Credo

by Johinsa

Pre-TPM. While Qui-Gon and Obi-wan are on a diplomatic mission, Obi-wan is kidnapped by terrorists.

Credo
by Johinsa

Author's Note: This story was written as a response to a question I asked myself: Can I write a Star Wars story that doesn't involve the Dark Side? The answer, as it turned out, was no. Oh well.

Star Wars and all Star Wars characters and locations and all that other stuff are the property of George Lucas (all hail George Lucas!) and Lucasfilm and so on. I'm not trying to infringe on their copyright or anything--well, I suppose technically I am, but only in a harmless, non-profit, obsessive-fan sort of way. The story itself is mine. Please let me know before archiving; it's fine with me, but I do like to know where my stuff is going. Please give feedback and brighten a lonely author's day.

* * * * *

The soldier glanced at his watch, stifling a yawn. This was the last family on his route that day; if he finished here quickly, he could be home before sunset. Not, he admitted to himself, that that was very likely.

"You can't take her," the father said stubbornly. "I don't care who you are, you can't just walk in here and--"

"I've got my orders," the soldier said, as he had said to four other parents that afternoon.

The father glared at him. "I don't care if your orders come from the First Minister himself," he spat. His wife clutched her husband's sleeve, nervously eyeing the soldier's holstered blaster.

"As a matter of fact," the soldier said, "they do. You know the law. The child's a criminal, and a menace."

"She never hurt nobody," the father protested. "Laska's just a kid. It was just children's games, that's all. She didn't know any better." The child in question, a ten-year-old girl with her black hair in braids, peered up at the soldier from under her mother's arm.

"The law is the law," the soldier told him. "I don't have any more choice here than you do, so arguing with me won't do any good. The only thing you have to decide is how hard you want to make this on yourselves."

"Husband, maybe we should--" the mother began quietly. The father cut her off.

"I'm not giving my daughter to those--those--"

"If we don't he'll just take her! You remember what happened to Callie's son last year. It'll be better if we--" She broke off, her voice choked with the tears she was trying to hold back. Wordlessly she pushed the girl forward.

"You can't do this!" the father shouted, but already the soldier had taken a firm hold on the child's hand and was turning back toward his truck. "You can't do this!"

"It's for the best," the soldier said calmly. The little girl twisted her head around to stare back at her parents. She looked confused, and afraid.

"Be brave, Laska," the mother whispered. "Be brave." The truck's door slammed shut, and its engine roared to life. In moments, it was lost from view.

* * * * *

Obi-wan Kenobi closed the book he'd just finished and set it on top of the small stack beside him. Another, higher pile sat on the far side of the table, as yet unread. With a sigh, he picked up the next one and opened it. His head ached, and the print was an unreadable blur in front of his tired eyes.

"Studying, I see, Obi-wan," Qui-Gon said approvingly from behind him. "Very good."

"Thank you, Master," Obi-wan answered automatically.

Qui-Gon took a seat opposite his apprentice. "What has Master Windu given you to read?" he asked.

Obi-wan grimaced. "I think he just picked these off the shelves at random," he said honestly. "I mean, they don't seem--well, very useful."

"In what way?" Qui-Gon asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I understood that Master Windu gave you a representative sample of the Jedi records."

"He did. That's what I mean. Like this one--" Obi-wan held up the book he'd finished reading a minute ago. "Dealings with the Territory of Ennahr during the Reign of Supreme Chancellor Marak. There hasn't been a Territory of Ennahr for more than a thousand years, and if I need to know something about it I can just ask the records computer."

Qui-Gon steepled his fingers. "It isn't the facts that you should be concerned about, Apprentice," he said. "What's more important is that you should acquire a sense of history. As Jedi, we must take a long-term view at all times when making plans for the future. To truly understand this, you must learn about the far past. It is because of those Jedi that we are here as we are, because they worked to build a lasting, peaceful and prosperous Republic. A Jedi cannot afford to think in terms of one year or one decade or one lifetime. You must acquire an understanding of that. That's why Master Windu has apprentices read these records."

"I see," Obi-wan said slowly. "I think I do, anyway. But couldn't he have picked something a little more relevant?"

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the door chime. "Come in?" he said. Then, with a smile and a seated bow, "Master Yoda."

The wizened old Jedi shuffled into the room. "Qui-Gon," he said by way of greeting. "Apprentice. Glad to find you both here, I am."

"Is something wrong?" Qui-Gon asked.

"No, no." Yoda hopped up onto the sofa and faced the two of them. "Good news this is. Aware of the situation on Cormanda, of course, you are?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "Of course. It's improved, then?" He glanced over at Obi-wan, who was trying (and failing) to hide his confusion. "You don't recall what the situation on Cormanda is, do you, Apprentice?"

