"Palace" might have been the wrong word, as it conjured up images of opulence and finery, which the Be'a'lai eschewed. Yet, it was a lovely place, I thought, as we approached it perched on its little knoll overlooking the rest of the city. Like all dwellings constructed by the Be'a'lai it was built of more wood than stone, and had lots of open, airy spaces, but being the chieftain's palace it was much larger than anything I had seen in this region - so large that there were full-grown trees in its center courtyard. Great colonnades lent to the airy feel, with accents of silver and jewels owing to the chieftain's wealth. I smiled when the guards at the main door bowed us right through, evidently not surprised to see the Jedi sweeping up with their cloaks fanned out behind them in the wind. A messenger ran ahead of us, so that by the time we navigated the maze of wide corridors to the offices, the elderly chieftain himself was already coming in to meet us. "Welcome back to Ba'nom, my friends," he called out as he spotted us at the end of a corridor. "Your message was received, but I had not realized it was so urgent."

"Forgive me, but we have been many places and seen much, and I could not go further without consulting you," Qui-Gon said politely.

The chieftain extended a hand to show us into an atrium off the corridor, away from the offices. "Even though you spoke to Da'anna this morning?"

"It was from my conversation with him that I knew I had to come back." Qui-Gon fell into step beside the diminutive chieftain, while Obi-Wan and I trailed immediately behind them to listen. "Though I know it will probably be fruitless to ask you straightly, I have no choice. What do you know about the state of affairs on Daramin that you would not tell us when we were last here?"

The chieftain didn't answer right away, taking us a few more steps further into the atrium. I noticed belatedly that we were not near any doors to the rest of the palace or windows to the outside. "You understand the way of my people, to not speak openly of suspicion but lead others to discover it themselves. Do you know why we must be this way?" Qui-Gon silently shook his head, holding himself still as he did when listening without prejudice. The chieftain faced him proudly. "When our concern is a matter of fact, we give out fact without hesitating. But when it is a question of the mind, of assumptions and suspicions, we have not the facts to give to you, and so must only guide you to see things as we do. Surely you understand - the powers of the Jedi with the mind are great, you understand the difference between guessing someone's mind and having their words or facts on which to bring charges?"

"Yes, I understand as much," the Master said. "You have not observed anything of which you can bear witness, then? Not even someone's words?"

"Myself, no," the chieftain replied sorrowfully. "In recent years, my communication with Takra and the other governors of Daramin has been dwindling. Most of the information today is coming only through our people on the Common Council." His eyes became suddenly sharp. "But your return tells me you begin to see what I see. You are unsettled and seeking answers."

"Yes; however, the questions have yet to be asked," Qui-Gon noted.

I sighed inwardly. That is such a Jedi thing to say.

"I think that I have none to give you," the chieftain went on. "Some things have not changed since your last visit. I have no more facts than I had then. And yet, some things have changed. To that, others may be able to say more than I." He faced Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both, squarely, his dark eyes glinting in his weathered face. "I will see what I can do. Your journey here should not be in vain - you came out of your way to see Ba'nom once again, though your work here is finished."

That was apparently the end of the conference. We were kindly shown out of the palace and given a friendly escort down to the Jedi quarters. I held my observations and conclusions to myself for the most part, at least until we had gotten inside and all relaxed in the main room, having said barely a word to each other since leaving the chieftain's presence. With both Jedi sitting back in comfortable wicker chairs, staring at the ceiling, I decided to voice my meager opinion. "Before I came here, I thought Jedi were the most cryptic people in the whole galaxy. I'm utterly amazed to have met someone even more cryptic than you." I shot Qui-Gon a pointed look.

A short laugh burst out of the Master despite his efforts to deny it. "Yes, well," he muttered humorously, "I think it is the Force's way of showing me what others go through when they deal with me."

"You really think he can help?"

"I'm not sure. But this is the most open the chieftain has been to date - he may well have something for us." Qui-Gon looked over at Obi-Wan, who looked tired. "Either way, we will stay the night here. It would be nice to take my mind off this mission for at least a few hours."

Obi-Wan nodded his agreement. I clapped my hands. "Good! I haven't gotten a half an hour of your time since High Point, practically. Not that I'm complaining," I cautioned when aloof Jedi stares were turned on me. "I know you're here to do your duty first. But I've been watching your stress level rise. Exponentially. It's not a good thing."

Smiling faintly, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair. "Then, for tonight I am placing myself in your hands. I am making no decisions, you'll have to make them for me."

"Ooh, the power," I snickered, rubbing my hands together.

Obi-Wan got up and shed his robe, which had to have been warm even in the artificially cooled room. "Be careful. Such power should not go to your head." He cocked me a knowing look.

"Me? Never!" I scoffed. "I'm good!"

"Ha!" he barked. "Last night?"

"Last night nothing! Watch it, braid-boy," I retorted, shaking a finger at him. "You're just asking me to beat you 'round the head with a pillow again."

His face remained placid, no sly smirk or gloating grin to imply his amusement, but there was just a hint of smugness in his voice. "I would like to see you try."

