention he drew to himself, the better he liked it.

This morning however, his calm, composed stance and civil attitude had the opposite effect. It actually attracted attention to him.

Obi-Wan could tell something was going on even before he felt the people moving towards him. Roll call was always long, but never this long. Everyone had been accounted for already, but the order to dismiss them to work had not yet been given.

The young Jedi kept his eyes downcast as he felt the people stop right in front of him. He guessed there were about five of them. A hand caught his arm and pulled him forward a little, out of the line. "What about this one, he seems a respectful, quiet sort," Obi-Wan heard a voice say. He wondered what exactly they were looking for. A hundred nasty explanations rushed into his head, but he forced them right back out again. Borrowing trouble did him no good.

The short Droisian man that had pulled Obi-Wan out of line examined the young man with brusque, but efficient thoroughness.

Obi-Wan forced himself to remain impassive as unseen hands poked, prodded and generally looked him over like an animal at market.

"He'll do," the short man said at last. "Not too much of a trouble-maker I hope?" he asked, glancing askance at the torn and stained back of Obi-Wan's prison tunic. "He doesn't really look like it."

"No, sir," the Duty Officer replied. "I'm sure whatever rebellious tendencies he has, you'll train out of him soon enough," the malicious grin was apparent in the Officer's voice and Obi-Wan repressed the urge to shudder. What was he getting into? He couldn't imagine anything worse than this place, but then, he didn't want to imagine too hard.

Obi-Wan found himself taken aside and lined up with a small group of other prisoners who had also been chosen for, for what? Obi-Wan did not know.

Heavy metal collars were placed around their necks, linking them together in a single-file line by the chains that connected the collars. The sharp snap of a whip started the line moving.

Obi-Wan shuffled his feet in an attempt to remain even with the paces of the prisoners in front and behind him and to avoid stumbling. Where were they going now? What waited for them there?

"Do you know where we're going?" he whispered to the person in front of him. There was no answer, so he guessed that the man had shaken his head no.

"No talking," the short man who now seemed to be in possession of them commanded sternly.

Obi-Wan started and drew his breath in sharply at the charge that zapped him from the collar around his neck. From the reaction of the others in the line, Obi-Wan realized that all the collars ran on the same frequency. If one of them misbehaved, all of them were punished. Obi-Wan kept his mouth shut after that.

After two frustrating hours of searching, Qui-Gon had nothing to show for his effort. He knew Obi-Wan was out there somewhere, but he could not reach the boy. Apparently, when he had terminated their connection Obi-Wan had also closed off on his end, creating an impasse that neither of them could get through unless they both happened to open up at the same time. But wherever he was, Obi-Wan had shut himself off from everything and Qui-Gon could not reach him. Qui-Gon did not want to even think about the kind of distress and pain that Obi-Wan must have been experiencing to make him shut himself up so well that not even his Master could find him.

Qui-Gon tried to find a little comfort in the fact that perhaps he could not find his apprentice because he was still too weak, and that as he grew stronger, he would be able to find Obi-Wan no matter how much shielding the Padawan had encased himself in. Deep down inside however, he was not sure.

Obi-Wan was strong.

Only once, back on Bandomeer had he truly clashed wills and powers with Obi-Wan. He had found an alternative to letting the boy blow himself up, but despite what he said to Obi-Wan, he was not at all sure he could have stopped him had Obi-Wan chosen to make the sacrifice. That was over two years ago, Obi-Wan was much more advanced than he had been then...

*"Don't hide so well that even I can't find you Padawan,"* Qui-Gon appealed to the silence that met his calls, but it did no good.

The door to his room swished open, taking the Jedi's mind off these troubling thoughts. He was mildly surprised to find that it was Administrator Owskar, and not the Nurse droid who stood in the doorway. The Administrator was slender and wiry, standing about a half a head shorter than the Jedi. He looked to be in his early thirties, although his dark eyes were the eyes of a man who has seen too much. Qui-Gon nodded his head in a gesture of respect. "Administrator," he greeted calmly. "I understand I have you to thank for my care. You have my gratitude." Qui-Gon's voice was courteous and respectful, but he addressed Verjl as an equal. Jedi always acted with diplomacy, but there was something in them that knew the truth that no position, no title put any one being above another. Verjl gave a curious smile. There it was again, that strange mix of contradictions that made this fellow so intriguing to him. "You're welcome," he said, entering the room and seating himself in a chair across from Qui-Gon's bed. The Administrator crossed his legs and leaned one arm on the chair's polished hand-rest. "I see you're recovery is going well," he observed. Aside from the medical attention, Verjl guessed that the regular meals weren't doing his unexpected guest any harm either.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Your droid is quite capable." He paused, considering the man in the chair across from him. "I will admit to being surprised at your visit Administrator. To what do I owe this honor?" Qui-Gon knew that a man as busy and as influential as Verjl Owskar surely had hundreds of better ways to spend his time than checking up on recovering inmates from his Party's prison camps. The Jedi wanted to know more about this man, there was something more about him then met the eye.

Verjl was actually thinking the same thing about Qui-Gon. "Insanity perhaps," the Administrator said casually. "Or perhaps I am a little bored today. I thought I would amuse myself by coming down here and finding answers to impossible questions."

Verjl spoke in riddles and Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Questions?"

"Yes," Verjl repeated. "Questions. Questions such as how a simple fall down the hill like we took could break your arms and do so much damage to them?" Verjl's dark brown eyes studied Qui-Gon intently. "The droid told me that she estimated they must have been broken for at least a week. I sent her to be recalibrated. That's not possible, is it?" Verjl continued to eye Qui-Gon and the Jedi Master wondered just how much he should admit. Finally he decided that full honesty was the best policy. It could do no harm now.

"Your droid's readings were not faulty," Qui-Gon set the record straight. "It has actually been two weeks and three days since I was originally injured."

Verjl's eyes narrowed in surprise. *Two weeks...!* "That's impossible," he shook his head. "Nobody could survive in the camps that long who could not work."

"Ah," Qui-Gon pointed out. "But I did work. You saw me yourself Administrator Owskar."

Verjl shook his head. It was true, but it didn't make sense. "Who are you? What are you that you could do these things?" "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. I do not belong to your planet all, I am a Jedi representative from Coruscant."

It was a simple announcement, but Verjl's eyebrows nearly shot off his head. "Jedi," he hissed through his teeth. That explained a lot...