"No, I don't," Obi-wan answered dryly, "but I can tell you anything you want to know about trade disputes in the Territory of Ennahr, if you're interested." Qui-Gon let that pass.

"Very much improved the situation has," Yoda told him, ignoring Obi-wan's comment as well. "The leader of the rebels, to negotiate with the Cormanda planetary government has agreed. A Jedi mediator he wants, to ensure that the settlement fair will be."

"That is good news," Qui-Gon agreed with a smile. "I take it you're here because the Council wants me to go?"

"One of our best diplomats you are," Yoda said. That was true enough, Obi-wan reflected; Qui- Gon Jinn had stopped or prevented scores of local disputes before they could erupt into larger conflicts. He had a knack for seeing all sides of a problem, and the Council often called on him to handle sticky diplomatic situations. "If to go you are willing, a ship now waiting is."

"Of course, we accept," Qui-Gon said. Obi-wan grinned, his earlier tiredness falling away as he contemplated several days away from Master Mace Windu's seemingly endless array of records. "We'll be on board within the hour." Yoda nodded, jumped down from the sofa and left the room.

Qui-Gon opened the closet and began to pack a small suitcase. He handed a second one to Obi- wan. "Pack your books," he said. "It'll take the better part of two days to reach Cormanda, and there's no reason for you to fall behind in your studies."

"But--" Obi-wan started to protest, then stopped. It wouldn't do much good to argue, and he didn't want Qui-Gon to think he was being lazy or disobedient. "Yes, Master," he said instead.

The reluctance in his voice was obvious. Qui-Gon frowned and picked up one of the as-yet-unread books: The Influence of the Jedi Code on Republic Traffic-Control Ordinances. "Very well," Qui- Gon said. There was no point in making his apprentice suffer needlessly, after all. "You can leave these until we get back. But I expect you to study them diligently when we return."

"Yes, Master," Obi-wan repeated, sounding much happier. With luck, he thought, this would take a long time.

* * * * *

"Once my apprentice and I have landed safely," Qui-Gon told the pilot as they walked together to the hangar, "I want you to return to orbit rather than staying on the surface. It'll help the negotiations go more smoothly if we don't appear to be in any sort of a hurry."

"Whatever you think best, sir," the pilot answered neutrally. Then, turning, "Master Windu!" She sketched a bow. Qui-Gon nodded his head respectfully at the other Jedi.

"I would like to speak with you, Qui-Gon," Mace Windu said.

"I'm at your disposal, of course," Qui-Gon answered calmly. "Is there a problem?"

"I understand you're taking your apprentice with you on this mission," Mace Windu said, falling into step beside Qui-Gon. "I believe this is unwise." The pilot, sensing that she wasn't part of the conversation, walked faster.

"I can't imagine why," Qui-Gon said, looking at the other Master with surprise. "It isn't as though this is particularly dangerous."

"That was not my concern." Mace Windu folded his hands in the long loose sleeves of his robe. "I will speak plainly to you. I do not believe Obi-wan should be trusted on a mission of this delicacy. During these past few weeks, when I have been instructing him in Jedi history, he has proven to be a most irresponsible boy."

"Obi-wan is hardly a boy," Qui-Gon said drily.

"Perhaps not, but nor is he an adult yet, and the Cormanda situation is unstable. I do not want anything to jeopardize our success."

Qui-Gon bowed, deeply and formally. "As ever, Master Windu, I will be responsible for Obi-wan's conduct." Mace Windu nodded, realizing he would get no more than that. Without any further word, he turned on his heel and left.

* * * * *

"What's happening on Cormanda anyway?" Obi-wan asked. They had taken off some minutes earlier and were now headed away from Coruscant at light-speed. "The computer didn't have much to say about it."

Qui-Gon nodded. "That's not surprising. Cormanda hasn't had much contact with other worlds. As far out from the borders as they are, no-one's bothered with them, and the political situation has made it inadvisable to invite them to join the Republic."

"Are they at war, then?" Obi-wan guessed.

"Not precisely war," Qui-Gon said. "Terrorist activity would be more accurate. A militant group of rebels on the northern continent has been trying to create an independent state, and the planetary government sent in its military forces to try to control them almost immediately. They've been fighting, off and on, for several years now, with neither side ever gaining a clear advantage."

Obi-wan frowned. "And now?"

"We're not sure," Qui-Gon answered. "Apparently a new leader has recently come to power among the rebels, a man named Crayheit Falling Rocks. He seems eager for peace; we can hope he's sincere. It'll help matters enormously if he wants this to succeed."

Not, Obi-wan thought, that it would make much difference if Qui-Gon had to drag both sides to the table by the scruff of their necks. The Council wanted a settlement, and so this would get settled. Aloud, he said, "What about the planet's leader? Does he want peace as well?"