I narrowed my eyes, but before I could lunge for the nearest pillow, he flung out his hand and easily called it to him with the Force. I gaped and squawked something about not fair at him, but a knock at the door saved us all from getting extremely silly. Since he was the only one standing, Obi-Wan answered it, and hurriedly hid the pillow behind his back when he saw it was a messenger from the palace. "Yes, can I help you?"

"For the Jedi," the messenger said, bowing briefly as he handed Obi-Wan a piece of paper and then swiftly left.

The Padawan dropped the pillow to unfold the paper and read it, his confused frown vanishing after a moment. "It's an invitation to dinner from one of the noble families."

He handed it to Qui-Gon, who read it for himself, thoughtfully scratching his beard with one hand. "Interesting. Yes, I believe this is that friendly man we met at the chieftain's birthday feast. They live not far away." He squinted at the paper as if examining it with x-rays to make sure there was no hidden secret to it. "Well. I did say I wasn't making any decisions tonight."

"I call we go," I decided for him. "I'm too lazy to cook - I did it last night. Besides, it would be rude not to accept such a kind invitation."

Qui-Gon smiled at me. "Very well. But first, I intend to change - their house will not be cooled like ours is."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan agreed with him, turning to follow him down the hall to their rooms. I reached for the note to see if I could read it, but before I could get out of the chair, a pillow flew across the room and whapped me in the back of the head.

*****

In the space of mere days I had gone from summer to spring to winter, back to spring, and now it was summer again, with insects singing in the trees and the moist, warm breath of a tropical evening on my skin. Delicious fragrances wafted on the light breeze, floral and spice, and the setting sun threw three blue shadows out before us: my shorter figure guarded by two taller ones. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were clad in their lightweight sleeveless tunics again, and I nestled my hands delightedly in the crooks of their bare arms as they escorted me to the home of our hosts. Children were playing on the porch when we arrived, and served to alert the rest of the household that guests were at the door. It took me a moment to recognize the boisterous Be'a'lai man who invited us in, as he had been one of several of the chieftain's guests who had shared our table at the feast. It turned out he was a close friend of the nobleman who had spent the most time talking to Qui-Gon, the one who had teased me about being quiet. He and his family were very kind, bringing us in as if we were long-absent relatives and pressing cold drinks into our hands. We hadn't been there two minutes when another guest arrived, and as I turned I noticed Qui-Gon had become suddenly straight-backed and quiet, his smile mingling with an unasked question, his brow furrowing slightly, as he spotted the newcomer. I had met this man before also - he was one of the chieftain's leaders, an official in the city. Regardless, he introduced himself to the Jedi with a cool smile. "Badela, minister of industry for the Be'a'lai." He tapped his fist to the center of his chest in the traditional greeting, adding a bow for our sake. "It is an honor to be invited to share a meal with the Jedi."

"An honor, and a surprise," Qui-Gon said, acknowledging the greeting with his own fist to his heart. "I was not aware you had been called."

"The chieftain mentioned to me today that he thought it would be a good thing to show the Jedi a friendly welcome," our host mentioned casually, grinning. "Badela was already set to come to dinner tonight, it was the perfect opportunity."

I glanced up at Qui-Gon, and by the twitch of his brow I knew he was thinking the same thing I was: "perfect opportunity" indeed! The Master, however, concealed his thoughts and engaged the minister in small talk for the time being.

After a wonderful and filling dinner, and a dessert that reminded me closely of sherbet, the family made themselves scarce and left the nobleman, the minister, and the three of us alone so that talk could turn to business. Even I knew by this time that the minister had been invited specifically to talk to the Jedi about something his office handled, but it was either customary or specially engineered that we should come together socially first. Sure enough, over sweetened drinks Badela grew serious. "When Da'anna called me this afternoon and said he had had audience with you, I confess it was a relief. Some things have come to my attention since you last visited Ba'nom and the sound of your names spoken was like the voice of an oracle. I knew I had to see you."

"The Be'a'lai have been extremely kind and generous toward us," Qui-Gon said modestly. "Stacey mentioned something this morning to that effect, and it made me remember everyone here, and their willingness to work with us. We have been running into some problems and wanted to know if you had noticed the same things."

"Perhaps we have," Badela mused. "If you don't mind my asking, what have you found?"

Qui-Gon began by telling our hosts about the pirates at High Point Base, and Obi-Wan added the story of our recent discovery of the mour-fighting ring. The mere suggestion of what people were doing to the mour set the Be'a'lais' faces like stone. "The mour are like brothers," the nobleman growled. "The first Be'a'lai to join the Homeworld Alliance did so only with the assurance of the Jedi that the mour would be protected, as they remain Daramin's only true natives."

"Yes, I know," Qui-Gon quietly said. "It was hard for us to see this happening, even with the ability to control our emotions. What astonishes me yet is how these colonists could so blatantly disobey one of the longest-standing laws on Daramin, and act as though it were their right to do so."

"Such an attitude does not come from the Be'a'lai," Badela said irritably. "We are grateful for the Jedi and their guidance, and would never be so foolish."

