"Yes, I sensed he was evading us on that issue," Qui-Gon murmured, keeping his head bowed so that his words would not leak beyond our confidence, though his eyes flicked now and again to the street. We had retreated to the opening of an alley a few doors down from where our guide had left us, using the shelter and the shadow to carry on this debate away from prying eyes or ears. "However, we must be cautious. It may be that these people are merely bullies, and only lord power over the inhabitants of the colony that they do not actually possess. We don't know that they make any decisions of value."

"All the more reason to seek them out, Master," Obi-Wan pressed, "or at least to find out who they are and observe them in action. That may be enough to teach us what we need to know."

Qui-Gon thought about it, his eyes darting to my face. "We should not split up, however. For once, we shall need to attract attention, and the pair of us may be more formidable than each separate."

"Are you sure I shouldn't go back to the shuttle and stay there?" I spoke up, gazing worriedly up at the Master. "This definitely doesn't feel right. You two shouldn't be hindered by having me around to look after in case you have to...I don't know, bust some heads or something."

The two looked at each other, and then simultaneously shifted their eyes to me. From the discomfort on their faces I was certain they would agree, but Qui-Gon said, "There is no reason to expect we will have to get rough. Stay with us for now. If things begin to look dangerous, I will send you back to the ship, but for the moment I don't want you out of my sight."

"All right," I shrugged, "but don't say I didn't offer." What I didn't mention to them was that the abrupt change in air pressure from the off-shore storm system had set my right knee throbbing like a human barometer. Any chance of resting it now was impossible, so I kept it to myself.

For the better part of the morning we roamed the colony in search of anyone who would tell us anything, but word seemed to have gotten out that Jedi overseers had come, for very few of the locals cornered by my companions were forthcoming with information. Most just shrugged or acted stupid. The only thing anyone was willing to talk about was the current state of the colony - everyone said it was fine and life was good in their little corner of the world. I gathered from snippets of interrogation that the colony was somewhere between ten and fifty years old and that it primarily supported itself by means of a quarry, and very few people knew anything about why the scientific investigation of the planet's native plants and creatures had been abandoned. Many were just construction workers, or builders, or other grunt workers that lived in the colony and scraped out something they called a "good life" somehow, and had little care for science or nature or the greater good of Daramin's long-term plans and goals. The only thing we did figure out - almost right away - was what the "Juggernaut" was. "Yeah, the cantina," someone said brightly when asked. "Doesn't open for a few hours yet. Guess if you're looking for people, that's as good a place to start as any."

Qui-Gon's already stern mood did not improve much upon hearing that. While it was by no means illegal to build a cantina anywhere on Daramin, just about every settlement, town, and colony we had been through was nowhere near the stage of civilization where a place to drink heavily was needed or wanted. Takra probably had a few, but that was a different circumstance entirely. We walked out along the well-tracked roads to the quarry to give it a look, and returned to the colony proper after the cantina had opened. I took both Jedi by an arm before we went inside. "Be careful," I hissed. "I was in one of these places with Mowchie on Salji, and it was creepy! The way people kept looking at me..."

Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes light. "Stay close to me, then. Nothing will happen to you, I promise." His eyes flicked to Obi-Wan, and both of them seemed to smile before resuming their stern countenances and ducking inside. I didn't see what was so funny.

The numerous off-worlders we had seen earlier appeared to have all converged on the dim, dingy Juggernaut as soon as they could, perhaps due to a lack of anything else to do. Over the past hour or so the wind had really picked up, tossing the thick limbs of the trees all around the colony and roaring in their leaves, so I imagined the wind shear aloft would indeed render all take-offs and flights impossible. Yet, the colony was far enough from the coast that we were not in danger of anything but a few scattered showers. Visitors to the colony and a few residents gathered in the cantina like a refuge, huddled in clusters around stained, scored tables or lined up at the bar holding audience with the craggy-faced Hodran behind it. A few surly glances and thready whispers met our appearance, but no one broke off conversation or made a move to confront us, which was fine by me. Qui-Gon paused and swept his glance around the poorly-lit room, while Obi-Wan placed a steady hand on my shoulder and effortlessly steered me into position between himself and his Master, his body standing as a shield between me and the rest of the room. The cantina comprised the lower level of a multi-story stone building, and looked to be just one big, long room with the occasional alcove and corner booth for more private seating. Those at the bar were the first to fall silent when Qui-Gon intruded, wedging himself between two creatures the likes of whom I had never seen before. The Hodran serving the bar just looked at him without a word of greeting. Qui-Gon ignored the glares and smug glances directed at him and simply said, to the Hodran, "Are you Shel?"

The Hodran snorted and shook his head. "No. Shel's not here at the moment. Not until later."

Qui-Gon just nodded and straightened up, turning to leave the bar, but one of the creatures beside him threw an elbow into his back, shoving him away. With just one gliding step the Master regained his balance and whirled to face his attacker, finding a thin, gray-skinned alien with lidless, glassy-red eyes giving him a smug, lipless smile. "Sorry," he chuckled in a manner that implied he was most definitely not.

Some part of me expected this to escalate quickly into a bar fight, but I must have seen far too much of Han Solo's antics and forgotten who I was with. Qui-Gon's stance relaxed and he turned again to join me and Obi-Wan without one word further about the deliberate attempt at provoking him. The alien was not finished, however. "You must be the Jedi we heard dropped in early this morning," he burbled, his brow furrowing over his bulbous eyes. "If you're looking for trouble, you won't find any here."