"We'll find out when we get there," Qui-Gon said with a shrug. "I don't know much more about Cormanda's First Minister than his name, but by all accounts Vanner Five Winds is a reasonable man who cares about his people. I hope we'll be able to deal with this matter quickly." He decided not to mention Mace Windu's pessimistic assessment of the situation; Obi-wan didn't need to know his teacher's opinion of him.

"So this Vanner Four Winds--" Obi-wan began.

"Five Winds," Qui-Gon corrected him. "You must be careful of that, Obi-wan. Names are very important to these people; they'll be offended if you make that sort of mistake."

"All right," Obi-wan said, surprised at the intensity of his Master's voice. "I won't."

Qui-Gon settled into silence, and after a few moments Obi-wan shrugged and turned toward the window to watch the blurry stars streak past. There was nothing to do now but wait.

* * * * *

"The Jedi are here, First Minister." The intercom answered something inaudible, and the young secretary glanced up at the two Jedi sitting patiently in front of him. "The First Minister will see you now," he said.

Qui-Gon and Obi-wan entered the office. It was a small room, decorated in the blues and greens that the Cormanda seemed to favour, with one wide window overlooking the city. A semicircle of comfortable chairs faced the window, and in one corner was a desk, occupied. The place wasn't what Obi- wan had expected; the offices of planetary rulers usually tended toward garish opulence, from what he'd seen.

The man at the desk rose to greet them. "Welcome, honoured Jedi. My name is Vanner Five Winds, First Minister of Cormanda." Vanner Five Winds was a man of middle years, tall and brown-haired with a neat mustache. His bearing suggested confidence, but there was a guarded wariness in his smile.

Qui-Gon inclined his head respectfully. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master. This is my apprentice, Obi-wan Kenobi." Obi-wan bowed. "The Council has sent us to discuss peace between the factions of this world.

"And we're grateful to the Jedi Council for doing so." Vanner gestured smoothly at the chairs in front of him. "Please, won't you sit?"

They sat. "I understand you've already begun some preliminary talks with the leader of the northern continent faction?" Qui-Gon asked.

Vanner nodded. "Nothing formal, but a few months ago Crayheit expressed his willingness to open a dialogue. We agreed that third-party mediation was the fairest method. He--"

The intercom chimed softly. An expression of irritation flickered across Vanner's face. "Excuse me." He crossed quickly to his desk. "This had better be important, Tarv," he said in a low voice.

His expression changed slowly to one of anger and disbelief as he listened. "That's impossible! The patrols--what? Well, how did they--well, tell him to find out, then!" Vanner's hands were clenched whitely around the corners of the desk. "No, I don't care! Where's Larif? Tell her--why can't you? Well, that's not my problem! Find her! I--no, idiot, you--be quiet and listen, Tarv! I want Larif found and brought here, and you tell her she'd better have a good explanation or I'll have her head as well as her post!" His finger stabbed down at the desk, cutting off the channel.

When he turned back to the Jedi, his face was calm and composed again. "I'm terribly sorry," he said with an apologetic smile. "It seems a problem has arisen--a matter of incompetence among my subordinates. Quite vexing. It's a minor matter, really, but one that needs to be handled immediately. If you'll excuse me?" There was no trace of it in his voice or his expression, but Obi-wan could feel a trickle of fear emanating from the man. Fear of whatever he had just been told, and of the two Jedi, and--what else?

"Of course," Qui-Gon agreed. Undoubtedly he could sense Vanner's fear as well, but he gave no sign. "We'll wait for you here."

"Yes, yes, certainly." Vanner brushed past their chairs and hurried out of the room.

Qui-Gon looked over at his apprentice. "Well?" he said mildly. "What are your impressions so far?"

"I think he's sincere about wanting the treaty," Obi-wan answered, frowning, "but there was something strange about him. I don't think he's telling us everything."

Qui-Gon smiled briefly. "I think you'll find that politicians rarely do."

"I know, Master, but he seemed afraid of us." Obi-wan shook his head. "I can't figure out why, though."

"You must remember, Cormanda hasn't had much official contact with the Republic," Qui-Gon said. "No doubt they've heard all sorts of distorted stories about the Jedi and what we can do. It's not surprising that the First Minister should be frightened of us."

Obi-wan nodded and settled back in his chair. After a few moments, though, he grew restless and walked over to the window. It was a clear day, and the sun gleamed on the bronze- and silver-coloured rooftops. The Cormanda seemed to use a lot of metal in their construction. "I wonder what First Minister Vanner--"

Qui-Gon's eyes widened abruptly, and Obi-wan gasped as he felt it too: something had just caused a disturbance in the Force, something nearby, within the building. Whatever it was, people had just been killed.

A moment's warning was all they had, a ripple in the Force barely noticeable after the tearing blast of the first disturbance. Both men threw themselves to the floor just as the wall that fronted on the corridor exploded inward.