The Master's eyes narrowed in the minister's direction. Neither he nor Obi-Wan had yet spoken a word about the colonists who had made threats against the day the Jedi did not watch over Daramin. "You do know something," he said darkly. "What is it? What do those colonists have against us?"

The minister held up his hands innocently. "I know nothing! Nothing about your colonists, that is," he added when the stern looks from the Jedi did not waver. "I had not heard about anything as horrid as betting on fights between captive mour. The only things I know come from dealings with the Common Council and other leadership elsewhere on the planet." He took a deep breath to calm himself down and leaned his elbows on the table. "As minister of industry, I see to many things, but the industry that brings me the most contact with other Daramindi is mining. This region has shown good profit with crystal mines, ionite, and grandu which is known by many names and comprises an element of transparisteel. Yet, as you might know, we are holding back on some mines to ensure that we keep the land unspoiled, even if it earns us contempt from other mine-holdings on Daramin. There is an engineer in Skoda who has expressed interest in purchasing one of our ionite mines to make profit for himself, and suggestions have been made among the Common Council in my hearing that the crystal mine in Dindee could bring great wealth if we increased yield and exported it off-planet."

Qui-Gon's dark look remained. "The crystal mine in Dindee is unstable. It cannot be expanded until the problems it is causing to the water table are corrected."

"This I know too well," Badela said grimly, "and your report upon visiting there confirmed my suspicions."

"What does the Dindee mine have to do with certain Daramindi subverting laws about pirate landings and hunting mour?" Obi-Wan queried. "If there is a connection, it escapes me."

Badela folded his hands. "Here is where I cannot say more, for I have no more facts on the subject. Yet, my people believe in the web that connects all things, of which even you and the Force are a part. In a system such as ours, with four disparate races seeking a homeland in union, the web is strong."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan looked at each other, and the Master nodded slightly. "If you have anything else, any small fact, that may help us uncover the connection, please," he implored, "let us know."

"Only that which caused me to find hope in the rumor of your return to Ba'nom," the minister said, lowering his voice secretively. The nobleman beside him pretended to look away as if uninterested. "The mining guild in Skoda has contacted me again, not only making offers on Be'a'lai mines, but informing me that they have received offers for theirs from companies off-planet."

I watched the Jedi both sit up in interest. "There are not to be any off-planet intrusions in land-holding or industry for another ten years at least," Obi-Wan said, disturbed. "Trade, yes, and immigration, but no one from off-world may buy or own land, property, or share of industry."

"That is why I wanted to meet with you," Badela said desperately. "To let you know that such a thing has happened. But no one could bear witness to it as I could, they contacted me direct. To hear this word from anyone else would be hearsay."

"I thank you for telling us," Qui-Gon said reassuringly, quieting the note of action that I could sense quivering deep within him. "It is not illegal to simply make an offer, though any company or individual doing so is either misinformed or has the wrong intent. Yet, it is important that the overseers are aware that offers have been made." He fixed Badela with an intense stare. "Did the guild in Skoda mention who, specifically, made these offers? And were they made to you?"

"To me, no - only offers from the guild itself. It seems they are not content with running only those mines in Skoda," the minister replied. "But I will have to look among my records for any mention of the off-planet interests. I cannot be sure."

Master Qui-Gon sighed long. "Please, if you would."

"Yes, I will. That will be the first order of business in the morning. And you?"

The two Jedi shared another look, one that suggested they were in on something that I didn't know about - yet. "We will be leaving in the morning for Skoda," Qui-Gon answered. "It was one of the places I intended to visit at some point in the next three weeks, but this information has made up my mind for me. We will go immediately there and look into the mining guild." A sly look came into his gray eyes. "Don't worry, minister. No mention will be made of the source of our information. Please, contact us there when you have searched your records, whether you find anything or not."

Badela agreed heartily, and looked as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I wisely chose not to mention to Qui-Gon that he had sworn off making any decisions for the night, though if he had kept with our game and left it in my hands, I would have done the same. To Skoda, then.

*****

On board the shuttle winging its way high above the stratosphere, Master Qui-Gon informed me that whatever warm clothing I had along should be dug out, and I should change out of my tropical garb before we landed. "You're not taking me to another land of ice and snow, are you?" I suspiciously wondered.

"Not quite," he amusedly replied. "Skoda is no remote colony, but it is in a very far northern latitude. Even though it is nearing summer in the northern hemisphere, Skoda will be cool. It's on the coast of the ocean."

That made me perk up. "Ooh...I've never actually seen an ocean."

"Not even on Earth?" Obi-Wan asked over his shoulder as he flew the shuttle.

"No. I admit it, I was land-locked." I returned my attention to Qui-Gon. "Cool, I can handle that. Are we talking robes-and-coats cool, or long-sleeved shirts, or what?"

"You may not need a coat, other than the raincoat you brought. We will not be outdoors as much as we have been lately - Skoda is the second-largest city on Daramin, and very civilized."

"Ah...good!" I grinned mischievously. "No nasty hard cots, then."