Seeing as this was not going to be dropped so easily, Qui-Gon halted and sighed before turning back. "I fail to see any reason anyone but the administrator or governor of the colony should be concerned that we may cause 'trouble,'" he calmly noted. "We have a job to do, and it will likely not involve any of you." A pause, and his head shifted to glance around the room. "Unless there is a reason it should."

Conversations started to falter, as the confrontation was beginning to attract attention. The creature at the bar flippantly leaned on an elbow and tilted his head to regard the Jedi Master. "That would depend on what your job is."

Qui-Gon heaved a short chuckle under his breath. "Of course. Being as you're not from Daramin, you may know nothing about the treaties binding the Jedi here in supervision." A sudden sharpness came into his voice. "But I doubt that. Tell me, is that your freighter docked in the landing field?"

The alien straightened up, the slit of his mouth stretched thin in what I guessed was a glare. "Are you here to hand out landing citations?"

"We are here," Qui-Gon patiently reminded, giving Obi-Wan a glance, "to see that the laws, all laws, of Daramin are being obeyed. If that means citing a captain for landing illegally in a foothold colony where no such clearance has been given, then we must."

The alien clenched a fist, but then relaxed again and stepped back, his head tilting back in a disdainful gesture. "But what if it's not illegal? What if it was an emergency?"

"Ships that size are cleared to land only in Takra," Obi-Wan bluntly stated. "They are far more equipped to handle emergencies there than in this tiny colony."

"Nevertheless, it was an emergency," the alien persisted, the mocking tone returning to his voice. "Yes, that's my ship. I took some damage, the...uh, power couplings were polarized in the star drive. I had to put down right away or die, and I didn't stop to think about landing regulations on Daramin. I had my crew to think about."

"Is that so?" Qui-Gon challenged.

"Yes, it is," the captain snidely assured. "We made the repairs and are waiting out the passage of the sea-storm in order to take off again." His eerie, lipless mouth angled upward at the corners in a weird smile. "Would you cite me for that? For saving my crew?"

"I sense that you're not telling me the truth," Qui-Gon said, quietly, coldly, almost drowned out by the murmur of conversation that was starting up again.

"Nevertheless, all you have is my word to go on - and I won't say any different," the alien smoothly retorted. "And even if a ship were docked here illegally, what are you going to do about it?" He offered a limp-wristed hand. "Give me a slap on the hand and tell me not to do it again?"

Qui-Gon did not move or flinch for a moment, and when he did, he merely cocked his head. "If you wish to know about the consequences of illegal landings on Daramin, I would be pleased to share them with you. All you need to do is continue to press me." He flashed the briefest of cool smiles before turning on his heel and drifting toward the door. Obi-Wan nudged me so I would follow, and he brought up the rear, giving our antagonist the merest glance. The alien gloatingly crossed his arms and smirked after us, and a little laughter could be heard behind us as I shifted my eyes forward to the strong back of the Master leading the way back into the cool daylight.

Once outside I could breathe easier, and looked up to the Jedi for guidance or at least a reaction to what had just happened. Qui-Gon, though, was already thinking ahead to the next step. "Not everyone in this colony could be so uncooperative. Someone must be willing to speak with us. I hope." He continued some way down the street before stopping and pulling Obi-Wan and me into confidence. "Perhaps now is the time to split up. Obi-Wan, go back to the governor and see if he will be forthcoming about anything - the quarry, the population, I don't care what. Any information, at this point, is more than we have now."

"Yes, Master," the Padawan nodded. "And you?"

"I will attempt to find what once was the research facility and see if there is any means of discovering when or why it was abandoned - perhaps it isn't, not completely."

"Do you want Stacey to come with me, or stay with you?"

Qui-Gon looked at me, his eyes hard with thought. "I suppose that would be up to you."

"Uhhh..." I looked back and forth between them for a second. "I guess I'll stay with you, Master. No offense, Obi - I'd be no help with you."

"I understand," Obi-Wan nodded. "Master?"

"I will contact you if I find anything," Qui-Gon agreed. "You'll do likewise."

"Of course. Though, I expect you may have an easier time of it," he said dryly, his eyes crinkling with a smile. Qui-Gon returned the smile with an amused snort of his own before gesturing for me to come with him. Obi-Wan went off in the opposite direction.

I suppose there could have been worse ways to spend a day, but I didn't think so at the time. We had no trouble locating the facility, and were welcomed by the researchers with an endless stream of chatter centering on the fascinating discoveries they were making. Not wanting to disrupt the Force in any way with my pessimistic impressions, I did my best to keep lighthearted and stable even though I was bored out of my mind. Qui-Gon at least found what he was looking for; the research had not been wholly abandoned, but the three or four people who cared enough to make a go of it received no help from the rest of the colony and weren't even certain their reports were getting through to Takra. The lone Pfand still on staff raged when he found out that his suspicions were true, as Master Qui-Gon could testify. "This is insane!" he snarled at his fellows, both Hodran. "Nothing we do here is coming to light. I told you - they want to keep us quiet, shoved aside in a corner where we won't stir things up!"

"But why?" one of the others wondered. "What are we discovering that needs to be hushed? That caranine petals can be used to dye cloth, or that the konra vine produces an oil that makes good cooking? I don't understand." He looked to Qui-Gon for answers to his rhetorical questions.

"I think it may be something entirely different," the Master calmly demurred. "Is there anything that you're aware of that might be happening in the colony that they would not want overseers to find?"