Obi-wan rolled sideways and was up again in a moment with his lightsaber drawn. Qui-Gon, much closer to the centre of the blast, was struck on the forehead by a chunk of flying masonry and staggered, momentarily disoriented.

Black-uniformed soldiers poured through the gap in the wall. "There's the Jedi!" one shouted. "Get him!"

The air was abruptly filled with the sizzling sound of blaster fire. Qui-Gon drew his lightsaber, wielding it blinding as blood from his head wound dripped into his eyes. Concentrate on the Force. You don't need to see. The attackers didn't seem to notice him--their attention was directed elsewhere--but in the confined space, enough stray shots were reaching him to keep him pinned in the corner. He could feel the sharp, jagged sense of the soldiers' battle rage, the suppressed fear and fierce concentration of his apprentice, the wildly bubbling terror of Vanner's secretary in the outer office.

Then abruptly the sense of Obi-wan spiked sharply and faded. Not dead--Qui-Gon could still feel him faintly--but unconscious, probably hurt. A weapon set on stun, maybe--but why--?

"Move it!" a man's voice shouted.

"But what about--"

"Forget him. We've got the one we came for. Sural, cover us." The blaster fire stopped, except for one soldier, aiming directly at Qui-Gon now. He fielded the blasts without much trouble, despite his impeded vision, but he couldn't move out of the corner he was in without exposing himself, and meanwhile the others were retreating, taking Obi-wan with them.

With a final volley of shots, the last soldier darted through the hole in the wall and disappeared. Qui-Gon struck out with the Force in an attempt to stop him from leaving, but the soldier was already stepping into some sort of transport craft and Qui-Gon's rapidly fading concentration wasn't enough to do more than slow him momentarily. An engine roared to life somewhere outside.

"Honourable Jedi!" Vanner's voice cut through the thickening haze. "Honourable Jedi, sir, the medics are on their way--"

"Go after that ship," Qui-Gon told him through clenched teeth, not caring that he was giving orders to a planetary ruler. "They've taken my apprentice. We must get him back."

"We haven't got any ships in the city to match that lander," Vanner answered. His voice seemed to be fading in and out. "We'll try to cut them off at the border, but--" He didn't sound optimistic. "I think we have to assume they'll reach the North Continent safely."

"My apprentice is on that ship," Qui-Gon said. Had he said that already? It was getting hard to think. "Why would they take Obi-wan? He isn't even--"

"Here he is." Vanner was speaking to someone else. The other voice was a soft mechanical blur. "How should I know? You're the medical droid. Well, fix him! We've already lost one Jedi--I'm not about to tell the Jedi Council we managed to lose two."

Lose? Qui-Gon thought giddily. He's not lost, he's just temporarily misplaced. There was a hiss and a feeling of pressure against his shoulder as the droid injected him with something. Soothing warmth spread through his chest.

"We've lost one?" That was the secretary. "How?"

"The rebels took him. Get out of the way, Tarv, let the medical droid work."

"The rebels? Oh, noo--" Tarv practically wailed. "How are you going to explain this? A dead Jedi "

"He's not necessarily dead." Not necessarily? Qui-Gon thought. His mind was beginning to clear as the antishock medication took effect. "They might not kill him. They might not."

"You believe that?" Tarv asked hopefully. "Really?"

Vanner sighed. It was obvious he thought Qui-Gon couldn't hear. "No. Not really."

* * * * *

Obi-wan opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the glare from above. He was lying on his back on a narrow bunk, looking up at an uncovered lamp. His lightsaber was gone from his belt, but aside from feeling slightly dizzy, he didn't seem to be hurt in any way.

He remembered the attack, remembered trying to fight off the soldiers, being hit by a blaster bolt, and then--what? This didn't look like any sort of medical bay. He had probably been taken prisoner, but why? And where was he now?

"He's awake!" someone called. "Laska! The Jedi's awake!"

Obi-wan sat up and stretched slowly. The young woman who had spoken watched him warily, a wavering blaster held in both her hands and pointed in his general direction. Her short, spiky hair was a startlingly bright green, and she looked frightened. "Laska!" she called over her shoulder. "Hurry! The Jedi's awake!"

"No need to shout, girl." The door opened and an older, grey-haired woman entered the bare room. Despite her age, she looked strong and sternly commanding; it was obvious she was in charge here. She held out her hand and the younger woman passed her the blaster, clearly glad to relinquish it. "He's not going to try anything stupid, are you, Jedi?" Laska looked sharply at Obi-wan.

"No, ma'am," Obi-wan answered, as meekly as he could manage. "Where--" He broke off in a fit of coughing.

"Girl, fetch him some water," Laska ordered, and the younger woman scurried away. "You've been out for nearly twelve hours; it's no surprise you'd be thirsty. I'm afraid Ander's men were a little overenthusiastic. Really, I'm surprised you woke up this soon; you were hit by six or seven stun bolts. Idiots."

