As I did so, the feeling in my head became dizziness, and made me pause with my hands braced behind me, fighting to come to my senses again. After a few moments, breathing heavily, the corridor reasserted itself and I could look around again. The narrow walls were silver and black, a combination of metal and plastic-like panels, which rose in curves toward the ceiling of metal gridwork. It seemed there was machinery behind the grid, but in the dimly-lit corridor, I couldn't tell for sure. The passage was only six feet wide at its widest, with the floor and ceiling no more than maybe five feet - which is why I was angled across its width, being four inches taller than that. The low throb under the floor could be felt as a barely-perceptible vibration in the palms of my hands and through my seat. For the life of me, I couldn't even begin to imagine where I was or how I got there. I remembered nothing preceding the darkness of sleep. No, wait...I could remember being at home, in my apartment, watching something stupid on television. Maybe I fell asleep on the futon again. But, I reasoned to myself, even though I dream vividly, with physical sensations and emotions, this is not a dream. Even my most powerful and exciting dreams still felt like dreams, they always paled next to reality. But if this is reality, where am I?

With no familiar point of reference from which to draw, I had no choice but remain blank and undecided about my location. My mind never made the leap to begin sorting out the situation; it was as if my reasoning processes had been paralyzed, so they would lay there and refuse to work while I went about getting up and investigating. Thus, I never questioned why I was in a dark corridor in a strange building , why I was asleep there, or how I got there in the first place. I just pulled myself to my feet and stood there gathering information through my five senses.

Strangely, there was little sound to be heard. The vibration - which I could no longer feel, now that I was standing and only my thick-soled sneakers contacted the smooth floor - could be heard as a low hum which pervaded the entire building, almost on the verge of being imperceptible to human hearing. But other than that, the corridor was still. I could feel no stirring of air, either of wind or of ventilation. The dim light made me squint, which didn't help the disoriented feeling making my balance unsteady. I placed a hand on the wall, which was as smooth and cool as the floor, and used it to slowly guide myself down the corridor toward the bright opening at the far end. The other end seemed to stretch away into darkness, into more of the strange metal-and-plastic corridors. I took each step cautiously, listening for some reaction, but only heard the squeak of my shoes on the floor and the rustle of my jeans. Wherever I was, it couldn't have been far from home, because I was still wearing the same clothes I had been wearing around the house. The ambient temperature of the corridor was neither hot nor cold, but comfortable with just a t-shirt on. There was enough information for me to begin to suspect that I was nowhere near my home, though my mind was still bogged down and never made that conclusion - not until much later. I could only continue to ask myself, without answer, where am I?

As I neared the end of the corridor, a new sound became startlingly audible, coming from a distance. It sounded...well, for lack of a better description, it sounded like the blaster fire in a Star Wars movie. Rapid shots pinged away down the adjoining corridor, and then suddenly ceased. I heard a man's shout, more blaster noise, and then silence again. Completely confused, I hesitated near the end of the corridor, still bracing a hand on the wall to steady myself. That remembrance of Star Wars was the only thing resembling recognition or conclusion that worked its way into my head in that whole time. It also provided a potential reference for where I had seen walls and tunnels like this one before. Never mind that that didn't make any sense whatsoever - as I said, my mind wasn't exactly working to form any conclusions at the moment. Against my better judgement, I started forward again, making for the bright hallway running perpendicular to my corridor. I felt no fear, just an urgent sense of wanting to know what was going on, and knowing that I would find answers somewhere besides this narrow passage. If it really was blaster fire I heard a moment ago, I could be in danger, but the thought never came to me. Friend or foe, I had to find out where that sound was coming from. But when I reached the end of the corridor, I stopped and shrank back against the curved wall, and for the first time I was afraid. Lying in the adjacent corridor, which was white and lit well from the ceiling and walls, were three men in plain brown uniforms, all of them shot, all of them dead.