"I assume you're the Jedi responsible for rescuing the scientists from that research station," Verjl crossed his arms.

"One of them," Qui-Gon assented.

"You may be interested to know that official word says that you are dead. Killed in an unfortunate, accidental fire that destroyed the station and took many lives."

Qui-Gon was not really surprised. The Drojans were extremely good at hiding just what they were doing and what went on in their massive 'dispossessed persons' camps. The rest of the galaxy had no idea what went on here. That's why the Jedi had been sent, because one of the scientists at the partially Republic-owned research station sent out a coded message that made them wonder if all was not well.

Well, if Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan ever got out of here, they would certainly have an earful to give the Council, the Senate, and anyone else who wanted to know just what was going on on Driosnia. Qui-Gon wondered if the story of his and Obi-Wan's supposed death had fooled the Jedi Council. He doubted it, but he also knew that there was very little the Council could do about it if the controlling Drojan party refused to allow them further investigation. Driosnia was, after all, still under a sovereignty agreement with the Republic and unless anyone could give a compelling and solid reason why the Republic should interfere with the planet's own system of internal government, the Senate was not about to violate the treaty.

"Really," was all Qui-Gon said.

Verjl shook his head. "I don't know what all being a Jedi means, but there's something about you... more than meets the eye. You're a puzzle to me Jinn, perhaps that's why I pulled you out of the camps." Verjl did not mention that he had also done it because Qui-Gon had saved his life. He did not want the Jedi feeling like he had some kind of hold over him, or as if Verjl owed him anything.

Qui-Gon smiled faintly. "I could say the same of you Administrator."

"Me?" Verjl stiffened a little. "What do you mean?"

Qui-Gon met his eyes squarely. "You act very cold and uncaring, yet you intervened when the guards started to beat me. You are a member, a very high member, of the Drojan party, yet I sense in you a conscience that does not believe in their ways-" Qui-Gon never got a chance to finish. Verjl cut him off with an abrupt wave of his hand.

"Enough Jinn," he said, a trifle sharply. "You must not speak that way again. You forget what I am and what you are."

"No, Administrator, I do not," Qui-Gon countered evenly.

Verjl clenched his jaw. Blast that Jedi! He had the most unnerving eyes. He'd heard that Jedi could look into men's souls. If that were true, then this man could be very dangerous to him, but on the other hand, if the other things he heard about Jedi were also true, perhaps it wouldn't be so dangerous, perhaps it would be useful...

"I understand your position," Qui-Gon continued to fix Verjl with those deep blue eyes. "You have nothing to fear from me."

"Don't put words in my mouth Jedi, or you'll be back in the camps so fast it'll make your head swim," Verjl threatened. The things Qui-Gon had started to say before shook him. Not only because they were so incredibly dangerous to him, but also because Qui-Gon had seen them so easily. Was he that apparent to everyone? His confidence was sorely shaken.

"As you say," Qui-Gon assented calmly.

Verjl rose to leave, but Qui-Gon stopped him. "Administrator?"

"Yes?" Verjl turned back.

"I realize that you may do as you wish with me, and I accept that. But I have one request, only one."

"And what would that be?" Verjl wondered what a man like Jinn would ask for.

"My apprentice was sent to the camps with me. He's only fifteen years old and I am very concerned for him." Verjl noted that for the first time during their conversation the seemingly unmovable Jinn betrayed something other than the calm exterior he had been presenting so far.

"You want me to get him out," Verjl crossed his arms again, leaning against the doorframe.

"It would not be difficult for someone in your position Administrator," Qui-Gon pointed out.

"Perhaps not," Verjl said coolly. "But what makes you think I'd do that?"

Qui-Gon just looked at him. Verjl shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't do that Jedi!" he shook his head. "Well, you might be in luck Jinn," he said at last. "It happens that I do have need of an able young boy to attend me and organize my things to prepare for a trip I shall be taking soon. Perhaps your friend could fill that job. What's his name and number?" Verjl gave in under the Jedi Master's strong gaze.

"His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, he is number 5808. I am sure you will be pleased with your choice," Qui-Gon replied.

"Yes, of course," Verjl nodded, slightly blankly and left the room. Once in the hall and away from Qui-Gon's influence, the Administrator wondered what in the galaxy had happened back there. He had fully intended to refuse the Jedi, if for no other reason than to try to prove Qui-Gon's assessment of him wrong, but instead he had found himself inexplicably agreeing.

Well, he might as well do it now. Besides, perhaps it would be good to have another leveraging piece. He still did not entirely trust Qui-Gon, but he didn't want to get rid of him just yet either. Verjl was not sure why, but he just had this feeling that something other than blind fate had crossed his path with the Jedi's. Still, it would be good to have something like this boy to hold, to insure that the Administrator stayed in control of the situation. Control, Verjl knew, was the only way to survive here. And he intended to survive.

Obi-Wan pushed the automated polishing machine back and forth across the huge, tiled floor. The situation had actually not turned out as bad as he had feared. Apparently he and the others had been taken from the Camps to be the house-slaves of some wealthy official. The work was often more involved, but overall less grueling than what he had been made to do in the Camps.

"You missed a spot," another slave who was busy cleaning the ceiling-to-floor windows of the huge hall pointed out, trying to be helpful. Obi-Wan placed the voice as female and tried to adjust to get whatever he had missed, but he could neither see it, nor where the other slave was pointing.

"No, over there," Sheena said, patiently pointing to the largish dull patch on the otherwise gleaming tile. When the young man continued to miss the spot, Sheena ran a hand through her through her short black and copper hair and sighed. Hanging her washrag on a rung of the ladder she perched on, she climbed down and pointed right at the spot. "Here."

Obi-Wan ran the machine in her general direction. He got most of it, but it was still streaky.

"Oh, give me that!" Sheena said, losing patience and snatching the polisher from him. He could have at least looked at where she was pointing... She fixed the spot and shoved the handle back into his hands. "You don't want to be sloppy about this," she warned him. "They'll beat you if you don't do it right. The Master's a fair man, but these overseers are devils with flesh," Sheena spoke her mind as Obi-Wan would find she was apt to do.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan thanked her for the help. "I'll get the hang of this," he promised, sensing her irritation with him. The last thing he needed was more enemies.

