We needed one of the low-orbit shuttles to get from this continent to the equatorial landmass where Ba'nom lay, but didn't dare go back to the spaceport to catch one. The administrator of the little town, who was most disturbed to hear that Obi-Wan and I had been hunted down in the streets of his quiet corner of civility, suggested we make for a colony a good half-day's journey from there. They had shuttles and other transport in abundance, he said, and the trip from there to Ba'nom would be shorter. For hours we sped across country, the Jedi occasionally switching out so each could take a spell in the pilot's seat, until we came to the colony very late in the afternoon. Qui-Gon was fully awake by now, and on edge, being wary of who he spoke to en route to getting to board a shuttle. Fortunately for us, there was a transport going to Ba'nom in just one hour, loaded with cargo, so we hitched a ride and got to our final destination just around dinnertime. To my astonishment, Qui-Gon mind-tricked the pilot to forget that he had given the Jedi transportation, but I could only gape at him in silence, for both he and Obi-Wan brushed it off as if it were no big deal as they led me away from the landing field.

After so many visits to the Be'a'lai capital we had no problem finding the Jedi house on our own, and the Master managed to cross paths with a messenger along the way who agreed to take a message to the chieftain's palace for us. No one breathed anything like a sigh of relief until we were inside the house and I got to put down my baggage in the room I claimed for my own. I chose the same one I had stayed in before, since I had already positioned the vents for the air conditioning so that they would hit the sleep couch just right. When I came out, I heard Obi-Wan coming up the hallway from the other bedrooms - he was humming something, something familiar. It wasn't until he came around the corner and smiled at me that I remembered the tune. "What," I chided, "have you got that glimmerfly's song stuck in your head?"

"Since last night," he affirmed with a small laugh. "I wish I could put words to it, so I could sing it - but it's only one line, not a whole song."

"Well, I'm no songwriter," I confessed, "otherwise I'd help you."

"I have a few ideas," he went on, "but...never mind."

"What? What?" I pestered him as I followed him back around the house into the main room.

My demand went unfulfilled, because Qui-Gon stood at the communicator and looked to be all business as we entered. His apprentice went to him without being told and hurriedly sat at the console, setting up the communicator for a long-range call. The Master meanwhile took position for contact with Coruscant. I dropped into a chair to watch. "Being routed now, Master," Obi-Wan informed him.

Master Qui-Gon straightened up diligently at the same time as a blue hologram flickered to life on the panel facing him. "Master Plo," he greeted it with a lot more pleasantry than I'd heard from him in days.

"Master Qui-Gon," the holographic Plo Koon returned. "I was beginning to wonder when we would hear from you."

"I regret that I have been delayed in sending this report," Qui-Gon sighed. "Things have taken a turn for the worse, Plo. We have had to flee Takra and are hiding out in Ba'nom."

The holograph did not twitch, but Plo sounded quite surprised. "You have had to flee? What could have possibly happened on Daramin? I thought it was a peaceful and bland assignment."

"I wish that were so." The Master gestured to his Padawan, and Obi-Wan tapped a few more keys. "I'm transmitting the full report to you now, but I'm afraid no one on the Council will be able to read it until I return in person. As a precaution, I had it written in code. Stacey is the key to the code, and will translate it entirely when we get to Coruscant."

"Are such precautions necessary?" Plo's voice crackled over the long-range transmission.

"Indeed. There was a break-in, and a copy of the file was stolen."

"Interesting." Plo reached for something just out of range of the emitter that scanned him for the hologram, briefly giving him the appearance of having his left hand cut off. "I have it. In code, you say? We will wait for your return, then. Is there anything that must be reported now?"

"I can give you a summary of our findings," Qui-Gon said with a nod. "First, however, I must make an urgent request that you send support with the next team. One pair of Jedi Knights chosen at random will not be enough any longer. They will need help, so that they can more effectively cover the entire planet."

"The team was to be dispatched this evening. I'm not sure there is time to raise support to accompany them."

"You must," Qui-Gon insisted. "Last night an unknown assailant tracked Obi-Wan and Stacey while they were out on a walk. Threats have been made to us. The security droid which monitored quarters in Takra is out of commission. As much as I would like to trust that things on Daramin will settle down, I expect they will not, and the team will need backup."

Plo's voice became more serious. "I see. I will round up a second pair of Jedi, whoever can be spared to leave at a moment's notice. This certainly will be an interesting report, Qui-Gon..."

A quiet rumble somewhere in the distance got my attention, then; glancing at the windows, I noticed that the sky had clouded over. I decided the rest of the transmission would be less exciting than Master Plo seemed to think it was and snuck out of my chair, trying not to make a sound as I ducked into the hallway and out through one of the back doors to the courtyard. A blast of moist, hot air met me, a dramatic change from the artificially-cooled interior. Far off to what I guessed was the east side of the little square of sky I could see framed by the roof's edge, great white towers of thunderheads thrust up into the blue, but overhead and to the opposite horizon, a wall of dark clouds slowly advanced over Ba'nom. I skirted around the courtyard perimeter via the porch, in case there were any stray sindi beetles in the grass below, and leaned up against one of the posts to watch the lightning beginning to flicker high above.