Less than an hour later I found myself peering through the shuttle's windscreen at a bleak, rocky landscape that reminded me in some ways of photos I had seen of the Scottish highlands or the coasts of Finland. Then the city appeared, and I whispered, "Wow," into Obi-Wan's ear as I hung over his shoulder to see. It was definitely civilization, and appeared from a distance to be even bigger than Takra, though that was due to the wide scattering of buildings that popped up everywhere a mine needed to be maintained. Takra may have been the capital, but if industry continued to be more important than agriculture, Skoda would very soon eclipse Takra as the largest and most populous city on Daramin. Obi-Wan set the shuttle down amid a collection of similar low-orbit runners, the legal mode of transport in a region this distant from the spaceport, and announced, "Welcome to Skoda. And wrap up warmly."

He didn't have to tell me twice. The leaden gray skies pressed down almost to the ground, which seemed upthrust to meet it. Skoda was on a highland plain, and tall cliffs overlooked the sea on many of its borders. I had caught a glimpse of the oily gray ocean as we came in to land, but now that we were down, the city buildings obscured any view of it. Qui-Gon lowered the docking hatch and let a blast of cold wind into the shuttle, which carried with it a scent I had never experienced before in all my travels: the salty tang of the sea. For the first time I understood every storybook mariner's longing, from Eärendil to Ahab. Tucking my hands deep into my pants pockets, I shouldered my bag and followed the flapping Jedi robes away from the landing area and into the city proper.

Light sprinkles of cold rain misted into our faces as we walked, and the brisk wind tore through just about everything I had on, making me wish to be snuggled inside one of my companions' warm robes. Qui-Gon consulted his holopad once or twice, checking on directions to our quarters, and led us in due time to a fair house not far from the sea-coast that had a plaque just like the one in Takra that said "JEDI" in Aurabesh. There were a few people on the streets even in this weather, bundled up much better than I was and looking more used to the climate, and some stopped and stared when we went into the gate and up the steps of the Jedi-assigned quarters. Master Qui-Gon had completely abandoned the idea of calling ahead to our destinations a few weeks ago, so no one in Skoda expected us. I looked around while he entered the security code into the pad by the door; there were a few very old, very upscale residences nearby, but mostly buildings dedicated to governance and business comprised this part of the city, all of them gleaming a dull white against the stormy gray sky. I wondered what stone went into their making, for it looked to my untrained eye like marble. Some of them were very elegant, with wrought lampstands and fences, and black metal shutters trimming the windows. I imagined how wicked the storms could get in the winter, when those shutters would need to be closed against the wind and ice. Then a swish announced the door's successful parting, and I gratefully swept into warm, dry atmosphere.

I considered the Jedi house in Takra very classy and well-kept, but this one was even more lovely inside, and less austere, perhaps because Jedi on duty spent most of their time in the capital so that house tended to take on their qualities, whereas this was a mere stop on the journey. It was evidently maintained, for there was nary a speck of dust on any of the wrought-metal fixtures or elegant wood furniture, but it was cool and dark for lack of occupancy. Obi-Wan went looking for the heat while Qui-Gon switched on lamps and I explored. This house had only one story, made of two wings and the street-facing joiner that turned it into a sort of U-shape. The foyer and sitting room were immediately in the middle, while one wing led back to the offices and kitchens, and the other wing to living quarters. I exclaimed in delight when I saw the fireplace in the sitting room, topped with a marbled mantle on which stood a vase of dried flowers and a timepiece. We had lost several hours in the journey, it was seven in the morning here. "This is nice," I said to Qui-Gon as he roamed back in from the bedroom wing. "Way nice."

"More to your liking?" he wondered.

"Oh, not really. The house in Ba'nom is more me. But...hey, everyone likes a little fanciness now and again. Look - fireplace!" I whirled to face the Master. "How long are we going to be here?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because I want to have a fire some night, if we're here long enough."

He chuckled at me. "Very well, some night we will. Hopefully it's not our only means of heat."

"It's not." Obi-Wan appeared in the wide entranceway to the sitting room. "I took care of it, Master. We should be warm in no time."

"If this is summer, I'd hate to see winter," I retorted.

There was plenty of time to explore the house, as Obi-Wan was sent to inform the city leaders that the overseers had arrived, and Qui-Gon checked into the status of communications and work-space while he waited for the minister of industry to call from Ba'nom as he had promised. I claimed a bedroom that faced the inward part of the wing, rather than the street, and followed the hall back to its terminus, a wide room made mostly of windows save on the street-facing side. There was only a small, rough table inside, and flat, undecorated rugs on the floor. I inspected it in wonder, looking out the windows to the middle courtyard filled with hardy shrubs and across to the office wing. What is this place? I asked myself, turning slowly to pace off its width. That was when I saw the cabinet in the dim corner, which my curiosity steered me towards. Inside I found a small collection of weapons - long staves like polearms, wooden swords, and a couple of plain silver lightsaber hilts with more dials on the side than either Qui-Gon's or Obi-Wan's. Ohh...training room! I get it! I couldn't resist touching one of the lightsaber hilts, but I left it resting in the padded cradle that held it mounted with the other specimens. They all looked somewhat used, but nowhere near as battered as some of the equipment in the Jedi Temple. Entertaining the idea of practicing some of my forms and skills as long as we were here and I would likely be cooped up keeping the fort warm, I wandered back down the hallway and around to the sitting room. Master Qui-Gon was there, standing beside an antique-looking desk at the far side of the room. "I found a training room," I informed him as I came in.