For a long time I stood there and stared at the stilled bodies. I had never seen a dead person before, outside of a funeral, and the sight of the violence done to these three strangers was enough to freeze me in place. If I could have pushed myself into the wall and disappeared from there, I would have. Their eyes looked away into nothingness, dull with the lack of life, and each one looked to have died in extreme agony. Burns marked their clothing where the wounds penetrated their bodies. Each one held a small, narrow-barreled gun in their hands. If I hadn't already figured it out, it should have been clear at that instant, that the sound I heard was indeed blaster fire, and there was a battle going on. The realization made me tense, wondering which way to go now. But not knowing where I was, nor how I got there, was a sensation stronger than fear, so once again I retreated into the safety of my dormant mind and let instinct carry me onward. I peeked briefly out the opening, looked up and down the corridor to find it vacant, and then returned to the shelter of the corridor to try and gather my wits. Then, I heard heavy footsteps jogging up the adjoining corridor. I didn't know whether to jump out and ask for help, or to hide until they went past. Indecision made a good option, because it made me stay right where I was, leaning against the convex curve of the passageway, staring blankly at the destruction beyond. Suddenly, into my line of sight a dark figure moved, large and swift, and knelt down beside the fallen men. It was a man in a loose-flowing robe, its dark brown color a stark contrast to the plain white of the hallway's walls and floor. He had his back to me, so I could see the hood lying over his shoulders, and the long, dark hair tinged with silver cascading down his back. My mind nudged through another small conclusion, which I acknowledged just as the man turned his head slight ly, listening. That looks like Qui-Gon, my brain said, to which I told it, that is Qui-Gon! The fact that such a conclusion was, in every sense, impossible, never came through, because my mind went quiet again. The stranger still knelt there, every muscle taut as if ready to run or attack as needed, looking like a finely-sculpted statue with a god's profile. Before I could move or say anything, his head turned in a lightning-fast movement and his eyes found me in the shadows of the corridor.

The intense gaze of the strange man held me pinned to the wall as if the sheer power of his will could overcome my physical strength. I could not discern the emotion on his face, it was blank and penetrating. Then, he frowned. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice deep and strong. I had no answer, I didn't know what to say. He seemed to know that, adding, "are you all right?"

I nodded mutely. My voice was lost somewhere in my throat, I wanted to answer him bravely, but I couldn't. My brain's minor observation was more correct than I could have predicted. Though imperceptibly different from the character I had seen on the screen and in photos, it was clearly Qui-Gon Jinn who faced me. The strong-jawed face with a graying beard, the eyes of a remote blue color, the sand-colored tunic beneath the dark brown robe - he could be no one else. He glanced back at the dead men, then over his shoulder at the corridor down which he had come, and finally back at me. "You had better come with me," he said in his gently-accented voice, "there are destroyers about. We have to leave."

I hesitated, frozen by the fact that I was beginning to understand that I was in a bizarre place with a fictional character come to life before my eyes, but Qui-Gon stood and looked back down the corridor again. His movement shook me out of my temporary panic, and I stepped gingerly out of the passageway. His hand suddenly clamped down on my wrist, and he started away at a jog, dragging me with him. I hopped over the bodies and kept up with him as best I could, though such activity made my head swim again, like I hadn't completely woken up yet. Qui-Gon kept looking over his shoulder, though not at me. Once, a look of dread replaced the urgency on his face, and he let go of me. "Run!" he demanded, pulling a metal cylinder off his belt. Lightsaber, my mind feebly said, recognizing it as the green blade flashed into being. I had no time to stop and look at it, though, because I glanced behind me and saw a pair of wheel-like metal structures rolling toward us, unfolding to become huge, nasty-looking machines with guns. I took my rescuer's advice and forced myself to run, speeding down the corridor while he stayed and faced the bolts of energy sizzling toward us. I knew I could never outrun such things, not feeling the way I did, but I kept going nonetheless, closing my eyes and begging my feet to keep moving. I heard fire, then crashing and banging and exploding, but did not look back. Before long I was too tired to keep going, and pain caused by exertion stabbed my side, so I slowed to a stop and waited, bending over with my hands on my knees as I fought for breath. Not a moment later and two cloaked figures came around the corner at a run, slowing just in time to join me. I looked to the taller Qui-Gon for orders or any sort of comment, but he only waved for us to continue. His companion raced ahead, but the Jedi Master kept pace with me, though it was apparent it took all his patience not to run off and leave me behind. How could I explain to him that I was out of shape, I didn't run very often? But he stayed with me, never asking me to hurry, only keeping an alert eye on the path ahead and behind.