The storm's gust front passed over, lightning and thunder invaded, and the rain came pouring down in huge drops before any Jedi came outside to join me. Both of them stepped out onto the courtyard porch, one after the other, looking up curiously at the ferocious downpour currently turning the yard to mud. I smiled at them as they came around to where I stood. "Thunderstorm," I noted.

"I see that," Qui-Gon said good-naturedly.

"All finished with your report?" I wondered. "What did Master Plo have to say?"

The Master glanced up as lightning strobed above us. "Just that the matter would be brought up to the entire Council as soon as possible, and meanwhile we should get ourselves safely off Daramin one way or another."

"We'll have to find transport ourselves, Master," Obi-Wan interjected. "We cannot go back to Takra to catch a flight, and since the team will be left off here to be briefed, we need to find a way to leave from here."

"I will take care of that tomorrow, among other things," Qui-Gon assured. "There are a few orders and citations we must issue before we leave, and that can be done from here as well as anywhere. Not to mention, I expect the chieftain will want to say farewell at some point."

"You better tell him what happened to us," I teased, "so he doesn't have to go around being all cryptic anymore."

Both of them chuckled knowingly at that, and settled in to watch the storm pass over with me. The best thunder had already gone by, though, so it wasn't long before we headed inside for a late meal and an evening of not needing to keep watch for enemies. Assurance was made that security in this laid-back part of the world had been taken care of, but I didn't understand why, unless something had been arranged while I was out on the porch. To my immediate knowledge, all we had was the lock on the door.

The rain lasted all night, I could hear it drumming steadily on the roof through my sleep, a reassuring sound that made me smile as I tossed and turned on the sleep couch. I had contemplated sleeping outside in a hammock, but the rain and the occasional growl of thunder made me think twice. My companions let me sleep in; it was quite late in the morning when I finally roamed down the hall to find food and company and they were already busy. This house in this city was one of only three at our disposal that had the complete communications array needed for the Jedi to make calls to anywhere on the planet as well as into deep space, all the more reason for us to seek refuge here. I padded back and forth between the kitchen and the sitting room most of the day, periodically glancing out the windows because it made me feel safer, even though I expected to see nothing unusual. After the third or fourth look-about, I noticed something and went up behind Obi-Wan while he sat organizing files on a datapad. "That's kind of odd..."

"What is?" he asked without looking up.

"There's a warrior standing out on the corner...but I think I saw him earlier today. I don't think he's moved from that spot."

Still keeping his eyes on his work, Obi-Wan smiled crookedly. "Master Qui-Gon told you security was taken care of, did he not?"

"Ahh..." I took a sip from the glass of juice I had been carrying around with me. "Nice."

Qui-Gon himself was over at the communicator again, fielding an audio-only transmission of some kind. His voice arose in the silence. "That won't take you too far out of your way, will it?"

"Not too far, no," a cool, masculine voice responded. "I am scheduled to make a stop on Nal Hutta, so I will have time to make it to your location."

"That will do just fine, thank you. The Jedi Order will see to it you're compensated appropriately."

"I need nothing," the voice smoothly demurred. "Appealing to my sense of honor is reason enough, Master Jedi. But aren't there specific laws about landing on Daramin?"

"Ordinarily," Qui-Gon explained, leaning closer to the communicator, "you would have to land only in the spaceport in Takra. But as I have said, things are unsettled and we've had to leave there."

"Then, how am I to pick you up?"

"This is an emergency, and the Jedi have emergency powers. By the authority given me in the treaties of Daramin, I will supercede planetary authority and give you permission to land your ship in a place of my choosing. There is a large enough landing strip in the equatorial city of Ba'nom. Meet us there in two days."

"Two days. The Darkstar is at your service. Captain Demilla out."

Qui-Gon terminated the signal and slumped back in his chair with a long sigh. "Does that mean we have a ride?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered. "And that should be the last of this business, at least until the team arrives in two days." He lifted weary eyes to me. "I'm sorry that this mission didn't turn out like we expected, and we could not spend as much time with you as we wished."

"It's okay," I shrugged, stepping closer to him. "Something tells me we'll make up for it when we get back to Coruscant."

The Master's eyes flicked briefly in the direction of Obi-Wan before re-settling on me. "It looks like the rain has stopped. We could go into the courtyard and practice your forms."

Physical exertion did not appeal to me at the moment. I scrunched up my face. "Maybe you and Obi-Wan need the practice more than I do. In case anyone gets past those Be'a'lai warriors."

Fortunately, he got the hint before I had to come up with any actual logic to back my position, and I got to sit aside and watch a series of magnificent lightsaber drills out in the yard. The space was limited, and a few swings came dangerously close to leaving burn-marks on posts and eaves, but Qui-Gon insisted it was good to learn to control their movements in case they ever found themselves needing to fight in close quarters. My attention remained riveted on them, memorizing moves and taking to heart every small piece of advice or command the Master threw out to keep his Padawan on his toes. Just because he wasn't going to teach me lightsaber combat didn't mean I couldn't learn from him regardless.