The three consulted one another with questioning eyes and shrugs. "Not that I know," the Pfand answered.

"Not even with ships?" I pressed, finally finding something interesting about this research facility to pay attention to. "You know, like off-worlders landing or anything?"

Another shared glance. "Well...off-worlders land here all the time," the third scientist said. "What's unusual about that?"

Qui-Gon frowned, disturbed. "Do you not realize that no ship with the capability of leaving orbit is allowed to land anywhere on Daramin except the spaceport in Takra?"

"Really?" all three of them burst out.

I rolled my eyes and nearly fell over backwards. Qui-Gon stifled his disbelief with a shake of his head. "Off-world ships landing here is indeed very unusual. I am currently investigating the landings of pirates who tend to extort supplies from remote outposts."

"Oh, well, there's none of that here," the Pfand assured. "The ones that land here trade for everything, it's all above board. Really. No need to be suspicious of them. It's because of them that the economy here is doing so well - did you really expect the quarry to be that viable?"

Qui-Gon's face was tight, but he managed a pleasant thank-you to the scientists and encouraged them to keep up their research, now that he would be bringing copies of it back to Takra himself for the Common Council to look over. Back outside again, we dashed through a spatter of rain to some broad-leafed trees which offered enough shelter for what he needed to do. Extracting his comlink from its pouch on his belt, Qui-Gon immediately contacted Obi-Wan and asked him to meet us back at the shuttle. We were closer to it than he, and the wind-driven sprinkles gave reason to hurry. Once all three of us were warm and dry inside, the Jedi sat down to serious conference. "There is something being hidden here," Qui-Gon insisted to his apprentice, "something they don't want us to discover. The reports that have been sent to Takra have only told half the story - they said just enough to make officials and overseers believe that there was nothing of interest here that needed to be checked-on periodically. The quarry was said to be just enough to keep the colony subsistent, so that no one would think it too large and come to check its environmental impact. And absolutely nothing of the resumed research has been reported in years."

"But is the research all that important, Master?" Obi-Wan countered. "You said yourself it appeared they made no great discoveries."

"No, but they did make many small discoveries, which could help settlements," his Master said. "Daramin is entering the phase of growth that will require its residents to spread out and settle new regions not because some viable resource is there, but because there is simply room to live."

"As there is here."

"What did you find?"

"Nothing very important, Master. Although, I did finally learn that this governor is not the first to go by that name. It has been handed down to him through his family."

Qui-Gon straightened up in his seat. "Family? But...we've seen no children here."

"There are a few. The governor claims that at least half of the permanent residents are second-generation, they grew up here without ever having seen Takra or any other place on the planet."

"That would date the colony far more than ten years," Qui-Gon mused.

Obi-Wan's eyes were serious. "That would support your theory, Master. They are so isolated by choice, and are raising up a native population that would have no ties to Takra nor reason to want to communicate with the rest of Daramin."

"Such as the researchers who resumed study in the biology facility."

"I could not believe they didn't know about ship regulations," I broke in. "Especially here! Oh my gosh, talk about sheltered..."

"That was a good question you asked," Qui-Gon said to me, smiling. I shrugged it away.

"Then, there is something the major players in this colony don't want Jedi overseers to discover," Obi-Wan concluded. "Could it be so simple as the brisk trade with off-worlders?"

"More likely these particular off-worlders themselves," Qui-Gon grumbled. "The Duros who had words with me in the cantina was no mere freighter pilot. These are pirates, smugglers. I sensed a considerable amount of fear and deception in the cantina - they may not have acted so, but they did not like seeing us."

Obi-Wan looked out the windscreen at the hulk of the freighter across the open landing strip from us, its form shrouded by gray curtains of rain. "We ought to search their ship."

"It would be too dangerous," Qui-Gon discouraged. "The Duros was armed."

"Yes Master, I know he was. Several of those in the Juggernaut were. But if they're smuggling something, anything, either through this system or to Daramin itself..."

"We will need more evidence before we can justify searching ships," the Master firmly stated, though after a moment his brow furrowed with thought. Something Obi-Wan had said sparked him. "Smugglers passing through cannot be brought in unless they are in space, in transit. But if they were smuggling something to or from Daramin itself, that is another story."

"Then that is what we must uncover," Obi-Wan said determinedly.

The Master nodded. "When the rain lets up we will return to the governor to ask quarters, as is our right, and then begin searching for anything that suggests illegal activity. Smuggling, theft, we don't know for sure what it may be."

I was a little apprehensive about the quarters that were reluctantly given to us, on the second floor of one of the stone buildings that looked so worn and weathered that it might fall over at any minute, but the reassuring presence of my two Jedi quieted my fears temporarily. I was much less inclined now to ask to stay behind, and willingly tagged along at their heels when we hit the streets again, limping a little from the pressure-induced ache in my knee. We had not gotten far, slogging resolutely through the mud toward the quarry on the outskirts again, when a voice behind us said, "Excuse me. Excuse me, Jedi!"

Qui-Gon stopped so short I ran into him. Obi-Wan did his best not to laugh as he also turned, and we all faced a slouching Hodran. I recognized his particularly weather-beaten face as the bartender from the Juggernaut. The Master acknowledged, "Yes?"

The Hodran clenched his hands together before him and bobbed his head in an ineffective bow. "I don't mean to take you away from important things, but..."