The younger woman returned with a clay cup of water, which she gingerly held out toward Laska. "Give it to him, girl," Laska snapped. The young woman set the cup on the edge of Obi-wan's bunk and backed away quickly. Laska frowned at her and she dropped her gaze to the floor, studying her shoes.

Obi-wan took several grateful sips from the cup. The water was flat and warm, but welcome nonetheless. "Thank you," he said when he had finished. "Where is this place?"

"You're on the North Continent," Laska answered. "My name is Laska Smoky Sky, and this spineless little creature is Rian New Leaf." The other woman didn't appear to take any offense at the insult. "And you are?"

"Obi-wan Kenobi, Jedi padawan," he answered, deciding it was best to be cooperative. He was acutely conscious of the danger he was in. "Why have you brought me here?" Probably as a hostage, but he wasn't entirely certain of that. If the rebels knew anything about the workings of the Jedi Council, they should know that the peace settlement wouldn't be allowed to be influenced by this.

"You'll be told what you need to be told in due time," Laska answered. "For now, it's enough for you to know that you'll be here for awhile, and the so-called treaty will not be negotiated."

Obi-wan blinked. "What?" Then it abruptly came clear. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't repress a grin. "I think you might be wrong about that," he said.

"I doubt it," Laska answered. "No Jedi, no treaty. See? It's very simple."

"Yes, but the thing is--the thing is, I'm not the one negotiating the treaty. My Master's the one the Council sent. I'm not even a full Jedi yet."The thought crossed his mind that this might not have been the smartest thing to say; if these people, whoever they were, decided he wasn't worth keeping around--

Laska, though, had jumped to her feet and was shouting something through the door. Obi-wan couldn't make out the words, but the woman sounded angry.

In a few moments, three black-uniformed soldiers entered the room, two men and a woman. They weren't wearing helmets, but all carried blasters. "Ander," Laska snapped. "You were in charge of the mission. You explain this."

A look of confusion crossed the shorter man's soft face. "Leader, I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong," Laska answered, "is that he says he's not the Jedi we want."

"I don't seem how that's my fault," Ander protested. "You told me to bring you a Jedi. I brought you a Jedi. It's not my fault if you had bad information. You never said there'd be two of them."

"Maybe he's lying," the female soldier suggested. There was a predatory look in her eyes that made Obi-wan uneasy.

"Doubt it," the other man, taller and with dark blue hair, said easily. "There was another man there with one of these." He held out Obi-wan's lightsaber. "Some kind of weapon. I've never seen anything like it. Must be a Jedi thing."

Laska nodded. "Is that true?" she asked Obi-wan. "This other man Sural saw--he's your master?" He nodded slowly, not liking where this was leading. "Ander, you're going to have to lead another raid. Go back to the city--"

"That won't work," the man called Ander said. "They've tripled the coastal patrols and the air surveillance. I wouldn't even risk taking the lander out of the caves right now. We're going to have to stay on the ground till they drop back to normal strength."

Laska sighed heavily. "All right, you three, get back to work. We'll discuss this mistake later."

"What about him?" the female soldier demanded, with a jerk of her head to indicate Obi-wan. "If he isn't the one we want, he's useless to us."

"You leave him to me, Kariev." Laska looked at each of them in turn. "That goes for all of you. Until I give the order, you're not to harm him. Understand?" Three heads nodded. "Good. Now get out." They obeyed. Laska turned to Obi-wan. "As for you," she said, "I'd suggest you stay here. I'm not putting a guard on you--there's nowhere for you to go--but if you go wandering around by yourself, there are some people here who wouldn't mind if you had an accident. I'll send someone in awhile to walk around with you, if you want some fresh air."

"Thanks," Obi-wan said. "I appreciate it."

Laska glared at him as though she suspected him of mocking her. "Don't thank me, Jedi. The only reason Kariev doesn't have her way is because right now you're slightly more useful to us as a hostage than as a corpse."

"Right," Obi-wan said, thinking I could have done without knowing that. "If I may ask-- who's us?"

"I told you, Jedi," Laska said, "you're on the North Continent. The only ones here are the rebels against Vanner and his government. Criminals and outlaws, he calls us." She smiled grimly. "And I'm their leader."

Obi-wan frowned. "I thought their leader was called Crayheit Falling Rocks."

"Crayheit?" Laska's mouth twisted as though she'd swallowed something bitter. "Crayheit's a traitor. He's betrayed his people by asking for this treaty. We won't follow any agreement he makes, and I doubt many of the other camps will either. And if Vanner's soldiers try to force us--" She broke off. "Well, you'd better hope they don't, Jedi, because if they come here, we'll be forced to fight. And in that case I don't think I could justify keeping you alive." She stalked to the door and left the room.

Obi-wan lay back down on the bunk with a sigh. This, he thought, does not bode well.