"Good," he said absently, not lifting his eyes from the datapad in his hand. "We shall have to use it sometime."

"For a remote seacoast colony, there's a lot to do here," I grinned. "What's that?"

"The transmission from Ba'nom. Minister Badela sent it while we were in the air." He did not look pleased by what he was reading, his lips pursed and eyes glaring just a little at the pad. "It's not good news, I'm afraid."

I pouted a little on his behalf as I drew closer to him. "He didn't find anything?"

"On the contrary. He actually had a copy of something the mining guild here sent him, to show what offers were being made by foreign interests."

"Whoa...that's a big oops. That's probably not something they should have been waving around so freely. What?" The Master's face grew tight and dark. "Master? What is it?"

Qui-Gon muttered the answer under his breath, almost to himself. "It seems they've had dealings with Offworld."

I looked sharply at him. "Offworld? Isn't that...Xanatos' company?"

Qui-Gon looked up and met my gaze. "You know about Xanatos?"

"Yeah...sort of. I mean," I tried to clarify, "I'm not totally sure I believe everything the stories say."

Qui-Gon's face took on a thoughtful demeanor. "And what do they say?"

"That...he was a psychopath, basically. A bad guy, evil, turned to the Dark Side. And that you were so devastated when he betrayed you that you moped about for years before begrudgingly taking another Padawan."

A heavy sigh escaped him. "How the truth gets twisted," he muttered. "I was disappointed, yes - disheartened, even. But not destroyed. And it was only about seven or eight months before I took Obi-Wan as an apprentice." He set aside the datapad and faced me, folding his arms. "Xanatos is a shrewd man, highly intelligent and ambitious. He knows what he wants and how to get it. He could be...cold, sometimes, well beyond the Jedi need to be dispassionate and objective." He lowered his eyes and nodded admittingly. "And he is cruel. His fall was motivated by selfishness and greed. But I'm not sure I could ever call him a psychopath, or evil. The Dark Side tempts him, but he was still not given over to it wholly the last time I saw him."

A frown knotted my brow. "You mean he's not dead yet?"

Qui-Gon shrugged stiffly. "Not that I know of. I haven't seen him for about nine years, but every once in a while his name comes up in interstellar commerce or politics. Usually in the context of some underhanded dealing or another." He glanced down at the datapad. From where I was standing I could see the little red and black Offworld logo, like an eye, in the corner of the document. The thoughtful look returned to the Master's face. "Instead of the hard Jedi life he could have had, Xanatos has opted for the bitter life of a shady businessman instead, and if he has not changed since the time he confronted me on Bandomeer, then he is still struggling to find himself, to make his life mean something."

I listened in interest, finding the whole thing fascinating. "So, the whole Bandomeer thing did happen?"

"That depends on what 'the whole Bandomeer thing' is," Qui-Gon smirked.

I briefly outlined what I could remember from the two small, flimsy children's paperbacks from which I had gleaned the tale of Xanatos' revenge, and after taking it all in without interruption, Qui-Gon slowly nodded. "I see. In that case, no the story is not entirely true. Offworld was not formed as a front for his revenge, it was a company he bought into, which eventually became his - and still is, as far as I know. Though, I did not discover that fact until I was there, protecting the Meerians, like you said. Our meeting was not orchestrated, it was merely the outcome of an opportunity." He tucked his hands into his sleeves and started pacing. "Once he knew I was there, however, he did take advantage of his resources to try to avenge himself upon me, and upon Obi-Wan, of whom he was jealous for taking his place."

"How did the whole thing with taking Obi-Wan as your apprentice happen, then?" I wondered. "If it's not true that you were scared to open yourself up to another apprentice...?"

"I was not actively seeking a Padawan at the time," Qui-Gon patiently explained, coming over to me and perching his huge form on the arm of the couch in front of me. "I happened to catch Obi-Wan in a sparring match just prior to the mission, but I didn't know until he asked me that he wanted to be apprenticed. I turned him down..." His voice softened, and his eyes lowered. "...but it wasn't because he wasn't worthy, nor because I didn't want him. I hadn't had time to conduct a proper investigation into him, as one would do if actively searching the ranks of initiates for a suitable apprentice. I suppose," he added speculatively, "if I had not been bound for Bandomeer and he had not been sentenced to visit the Agri-Corps, I could have taken the time to find out more about him. But, it was not fated to be so."

I smiled admiringly. "But the Force brought you together anyway."