He paused, and glanced behind him nervously. Qui-Gon's hard stare softened some, his eyes sharpening with understanding. "Is there something we can do for you?"

"Maybe. But...not out here." His head swiveled in a beckoning gesture, his jet-black eyes pleading. Master and Padawan both nodded simultaneously, prepared to trust the Hodran despite the unexpected interruption. For once I wished my Force-sense was not so limited, and I could know what they knew about this guy that made them willing to drop everything and follow his lead.

The Hodran took us through the buildings and around to a secondary street of much smaller ones, most of which stood empty and quiet. Stopping at the door of one, he took a surreptitious look behind us to make sure no one followed. "My name is Burssk," he said more confidently, "and I wish to invite you into my home."

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi and our friend Stacey," the Master returned, just as I grasped that he was obeying some kind of cultural ritual unique to the Hodran. "And, we accept your offer."

Burssk entered his security code at the door and went inside first, expecting us to come after. I tapped my muddy sneakers at the edge of the door and snuck in just as the panel slid closed behind me. The place was tiny, no more than two rooms and a refresher, with a very low ceiling that had been plastered and re-plastered many times. A quick glance around told me that Burssk was a bachelor. There were almost no dishes in the tiny kitchen area and a pad on the floor big enough for one sufficed as his bed. Still, he was not embarrassed by the condition and neither Jedi took notice. "I was unsure if you would listen to me, after what happened in the Juggernaut."

"We are used to it," Obi-Wan smirked.

"You have no sense of hostility or deception about you," Qui-Gon added. "But you are concerned about something, which perhaps we can take care of?"

"Yes," Burssk nodded. "Masters, I don't know what purpose you have for visiting our colony, but be assured there are many who had been contriving to avoid such a visit."

"We'd gathered that," Obi-Wan said.

"But think not that they have some high-minded plan of evil that needs to be thwarted," the Hodran went on, starting to pace. "At least, nothing of great ambition. All the people here want is to be left alone, to be able to do whatever they want without reckon to the laws and regulations of Daramin. They have built some small things that bring them great pleasure, even though such things are wrong, and your coming threatens to pull down their mean existence."

Qui-Gon tucked his hands into the crossing sleeves of his robe, settling down to listen. "What reason do you have to expose these things to us?"

"Oh, I have no wish to tell you everything," Burssk sighed. "Not that I know very much. Only what passes for rumor and bragging in a backwater cantina. You did notice that many strangers pass through here - and yes, you are correct that most of them land against permission. None of that is my business, and I'm sure you Masters will take care of it without one poor Hodran's testimony to help. But I wished to speak to you of one thing - one small thing - that hurts me to the deep. I can't let it go on any longer, you must put a stop to it."

Both Jedi leaned forward a little, their calm stances becoming a little more rigid with interest. Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled blue. "What is it?"

"Do you...do you know anything about the beast they call the mour?"

"We are very intimately acquainted with them, yes," Qui-Gon answered with a smile.

The lines in Burssk's homely face grew even deeper, and he seemed on the verge of tears. "I am a lowly Hodran whose father's father made the journey from Hodra to this new world, and settled far from here," he explained. "I heard stories of these mour, and how they lived here on Daramin since the dawn of time and were happy until we came along and took their land. I love them for letting us settle here, for Hodra will soon be no more and my people needed a home. But...not everyone does." His lip trembled, and for a moment I fully expected him to burst into tears. "Some see them as just animals, and treat them so. I found out some time ago that the most atrocious thing was being perpetuated here, in the very place I came to live and seek my fortune as a tiller. Masters, some in this colony are capturing mour from their homes and bringing them here to fight."

The little house was deadly silent for a moment. "Fight?" Obi-Wan repeated, seeking more information.

"Each other. Mour are very savage fighters if they feel threatened or are lost from their own territory. At least once a week fights are staged, and people come to wager money on them." Burssk glared murderously. "The off-worlders? They know this is here, they love it. They make refueling and supply stopovers here regardless of the regulations which they all know too well just because they can win bets at the fights and see a great show."

Qui-Gon's dark eyes shone with the swirling force of his emotions. He needed no more convincing. "Where is this taking place, and who is running it?"

Burssk kneaded his hands. "Ah, there, I must be careful. I know my employer Shel is part of the ring, but he couldn't be the organizer. He runs the Juggernaut closely, he doesn't spend enough time away from it to be greatly involved. But he does promote it. Other names I catch on the wind, but I'm never sure. Too many think it was Burssk what set the Jedi on their tails and I will be in sore trouble." A new light suddenly flashed in his eyes. "But one thing I do know, and can do. I know where the fights take place. I can lead you there. If...protection is available."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment and nodded slowly. "I promise you whatever protection is ours to offer, but if you are not careful, you will have to leave this colony to be safe. That depends on you."

"I will lead you to the fights," Burssk promised. "The thought of what they're doing to those poor creatures hurts me more deeply than any expectation of living here."

"You are welcome to flee with us when we leave, if that is your wish," the Master offered.

"But I don't understand," Obi-Wan said, "why you haven't contacted someone to stop this fight-ring before now?"

Burssk gazed mournfully at him. "I was waiting for someone to come, so I could show them. I was not sure transmissions to Takra were even getting through, when so little else changed. I have waited a very long time for the Jedi overseers to come, I knew they would do something about it."

Qui-Gon nodded, his face troubled. "Yes, it has been far too long a wait for the Jedi. We will indeed do something about it - when?"