The next day involved much of the same, sitting, eating, and watching from the outside as the Jedi continued to work, though each of them stole what moments he could with me, no matter how brief. Neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan would make any sort of move but platonic while in the presence of the other, but any time I found myself alone with one of them, he became instantly affectionate, trying to get in an embrace or a touch quickly lest the other find out. At least, that was the impression I got from such secretive, hurried encounters. The dance became particularly obvious at night, when each made a point to take me aside to say good night as far from the notice of the other as possible. I didn't call them on it, though. Qui-Gon said we would talk about it when we were back safe on Coruscant, so I didn't feel like pressing the issue too soon.

Before nightfall, we had a visitor, who had been anticipated but not expected. The wizened little chieftain came to our door alone, and was ushered inside with great respect. He waved off Qui-Gon's offers of hospitality. "This will not take long," he assured. "You are leaving soon? Your stay on Daramin is at an end."

"We should be off the planet tomorrow," the Master affirmed. "I wanted to take a moment to thank you for your assistance, from the night we feasted with you to the warriors stationed on watch outside our quarters now." He bowed very deeply as he said this.

The chieftain accepted his reverence with a slow nod. "The Be'a'lai have always been allies and brothers to the Jedi, from the time before our homeworld failed us. I see no reason to stop the tradition now."

Qui-Gon let a faint hint of a smile lift the corner of his mouth. "I can say with first-hand confidence, your suspicions were correct. Many under the protection of the Homeworld Alliance have nothing but ill feelings toward the Jedi, and are trying to get us to leave or be removed from Daramin."

"I trust that due to your diligence, such a thing will not happen?" the chieftain queried seriously. "Fools should not be given the freedom to do as they like when their actions affect not only themselves but many others, many who see things differently than they."

"I have done what I can," the Master said. "The rest will be in the hands of the Jedi Council, the Senate, and teams of Jedi Knights to come. If I may ask one more thing of your grace...?" The chieftain nodded wordlessly. "If the resources of the Be'a'lai were continued to be made available to the team landing here tomorrow, it would be an enormous help to all the Jedi."

"Done and done," the elderly chieftain agreed. "Go with the blessings of our people, Qui-Gon Jinn, and inform your Council that should need arise, the Be'a'lai will make treaties apart from the rest of the Homeworld Alliance to support the Jedi. Our word will not be broken by the others on this planet."

The faint smile grew brighter. "I trust that such a treaty will not be necessary, but I will mention it nonetheless. Thank you, Chieftain. It has been an honor to serve your people."

*****

Very early the following morning, a low roar pulled me out of sleep, though I was disappointed to look out the window and find the sun shining brightly through the trees. Not thunder, I mentally grumbled, and rolled back over to try to go back to sleep. When I got up, I found out it had been a ship coming in to land at the Ba'nom strip across the city, for Obi-Wan stopped me as I came out of my room. "The new team of Jedi is here," he warned me in a hushed voice. "You might want to get dressed first, and get ready to leave."

"Gotcha." I reversed course and closed myself back in my room for a bit, just to get into my traveling clothes and make sure every last item of clothing and personal interest was stowed where it belonged in my bag. Carrying everything out with me, I stole surreptitiously into the main room and eyed our growing force while I deposited the baggage near the door. Four new brown robes stood with Qui-Gon, belonging to four strangers: a human, an Iktotchi, and two beings I had never seen before. One was sleek and furry, the other green-skinned with numerous tentacles or lobes like Twi'lek lekku fanned around his face. By the serious looks on all faces I guessed they were well into the briefing, but the Master took a moment to introduce me to them. I just murmured a timid, "hi," before making myself scarce.

I overestimated the time needed to bring the new team and its support - the Iktotchi and the green-skinned guy - up to speed on the complex and unsettling situation on Daramin, and consequently was surprised when Obi-Wan found me and told me it was time to go. Despite our inactivity, the past few days had passed too quickly for me, and I privately whined about not being ready to say goodbye. I could only really stand on the porch and look around at the simple houses shaded by broad-leafed tropical trees, and take a deep breath of the flower-scented air, to conclude my journey on Daramin. All of the other fantastic places I had left were long gone, and I had nothing but my journal by which to remember them. Movement behind me broke me out of my reverie; Obi-Wan had picked up my bag and shouldered it, leaving me free to carry only my painting and my fighting stick. The Iktotchi Knight walked out on the front porch with us, assuring Qui-Gon that everything was well in hand. "Kit and I did some extra research on the Common Council's history, among other things," he said in his rich, growly way, "and we feel more than prepared to counter anything this Executor wishes to throw at us."

"If you have any trouble, the Be'a'lai are always available to help," Master Qui-Gon added, nodding his head vaguely to indicate the warriors stationed casually at the corners of the street. "They may be somewhat self-important but they do know what needs to be done, and they esteem the Jedi highly."