Sheena cocked her eyebrow and quirked a half-smile. She had meant to be upset with him, but she just couldn't stay that way. "Forget it," she dismissed, climbing back up the ladder. "New here, huh?" She decided the young man was probably at least seven years her junior, if not more.

"Yes."

"My name's Sheena, and yours?" Sheena prodded while she scrubbed. Obi-Wan found that here, the guards were not always around, and the slaves could talk-semi freely.

"Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Obi-Wan replied, concentrating on trying to not miss any more spots.

Sheena gave a short laugh. *"Definitely not the talkative type,"* she thought to herself.

"Well Obi-Wan Obi-Wan Kenobi," she said. "Welcome to limbo. It's not quite hell, but it sure isn't heaven," she said, mockingly both airy and grim at the same time.

"You have been here a long time?" Obi-Wan said. It was more of a guess than a question.

Sheena nodded, then paused and shook her head. "Not here exactly, I've only been here long enough to know that I hate it," her voice was tinged with bitterness. "But if you mean that I've been a slave for a long time, you're right. Four years. Nearly since the beginning of the occupation," she finished without emotion. "And you? Where did you come from?"

"The camps," Obi-Wan said softly.

Sheena actually stopped scrubbing. She shot the boy another look. Her copper eyes softened a little. She hadn't realized he was from the camps. "Sorry about what I said," she mumbled, realizing that her younger companion had experienced true hell.

"No need to apologize," Obi-Wan said with a shrug.

Sheena decided she liked the boy, even if he was a little on the quiet side. Of course, compared to her, most people could be considered quiet. "I've never been to the camps," she admitted. "But I've heard they're terrible."

Obi-Wan was not quite sure what Sheena expected him to say. "You heard correctly," was all ended up replying. "Who'd you lose?" Sheen probed curiously, moving to the next window. Everyone from the camps had lost someone, besides, she could tell from the way his voice got softer when he spoke that he had carried some deep pain away from the camps with him.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a tight line and considered not replying at all. What right did she have to ask so many questions? To pry so deep into such a painful subject? For several moments the whirring of the polisher was the only sound to fill the silence.

"Someone dear to me," Obi-Wan said at last, his voice clearly stating that that vein of conversation was closed.

"You're not the only one you know," Sheena said. "This whole mess took away my family, my friends... took away my world."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said, and he meant it. He was sorry that she had lost so much. It was tragic. War was tragic, cruelty was tragic. However, he was not sorry about his response to her rather personal questions.

A guard entered the room then and so the conversation dried up, which suited Obi-Wan just fine.

"I see you're up and about already," Verjl observed a trifle latently when Qui-Gon met him at the door to the Jedi's room. "Sorry about the security measures, but I can't be too careful," Verjl said, referring to the lock on Qui-Gon's door.

Qui-Gon just nodded. Verjl couldn't know, but that lock would hardly stop him when he decided to leave.

"I've bad news for you I'm afraid," Verjl informed him. "The boy's gone. He's no longer at that camp."

Qui-Gon tensed. "Gone? Where? What happened?"

"I don't know," Verjl shrugged off the Jedi's concern. "They are not notorious for their record-keeping down there. All I could learn is that he is no longer in the camp."

"What does that mean?" Qui-Gon asked, not at all sure he wanted to know. *Obi-Wan...*

"It could mean anything," Verjl responded calmly. "He could have been transferred, he could have been sent out on a separate work detail like you were, he could have been released," Verjl doubted that one, "Or he could be dead." Verjl studied Qui-Gon's face for a moment. The Jedi remained composed, just like always, but in his eyes Verjl could see that this Obi-Wan had meant a lot to the big man in front of him.

"I probably have the connections to find out which of those is true, and perhaps, barring the chance that he is dead, which I must warn you is a good possibility," Verjl said pointedly, "Bring him here. But I need something of you in return." Too late to turn back now, Verjl plunged ahead with the plan he had been mulling over since he found out that Qui-Gon was a Jedi.

The administrator closed the door and pushed a hidden button on the collar of his shirt that would disrupt anyone trying to eavesdrop electronically. "I spent all last night reading every resource I could find about Jedi. What I read has led me to believe that your kind are trustworthy, are they? Are you?" Verjl was deadly earnest.

Qui-Gon nodded, equally as sincere. "They are, and I am."

Verjl sighed silently. "I hope so Jinn, because what I am about to tell you signs my death warrant if not. You were right about me yesterday. I first joined the Drojans because I believed in what I thought was their goal, the unity of all of Driosnia. When I realized what was really going on, it was too late. I love my planet but the Krallnorn is destroying it, killing our people, brainwashing our youth, it must be stopped. In one week I am going to be on a ship, supposedly flying to arrange a meeting with a chem & bio weapons dealer for the Krallnorn, he seems obsessed with obtaining weapons capable of even greater destruction," Verjl shook his head in disgust. "But the true purpose of my trip is to meet with a Republic representative. I must convince them that the Republic has to step in, or Driosnia will destroy itself, and its destruction will reach out to engulf other planets and systems nearby. Ruling Driosnia is not enough for the Krallnorn, even now he has his sights set on the surrounding system. This must be stopped now." Verjl knew the great risk he took in revealing this to anyone, but it was a chance he had to take. "Unfortunately, the Krallnorn trusts no one, especially not those like me, who are considered second only to him. I fear I may already have a traitor in my inner circle. I do not foresee disaster, but I will not do my planet any good if I am betrayed before I can get on that ship. I am going to make you one of my aides; you will accompany me everywhere. This will enable you to help me search for your missing friend, and it will enable me to draw on those keen observation skills you used on me yesterday. I ask nothing of you but that you stay with me and watch the people I interact with, search their souls like you did mine, and tell me if they are traitors or not."

Qui-Gon considered this proposition. It did not require very much of him, and he was desperate to find Obi-Wan... "I cannot promise that I will be able to see as much as you hope I can. It is not always so easy to tell what is in someone's heart right away, especially if they are good at concealing it. But if I sense any traces of deception or treachery I will certainly tell you," he agreed.

"That will be good enough," Verjl hesitated. "There is one more thing. The ship I am to take will be crawling with the Krallnorn's men; they will be watching me every moment. It is probable that I will not be able to simply sneak off for my rendezvous and sneak back unobserved. In all likeliness, it will have to be a complete break. I will not be returning to Driosnia. When I leave, I will take you and your boy with me. Your opinion will doubtless carry much weight with the Republic, perhaps even more than mine."