"Tonight," Burssk insisted. "There is a fight late tonight and more tomorrow. I will take you to them so you can see for yourself and stop them this very night."

*****

I drew my hands up inside the ends of the sleeves of my rain jacket and bounced on my heels, starting to get bored with the waiting. Fortunately, the rain had stopped, and all that remained of the high wind was a chill breeze that ruffled the robes of the Jedi standing with me in the shadows behind a row of buildings. Burssk had instructed Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to meet him well after dark in this spot, far from both his little hut and our own quarters and back towards the edge of the forest where no one would spot them. I was along for the ride, as no amount of cautious sensibility could keep me from tagging along on this adventure, and no one had any objections. Seeing as I was not in the habit of babbling incessantly when excited or otherwise attracting undue attention, Qui-Gon was not opposed to letting me join them even with the implication that "doing something about it" would translate to taking serious action. Burssk, however, was late. The overcast sky became entirely black in the absence of much light pollution, since the colony was still smaller and less provisioned than an actual city. The Jedi stood with their backs nearly to each other, each scanning the darkness with narrowed eyes for any movement, while I huddled between them trying to stay warm in the rain-cooled night. Just as I was about to open my mouth and pester them with annoyed questions about Hodran in general, a shadow moved in front of the nearest exterior light, causing it to briefly wink out. All our heads whipped in that direction, and Qui-Gon moved into a firm confrontational stance. In seconds we could hear the heavy tread of the Hodran, and Burssk gradually shuffled into view. "Good evening," he greeted us quietly. "And, thank you."

"Where is the fighting ring from here?" Qui-Gon immediately asked.

"Not far. There is a warehouse near the quarry. Once they stored supplies and stone there, but I know now it houses the arena," Burssk whispered into the night.

"We shouldn't waste any time," the Master suggested. "Let's go."

Burssk once again led the way through the colony, this time passing on the far sides of the buildings and avoiding the main road that wound all the way from the landing area, through the central area of residences and shops, and onward to the quarry a mile away. Close to the quarry we finally left the shelter of the trees and struck the road, filing in a silent line along its margin until lamplight twinkling through the trees ahead showed where the warehouses lay. My heart was fluttering at a rapid pace in excitement, feeling the flush of adrenaline sparked by the thrill of adventure, but I kept both thoughts and words to myself and concentrated on following the brown-clad form in front of me. The rain-softened dirt muffled our footsteps, even those of Jedi boots, and we made barely a rustle as we passed through the darkness. Burssk abruptly left the track and whooshed off through the grass, bringing us in a wide circle around the big, ramshackle outbuildings clustered near the rim of the quarry which yawned somewhere beyond. My trousers were wet almost to the knees from this excursion, and I could feel the gradual seep of moisture heading through my shoes. The chirp of insects covered the soft whisper of our feet through the wet grass as we stole up to the dark hulk of what looked like an empty building. Some of the larger warehouses a few score yards away had dim bulbs glowing on fixtures above doors, and an indistinct murmur of sound reached us from inside one of them, but this one was black and silent. Burssk paused and waited until we gathered around him. "These halls are all connected into one large complex," he hissed. "I know the arena itself is at the far end from us, but I didn't think you would want to walk right in and be set upon by a hundred settlers and pirates."

Qui-Gon shook his head briefly. "We need to find a way inside, to approach it from the rear and somehow come in unseen. Obi-Wan." The Padawan snapped to attention, his eyes on his Master's face. "Take Burssk and go around to the right. Stacey and I will go left. We will either meet in the middle somewhere, or each contact the other when we find some back way into the arena."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan nodded, turning and darting into the night with the Hodran on his heels. They passed out of sight and hearing in moments.

Qui-Gon's hand came down on my shoulder. "Are you prepared for this?"

"Ready for anything," I replied, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

"Stay behind me. Don't do anything foolish."

"Do I ever?" I asked as he began to move around the corner of the building.

The Master glided along the wall, his face into the wind, until his hand found the latch of a door. Pausing to listen, he tugged the latch and released the door with only a slight snap that was swallowed by the moist night air. I reached out and kept my fingertips touching the soft woolen texture of his robe as we disappeared inside the moldy blackness of the building. Eyes were useless here, or at least mine were, so I shut them and concentrated instead on finding my way by sound and touch. The vibrant presence of Master Qui-Gon in the Force drew me like a beacon, though the physical contact with his shoulder helped immensely. We passed through several doorways and twisted around untold passages, some of them close and narrow, some wide and high, the air tasting of dust and metal. The figure before me paused, I sensed it in time to stop beside him, and when I opened my eyes I thought my night-sight had developed enough that I could see faintly where we were. In truth, there was a light ahead of us, and the ambient air flowing from the hallway beyond the door was less cold and damp. Qui-Gon was listening, or maybe sensing - it was hard to tell, he had the same look on his face regardless - his profile glowing in a grayish light from far off. When he was satisfied, he glanced down at me and gestured with his fingers that I should keep following. We made our way stealthily along the corridor at a slower pace, each foot lifting and falling with great care not to make sound, the light growing stronger as we went. I could see now that it came from around a corner to the left, which Qui-Gon peered around before continuing. The sickly gold tones of industrial lamps tinged the walls of cramped corridors filled with boxes, and the air was getting even warmer yet. Suddenly, Qui-Gon's hands flew to his head and he fell to his knees, grimacing in agony.

Despite the fear of someone hearing me I whispered, "Master? Qui-Gon, are you okay?"