"It did indeed," Qui-Gon acknowledged humbly. "And I saw that it was right. Master Yoda had sent Obi-Wan to Bandomeer for a time to cool his passion. He was very tense, and afraid that he was not good enough to be chosen as a Padawan by anyone. Yoda hoped that a glimpse into other roles the Jedi can fill, when they are needed, would quiet him and help him understand where his place in the will of the Force lay. It did," he concluded with a smile, "but not in the way anyone anticipated."

"He was meant to be a Jedi Knight," I said surely.

"Yes. And what he saw, what we both went through on Bandomeer, helped us both to see that. He was sent there to learn to obey the Force, and be content with what it leads him to do. Once he did, it led him straight to the path his heart desired all along."

I smiled at that. It sounded like the same thing I expected God to do with me. "And that was the first lesson he really learned from you, wasn't it?"

"You could say that." Qui-Gon's eyes drifted away as he thought. "It seems to me that Obi-Wan and Xanatos faced the same choices in life. Had Xanatos done as Obi-Wan did, and accepted the guidance of the Force rather than choosing his own desires, things may have been very different."

"But everything happens for a reason. Your relationship with Obi-Wan would be very different if there had been some other catalyst for its start."

"That is very true," Qui-Gon chuckled. "That certainly set the tone for our life together." He shook his head. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I heard my name." The Padawan in question swaggered into the room, his chocolate-brown robe drifting gracefully in his wake. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, Obi-Wan, it seems a voice from the past has resurfaced." Qui-Gon went back over to the table and picked up the datapad, handing it to his apprentice to see for himself.

As soon as he saw the logo in the corner Obi-Wan sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. "Master."

"Yes, it is him. But, unless this unpleasant rumor proves to be true, we shouldn't have to deal with him."

"I can see the snide look on his face already," Obi-Wan dryly complained.

"What does it say?" I pressed.

Qui-Gon took the datapad back from his Padawan. "Xanatos' name is not mentioned in this document at all, but the implication is made that someone at a high level has taken an interest in the modern development of Daramin's resources and has requested a meeting to discuss the 'investment potential.'" His eyes hunted over the screen for a moment. "Again, no names, but there is a reference to the mining guild of Skoda, and the Common Council in Takra."

I mulled that over, sinking onto the arm of the couch recently vacated by the Master. "So, you have no way of knowing how old this is, or whether anyone actually responded to set up any meeting, when such a meeting might have taken place, yada yada - right?"

"Correct," Qui-Gon answered, while Obi-Wan gave me an odd look like he wanted to ask me what I just said.

I shook my head. "This is getting worse by the minute. And how do you go to the mining guild, now, and try to get them to 'fess up to this, without revealing where you got this?"

"That is a problem," Qui-Gon admitted.

"Yet, we may find a way," Obi-Wan suggested optimistically. "Someone on the mining guild made a foolish, possibly fatal, mistake in transmitting this document beyond the guild. If they honestly expected that the Be'a'lai minister would keep it to himself and never let another eye see it, they're not very smart."

"Which leads me to believe, this may not be what it seems on the surface," his Master noted.

"Argh! It's all going in circles!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Your job, not mine. Is it time for lunch yet?"

The loss of time crossing the planet meant that yet again my metabolic patterns were thrown off, so very shortly after a paltry midday meal I was sacked out on my bed, napping deeply, while the Jedi went about their very important business. I indulged my tired body thoroughly, having no reason to get up so long as no one came in to wake me up and fetch me somewhere. This saved both me and them from having to worry about how the other party would occupy themselves the rest of the day, until someone could restock the nearly-bare pantry in time for dinner. Unlike Takra, this large, elegant place was hardly used, as Skoda was merely a stop on the route rather than a base of operations, which made it hard to justify things like a security droid or consistent upkeep. Whoever had undertaken the responsibility of shopping had done it by the time I wandered back into the main rooms, making it possible for me to just slink into the kitchen and, without being asked, put together a hearty dinner for two very hard-working Jedi who hardly looked up when I passed through the office to let them know I was awake.

Fortunately, food loosened up tense moods, and as the sun was setting somewhere behind the persistent pall of gray stratus clouds, the three of us retreated to the training room at the end of the living quarters for some physical action. Qui-Gon had chided me about remembering to keep up with exercise and not forget my forms while on this mission, so I changed into something more comfortable and spent the night getting stretched, strained, and bruised sparring with both Jedi while a cold rain lashed the tall windowpanes. Barefoot and sweating, I took a liberating delight in the exertion as Master Qui-Gon encouraged me, his large hands absorbing my punches as targets. Obi-Wan battled me once, but then left me to the Master's instruction while he stretched and then practiced flips and rolls over in a corner. "You're doing very well," Qui-Gon complimented after I wore myself out and paused to flex my aching hands. "I remember what it was like the first few times we taught you forms, when we were on retreat. You have come so far."

"I like to think so," I breathlessly grinned, setting my hands on my hips. "I don't suppose I'm any nearer to handling a weapon, though."

"Are you that anxious to be trained in deadly force?" he wondered, folding his arms.

My eyes widened. "Deadly force? What do you mean?"