"An excellent advantage," the Iktotchi smiled. "We will be anxious to hear your report on how the Senate takes your story."

"I will let you know as soon as I can, especially if it changes anything about the sectorial representative's intended visit."

Their colleague bowed deeply. "Safe journey. May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you, also," Qui-Gon returned, likewise bowing, as did Obi-Wan, while I just nodded my head. Together we stepped off the porch and started away, and with that, the mission on Daramin came to an end. Matters were now in someone else's hands, for the most part - the coded report notwithstanding - and the unenviable task of sorting out the mess with the government that Qui-Gon had left them fell to the double team who expected spend another day or two in Ba'nom getting acquainted with the piles of reports and paperwork. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan did not look back, but I did, silently wishing the Jedi well and wanting one last look at the house where we had spent some good quality nights. A bend in the road and a waving tree branch soon hid it from my sight.

We had almost reached the great field that served as Ba'nom's landing strip when a muffled burst of noise high above us caught my attention in time to watch the great hulk of a ship pass over, maneuver into an about-face, and descend lazily toward the tree-tops. Obi-Wan glanced casually at his Master. "A converted blockade runner? Just who is this pilot you've hired?"

"The only one passing anywhere near us that I could contact," Qui-Gon replied with a smirk, "who would take us on for what I offered him."

The Padawan's face twitched with an ill-suppressed grin. "Should be an interesting journey."

The ship had landed and thrust out its boarding ramp by the time we passed through the last thicket of trees and came upon the grassy landing field, and as we came into sight, a figure materialized from the shadowed docking entrance and meandered down the ramp. His stature and chiseled face showed him to be human, albeit a tall one, his eye level almost even with Master Qui-Gon's. His apparel was tough-looking and cut to impress - skin-tight leather pants, a sleeveless shirt, all black, with heavily-buckled boots and thick leather vambraces buckled from his wrists up to mid-bicep. He was trim and built, powerful muscles in his chest and arms straining to be set free. A long mane of auburn hair fell down his back and teased wildly over his eyes, which sized all three of us up in one sweep as the Master bowed very slightly to him. "Captain Yon Demilla, I presume?"

"Yes," the captain replied, and I recognized his voice from the transmission. Despite being with my particular companions, I thought to myself that he was pretty hot. "Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and our archivist, Stacey."

Demilla cracked a small smile. "And this is the Darkstar." He held up a hand to show off the long, narrow ship with its big rear engines and dark gray hull. "Everything's in order, if you just want to board and get out of here."

"That would be wonderful," Qui-Gon said, his relief not entirely hidden behind his inscrutable exterior. "Your timing is impeccable."

"Don't worry, I didn't rush here on your account," the captain snorted as he stalked back up the ramp ahead of us. "I'm always willing to take on Jedi, though. Haven't done it in a while, but then, Jedi don't tend to hang out in the places I go."

Obi-Wan was the last one up, and the ramp began to whir noisily closed behind him. "You're a freighter captain?" he asked.

"Independent," Demilla affirmed. "My crew and I are willing to go places no one else will go, for fear of smugglers and pirates, but I'm not afraid. I grew up on Nar Shaddaa, smugglers don't bother me. And the Darkstar is more than a match for any pirate's ship." He led us up two decks and forward to the cockpit, which was perched high on the ship's elongated nose. A furry creature with a long snout and another crewman were already inside, snapping switches and muttering ship-things to each other. "I've only got one crew cabin to spare for you," Captain Demilla went on as the engines thrummed to life. "Shouldn't be more than a couple days' journey to the Core, though. I have cargo bound for Ando but it isn't time-sensitive."

"Good, then we shouldn't delay you much at all," Qui-Gon said, curtly but politely. "If you will show us to quarters, we will settle in for the takeoff."

"As you wish, Master Jedi." The captain turned and strode off, taking one of the side corridors down to a different part of the ship.

I leaned aside to Obi-Wan as we walked. "Not bad."

The Padawan cocked an eyebrow at me. "Does this mean we have competition?"

"What? Hardly," I snorted. "No comparison at all."

*****

I was sitting uneasily on the edge of the lone sleep couch in our tiny crew cabin when I felt the slight lurch in the pit of my stomach that told me the ship had reached escape velocity and artificial gravity had kicked in. We were off the planet, and in minutes would be entering hyperspace - I knew as much despite my relative inexperience with space travel. The two Jedi had remained with me in quarters until this point, casually going over the itinerary for how quickly we would make Coruscant and what needed to be done upon arriving, but Qui-Gon now drifted to the door to indicate that we were free to roam. The cabins and crew lounge were on an upper deck, while below us lay the transport modules-turned-cargo hold. Obi-Wan was in the middle of a discourse about converting corvettes like this one into freight haulers when the captain met us in the corridor, having come from seeing his ship into hyperspace and now able to give his unexpected passengers some attention. I stood aside listening in mingled curiosity and amusement as he compared notes with the Padawan on the ship's conversion and specifics, though I didn't understand most of it and after a while didn't much care what model hyperdrive it had. Qui-Gon appeared to share my growing disinterest, so we left them and toured the ship ourselves, sticking to the upper deck's long, curving corridors. A crew of eight kept the Darkstar thrumming perfectly through hyperspace, though only half of them were actually at the controls - the other four were hired hands who did most of the grunt work in the cargo holds, and we found them in the crew lounge swarmed around a little round table. As they looked up and greeted us, I felt an old thrill I hadn't felt in a long time - the surge of happy familiarity at something I recognized from Star Wars. They were playing dejarik.