He drew several panting breaths before replying, haltingly, "Close...your mind. Don't use the Force."

"What?"

"Don't use the Force!" he growled under his breath, his eyes squeezed shut as if in pain. Afraid, I sucked in a deep breath and actively closed my mind to the Force as I had been taught. Qui-Gon crouched still, breathing heavily, steadying himself with one hand on the floor. I cautiously lay a hand on his shoulder, though I didn't know what I could do to help him or even what had caused him to collapse. He reached up and touched my hand, slowing his breathing down, flinching once or twice more before the pain eased from his face and he could sit up. The hand slid from mine and disappeared beneath his robe, coming back out with his comlink. "Obi-Wan, are you all right?" he said into it.

The answer came in the same strained whisper as his. "You feel it also, Master?"

"Yes. It overwhelmed me, but I'm all right now. Are you?"

"For the moment," Obi-Wan's voice sighed. "Stacey?"

"She's fine. I told her to close her mind off to the Force in time. Burssk?"

"He notices nothing, Master. He's not Force-sensitive."

"Then it is as I thought." Qui-Gon took a deep, steadying breath before going on. "They sense our presence. Bear it as best you can, Obi-Wan - we must find them and help them or their impressions will knock us both out. The first one to find them contacts the other, agreed?"

"Yes, Master." There was a tense pause. "This is worse than we expected."

"Be careful, Obi-Wan."

The comlink signal terminated, its muted buzz noticeable in the silent corridor. "Master?" I wondered again. "What is it?"

"The mour," he breathed. "I was...reaching far with the Force to make sure our path was clear, and they sensed my presence. Obi-Wan's, also. Once they knew we were here, they sent their telepathic impressions directly to us." His eyes fell, staring blankly at the floor. "Danger, fear, anger, pain...and death."

I felt my throat close in fear. "Are you okay?"

"I withdrew my senses, but...it's too late. They know I'm here. It's not as bad as it was a moment ago - yes, it was strong enough to knock me off my feet," he said grimly, finally pushing himself up and reeling back into the wall for a second. "Their telepathy is powerful. I had no idea."

"What are we going to do?" Panic started to throb in my already quickened heart.

"It will be all right," Qui-Gon assured, taking me by the shoulder and facing me. "I can handle this. Keep your mind still, don't reach out with the Force or they will notice you, too. We must find these mour and help them, or their impressions will continue to be painful." His hand patted my shoulder a couple times before withdrawing. "I managed to sense that we are alone in this building, before the impressions got to me. Obi-Wan and Burssk are nearby, but which of us will find these mour first is not certain. I can't tell which direction the feelings are coming from without risking further pain."

"Okay," I nodded, accepting his explanation bravely. I knew he wasn't being entirely forthcoming; he was not okay, he was still being assaulted by the mours' fear and pain and deliberately drawing it unto himself so they wouldn't notice any other Force-sensitives in the area, including Obi-Wan. "Let's find them, then."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Come. This way." He resumed the journey we had been taking, up the corridor to another turn, this time to the right, finding even more brightly-lit areas of the building. I didn't know where we were in the complex or how close to the outside wall we were, but all drafts seemed to have ceased and the air was warm, dry, and stale. The Master laid a hand on his lightsaber hilt as he peeked through a doorway, and then beckoned me after him when the way was clear. The ceiling lifted, and a bigger space opened beyond us. Crude panels sectioned off this wing of the warehouse into smaller rooms or chambers, each with a sliding door sealing it off. The floor was lightly dusted with residue from quarried stone that muted our footsteps even further. A gap high in the wall to our left let the gray caste of the overcast night sky into the building. Qui-Gon stilled himself, becoming more alert, though I could see by his narrowed eyes and gritted jaw that he was still feeling the horrible impressions being sent out from the mour. He moved across the open floor like a prowling panther, so swiftly that I had to hurry to stay with him as he checked each door for security. None were locked, but the first few he opened were empty or only held crates of stonecutting tools and supplies. The room began to narrow, and a huge office of some kind to our right forced it back down to nothing but a hallway wide enough for two to walk abreast. At least it was well-lit, and the floor swept mostly clean by an apparently steady stream of foot-traffic. One more door stood to the left, and both of us seemed to know that it was the right one. Qui-Gon laid his hand on the keypad, and the door swished open, letting out a whiff of animal smell from the darkness. I swallowed my apprehension and nodded for my companion to go ahead.

Qui-Gon found the light, and with a click it revealed a sight that moved me almost to tears. The large room was stacked with dirty cages, some empty, some housing panicked mour either pacing frantically or just sitting there in a daze. Some were visibly injured. Most were starving, much thinner than the wild creatures we had met in the woods a week ago. All of them turned their intelligent eyes on us as the light came on, and within seconds of entering Qui-Gon was hunched over again, racked with telepathic pain that left him gasping. This time, they turned on me as well. Without reaching for it or wanting it, I felt the first crushing pangs of their fear and anger intrude into my mind, and the wicked sensation of not being in control of my own mind that was even more terrifying. Qui-Gon lurched to his feet and threw himself in front of me, arms outstretched, as if blocking me from the sight of the mour would somehow cut off their power. Amazingly, my mind cleared immediately, the intruders retreating. The Master let out a deep breath, and straightened up, no longer in pain himself. Peeping around his spread arms, I saw that the mour had backed away in their cages, and several were crouching, cowed, in the corners. I heard as if from a distance, a velvet whisper, "Are you all right?"