It sounded fine, but Qui-Gon could tell that Verjl was hesitant about something. "That would be greatly appreciated Administrator, but you are not happy about something?"

Verjl smiled wryly. "And you say you can't read what people are thinking?" he shook his head. "I will do my best, but there is no guarantee that we will be able to find your young friend before I must leave."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "I understand that Administrator. If we cannot, then I shall simply keep looking for him by myself." Verjl shook his head, his dark eyes sad. "No, I'm sorry, but that's just it. You must accompany me when I leave. I do not yet know if the Republic will listen to me. The instant the Krallnorn knows I have betrayed him, he will sully my record and do everything possible to discredit me to the Republic. I have seen him do it before and it worked. My word alone may not be enough, but they would have to think twice before challenging the word of a Jedi..." Verjl trailed off. Qui-Gon was already shaking his head.

"I would like nothing better than to do whatever I could to help this planet, but I will not abandon Obi-Wan, I am sorry," he refused.

"I'm sorry too Jinn, because unless you promise me that you will be on that ship, with, or without the boy, then the whole deal is off," Verjl said firmly. "Alone, you stand no chance of finding him. And even if you did, what could you do by yourself? I know you Jedi are special, but I don't know if even you could single handedly pull off a rescue from the camps. And if by some miracle you did, where would you go? There's no way off planet that the Drojan's don't control. I don't think that even you could go up against the entire Drojan army. Your best chance, if we don't find the young man before we have to leave, is to appeal to the Republic with me, then you can return with whatever they send to quell the situation..."

"Obi-Wan could be dead by then," Qui-Gon said, his voice tight because he knew that Verjl spoke the truth. His chances of rescuing Obi-Wan on his own were very slim at best, especially since Obi-Wan's blindness would hamper and slow them down even if he could find him.

"He could be dead now," Verjl pointed out, not meaning to be cruel. "In that case your staying behind would be a pointless sacrifice and possibly condemn thousands more to die the way he did if the Republic won't listen to me." Verjl could see the struggle in Qui-Gon's eyes. He would not wish this kind of choice on anyone, but life here was full of hard choices. He himself was giving up everything for this effort. "It is hard, but you must decide what is more important to you. One life, or thousands?"

Qui-Gon flinched inside. He knew what his response should be, he knew where his duty lay, but his heart cried out that he had a duty to Obi-Wan too.

"Besides, all this concern may be totally unnecessary," Verjl pointed out. "It is quite probable that he was simply transferred to another camp and I'll have him out tomorrow, but I must have your word. I am giving up everything for this Jinn, my position, my family, my goods, my planet and maybe even my life. Some goals require sacrifice. You must ask yourself if it is one you can justify or not. I won't try to tell you what to choose, just the consequences of those choices."

There was a long, silent pause. The silence was so loud it was deafening. "Well?" Verjl asked at last. "If we are going to do this, the sooner we start, the better chance we'll have of finding your friend."

Qui-Gon wrestled a moment longer before he finally nodded. "Very well Administrator. We will do it your way." He felt as if he were betraying his apprentice, yet really, this was his best chance to save him.

"Then I have your word? You'll be on that ship with me in a week, no matter what?" Verjl pressed.

Qui-Gon tried to shake off the apprehension that weighted his heart. They would just have to find Obi-Wan in time. They had to. He allowed himself to think of no other option. "You have my word," Qui-Gon promised.

Obi-Wan rubbed his weary, useless eyes.

"Hey," Sheena's voice alerted Obi-Wan to her presence. He realized he must be tired if he had not sensed her before he heard her.

Obi-Wan set down the heavy fuel drum he was toting, giving his aching muscles a rest, and turned to see what she wanted.

Sheena glanced around furtively to see that no one else was about. The silvery overtones of her creamy skin took on an even paler hue under the glare of the huge lights that lit up the storage yard. Most Driosnians looked fairly humanoid, which had enabled Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to be mistaken for native Driosnians. But Sheena was of the Inui minority, who were set apart by their silver-hued skin and bi-colored hair. For this reason, the Drojan party viewed them as sub-human.

Although Obi-Wan could not have seen them to know, a good deal of the Prison Camp's population had been Inui. Most of them there for no reason other than their race.

Other than the stacks of fuel drums, the electric fencing and Obi-Wan, the Storage yard was essentially deserted; the other workers had already been allowed to retire for the night. Only Obi-Wan was made to work late by himself, again. Sheena was still cautious however, she knew that a night-overseer could pop by at any time.

"Here," Sheena slid a warm thermos into Obi-Wan's hands. Obi- Wan didn't question, but drank deeply. The drink was warm and tasted nutty. Obi-Wan noticed that it also had stimulating qualities, which perked his lagging strength up a bit.

"Thanks," he whispered, sliding the empty mug back to her. He decided he had judged her too harshly the first time he met her. Sheena had a quick and thoughtless tongue, but she had a good heart too.

"There was some kaff left over in the kitchen," she explained in a quick, hushed whisper. "I saw that you were still out here, so I thought you might like some before I went to bed."

"You didn't have to do that, but thank you," Obi-Wan wiped his mouth on his sleeve and hoisted the drum again. The fuel had been dropped off earlier that day. It was to be stored for use in the cold season. There was enough here to keep the whole mansion and all its sub-buildings heated the entire winter. Obi-Wan knew it was probably going to take him all night to move the whole lot into the shed at the back of the storage area where the fuel was stored, but he also knew it had better be done by morning or the overseer would punish him again.

"No problem," Sheena shrugged her slim shoulders, trotting after Obi-Wan as he walked the by now familiar path to the fuel shed. "I figured we kinda got off on the wrong foot the other day and thought that maybe we could start over again." Sheena had not failed to note that the color of her skin had not made Obi-Wan treat her any different than anyone else. That was rare for a Driosian. Beneath Sheena's tough exterior, she was lonely. Especially since coming to this place. Even if Obi-Wan was a kid compared to her, young company was better than no company.

"Sounds good to me," Obi-Wan agreed, setting the drum down with the others and sparing time to give her a pleasant, if weary, smile before heading back out for another.

"So do you have to move all of them tonight?" Sheena asked, marveling at the size of the task.

Obi-Wan nodded grimly, hoisting another drum onto his shoulder. "Unfortunately."