Introductions were passed around, and Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at the furry creature seated between humans. "It's unusual to see two Bothans on the same crew of someone else's ship."

The Bothan (who I tried not to stare at, eager as I was to see one of the creatures who filled the classic line, "Many Bothans died to bring us this information"), gave him a smile that showed his teeth. "We're brothers. Your move, Jek."

"I know," one of the men grumbled.

Nodding at them, Qui-Gon decided to continue our walk. I hurried to stay at his side. "So...are you going to ask the captain if there's room in the cargo hold to train?"

"Perhaps," he simply answered. "If we can't find anything else to occupy us on the journey." We had briefly talked about the idea while on Daramin, but it was hard to speculate without knowing the size of the ship until we saw it. Qui-Gon smiled down at me as we paced slowly back along the corridor toward the cockpit. "You're anxious about something."

"I'm just excited to be on a ship again," I shrugged. "I'm still not quite used to it - especially when there are non-humans around."

"Yes, two Bothans and a Zabrak," the Master noted. I didn't recall seeing a Zabrak, though. We came upon the cockpit and Captain Demilla at the same time, and Qui-Gon nodded to him. "And a Chalactan, if I'm not mistaken."

Demilla smiled coolly and folded his arms over his broad, muscled chest. "How did you know, Master Jedi?"

"The tattoos on your hands, though your bracers almost hide them."

I peered at him, but it wasn't until he lifted a hand and flexed his fingers that I noticed the small blue diamonds on his knuckles, just under the edge of his strapping black vambraces. The captain looked humbly away from the Master's gaze. "They do tell the truth, don't they? Maybe now you don't wonder why I agreed to transport you."

"You have my gratitude, and whatever you ask of the Order upon our landing," Qui-Gon promised, bobbing his head in a semi-effective bow. Obi-Wan came up behind the captain, then, and his Master glanced briefly his way. "Captain, are any of your cargo holds empty enough to permit my apprentice and I to practice lightsaber drills during the flight?"

Demilla quirked one elegant eyebrow. "Practice, eh?"

"It keeps us in shape," Qui-Gon said with a cool smile.

"Most of the holds are full, but I think Number Four may have some space, if that's what you wish," Demilla said. "Everything on my ship is do-it-yourself, I don't keep much of a schedule except shipping deadlines. You and your apprentice clearly know your way around Corellian corvettes, so I don't need to show you where to go."

We thanked him again, and returned to our cabin to consult or, in my case, relax. Stretching out on the bunk, I listened to my companions discuss how many hours this and what intentions that until the subject of sleep came up. "It looks like we're relegated to taking shifts again," Qui-Gon said bemusedly, looking down at me. I gave him an insolent grin in response - I was quite comfortable already.

"I think I know who gets the first shift," Obi-Wan teased, shooting me a droll look out of the corner of his eyes.

"I slept in," I disagreed. "Sort of. I'm not tired."

"Perhaps then we should get to work translating the report from your writing to text," the Master suggested.

I closed my eyes. "On second thought..."

A few hours passed uneventfully aboard the Darkstar. Captain Demilla - who insisted I call him Yon - wandered down from the cockpit now and again since he had a co-pilot who could handle the simple matter of keeping an eye on the flight. That was the Zabrak, who I did not get to meet until his captain spelled him at the controls in order to let him get something to eat. Short horns poked up from his thick mane of dark hair, which was tied back at his neck. I was also astonished to run into an astromech droid - literally - in the corridor outside cargo hold Four when the Jedi went down to check out how much space was available for working out. It whistled and spluttered at me before trundling away to another part of the ship, and I stood there watching it go, grinning from ear to ear. There was plenty to observe on the ship, plenty of Star Wars references to remind me where I was, such that I became tired well before I could become bored. The Jedi cared nothing for great bragging stories of exploits in the freight business, but Yon found a ready audience in me, and told me a few fascinating things about Hutt space and pirates while I watched him thoroughly trounce his Bothan engineer at dejarik. Before too long I was yawning, though, and Qui-Gon caught me when he and Obi-Wan emerged from quarters, where they had sequestered themselves for private meditation. "Did we not expect you to be the first one to drop?" the Master chuckled.

I stifled my yawn and looked up at him, unimpressed. "I'm getting there. How was your meditation?"