* * * * *

"You're certain you're well enough to continue with this?" Vanner asked anxiously. "We could delay for a few days--"

Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling. "I'm fine, First Minister, thank you for your concern." The medical droid had said he'd sustained a moderate concussion and a hairline skull fracture: easily fixed. He had slept most of the night, pushing his worries for his apprentice aside, and was ready to begin the negotiations in earnest.

"Very well," Vanner said. "In that case, Crayheit is waiting for us, so if you'll follow me, honourable Jedi--?"

The two of them made their way to a conference room on one of the lower floors; the upper sections of the building had been sealed off and were being thoroughly gone over by planetary security, under the direction of a woman called Larif Summer Rain. According to Vanner, she was the chief of Cormanda's police and military forces--they seemed to be one and the same--and would find out what had happened if anyone could.

"In here," Vanner said, gesturing for Qui-Gon to precede him through the door. The Jedi did so, looking around the small conference room. It was dominated by a long low table and several chairs, the only furniture there. Vanner's secretary Tarv sat on one side of the table, with another man opposite him. "Crayheit," Vanner said, closing the door, "may I present the representative of the Jedi Council, the esteemed Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Honourable Jedi, this is Crayheit Falling Rocks." He didn't give the rebel leader any title.

Crayheit rose and bowed. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, towering over Vanner and Qui- Gon both. His hair was blond, almost white, and his grey-and-brown uniform--it would blend in quite well in a rocky environment, Qui-Gon saw--contrasted sharply with Vanner's businesslike attire. Crayheit's nose was crooked, as though it had once been broken. "An honour to meet you, Jedi," he said in a deep baritone. "I hope you've fully recovered from yesterday's, uh, unfortunate incident."

Unfortunate incident? Qui-Gon kept his face carefully blank. "I have, thank you. I'm somewhat puzzled by it, though; I understood that you two had agreed to a ceasefire."

"We did," Vanner said, looking over at Crayheit. "But perhaps I was too optimistic in assuming that agreement would be kept."

"We agreed, yeah," Crayheit told Qui-Gon, ignoring Vanner. "But you've got to understand that there are people on the North Continent who don't believe in any treaty. There are plenty of breakaway groups that I haven't got any control or authority over."

"Convenient," Vanner murmured.

Crayheit glared at him. "You know perfectly well--"

"Perhaps we should sit down, gentlemen," Qui-Gon said smoothly, taking a seat at one end of the table. Grudgingly, Vanner sat down beside Tarv, and Crayheit returned to his chair opposite. "I suggest we put yesterday's incident aside for now; there are more fundamental issues to discuss. What is it that the two of you want from this treaty?"

"All I intend to discuss with this--person," Vanner answered sharply, "is the submission of his band of criminals to proper authority."

"Honourable Jedi," Crayheit began, "I--"

"Please, call me Qui-Gon," the Jedi said with a smile. "The three of us are equals here, after all. We should discuss these matters on an equal basis, wouldn't you agree?"

Unexpectedly, Crayheit grinned. "Equals, yeah. I like that." He glanced over at his counterpart with a distinctly malicious smile. "What do you think, Vanner?"

"You will address me as First Minister," Vanner answered icily. "The Jedi can do as he likes."

"If you're going to insist on your title," Qui-Gon told him, "then it seems only fair that you refer to him by his as well. Isn't that right?"

Several expressions flickered across Vanner's face. Qui-Gon knew exactly what the First Minister was thinking: if he gave Crayheit any title, it would be the same as admitting he had a legitimate claim to leadership. As long as Vanner was insisting that the rebels were no better than common criminals, he couldn't afford to do that. "He can call me Vanner," he said grudgingly at last, as Qui-Gon had expected.

"Excellent," Qui-Gon said warmly. A minor step, but a necessary one: getting the two of them to agree to something, however unwillingly, and starting to accustom them to following his suggestions. "Now, Crayheit, what is it that you want this treaty to accomplish?"

"I want them to stop killing us," Crayheit answered bluntly. "My people are starving, and Vanner's patrols are keeping out external aid--not that anyone's sent much. We just haven't got the resources to keep fighting this war, and we're no more free dying in the mountains than we were under the planetary government's heels. Any settlement's better than what we've got right now." No diplomat, this man; he was laying all his cards on the table right away. Crayheit might have given up an advantage, there, admitting his people's weakness, but Qui-Gon found himself liking the man for his honesty.

"All right," Qui-Gon said, folding his hands and leaning forward. Now the work would begin. "There are a number of issues that we need to discuss--"

* * * * *

Obi-wan sat on the edge of his bunk in the close, windowless room and considered his options. Escape would be difficult, if not impossible; even if he were able to escape from his captors and get off the continent, he would probably be attacked as one of the rebels by the coastal patrols Ander had spoken of. And that was assuming he could even find a ship in the first place--Ander had mentioned caves, but that was a little too general to base any kind of plan on.