We came to an intersection of corridors, and the other man stood there looking down every possible direction. As we approached, I looked at his face to try and confirm my suspicions; sure enough, he looked to be Obi-Wan, young and boyish but with a maturity surpassing age. His robe was of a lighter brown, and a slender braid hung over his right shoulder. He glanced at us as we came to his side. "I don't see any more of them," he reported, his voice soft-spoken and more heavily-accented than the other's. "What do you suggest, Master?"

"There's nowhere on this ship we can hide, they've taken over," Qui-Gon said darkly, frowning. "Our only option is to abandon it."

"Escape pods," the young man immediately concluded. "They're down this way." He suddenly looked at me, his expression uncertain. "Who is this?"

"The only survivor I've found," the elder said grimly. "She's coming with us."

The clank of metal somewhere nearby made Obi-Wan shrink back from the intersection, waving a hand as if to force us to back off. Qui-Gon turned and ducked into the nearest opening, which happened to be a small room just off the right side of the hall. He pulled me in after him, and Obi-Wan tumbled in behind us, slamming the palm of his hand on a panel just beside the door frame. A metal door slid shut with a hiss. For a few minutes we waited, the two men listening intently, until even I could hear the clank of metallic feet stomping by. They passed without pausing. "Blasted droids," Obi-Wan remarked under his breath. "You can't sense them..."

Qui-Gon held up a hand, silencing him. He then closed his eyes and stilled himself, apparently meditating. I watched in fascination, ignoring the fact that the younger man was staring at me suspiciously. Suddenly, Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open. "The way is clear," he announced. "Let's go."

Pausing only to visually confirm what his mind had told him, Qui-Gon led the way out of the room and down the corridor to the right, expecting his apprentice and me to follow unconditionally. I strode quickly to keep up with them, as they breezed swiftly down the hallway without a second thought, their heads turning when we passed an intersection just to make sure no one was waiting for us. I lost track of how many turns we took, the white corridors all looked alike, with their unlabeled instrument panels flashing with tiny lights and the lack of windows or other features to break up the monotony. My mind was in shock, unable to comprehend what was happening, though I caught the reference to a ship and droids. Had I understood where I was and what I was doing, I might have been excited, thrilled, or scared, but as it was, I marched along behind the two men with nothing but a growing sense of apprehension. Qui-Gon ducked into a low-ceilinged passage off the main corridor, then, and led us into the docking bay for the escape pods . He marched all the way to the end and began punching at instrument panels, though Obi-Wan stood at this end with me, waiting patiently. Qui-Gon worked his way back to us, and then pointed at the second-to-last door in the skin of the ship. Into this one we climbed, the tall man last of all, and he sealed the door behind him. I scrambled to a seat on the bench which extended all the way around the interior of the ovoid pod, watching silently as the two Jedi leaped into action. Obi-Wan took the controls and entered something into the panel through a series of buttons, while Qui-Gon made sure the door was sealed before taking a seat beside me. I clutched at the smooth metal bench as I felt a concussion jolt the pod, and the sickening sensation of being launched outward. For a split second there seemed to be no gravity inside, and it made me feel like all my inner organs had sunk into the pit of my abdomen, but the feeling quickly passed and gravity reasserted its normal hold. The light-headed feeling had never left me, and now, the cramped quarters and unusual motion of the pod's flight, coupled with the vibrations from its engines, tripled the dizziness and made me reel unsteadily into the shoulder of the man beside me. I closed my eyes and tried to quiet the sensation, but it was no use. I heard the deep voice at my right shoulder wonder, "Are you all right?"