"Any training in the use of a weapon carries with it the automatic responsibility of knowing and being able to use deadly force," Qui-Gon lectured seriously. "There are very few movements in sword and staff training not designed to be killing blows in the right circumstances. Well," he clarified, "I suppose there may be some techniques of the Be'a'lai fighting stick not meant to be deadly. But any Jedi arts you may be trained in will involve teaching killing strikes."

I let out my breath in a heavy sigh. "That wasn't what I was expecting at all. I thought martial arts like sword-fighting could be done with only subduing and defending in mind. I just like holding a weapon!"

Qui-Gon gave me a crooked smile. "The lightsaber is an art of defense, as is most sword method, but it is not defense only. The hand-fighting forms you are being taught are primarily redirection of energy and non-lethal combat."

"Yes, but even someone my size could kill with the right strike in the right place." I swung my right hand up and thrust a fist toward his throat, stopping far enough away to only exhibit the move. His left hand came up lazily and positioned right in front of the target, easily absorbing my blow. "Like that."

"This is true," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "But lessons in such moves are saved for later, when the basics are firmly established. At least with you, I don't have to worry about age or mental ability hampering your understanding of when it is appropriate to use deadly force." The smile in his eyes grew stronger. "I have no doubts about your self-control."

I blushed a little and looked away. "Right, I'm not trigger happy," I said with a grin. Looking back up to him, I asked, "Can you at least teach me some basic blocks? I know the strikes and cuts are serious business - that much I grasp. But I can train in blocking."

"Perhaps another night this week," he declined, pacing around to the other side of the floor mat so that his back was to the windows, which were black now with night and vibrating in the wind and rain. "Let's run that last form again, and see if you can get your arms straight this time - not limp."

We practiced for another half an hour, and then the Master decided we ought to meditate together, so that he could evaluate the bond between us while the Force quieted our minds and bodies. I sank down to my knees and drew in a deep breath, savoring the way the Force responded to my call almost immediately. It had been so long since we were able to do this together, with no interruptions or stray distractions to take away from the focus, and I strongly anticipated Qui-Gon discovering further advances in my abilities and strength since the last time we came together. I personally felt different, now that some things were coming to me like instinct and the feeling of the Force itself flowing around and through me was no longer a novelty. I laid all my thoughts aside and just let my senses swim in the Force, toying idly with it but mostly letting it do what it wanted with me, delighted just to have "old times" back again. It was then, as I let go of my conscious mind and opened my reception, I felt a shadow creep in, just barely at the edges of perception. It stole around me like a smoky blue phantasm, until I could identify the feelings it was stirring up. Discomfort. Melancholy. Longing. Envy. These ideas were foreign to me, at least in the moment; I was away from the confining Jedi Temple, loose on a very lovely planet with the two men I loved and finding all new reasons around every corner to love them. The feeling came from outside me, then. It was not mine, it was someone else's. Someone else in the bond.

Realizing this, I tried to focus on it and pin it to its source, but it fled as quickly as it had crept up, and my meditation naturally dissolved shortly afterward as I came to my senses. The two faces across from me exhibited no trace of the foreign sentiment, strongest in envy and sadness, and the active, vibrant presences projected into the Force were clean and calm. If either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan had meditated on the feeling, it was trapped deep within them, perhaps so deeply that their conscious minds were not aware it existed now that we knelt facing each other, refreshed and at peace. I remained subdued, thinking, and went to clean up and get ready for bed in a quiet mood. As they passed me, I glanced up, hoping to see a clue or a sign to signify ownership of the dark feeling. Obi-Wan smiled sweetly at me, his eyes a dancing blue. Qui-Gon let his admiring look touch his lips as he brushed a hand over my back. They were tired, and upon showering and changing were going straight to bed, but my earlier nap left me awake to ponder this strange flavor of meditation. It reminded me of things long past, things that had happened between us at the very early stages of our relationship, so I picked up my journal and paged back to some of the earliest entries, made months ago. In the pages written while on Chad, I found the passages that most echoed the haunting sense of distress that came from one of the Jedi, consciously or unconsciously.

...but the scariest part of it was right before it happened, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan went for a walk together around the lake, so when it hit I had no idea where they were. If they had been in any danger, a tree fell on them or something, because they were out there, I think I would have blamed myself for it because I think they were out there because of me. After the other day, well, I don't know how they can stand being around me, or being around each other even! Each one being forced to confess in front of the other that he has "feelings" for me? You know, I remember joking on the list about which one we liked better, Qui or Obi, and people who said they liked them both laughed about how horrible (sarcasm) a situation it would be to have both of them at the same time! But we were wrong, we were so wrong. It is horrible. I'm afraid not only that I'm going to have to make a choice, one over the other, but that they'll have to choose. I don't want to do that to them.