I shook my head dazedly and looked up at Qui-Gon. "Yeah, I think so. Are you?"

"They've stopped their impressions," he replied, sounding amazed. Turning back to the room full of caged mour, he walked among them, laying a hand flat on the barred doors. When one of the animals finally met his entreaty with a sniff of his hand, he stopped and knelt down before it, meeting its amber eyes. "We are not here to hurt you," he quietly assured, daring to stick his fingers through the bars and scratch the mour's chin. It permitted him, keeping its eyes on his face. Between our previous encounter and this, I understood that it was not so much listening to his words as his thoughts, for it was the thoughts behind his words that they understood. Speaking was only an outward sign of what he was trying to communicate to them, and there had to be something to the eye contact. The mour was more alert than all the others, and paid close attention as Qui-Gon continued to speak to it. "What is going on here? They hurt you, don't they? It's all right. We are here now, we will stop it. Yes," he added kindly, nodding, "we will stop it. If you trust me." His eyes closed, and the mour allowed him to lay his hand on its head. I felt a slight tremor in the Force, and then the pervading sense of peace that I so often felt when meditating in the company of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan filled the small room. Every animal there quieted, and those pacing settled down. I smiled sadly, watching Qui-Gon performing the great feat of a Master Jedi's control of the Force for creatures that lacked the wit to understand it...or did they? The mour with whom he communicated was sharp and quick, and while the others calmed, it rose to its four feet and met his eyes when he opened them again. "Listen to me. We must go away for a moment, but we will be back. I will not allow any harm to come to you. When we come back, we will free you and return you to your territory." He paused, and held the creature's gaze until its ears pricked in understanding. "Wait, and don't be afraid. We will be back for you."

As Qui-Gon got to his feet, I heard a shuffle of feet behind me and whirled around in terror, only to find Obi-Wan standing at the doorway. "Master," he whispered.

"I was just about to contact you," Qui-Gon said.

"And I you," the Padawan continued. "Obviously, you found the mour, but Burssk and I found the back entrance to the arena. This corridor is clearly the one - the walls are scraped from dragging the animals up to the arena, and we can hear a crowd at the end." He looked up into his Master's face as he came to join us. "My mind is clear."

"Mine also. I've established contact. Burssk?" The Hodran's head appeared around the edge of the door. "Will you stay with them and guard them? If anyone comes for them, anyone at all, stop them however you see fit. I've promised them freedom if they will keep still and calm so we can do our duty."

"Very well, Master Qui-Gon," Burssk agreed. "If you don't mind me killing the scum that comes to bring another out."

Qui-Gon glared for a second. "Restrain yourself if possible, I want to avoid starting an all-out war with these people. I don't know that Obi-Wan and I will get in there and contain all of them in time, which is why you must stand guard. Stacey," he added, "come with us."

I had had enough adventure and was about to protest, but he was gone in an instant and Obi-Wan with him, so I shrugged at Burssk and dashed away. "Shouldn't we let them out?" I pressed. "Burssk wouldn't have to guard them if we just let them all go now."

"Mour are extremely territorial creatures," I heard Qui-Gon's voice from in front of Obi-Wan, drifting back to me as he strode briskly up the corridor. "They can't just wander anywhere or they will die. They are far from their native territories and wouldn't get far into this forest before being recaptured, killed, or left to die of hunger or injury." He glanced back at me briefly. "I understand that it chafes you to see them like that - it does me also, but we must give thought to their well-being. When this is finished I will contact the Resks at the preserve and see if any are theirs, or if they have any advice as to where to release these mour so they will not die."

As usual, the Master was right. I shut up and just kept following, unsure why they didn't leave me with Burssk when I knew full well that when we walked into that arena, heads were going to roll.

The corridor clearly led from one warehouse into the next, and emptied into a backstage area with a roaring crowd contained behind flimsy walls. There was some furtive movement in the shadowed area, but hardly anyone was back there at the moment, for it sounded like there was a fight on. The assembled audience was yelping and raging in a bloodthirsty tumult, and someone was yelling above the din, calling the fight as he saw it. Occasionally, the boards in front of us thudded as something crashed into them from the other side. I glanced at the Jedi beside me and saw Obi-Wan clenching his hands into fists. Qui-Gon took a breath, and then looked this way and that. Gaps in the arena walls let enough cracks of light into the backstage region to navigate by, and he used them to bring us unseen around the pit to a place where we could see inside but no one could yet see us. What I saw made me want to scream: the floor of the warehouse was truly nothing but a pit, filled with dirt and gravel, rent with claw-marks. Around it on three sides were set several tiers of seats, some just behind a chain-link barrier that kept the mour from flying out and doing damage to anything but themselves. The fourth side was the flat wall behind which we had emerged from the back rooms, which was scored and splattered with dirt and blood. There seemed to be a bar of sorts set up far back in a corner behind the seats, and the commentator was perched on a high seat right in front with some paper-shufflers and money-counters. Two balls of dark brown fur were launching themselves at each other in the ring, clawing and biting and snarling viciously, their gleaming teeth gaping in bloodied jaws. The seats were full of what had to be at least a hundred colonists and pirates, drinking and screaming and egging on one or the other combatant.

I looked desperately at Qui-Gon, hoping he would stop the fight before one of the animals could be killed, but he didn't move. His eyes were riveted on the action, his brow furrowed in grief. Obi-Wan stirred restlessly beside him, his hands brushing the sides of his robe like they were itching to throw it off and draw his lightsaber. "Master," he finally growled, his anger barely restrained.