"That's going to take all night!"

*"Tell me something I don't already know,"* Obi-Wan thought wearily. It wouldn't be the first night's sleep he had missed in the past week, for one reason or another.

"You really must have made them angry. You gotta be more careful," she shook her head, trotting after him again. "Don't take so many risks. When they give you a assignment they say they want done immediately, don't make them wait a half hour for you to get back," Sheena advised. The age difference between them made her feel big sisterly towards Obi-Wan, even though she hardly knew him. It was her way.

Obi-Wan wondered if Sheena was going to go to bed, or if she was just going to follow him around all night. He knew that she meant well, but she didn't understand him. She didn't know, no one did, and no one could. How was he supposed to explain to her, or the over-seers that he hadn't intentionally delayed running the errand? That he had gotten lost in the unfamiliar, unrecognizable tangle of hallways and rooms that made up the huge mansion. He was getting lost more and more regularly and he dreaded it each and every time he was sent to fetch and carry, run messages or find someone. The unfinished state of many of the areas did not help him much either. "I wasn't trying to get in trouble Sheena," he mumbled, stowing another barrel.

Sheen wished he'd look at her sometimes when he spoke, but she had found that the young man seemed to have a distinct aversion to meeting anyone's eyes. It kind of made her feel like he wished she weren't there. Maybe he did. "You never try Kenobi, but you sure manage to end up there a lot," she said lightly, giving her head a shake. She said it in good humor, but Obi-Wan didn't find it too funny.

"There," Sheena sighed. "I've put my foot in it again haven't I?" she said, realizing she had once more said too much. She knew it was her chief fault.

"It's all right," Obi-Wan sighed, picking up another barrel. He was so tired. Not just because of the lack of rest. He was tired of this blindness that crippled him and caused him to get into so much trouble, like the punishment duty he was on now. He was tired of this whole planet and the twisted leaders who could create such a situation. But most of all, he was tired of being all alone with no one who understood what was wrong with him. And... he was worried about Qui-Gon.

A scraping sound alerted him to the fact that Sheena had just picked up a drum as well. She struggled slightly for a moment to get it balanced, but managed okay. Years of work had made her strong. "Well," she offered, a smile creeping into her voice. "It should go twice as fast with two people."

"You'd do that?" Obi-Wan asked in surprise. Once again realizing he had misjudged her.

"Sure, why not? I think you're a good kid Kenobi. You've had a rough time, I'm sure. The camps are no picnic and I know that. Once you get used to the way things are here, and settle in, it'll get better," she reassured. "Now come on or we'll both be here all night."

"Thank you, that will be all," Verjl dismissed the two men in the smart green uniforms. They clicked their heels, gave a short bow and left.

"Administrator," a young man with short-cut blonde hair handed Verjl a sheet of flimsy. He wore the dark blue uniform of an aide. "This needs your signature sir," he said.

Verjl scribbled his initials at the bottom and the youth left, leaving Qui-Gon and Verjl alone in Verjl's office. Verjl finished jotting something down and then turned to Qui-Gon.

"What did you think Jinn, about those two Officers?" he asked. "I sensed greed, ambition, fear, but nothing unusual," Qui-Gon replied truthfully. Although he was afraid the Administrator had a higher opinion of just how much the Jedi could read out of a three-minute encounter than was justifiable.

Verjl smiled dryly. "No, not very unusual for this Party." That wasn't exactly what Qui-Gon had meant, but it was still true.

Qui-Gon's brow creased slightly in thought. "Who was that last young man, the one who brought the flimsies for you to sign?" he asked.

"Brun?" Verjl seemed a little surprised by the question. "He's my nephew and one of my top aides, why?"

"Perhaps nothing," Qui-Gon said slowly. He shifted his casts a little within the loose sleeves of the navy-blue aide's uniform Verjl had had made for him. His arms were on the mend, but they still ached dully from time to time. "It's just a feeling, but I would not trust him with more information than he need know. I sensed much ambition in him, enough to motivate him to whatever ends was necessary to achieve it."

Verjl seemed thoughtful, that certainly described Brun to a tee, he had simply never thought of that as dangerous before... "I will keep that in mind Jinn," he said, passing out of the room and into the hall beyond.

"Is there any word of Obi-Wan yet?" Qui-Gon asked as Verjl picked his way down the construction-littered hall.

"Not yet," Verjl said, stepping to avoid a pile of wallboard and lightly bumping his head on the overhang of a ladder. *"Blast this construction,"* Verjl thought, rubbing his head. Under a new assignment from the Krallnorn, he had just moved to this house. However, it was not fully finished being built and construction work still jammed up a good deal of the hallways that were as yet uncompleted. Verjl knew he would never see this place finished, but that was the least of his worries. At least all the activity provided a cover for the unauthorized comings and goings that needed to take place prior to his important trip. It also lent stability to the notion that he was just settling in and not about to go anywhere.

"I've widened the search to include a broader spectrum of areas and I'm contacting some friends of mine in other districts. We've got to be careful Jinn; we mustn't look as if we are actively searching for this boy. It would draw attention and we-" Verjl never got to finish, for a ruckus down the hall made them change course to investigate.

Brun, the two Officials they had just seen and several guards had a man by the arms and a struggle was ensuing.

"Administrator!" Brun snapped to attention when he saw his uncle approaching. "This man has no authorization to be here sir!"

"I know this man Administrator," one of the Officers interjected. "He is one of the resistance leaders. I am placing him under arrest, with your permission of course Administrator," the man deferred by formality.

"Of course Dheli," Verjl agreed easily. "Underground scum, doesn't deserve to live," he commented coldly. For a brief moment he locked eyes with the prisoner. *"I'm sorry Daikin,"* he thought.

*"Do it,"* his friend's eyes seemed to say in reply. Then Daikin spit at Verjl, screaming obscenities against him, the Krallnorn and the entire Drojan party.

Before anyone else could react to this, Verjl pulled the small blaster he wore on his hip and shot the prisoner through the throat. Daikin's body slummed to the ground, lifeless. It had happened so fast that even Qui-Gon was a bit shocked, especially since he alone had felt the flicker of friendly recognition between the two men.

"Administrator," Officer Dheli stammered, looking at the now lifeless body of his former prisoner.