"I don't think so," I managed to say, my first words spoken to either of them. "I don't feel good."

"Let me level off." The young voice was nearby, but on the other side of the pod, where Obi-Wan was wrestling with the controls. I could feel the ship slow, and turn slightly, like a carnival ride coming to a stop. I opened my eyes as he announced proudly, "There. That should do it. We'll drift off with the rest of the pods, and hope they don't think to scan any - or shoot them down."

"I put a different set of coordinates into each one," Qui-Gon informed us, glancing toward a dark circle set into the side of the pod across from him. At first I thought it was another panel, but with dread I realized it was a portal - and that was the blackness of space I could see beyond it. "That should throw them off." He glanced at me, and smirked strangely. "We should be safe. You can let go, now."

I looked at him, and then realized I had my hand clamped on his with white-knuckled intensity. I jerked my hand away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." He worked his right hand out of the flowing sleeve of his robe and offered it politely to me. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Stacey," I said simply, shocked that I was right. But these guys aren't real! I tried to tell myself. How can this be?

"How did you get on board our transport?" Obi-Wan asked bluntly.

I looked at him, trying to convey my confusion and honesty through my facial expression. "I don't know. I don't know what happened. What was going on?"

Qui-Gon looked at me with another wise frown. "We were ambushed," he said, his eyes flashing with indignance. "That was no diplomatic request, it was an attempt to kill us. They've taken control of the ship, killed most of the crew..."

"Why?" the young Padawan wondered. "What have the Rodians to gain by this?"

The Master shifted his gaze to his student's face. "I doubt the Rodians are actually involved. I saw none of them, did you?"

Obi-Wan made a chagrined face. "Only battle droids."

"There is more to this than it appears." The wise look returned to me, and Qui-Gon seemed to study me for a moment. His eyes narrowed with a disturbed look. "You truly don't know how you came to be aboard a Republic transport?"

"No," I said immediately, wondering why he couldn't understand that. "I don't know how I got here at all, this isn't normal. I don't come from here. I..." I decided to shut up, seeing a very dark, distressed look growing on the Jedi Master's rugged face. "What?"

"What is it, Master?" Obi-Wan also asked.

"I think we've found the source of the surge," Qui-Gon answered at last. His apprentice straightened up, staring. They shared a glance, and it seemed to me volumes of words and emotions passed between them in that brief moment. Then Qui-Gon turned back to me, leaning close to address me more quietly. His proximity intimidated me, but I also found it comforting. "You don't belong here," he said.

"No," I confirmed. "But how can you tell?"

"I sense nothing from you," he replied. I could hear in the tone of his voice that this was definitely something unusual. "You're human, but something tells me you're not from any Republic planet, nor any place we know of."

I tried to smile. I knew something they didn't. But how to explain? "I'm not," I agreed. "My home is...in another galaxy."

"What?" Obi-Wan breathed in disbelief. "How can that be?"

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Qui-Gon offered. "Obi-Wan, be mindful of the ship's position. See if they've gone yet, and start sending out distress calls."

"Yes, Master." The young man turned his attention to the controls, but with some reluctance. He knew exactly what to do, and did it without question.

Qui-Gon slid sideways on the bench in order to face me. I stayed where I was, slumped against the wall of the pod, trying to ignore the disorienting feeling of floating through space. "What makes you think you're from another galaxy?" he asked quietly. I couldn't tell if he believed me or not.

I decided to answer truthfully. "Because, where I come from, we know about the Jedi. You're a legend to us, and it's said you're from a 'long time ago' and 'a galaxy far, far away.'"

Qui-Gon's thick eyebrows raised curiously. "Really? You know we're Jedi."

"I know a lot about you. Trust me. I can't explain it. I really don't know how I got here. To me, this world - or galaxy, whatever - doesn't exist, it's just fiction. You're not real. But now, you are."

The Master got a look on his face like he was trying to untie knots with his mind as he digested that peculiar piece of information. I noticed Obi-Wan give us a surreptitious look over his shoulder while he worked to summon a response to his distress call. I decided to add, "I know it sounds weird, but I'm not crazy. It's the truth."