"Fruitful," Qui-Gon replied, in that way that hinted to me that that was all he was going to say about it. I didn't understand why they desired to meditate without me, but I tried not to let it bother me, since in the back of my mind I knew things needing to be discussed were building. Better that we saved it for private quarters at home rather than a ship full of strangers. Qui-Gon seemed weary, but pleasant enough. "What have you been up to?"

"Not much. Sitting here, mostly. Captain Yon's been telling me stories."

With a roar, one of the captain's dejarik pieces ate the last remaining piece of his opponent. The Bothan sighed tersely. "Sorry, old friend," Demilla laughed. "Yes, it's been a while since anyone has been this interested in my sordid history. I couldn't resist."

"Just remember, always cut the number of adversaries in half, and estimate the 'nick of time' to be about twice as long as he tells you it is," Obi-Wan dryly offered.

Yon held a hand to his chest and rolled his eyes at the Padawan, feigning offence. I snickered at them. The captain then held out a hand to the seat across from him, which his engineer had hurriedly vacated. "Perhaps you would like to settle the matter of my truthfulness over a game of dejarik? Or don't Jedi play?"

Obi-Wan smiled in that way that made his eyes gleam with mischief. "On the contrary." He gathered his robe and slid into the seat. "Master Qui-Gon has beaten me on a number of occasions at the game. He says it teaches the mind to calculate strategy and evaluate your opponent, much as in combat."

Captain Demilla sat up eagerly at being presented with this new opponent. Much as I wanted to stay and watch the match, however, my eyes were starting to get heavy and my brain fuzzy. "Let me know who wins," I implored with another yawn, "and maybe Master Qui-Gon can play him later."

"Come, let me see you to quarters," Qui-Gon said, leaving the subject of his dejarik skills untouched. I permitted him to lead me away from the lounge with just one gentle hand on my back, even though deep down I wished I could stay and watch what would certainly be a game worth witnessing.

Once safe inside quarters, I kicked off my shoes and dug a long-sleeved shirt out of the bag to use as sleepwear. Qui-Gon waited outside for me to change, and then came in and stood quietly watching as I lowered myself onto the bunk and stretched out with an indulgent sigh. I lifted my eyes to him, to his restrained look of longing, and murmured, "If you're tired too, maybe I can make room for you."

The Master closed his eyes briefly. "You understand what I want."

"I can feel how exhausted you are, how much this mission has taken out of you." It was true. The omnipresent Force told me, and I hardly batted an eye at how easily sensing his mind came to me. I no longer had to exert myself to get the Force to respond to me, though I didn't think about it at the time. "It sucks that the accommodations won't let all of us get our rest at the same time, but if you're that tired, I'm sure there's something we can do." I laced my hands together and tucked them beneath my head, smirking up at him. "Of course, if you don't want to try to squeeze into this bunk with me, there's always the floor."

Qui-Gon looked at the closed door for a moment, as if looking beyond it to where the crew went about their business and his apprentice played games with the captain, and let a deep breath sigh slowly out. "I guess that's an offer I can't refuse," he said quietly, shrugging out of his robe. I sat back up while he removed belt and lightsaber, and set his boots neatly side-by-side beneath the table where all our belongings lay. When he was ready, he sat down beside me, and then stretched himself to his full length with his back against the wall. I reached to switch off the light and then lay down on the narrow half of the bunk left to me, turning my back to him in order to fit both of us. His arm fell down over my waist, and after a moment, pulled me tightly to him. I felt his other hand gently comb my hair out of his way, and then his bristled cheek nestled against my neck, his breath tickling me where it grazed my skin. I purred happily and settled into his comfortable embrace, my eyes closing already and the haze of sleep creeping into my mind. The last thing I was conscious of was Qui-Gon's hand grasping lightly at my arm, keeping me wrapped up safely beside him, and his feet subtly intertwining with mine.

I must have been dreaming about thunderstorms, for I shot awake when a crack of lightning hit too close. My eyes registered only darkness, but within seconds I heard Qui-Gon behind me growl, "Up, get up!" My heart still pounding from the dream or the imagined severe storm crashing around me, I leaped to my feet and reeled for a moment. No, it wasn't a storm, but something made the air around us throb with danger. Qui-Gon slapped the switch for the light and darted for his boots and robe.

The door slid open and Obi-Wan practically barreled inside, calling, "Master!" as he did. Seeing that we were both up, he continued breathlessly, "Come to the cockpit."

Qui-Gon swept his belt off the table. "What is it?"

"We've run into some trouble," his apprentice answered.

They both rushed out of the cabin, the Master buckling his belt on as he strode up the corridor. Groggy and shaking from the sudden jolt to consciousness, I wedged my feet into my shoes and jogged up after them, wanting to know what was going on before I decided whether I needed to panic. The cockpit was full of people, and a sensor of some kind buzzed insistently above the noise of several voices talking all at once. Yon Demilla stood hunched over the main console, between his copilot and engineer, while another crewmember manned a station nearer to the back of the cockpit. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood shoulder-to-shoulder just inside the door, waiting for a moment to interrupt. Yon glanced over his shoulder just as I came in. "Master Qui-Gon. Sorry to wake you with all this."