"I'm sorry Dheli," Verjl shook his head icily. "He did the unspeakable, he cursed his Excellency the Krallnorn. I could not let him do that and live. How could I face his Excellency again knowing I had done so?" Verjl carefully reminded the others present that, unlike the rest of them, he had not only seen the Krallnorn, but was privy to his confidences and to a degree, his trust.

"Of course Administrator," the Officer nodded, unhappy at having lost his prisoner, but respectful nonetheless. Brun seemed a little less pleased, but he just nudged the body with his boot and shook his head. "Pity really, we could have gotten a lot out of him perhaps."

"Indeed," Verjl nodded. "Good work Brun for catching him. I shall see that security is to this area is bolstered." With that, Verjl left. Qui-Gon followed, watching the Administrator thoughtfully.

"You knew him," the Jedi observed quietly after a moment.

Verjl was silent and tight-lipped for a moment, then he gave the barest hint of a sigh. "Since we were boys," he admitted. There was no hiding things from the Jedi. "He was my friend." Qui-Gon processed this and then nodded slowly. "You killed him to keep him from being questioned."

Verjl gave a clipped nod. "Daikin would never have talked," the Administrator defended, almost gruffly. "But it would have been a slow and terrible death, and the end would have been the same. This has been our agreement since we started." Verjl glanced at Qui-Gon for a moment. He wondered if the Jedi thought him cold and cruel for acting the way he did and saying such things.

Qui-Gon however, was not so blind as to miss the deep pain that was tearing the Administrators heart.

"You see Jinn," Verjl said softly, "There is no room for sentimentality here. If I allow myself to falter because of one man, no matter how dear to me he is, then I condemn thousands of others. That is life on Driosnia. That is what I want to change."

They continued walking in silence and Qui-Gon pondered the sad, awful state of a world where the best thing you could do for your friend was to shoot them yourself to ensure a quick and painless death.

Sheena bent over the gleaming white floor on her hands and knees. Unlike many of the other floor ways, the auto-polisher could not be used on this surface; it would mar the soft soap- marble's delicate surface. "That would be such a shame," Sheena muttered, blowing a few strands of her bi-tone hair out of her face. She hated washing floors. Hated it. This room was an especial pain because it had to be stripped, washed and re- waxed every week. 200 yards of backbreaking work. At least she was almost done. Maybe she'd get that Kenobi kid to do it next week. She figured he owed her one after the way she had helped him out last night. It was an appealing notion, but she was not sure it was a good idea. Judging from what she'd seen so far, he didn't seem too particular about just how clean he got things, and she was the one who'd get in trouble if this floor weren't done properly.

With a final stroke she finished the floor and straightened up, rubbing her complaining back. She swore this room got bigger every week. Drying her long, silvery fingers on the hem of her tunic-like shirt she carefully placed the little caution signs on either side of the door, warning people that the floor had just been waxed and must not be walked upon for the next two hours. Gathering up the cleaning supplies she headed off to put them away.

Halfway to the storage closet, she realized she had forgotten the bottle of wax stripper and had to go back for it. Reaching the door she looked around for the bottle, but what she saw instead made her furious.

"Kenobi! Obi-Wan Kenobi how could you?!"

Obi-Wan froze and turned when he heard Sheena shouting at him. What had he done now?

Sheena glared at him. How could he stand there in the middle of her newly cleaned floor and dare to look so innocent! "Look at what you've done, just look!" she pointed angrily at the footprints that marred the laboriously waxed soap-marble. Now she was going to have to strip the whole dang thing, wash and wax it all over again! It would take hours! She would get behind in all her other duties and the over-seers would punish her! If Obi-Wan had been standing before her, she probably would have hit him.

"I'm going to have to do the whole thing all over again and the over-seers'll beat me for neglecting my other tasks! How could you?!" she demanded again with tears in her eyes. "After I stayed up nearly all night just to help you!"

"I-I, I'm sorry," Obi-Wan stammered, struggling to understand what he had done to upset her so. "What did I do?"

That was too much for Sheena. Stalking out across the already ruined floor she aimed a stinging slap for Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan sensed it coming and ducked, backing away quickly. "Sheena, please..."

Sheena's missed blow sent her off balance and she ended up falling on her backside amid the torn-up wax. Her anger burned out; Sheena started to cry instead. "I actually felt sorry for you Kenobi! I thought you just had a lot of bad luck and some sloppy habits. Now I know you're just trying to make trouble! I never want to speak to you again!" Sheena sobbed, choked with unreasonable rage.

Obi-Wan was truly at a loss, he had obviously ruined something that she had worked hard to do. He was sorry to see her so upset. "Please Sheena, don't cry," he crouched down beside her. "I'm sorry, really! I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, right!" Sheena wiped her eyes. Crying got her nowhere. "What are you? Blind? I suppose you couldn't read the signs by the door, you know, the KEEP OFF ones?" she accused.

Obi-Wan flinched. Steadying himself with a hand on the floor Obi-Wan felt the sticky, un-hardened wax squish between his fingers and began to realize just what exactly he had unwittingly done. "Sheena, I am sorry, I didn't know what I was doing. I'll help you fix it."

"Just stay away from me!" Sheena retorted, shoving him away. Now she was pouting.

"You can go ahead and hit me if it makes you feel any better," Obi-Wan offered softly.

Sheena was so worked up that she actually did. Obi-Wan rubbed his cheek. She had a strong arm. "Feel better?" he asked.

Sheena almost smiled, but tried to keep herself angry. "No." "Then let me help you make it right," Obi-Wan offered again. Sheena leaned back on her hands, dispassionately squishing the spoiled wax coat between her long fingers. "I don't understand you at all Kenobi. First you purposely ruin my floor, then you act so sweet about it. If this is some kind of ploy that your people use to attract attention..."

"It's nothing like that," Obi-Wan sighed. He was weary of living this ruse, a ruse that was beginning to become impossible to maintain. "Sheena," he searched for her hand and found it. His voice became strangely intent, but his eyes still did not meet hers. "I really appreciate the way you helped me last night and I would never intentionally try to hurt you. I honestly didn't realize what I was doing," he hesitated for a moment, but finally decided to take the chance of telling her the truth. If she turned him in, then she did. It was only a matter of time as it was before they found out, or until he did something dumb enough to get himself killed anyway. "I didn't see the signs by the door, because I can't see anything. That's why I kept missing spots on the floor, that's why I get lost and it takes me so long to run errands. I am blind Sheena," Obi-Wan admitted.