"I believe you," Qui-Gon said, and his admission made Obi-Wan's head snap around in our direction. The Master continued. "I have to take you at your word, because I cannot test your mind to see if you're lying or not."

I frowned at him, trying to understand what he meant. "You can't?"

Obi-Wan suddenly gasped. We both looked at him, and he explained himself by admitting, "I just tried it. There's nothing. I can't even feel her presence within the Force, it's like a blank wall. You're right, Master, the surge..."

That was the second time they had mentioned a "surge." "What surge?" I asked.

Qui-Gon kept his reaction hidden behind a cool, calm exterior. "Obi-Wan and I were fighting to get back onto our ship," he quietly explained, "when I felt a surge in the Force. It was powerful enough to knock me off balance for a moment. I glanced at Obi-Wan, and I knew he felt it, too."

"I did," the young man agreed. "It caused me to falter."

"We had no time to stop and investigate, because we had to deal with a score of battle droids trying to kill us. When I heard you in the corridor..." He cut himself off, and shook his head. He kept his reaction to himself. "Your appearance could have caused the surge."

I looked away from him. The conflict on his face was unmistakable, even for a Jedi who was adept at hiding his emotions. "I don't get it."

"Neither do I." His hand came down heavily on my shoulder, reassuring in its warmth. "Don't worry about it now. We can do nothing until we reach Coruscant anyway. For now, we will concern ourselves with finding a ship which will get us back there." He turned back to Obi-Wan, settling himself back into a comfortable seat along the wall. "Have you found anything?"

"Not yet, Master," the Padawan replied, shifting his gaze to the control panel. "All the pods cleared the transport, it appears none were shot down. They ignored the escape pods completely. It's gone, now, along with the Rodian ship. They must've entered hyperspace."

Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully. "Keep trying to reach a ship, any ship, who will pick us up and take us to Coruscant. Repeat it on all bands, continuously."

"Yes, Master."

The elder Jedi relaxed and slumped against the wall. "There should be more than enough oxygen to last us. However, if it gets to be too long, we might be better off looking for a planet to land on."

"I'll scan for a hospitable planet in our path, just in case," Obi-Wan offered.

"Good. That will do." Qui-Gon glanced sidelong at me, and I caught a hint of a smirk in his eyes. "And now, we wait."