Besides, there were all the people in the camp to worry about evading as well, many of whom, like that woman Kariev, would probably be glad of an excuse to shoot him. The Force would help him, of course; it could be used to influence people's minds, and that would be a distinct advantage. Obi-wan had never been too good at that, though, and anyway he didn't think it would work on everyone at once. Reaching out with the Force now, he could sense at least thirty people nearby, and many times that number within what he guessed were the boundaries of the camp. The people felt oddly--vivid, somehow, easier to sense than people usually were. Maybe their dedication to their cause had something to do with it, Obi-wan guessed; they certainly seemed very emotional.

A knock on the door brought him back to himself. The green-haired girl, Rian New Leaf, put her head nervously into the room. "Laska sent me to escort you around the camp if you want, Jedi," she said rapidly.

"That's kind of her," Obi-wan said. He stood up. "You know, you don't all have to call me 'Jedi'. I do have a name."

"I know that," Rian said, ducking her head. "I just didn't think it would be right to use it."

He stared at her. "You people have kidnapped me and you're holding me prisoner, and you're worried about being polite?"

"I wasn't sure," Rian said defensively. "Your name's Obi-wan Kenobi? Fine. I'll call you Obi-wan Kenobi." "Just Obi-wan," he said tiredly. "At least that way it'll sound like I've got a friend here." He made his way to the door. Rian scuttled back as he approached. Obi-wan sighed. "You don't have to be afraid of me, you know. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm not afraid," Rian said, an obvious lie. One of her hands touched the blaster at her waist; the other reached up absently to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Obi-wan wondered idly whether the green colour was natural or some sort of camouflage. "Come on. Laska says the hangar and the storage buildings are off-limits, and some other places, but I can let you walk around the main part of the camp."

The camp, as it turned out, was mostly underground: a series of caves and tunnels extending back from a large main cavern. Most of the caves were living space, Rian explained, and the main cavern was where everyone spent most of their time. Obi-wan could see that: the huge space was probably large enough to hold the camp's entire population comfortably, though only about half were there now. It was late afternoon, Rian said, but well before sunset, so everyone was inside. They didn't go out during the day for fear of being spotted by government patrols.

"Hey! Rian!" A tall man with dark blue-black hair hurried up to them. "Rian, you've got to talk to Ander for me. He's--" The man stopped, looking at Obi-wan. "Oh, hello, Jedi. What are you doing out here?"

"Laska's orders," Rian explained. "And his name's Obi-wan. Obi-wan, this is my husband, Sural Seven Fingers." Obi-wan belatedly recognized the man as one of the soldiers that had captured him. "So what's Ander doing now?"

"Oh, he's going on about how we ought to move the camp." Sural shook his head disgustedly. "Says he thinks we're too visible here."

"Visible?" Rian said, surprised. "We've got half a mountain on top of us!" "That's what I told him, but he's afraid the patrols saw the lander coming back, and now he wants to get out before they come after us here." He spread his hands helplessly. Obi-wan saw that he did indeed have seven fingers, three on the right hand and four on the left; the others were truncated stumps. "Never mind that they'd spot us for sure if we all tried to leave at once. You've got to get him to shut up about it before people start to panic. He's your brother, he'll listen to you."

"I'll do what I can," Rian promised. "If Laska lets me off guard duty, that is," she added, glancing at Obi-wan. Her expression was still nervous, but she seemed more at ease with her husband nearby. "She wants me to make sure nothing happens to him."

Sural nodded. "Good idea," he said. "Kariev's been talking, and she's not the only one. A lot of people are saying we've got to let the government know we won't stand for this so-called treaty, and you can guess how they'd like to do that." He paused, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue.

"What about you?" Obi-wan asked in the silence. "What do you think about all this?"

"I think you should watch your back," Sural answered. He touched Rian's cheek with the back of his hand. "I'll see you later." He turned and walked away.

"Wonderful," Obi-wan said under his breath. "Another person who wants me dead."

Rian frowned at him, her brows knitting together. "Sural wouldn't hurt you, Obi-wan. He knows how to follow orders. You don't have to worry about him. He promised not to do anything against Laska's orders."

"That's a relief," Obi-wan said drily. He glanced around the main cavern. Kettles simmered over small banked fires against one wall, and smells of roasting meat drifted from them. Children raced about underfoot, laughing, ignoring the shouts of the cooks. On the other side of the cave, a group of black uniformed soldiers took turns firing at a painted target. Kariev and Ander were among them. "Does everyone follow orders as well as your husband?"

Rian glanced in the direction he was looking. "Let's get something to eat," she said, turning away. "Dinner smells good."

"Rian?" Obi-wan said hesitantly. "What do you think about--about the treaty, and everything?"

"I'll do what Laska decides," Rian said, which wasn't much of an answer at all.