"Patience, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon painfully moaned, his eyes never leaving the ring. There was nothing he could do at the moment, much as he wanted to. I couldn't watch it anymore, I just turned my back and stared at the darkened wall behind us. That got the Master's attention. "Stacey," he began, and I looked at him. "Whatever you do, stay away from the ring. I don't want the mour going wild and getting at you."

"What about the pirates and people?" I worried.

"They will not hurt you, as long as you don't get in the way. Let Obi-Wan and me take care of this." He then bent down and held a hurried, whispered conference with his apprentice, the two of them forming a plan without my input or knowledge. I slinked back against the far wall, waiting to see what they would do before finding what could be deemed a safe place to hide. Finally, they nodded to each other, and snapped suddenly into action.

I heard the crowd roar in unison, a combination of "yays" and "awws" that probably indicated one of the fighting mour had gone down, and at that moment the Jedi struck. I slid behind some seats along the wall so I could see, but also would be out of the way. The warehouse fell deathly silent as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan appeared along the edge of the pit, facing the patrons, their faces as close to livid as Jedi could get. Qui-Gon had made a move with his hand as he came out, and only now from my new vantage point could I see what he had done: he had used the Force to throw the victorious mour far enough from its victim to stun it. Both animals lay at opposite ends of the ring, and the stunned one was looking towards the source of the attack in a most wobbly manner. Some of the people in the audience got up and snuck out right away, but those sitting right in front by the betting table and the commentator were trapped. Qui-Gon raised his voice until it rang in the high rafters of the warehouse. "This fighting scheme is over. Everyone connected with setting up and running it is under arrest."

There was a "get him!" somewhere in the building, and the brawl I had been long anticipating finally erupted. I leaped behind a crate in the corner and peeked out to see lightsabers blazing, and blaster shots ricocheting into the walls. Chaos whirled around them, but the Jedi in the epicenter were deadly calm, deflecting blaster bolts and occasionally kicking or knocking out someone who came too close. I felt the Force rumbling in my heart, and watched the Duros pirate from earlier in the day go flying backwards over tables and chairs. Qui-Gon powered down his lightsaber and used the pommel end to strike someone in one fluid movement, and then grabbed the abandoned betting table and flipped it with one hand. Coins, credits, and papers went flying. A body stumbled backwards toward me, and to my later astonishment, the instincts Masters Qui-Gon and Kinse had been working to establish in me kicked into gear. I had driven my foot into the man's knee and dropped him to the floor before I realized what I was doing. Obi-Wan had the commentator by the collar of his shirt, throwing aside challengers with the other hand. Qui-Gon had driven his way through the crowd to the bar and took someone else into custody, while patrons finally wised up and fled. I plucked up my courage and ran through the arena, hands up to protect my face as if from a windstorm, and came to the Master's side as he finished binding the wrists of the Nego he had captured. "If he moves, step on him," he ordered, giving me a flash of twinkling eyes before stepping back into the fray. I decided to step on him anyway, since he was laying on the ground and couldn't get away if I was on him. The Jedi in tandem made short work of whoever was dumb enough to stick around, left most of them out cold and rounded up the remainder for questioning. They sat in a pile in the middle of the room while Qui-Gon very carefully cut open the fence and climbed into the arena to trap the frantic mour, and Obi-Wan set about neatly hacking the grandstand to pieces with his lightsaber. The Padawan kept glancing my way, and I guessed it was his duty to look after me while his Master undertook the most dangerous step of their cleansing. The mour, however, had lost its rage and was bewildered by the sudden shift in energy, and I guessed some Force-play was involved also in calming it down so Qui-Gon could slip a rope around its neck and take it back where it wouldn't hurt anyone. There was still a body in the pit, but as long as the wild mour and the Master were gone, Obi-Wan finished with the rest of the arena and started dismantling the pit itself.

When Qui-Gon came back, he plied the group of detainees with questions until he found out which of them was in charge, and set free anybody who was unfairly bound, having no part in it but spectatorship. He was left with four, and fortunately, one of them was the burly Nego known as Krim, the big cheese of the operation. The shuttle was going to be really cramped heading back to Takra with prisoners, I mused to myself.

Obi-Wan paused in his eerily calm destruction of the pit and suddenly called for Qui-Gon. I looked to find him kneeling in the dirt by the losing mour. "It's still alive," he said, his voice raw.

Qui-Gon joined him, and while their bodies screened my view of what they were doing, I could make assumptions. "I don't know if there's anything we can do," I heard the Master murmur. "It's hurt very badly."

"Are you going to kill it?" I worried, my voice echoing in the now-empty warehouse. "You can't kill it."

"It would be the humane thing to do," Qui-Gon softly argued, his voice also stripped of its authority by emotion. "If we turn it loose in this condition, it will die anyway."

I bit my lip and nodded, shooting the cluster of captives a murderous glare. Bastards. "What do we do now?"

Qui-Gon rose to his feet and came back over to me, his boots crunching in the debris of what used to be the wall. "Burssk is going to make sure the ones still caged are fed and kept calm until we can do something about them. You go with Obi-Wan back to the settlement. He's going to contact the Resks." His eyes swept to the captives. "I need to take care of this."

"Be careful," I said gently, taking him by the arm.

He smiled down at me. "I shall. Thank you."

On to part 47

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