Sheena looked incredulous. Now he insulted her intelligence. "You don't have to lie to me Kenobi, especially if you can't do any better than that," she shook her head.

"It's not a lie Sheena," Obi-Wan said earnestly. "I was blinded by flying chemicals while caught in a lab fire shortly before I was sent to the Camps." His intensity and earnestness actually made Sheena want to believe him, but...

"That's not possible," she couldn't reconcile what he was telling her with what she had seen. "You don't act like a blind person," *except maybe for those eyes...* a little voice whispered in Sheena's mind. "And there's no way you could get around like you do if you can't see. Besides, you ducked plenty good when I tried to smack you just now," she said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Shh!" Obi-Wan pressed his finger to his lips in alarm at the way her voice echoed loudly through the large room. "Someone might hear you. If they know I'm handicapped they'll kill me."

The fear in Obi-Wan's face was very real. Sheena was confused. Reaching out slowly, she waved her hand in front of his staring eyes. They didn't move. She reached so close that she almost touched his eye, but he didn't blink until her fingertip brushed his eyelashes. Sheena pulled back. It seemed impossible, but it made sense.

Obi-Wan knew her hand was near his face, but he didn't react.

"Y-you are blind," Sheena whispered. "But how...?"

"I'm a Jedi Sheena," Obi-Wan explained. "I don't know if you know what they are, but I guess you could say that I have special senses and abilities that help me cope with my blindness so I can still function at least somewhat. But it isn't easy."

"Jedi," Sheena breathed. She had heard about them, but only in stories.

"Please Sheena, you're the only one here who knows that I'm blind." Obi-Wan squeezed her hand tightly. "You've got to promise me that you won't tell anyone else."

Sheena nodded, and then remembered that he couldn't see her. "I promise."

Verjl rummaged through his desk drawers, pulling out files, memos, communiqués and other assorted items. Some he put into a small black satchel, the others he tossed into the incinerator.

Qui-Gon entered the room and stood quietly behind his chair, waiting for the Administrator to notice him. Verjl heard his entrance but did not turn at once. He could feel Qui-Gon's eyes bore into the back of his head and was in no hurry to meet them face on. What could he do? He didn't like this any more than the Jedi did. "No, I have no word yet. However, Camp 11 in the Tellti district has yet to respond," he said, without looking up from his work. He did not because he knew he could not bear the look on Qui-Gon's face. He liked the Jedi, Qui-Gon had been most useful to him this past week, but that didn't change the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Verjl finished with his desk and rose. "Send up one of the servants to help me pack my things Jinn," he asked, with the ease of one used to giving commands as he moved over to the sleeping area of his quarters. Left unspoken was the knowledge that their ship left at dawn tomorrow morning. Without Obi- Wan.

Verjl palmed open a wall cabinet and lay a large traveling- case on his bed. He looked up and saw Qui-Gon still standing there. The Administrator's eyes softened.

"You will hear back from Camp 11 before tomorrow morning?" Qui-Gon asked slowly.

"Yes," Verjl sighed. "I had to pay a small fortune to get it through security on such short notice, but we will know before... before morning." Verjl snapped open the traveling- case.

"Tellti is remote," Qui-Gon pointed out. "And far from here. Is it possible that he could have been transferred so far?"

"What do you want me to say Jinn?" Verjl met Qui-Gon's eyes this time. "Tellti is our last chance. If he's not there, then he's either dead or no longer in the camps."

"Then we're out of time," Qui-Gon said softly, just above a whisper.

Verjl glanced away. The look on Qui-Gon's face told the Administrator that he might as well be asking the Jedi to rip his own heart out. Perhaps that would have actually been easier. Still, he was not asking Qui-Gon to do anything that he wouldn't do himself, that he hadn't already done. "I'm sorry it has had to come to this Jinn," Verjl apologized, truly saddened. "I honestly thought we would find him in time."

Qui-Gon just nodded, numbly. So had he.

Verjl felt strangely guilty. He had done his best to find the young Jedi, but could he have done more? One life out of so many that were being destroyed could seem of so little consequence, but the Administrator knew that to the man standing across the room from him that one life seemed to mean the world. Verjl thought of Daikin, thought of the people he had seen killed by inches, of all the innocent men, women and children he had seen suffer and die in the past four years. He realized he had seen far too many. One by one, the single lives added up. Added up to an atrocity. Yes, he wanted to stop the bigger picture, but he must not forget that the hundreds of thousands whom he wanted to save were made up of individuals. Sometimes perhaps, he realized, you could help to make a difference one person at a time.

"We'll come back for him," Verjl decided suddenly, catching Qui-Gon's eyes again. "I have... contacts in the underground. No matter what happens with the Republic, if I am at all able, I will come back with you and we will either find him, or at least what happened to him. I promise you that Jinn."

Qui-Gon knew what a brave and generous offer that was, and what a great risk Verjl would take on himself by returning to Driosnia after this, but it did little to lighten the load that settled upon his heart at having to leave his apprentice behind. Especially in the state Obi-Wan was in. "I made a promise too Administrator," Qui-Gon said, a trifle hoarsely. "I promised Obi-Wan that we would make it out of this, together. I also promised you that I would leave with you tomorrow," the big Jedi looked torn. "How I am supposed to reconcile those two promises?"

"I don't know Jinn," Verjl shook his head. "I don't know." There was a long silence before Verjl remembered that he had to get packed or they weren't going anywhere. "Please have someone sent up," he repeated his earlier request.

Qui-Gon nodded silently and left, letting the door swoosh shut behind him. His mind swirled in turmoil as he strode down the hall. He had never seriously considered leaving Obi-Wan behind, yet here he was, faced with it. A Jedi must always be true to his word, but either way he went he broke a promise. Should he listen to his heart and stay? Or listen to his head and go? He didn't know which way was right. Perhaps neither way was, but what other option was there? More than once, Obi- Wan had voiced the opinion that his Master always knew what to do. Right now, Qui-Gon only wished that were true.

Sheena hummed a soft tune to herself as she folded shirts, tunics and pants, putting them in even piles, sorted by combination. She certainly didn't mind this assignment. It sure beat cleaning toilets, which she would otherwise be doing. Her Master came out of the back room and she quickly fell silent.