Qui-Gon said last night that he and Obi-Wan had a "talk," and they came to some kind of agreement - didn't tell me what it is though. That's what they were doing on their walk right before the quake. All he told me was that they weren't going to worry about it, and just let whatever happens happen. That's all fine and dandy, for now, but sooner or later it's going to happen. I'm going to be forced to choose one, and it's going to hurt the other. At least, that's what I think would happen - as much as it would save us a lot of grief, I don't see the one left out being all right with it and going on like nothing happened. Man, I hope I fall out of love with one of them before that happens! That would be really easy!

As I read these words from a good three or four months prior, my hand unconsciously reached for my writing stylus. One of my friends, my cherished partners, was envious of the other - that was the feeling. The hurt I wrote about when my feelings were first revealed was finally coming to pass. I flipped ahead in my writing pad to the first fresh page, dated it with the appellation "Skoda, night 1," and began to compose a new note:

Which one of you let slip your envy and pain into our meditation? I wonder if the other picked up on it like I did. I wonder if it might have been both of you. But I don't know what you're so worried about, because I haven't done anything lately to make either of you feel like I don't love you. Have I? I'm trying to think but I come up empty. Obi-Wan, you and I shared something deeper than any physical expression when we sat awake talking the other night. And just being held by you on that wind-swept platform under the starry sky! Qui-Gon, you know I worry about you all the time, and want you to be happy. I still get shivers just thinking about the way you kissed me. I know you said a long time ago that you would just let things happen naturally, and maybe at some point I would discover that my feelings had changed so that I didn't have to choose between you two. Well, if that is true, that point hasn't come yet. I still care for both of you, and I beg you not to ask me to choose now. My pain would be worse than that of the one of you not chosen.

Whoever's feeling snuck into the Force and found me, I'm going to make sure it never happens again. I'm going to show both of you that you are loved equally. I don't want either of you to feel like the other is getting more of my attention.

Sighing, I shook my head and closed the notepad. It was an open letter to the Jedi that would never be seen. My promise at the end would stand, regardless, even if neither of them understood any changes in my habits, actions, and words. But how does one go about quantifying elements of a relationship so that it can be shared equally between two with no competition? Growling, I told the lamp beside my bed, "Love is so stupid," before switching it off.

*****

As expected, I had a day alone to look forward to while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan went in two directions to try to gather information on the mining guild of Skoda and their less-than-kosher dealings. The rocky coastland was rich in a number of different minerals, such that there were only a couple of mines competing directly with each other, but enough yield was coming of them that no one really had an advantage over the other. Qui-Gon gave me a brief outline of his intended destinations in case I should need to call him back for any reason, and we double-checked that both Jedi comlink signals were still stored in my comlink, as I had not used it for a long time. I was instructed to make contact immediately if any messages came in from any government offices either here or in Takra, but to save anything else that came through, such as from the Be'a'lai or even Dr. Resk down in the south. Agreeing to do so, I saw them both off with whatever hug I could worm out of them - Qui-Gon was hard to pull affection out of when he was busy and in a hurry - and retreated to the training room to do some stretching and forms.

The rain had passed in the night and a little break in the weather treated Skoda to some pale sunshine, though it was having a hard time pushing its way through the clouds. The house's internal heat cut out when the outside temperature rose to a certain point, but inside it was still more than comfortable. I eventually gave up exercising and found a seat in the sitting room at the small, antique desk near the windows that looked out on the courtyard, glancing up now and again from working on some translation practice to smile at the short bursts of sunshine that winked out from the clouds, lit up the evergreen shrubs and ground-covering mats of tiny yellow flowers, and then disappeared again like a sigh. I was thus distracted, wondering idly if it was warm enough to go out without a jacket whenever the sun came out, when I heard the distinctive whir of the electronic door. I looked over my shoulder, confused and concerned, because the instinctual sweep of the Force that tended to go out whenever I wondered "who's there?" did not bring back the pulse of either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan. I turned in the chair to see if someone had entered and nearly called out when a figure stepped out from behind the wall that screened my corner of the sitting room from the foyer. It was not anyone I expected, not even Daramindi - he was human. "Can I help you?" I asked, keeping my voice even and business-like.

The man paused in the entranceway and looked around at the sound of my voice, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. He was middle-aged, late thirties maybe, but with a thin build and narrow face. There might have been a few gray strands mingled in his jet-black hair, which was combed smoothly back and hung almost to his shoulders, but he was too far away to tell. Despite his sleek, pale countenance, which was enhanced by the dark, elegant clothing he wore, he looked regal and commanding. "I'm sorry," he began, "I thought this was the house where the Jedi overseers are quartered."

"It is," I assured him. I couldn't help but be wary of an intruding stranger, though he seemed polite enough. The trouble was, I couldn't remember if I had security-locked the door after the Jedi left. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yes," the man said, looking earnestly at me and folding his gloved hands before him. "I was told to seek a Jedi Master, named Jinn...?"

"Qui-Gon's out, right now," I told him, "but I'm expecting him any minute now. They're supposed to be back for lunch."

"I see." He stepped further into the room, heading straight for me. "You're a friend of his, then? What's your name?"

"Stacey," I introduced myself.

The stranger extended a hand, which I shook naturally. "My name is Xanatos. I'm with Offworld Corporation."

On to part 49

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