I nodded, but had nothing else to say. Obi-Wan fiddled with the controls some more, but it was apparent to me he was just trying to stay busy, lest the wait for a ship to come in range and pick up our signal bore him too quickly. Qui-Gon sat quietly beside me, lost in thought. He has a lot to think about, I said to myself. If he believes me, that's going to make things pretty weird around here. But I had no idea what kinds of repercussions my presence would have. It was bad enough, in my thinking, that these two Jedi had to be saddled with a stranger, rescuing her off that ship. They had more important things to attend to. I still didn't know what the circumstances were that necessitated our escape from the ship, nor whose ship it was, nor why they were out here traveling. I wanted to know the story, but for now, it looked like Qui-Gon was finished talking, and Obi-Wan distrusted me, so it would have to wait for later. I folded my arms over my chest and settled down to wait, finding that these escape pods were not designed for comfort. The interior could not have been more than seven or eight feet across, and small enough that Qui-Gon had had to duck when he entered. The bench which ringed the whole pod was only about a foot wide, and had about as much comfort as a bus-stop bench, only made of a solid metal slab instead of wood slats. From where we sat, the elder Jedi could have reached his foot out and kicked his Padawan in the behind. The portal was fortunately small and situated well above eye-level, so I couldn't look out and see the dizzying infinity through which we traveled. It would have made me nauseous, I think. Traveling in space is not something I'm accustomed to, though something told me my companions were not aware of that. I sat there studying them for a while, seeing as there was nothing else to do and they couldn't read my thoughts to find out what I was thinking about them. The friends with whom I discussed the merits of the Jedi we had seen in the movies would have been so jealous to find out where I was.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was about my age, mid-twenties, with a serious face for someone so young, elegant with his sharp features, strong jawline, and blue eyes. There was yet a hint of boyhood in his face, as if his hard life as a Jedi apprentice had not completely erased his innocence. The brown robe cascaded around his lean, wiry limbs with grace. Graceful hands, like the hands of an artist, floated over the controls with practiced expertise. His eyes flicked over the viewscreen for the controls with alertness, making me think he knew a lot more about ships and piloting than he got credit for. He was a lot more attractive than I expected, too. I then turned my attention to Qui-Gon, stifling the pleased sigh I wanted to emit. The Master was every bit as noble and rugged as my friends and I dreamed, and then some. His presence in the cabin exuded a sense of peace and control I had never felt before, without being intimidating. His long, dark hair was barely beginning to gray, leaving silver strands resting on his shoulders. His eyes were more gray than blue, seeing far beyond the physical as they focused on the opposite side of the pod in a detached manner. The beard enhanced his nobility, outlining his jaw and providing an air of wisdom rather than age to his leonine face. I couldn't tell how old he might be, he transcended age. There were small lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, betraying the joy he held in check with his solemn nature - he probably smiled a lot when no one was looking. His hands were large, I noticed as they rested on his arms, with the potential to be both delicate and deadly. He had his dark cloak wrapped around himself as if to hide within it while he contemplated any number of things, but a fold of the soft cloth fell over my knee, and I did not move it. I wanted so much to lean my head on his shoulder, but that would be inappropriate, so I held the idea to myself. As I sat there, mind wandering, I noticed how cold it was in the pod. My t-shirt was no longer enough to protect me, so I slid my hands up along the bare parts of my arms and tried to offer them warmth in some small way. The slight movement made Qui-Gon turn his head. "Are you cold?"

I nodded. I then glanced up to him. "Can you control the heat in here?"

He smirked again. Was I that amusing? Then, he did something completely unexpected: he got up, stooping so as not to hit his head on the pod's low ceiling, and removed his robe. As he sat back down, he moved to drape the robe over my shoulders. "That should keep you warm," he said kindly. "It's to be expected. Space is cold."

I hoped I could hide from him how excited I was to be receiving this gift as I slid my arms into the billowing sleeves of the brown robe and pulled its length around me. "Much better," I said, "thank you."

Qui-Gon only nodded in acceptance of my gratitude and sank back into his thoughts. Obi-Wan glanced at me, and this time, a hint of a smile teased the corners of his solemn mouth. I cared not, I only pulled the folds of the robe tighter around me and snuggled in for a long wait. I even pulled the hood up and let it cover my head and most of my face, forming a warm cocoon in which to retreat. Not only was this authentic Jedi robe comfortable, instantly warming the chill trembling in me, it carried with it the scent of the Master to which it belonged. The essence of Qui-Gon surrounded me, enfolding me like the Force, as I drew my knees up to my chest and curled up to rest. It wasn't nasty, even though the robe had probably been sweated in and battled in for many long years . The scent was warm, rich, with a tint of muskiness, reminding me of sunshine and being outside in the summer, of humidity and long grass. Being so close to the Master, sensing him through the scent clinging to his robe, made me extremely happy but also scared. This was a powerful man, a Jedi, who had much to concern himself with in the workings of the Republic. I shouldn't be feeling this way. When we got to Coruscant, he would probably dump me off, maybe even with the Jedi Council, and get back to his important work elsewhere in the galaxy. I shuddered when I thought of the Council. The fictional taste I had of them made me dislike them. I would rather be with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, beyond the Council's control, risking our lives to uphold some lost cause of justice. But, we weren't on Coruscant yet. We were lost and alone in the void of space, waiting, being patient in the Jedi sense. I could sit there and warm myself with the robe and thoughts of the magnificent man beside me for a long time, especially since he would never know. Without realizing it, I drifted into a daydream, and then naturally into sleep, overcome by an exhaustion I had not expected.

On to part 2

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