"What's happening?" Qui-Gon demanded.

The ship rocked at that instant, forcing me to brace my hands against the doorway. "A ship just knocked us out of hyperspace," the captain answered as calmly as he could. "We're under attack."

Okay, I can panic now. I remained just in the doorway, though, wanting to stay out of the way in case my heroes were called to action.

More alarms sounded, one after another, and Demilla seized his Bothan engineer by the collar of his jacket and yanked him out of the seat. "Go down and see what that's about!" he barked. "We can't afford to lose power! Status of the shields?"

"We need more power to aft shields," the Zabrak told him as the engineer burst past me and ran down the corridor. "Where's R3?"

"Last I saw, replacing the power coupling on top deck," the man nearest me said.

"Well, go clamp him down and plug him into the interface!" Yon snapped at him. "I need to get a read on that ship!" He slid into the pilot's seat and got to work, flipping switches to put up the main viewer. Nothing but stars could be seen out the front ports of the cockpit itself.

"Do you have any idea who could be trying to shoot you down?" Qui-Gon asked when there was a moment of relative quiet.

Demilla chuckled mirthlessly under his breath. "Well, Master Jedi, I hate to admit it but, in this line of work, you tend to make enemies whether you want to or not." He reached for another console, turning just enough that I could see the grim look on his angular face. "I don't think it's pirates. Their..." The ship pitched horribly to the left, and this time we could hear the sound of weapons fire exploding along the hull. Demilla righted us before finishing his statement. "Their weapons are too powerful. This sector isn't known for pirate ambushes anyway." He punched at a button and yelled into the console, "Have you got R3 hooked up yet?"

"Just a second!" a voice crackled over the intercom. "There!"

"R3, I need a reading on the ship behind us," Yon directed, less frantically. "What is it?"

He paused and stared at a panel before him, breathing hard, until glowing letters erupted on it. Whatever it said made him curse under his breath. "What?" the copilot wondered.

"It's a Star Courier," the captain muttered.

"Uh oh."

"The only brigand out here I know who can afford a..."

An all-new and rather terrifying alarm blared out from the ship, interrupting him. Obi-Wan leaped to the console to see what it was. "We're losing power," he urgently reported. "There's a problem with the reactor."

"We can't lose the shields!" Demilla fretted through gritted teeth.

The engineer burst back into the cockpit, asking, "Do either of you know anything about fixing ships?"

The two Jedi traded a solemn look, before Obi-Wan wordlessly straightened up from the console and strode away with the engineer. I watched him disappear around a corner, already worrying that he was going somewhere that would get him hurt for the sake of trying to save the ship.

Qui-Gon saw me standing there and stared, yearning to ask me what I was doing there, but Captain Demilla spoke at that moment. "All right, this isn't getting us anywhere. They call these things blockade runners, let's see her run. Everybody, hold on!" His hands fell on the steering shaft, and his effortless yank sent the ship rolling sharply to starboard. The viewscreen popped awake with the image of a long, sleek ship with a needle nose and wide rear engines that looked vaguely akin to the Sith Infiltrator I remembered seeing screaming over Tatooine. Golden bolts of energy peppered us from its forward-mounted gun ports as we flew headlong toward it and then ducked underneath it, much as Obi-Wan had once done to escape a similar ship. The viewscreen had a lock on our assailant, for even as we continued forward into the inky depths of space, it remained focused on the other ship, allowing us to watch as it swung deftly about and began to pursue us.

I edged toward Qui-Gon, my hand closing on his arm. "Master...?"

He could only set his hand on mine in comfort, and look away, his eyes hard. "Captain, who is that? Why are they attacking?"

"Someone I crossed not too long ago," Demilla muttered. "He's way out of his territory, though."

"I told you he would come after you," the Zabrak hissed. "It doesn't matter where in the galaxy you are!"

On the viewscreen we saw the Courier open fire again, but the blasts fell wide as Captain Demilla steered us into a series of evasive moves, pivoting the corvette on all three axes to avoid further damage to the aft shields. A shudder passed through the ship, and immediately the intercom fuzzed to life. "Master," we all heard Obi-Wan say, "I need you down here. I can't do this by myself!"

"I'm on my way," Qui-Gon responded, pausing only to lay his hand firmly on my shoulder and look into my eyes before pushing past me and hurrying off down the corridor. I was now alone with the captain and copilot, and they had an awful lot in their hands at the moment.

Demilla had one eye on the interface panel from his R3 droid, and an open channel relayed his orders. "Reroute all shield power to aft. Divert power to the hyperdrive couplings. What do you mean there's not enough? Divert all available main power, I don't care where you get it from as long as it's not shields! Is anyone manning the guns?"

"Dabber should be," the copilot said worriedly, reaching for switches. His hand faltered. "Oh no."

"What?" Yon snapped.

"The guns are gone."

"What?" The captain's voice hushed fearfully. "Don't tell me..."