"Don't stop Sheena," he said, his dark eyes regarding her kindly. "That's pretty." He placed another heap of clothing on the bed for her to sort.

Sheena blushed. He always called her by name, she like that. It made her feel a little more like a real person instead of the object, or creature that all the other Driosnians made her out to be. It was a wonder that someone in his position cared enough to remember her name, what with her being not only a slave, but an Inui as well. She didn't know his first name, but she secretly thought him one of the handsomest men she'd ever met, even if he was a Driosnian, and a party member at that.

She had been the Administrators slave for over four years, traveling from place to place as his business took him all over Driosnia. She was not fond of this latest place. It was so huge, much bigger than usual. That's why they had had to bring in the extra slaves from the camps to augment his usual retinue. They were really on quite friendly terms for being master and servant.

One of the things that Sheena especially hated about this new place was that she had not seen Verjl at all since arriving here three weeks ago. He had been so busy, and there was always so much work for her to do. Before this place she had rarely been abused or beaten while in her Master's service. The Administrator was a distant man, but he did not mistreat his slaves. The overseers that were over her now were cruel and punished the slaves harshly at the slightest provocation. Now it looked as if her Master were going away again. "Where are you going this time Master?" she asked quietly.

"On another mission for the Krallnorn Sheena," Verjl replied, sorting through the piles of clothing she was folding, deciding what to bring.

"Are we to be moved again Sir?" she asked hopefully.

"No," her Master shook his dark head. "I'm afraid not. I am going alone this time."

"Oh, how long will you be gone?" Sheena was always a little timid around him, but he never seemed to mind talking with her, at least, not if they were alone.

"I don't know," he shook his head. He smiled faintly at her. "You're not going to miss me, are you Sheena?"

"I've missed you since we got here Master," Sheena murmured softly, and instantly regretted it. She had never spoken to him that way before.

Verjl just smiled and went back to packing. He hadn't really noticed, but he realized he had missed her too. He had become accustomed to her constant, if somewhat shy, conversation and the music of her humming while she worked. He had taken her years ago to save her from being placed in a despicable camp brothel after the rest of her family was killed before her eyes. Although she had exhibited an understandable bitterness towards Driosnians, especially Dojans, she had eventually stopped directing that hate at him. Verjl couldn't understand how the Krallnorn could stir up such loathing towards her people. He had been no different at first, but, partly because of Sheena, he had found that the Inui were remarkably like everyone else.

Sheena busied herself so she would not keep glancing over to look at Verjl. She knew that logically, she should hate him. He had made her his slave; he worked for the people who killed her mother, father and brother. But he was also the only person for four years who had treated her like a sentient being and seemed undisturbed by the color of her skin. Even the other slaves snubbed her because of her race, except Obi- Wan of course...

Obi-Wan! He had been told to report for a construction duty assignment in the east wing right before she had been called away to help the Master. Since she had found out about his disability a few days ago, she had taken it upon herself to look out for him, often switching jobs with him when he was sent on errands so that he did not have to try to navigate.

For this, Obi-Wan was eternally grateful. But now she suddenly remembered something she had forgotten in her gladness at the idea of being sent for by the Master. The halls leading to the east wing had been closed due to the construction. A person had to exit the building and take the outside route to get to the area that Obi-Wan had been sent to. If you tried to follow the halls, you would end up getting re-routed into the restricted areas of the east wing where slaves were not allowed. Unfortunately, as she had just recalled, the way was not barred, only marked as restricted. Obi-Wan would not know! Her face paled. She had to warn him!

"Master," she said suddenly. "May I please be excused for a moment, only just for a moment? I'll be right back," she asked.

"What's wrong Sheena?" Verjl asked, noting the faint alarm in her eyes.

"Nothing, I just remembered something. Please Master, just a moment and I'll be back," she implored.

"All right Sheena, go ahead," he permitted and she hurried away.

Sheena ran down the halls, her feet fairly flying. She feared she might already be too late.

Obi-Wan moved forward uncertainly. He knew he hadn't left the hall he had been following, but he didn't feel as if he was going in the right direction. Suddenly a hand clamped down on his shoulder and stopped him.

"You, slave, what do you think you're doing? Where's your clearance?" a harsh voice demanded.

"Clearance?" Obi-Wan asked, his stomach knotting as he realized he must once again have ended up somewhere he shouldn't be.

"Clearance stupid!" the guard shook Obi-Wan so hard he made the young Jedi's teeth rattle. "This is a restricted area, slaves aren't allowed!"

"What have you got there soldier?" Brun Owskar asked, rounding the corner and seeing Obi-Wan with the two guards.

"A Slave with no clearance," the man reported, shoving Obi-Wan up against the wall.

"Please, I didn't realize I was in the wrong place, I was trying to get to the east wing," Obi-Wan tried to explain around the hand that rested heavily against his throat.

"Liar!" the soldier snapped, socking Obi-Wan in the stomach. Obi-Wan doubled over, but the guards pushed him back against the wall again.

"Another spy eh?" Brun said with great interest. "Are you a resistance member too boy?" Brun took Obi-Wan's chin in his hand, tilting it up. "What are you doing here? What are you after?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Obi-Wan shook his head helplessly, but he knew from experience that he would not be believed.

Brun's hard fist jerked Obi-Wan's head to the side. "Try again boy," he commanded roughly.

"It's the truth!" Obi-Wan clung to his innocence. "The construction confused me, I got lost."

Brun struck the teenager again, viciously. His knuckles cut Obi-Wan's lip, making blood trickle down the boy's chin. Another fist slammed into Obi-Wan's stomach, pulled back, punched him again, and again, leaving him gasping for breath.

"Sir," one of the guards holding Obi-Wan spoke up after a few moments. "Shouldn't we inform the Administrator about the spy?"

Brun wiped Obi-Wan's blood off his knuckles, and shook his head. "No need to disturb the Administrator until we have something to tell him," Brun said. He did not want to give the scenario of earlier that week a chance to repeat itself, not until he had gotten some answers out of the boy, and some of those answers involved his Uncle.

Brun grabbed Obi-Wan by the roots of his short hair. Tipping the boy's chin skyward again. "Listen to me spy," he growled menacingly, only three inches from Obi-Wan's face. "This can go easy, or it can go hard, real hard, do you understand me slave?"

Obi-Wan nodded, as much as Brun's grip on his hair let him. He understood all right, but that did