"It must have been one of the first blasts," the Zabrak stammered, "before the shields went up. They took out weapons. We have no way to defend ourselves."

I shrank into the wall, and then into the seat back by the rear consoles, starting to unconsciously grab for the safety harness. Demilla never wavered in his piloting, successfully diverting us away from any further blaster fire, but the Courier was steadily gaining on us. An attempt to return to hyperspace fizzled out, leaving us still at the mercy of a speedy Star Courier, with rapidly failing shields. At last, the captain simply pushed the throttle forward in an attempt to outdistance our pursuer while he reached for another instrument panel. "We'll have to jettison cargo to get more speed. We have to outrun him, at least until R3 or the Jedi can get the hyperdrive back."

"I don't think...captain!" the copilot yelped, pointing at the viewscreen.

The view ahead of us was still nothing but stars, but the screen showing what was behind us gave a sickening view. Instead of laser cannon blasts, a single stabbingly-bright beacon was gliding toward us, growing larger as it approached. There was an explosion, a vision of flames along the hull, and the viewscreen went dark. Demilla clutched at the stick to keep his ship from spiraling out of control. Once he leveled us off, he gave his copilot a dark look. "We're in trouble."

"We have to put down," the Zabrak insisted, "or at least get to a planet where we can mount some kind of escape. Where are we?"

"We dropped out of hyperspace in the Outer Rim. R3, what have we got? R3? Blast!"

The astromech droid did not respond. I looked wildly around me, and then hesitantly offered, "Show me what you use to look up navigation and I'll do it."

"No, stay where you are," Demilla quickly said. "It's all right, I'll run a scan."

The alarms still rang and the ship still quaked uncertainly as we flew straight ahead, but for the moment no more weapons fire was forthcoming. The rear sensors that gave us the view of our pursuer had been knocked out, so Yon and his crew only had the forward array by which to see in all directions. Any minute now and the Courier could shoot another torpedo at us, I anxiously thought, and poof. No more adventures in Star Wars World. I clenched my jaw stubbornly to keep tears out of my eyes, but I was scared to death and selfishly wished the Jedi were not down in the engine room trying to keep us alive.

Captain Demilla's voice broke the terse silence. "There's a planet coming up on the scans." He reached over and flipped a few switches, bringing an image onto the viewscreen. A russet-gold globe spun into the scan's range, getting closer and closer with each passing second. "There," the captain exclaimed. "Perfect. We can try to put down there before they shoot us down."

The copilot looked up at the screen, and then down at the controls in front of him. His face suddenly hardened. "Oh no. No, we can't land there. We'd be better off dead in space."

I looked at him strangely. Yon waved a hand at him. "I have allies there. We can get help. As long as we land in the right place, of course - here." He tapped some coordinates into what I assumed was the navicomputer. "We have to try to put the ship down as close to here as possible. Anywhere else and we may as well crash and burn." He then swiveled his chair and looked at me over his shoulder. "This is going to be a rough landing. You might want to get back to your quarters where it's safe and strap in. Brace yourself."

I nodded mutely and dashed out of the cockpit.

Our quarters were located far at the opposite end of the ship from the cockpit, and getting there turned out to be less easy than I thought. In the corridors, every lurch and wiggle of the ship could be felt exponentially worse, and I found myself reeling back and forth into the walls. I finally made myself cling to one wall and inched along it, making a short dash in between jostles. You could also hear the blasts better outside the cockpit, and for a moment I crouched in an intersecting corridor to fight down my fear at the sound. God, I don't want to die, I inwardly whimpered. Not like this. Not so far from home where no one will ever know what happened to me! I thought I heard a voice deep inside, saying "Fear is the path to the Dark Side," but I couldn't tell whose it was. Swallowing my panic and clenching my hands into fists to stop them from shaking, I edged back into the main corridor and slid along the wall to keep from being knocked off my feet by the plummeting and weaving of the ship, which felt like it had grown much more frantic. I didn't think of it at the time, but it was remarkable that a ship that size could weave so agilely that it felt like a small car on the highway. Then came the ferocious, savage, terrifying roar of an extremely large explosion, and the corridor was plunged into darkness.

I was no more than halfway to our crew cabin. My groping hands found a panel on the wall beside me, but even though buttons yielded beneath my fingers, none of them worked. Grimacing at nothing in the black void pressing in all around me, I clutched at the wall and found it easy to lean into it for stability - only because the ship was tilted in that direction. A dread calm overtook me, in spite of being crouched in the ship's middle, alone, naked of protection, unable to move, while the whole corvette began to rumble and vibrate. I breathed in and the Force met me, wrapping itself around and inside me. Master, I projected into it, I'm okay. Be safe. A strange, low whine crept into my hearing, growing steadily louder, and the ship lurched drunkenly as another force of gravity took it into possession. I closed my eyes and braced myself against the wall, but another explosion ripped through the corvette and I thought I was falling, falling endlessly, never hitting the bottom...and then my thoughts fled and I remembered nothing more.

On to part 54

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