* * * * *

Qui-Gon lay in his darkened room, eyes closed, concentrating on the Force. He was in deep trance, leaving only a small piece of himself to watch over his body while the greater part of his mind spiralled outward, searching.

He seemed to float, bodiless and invisible, over a vast plain filled with tiny sparkling lights. They extended out of sigh in all directions, and were constantly changing, vanishing and being replaced in a dizzying, flickering dance. Each of the sparks represented a sentient life.

Distance meant nothing in the Force; those lights that looked nearest, Qui-Gon knew, could be on Cormanda or Coruscant or out on the Galactic Rim. If he concentrated closely on one of them, he could learn who it was, but it would take an infinite number of lifetimes to check every one. In any case, there was an easier way. A Jedi, by his nature, was easier to sense than an ordinary person, and Qui-Gon's bond with Obi-wan made him familiar enough with the padawan's Force sense to detect him at a glance. He floated, directionless, and the field of light swirled around him as he bent his will to searching.

There! Qui-Gon caught a glimpse of a brighter light at the corner of his vision, but as soon as he tried to face it, it was gone. He concentrated and found it again, and again it skittered out of sight.

Something was wrong, Qui-Gon thought. He shouldn't be having any difficulty with this. It was almost as if his apprentice was deliberately hiding from him, but Obi-wan would hardly do that, not when he knew Qui-Gon would be looking for him.

There were other things that could make a Jedi difficult to detect, but none seemed any more likely. Obi-wan was almost certainly not Force-shielded or in the presence of a Dark Jedi; both of those things could, under some circumstances, hide one Jedi from another, but on this planet that no Jedi had visited for decades? Nor was it probable that Obi-wan was seriously injured; if that were the case, his Force presence would be weakened, but it would still be plainly visible. Try as he might, Qui-Gon couldn't think of a single explanation.

At least he's alive, the Jedi told himself as he came up out of his trance. At least I know that.

He opened his eyes. It was full night now, and stars glittered outside his window. The larger of Cormanda's moons hung in the western sky, gibbous in its third quarter, and its dark part sparkled. With a sigh, Qui-Gon climbed to his feet and switched on the lights. He still had work to do, to prepare for the next round of negotiations tomorrow. Resolutely pushing his worries about Obi-wan to the back of his mind, Qui-Gon concentrated on his notes. He would try again tomorrow night; for now, he would do what he could do here.

* * * * *

The sound of a bell ringing woke Obi-wan from a restless sleep. He had been dreaming, running in his dreams through endless caves and tunnels and blind passageways, hearing Qui-Gon calling his name over and over but unable to find him. Obi-wan shook his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Strange dreams.

The bell was still ringing, somewhere outside. Obi-wan could hear voices, and the sound of running feet. Pulling his boots on, he crossed the room quickly and opened the door. A squad of black-uniformed soldiers jogged past him and he flattened himself against the wall to let them by. None so much as glanced at him. Obi-wan shrugged and headed in the opposite direction, toward the main cavern.

People were pouring out of other tunnels, and the cavern was full to bursting. Soldiers pushed through the crowd, trying to impose order on the chaos, and under their direction small groups were heading down one of the passages heading north, carrying boxes and sacks and crates. All the adults Obi-wan could see were armed, and some of the older children.

He spotted Rian's green hair and hurried toward her. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Attack," she answered succinctly, checking the charge on her blaster. "The patrols must've spotted the lander after all. There's a wing of government planes headed this way."

Obi-wan frowned. "I thought there was a ceasefire on?"

"That only applies to sheep like Crayheit and his people," Rian answered with a grimace. "Free settlements like ours are still fair game." She tucked her weapon into her belt. "Laska's ordered all the noncombatants to the north caves. We'll wait out the attack there. With luck, the planes'll only bomb the docking caves and miss our hideout; the lander's far enough south that this place is pretty safe."

"Rian!" someone called.

"Coming!" She turned and disappeared into the milling mass. Obi-wan frowned in the direction she'd gone, thinking. In all this confusion, he might manage to escape, but there was no way he'd be able to get a ship out of the caves while they were under attack.

"Jedi." Someone shoved a heavy bundle into his arms. He looked up and saw Laska standing impatiently beside him. "Take these supplies to the north caves and then stay there. Move!" Obi-wan hurried automatically to obey, then grinned ruefully when he realized what he was doing. There was something about Laska Smoky Sky that commanded instant obedience.

He followed the press of people down the long, sloping tunnel, which opened out after awhile into a fair-sized cave. Someone took the bundle from him and added it to a stack against one wall. Obi-wan could see drums of water, crates of food, medical supplies, weapons--they could wait out a siege in here if necessary. The thought wasn't very reassuring.

Kariev brushed past him, and her Force presence nearly knocked him over: she was radiating anger and hatred so fiercely it was almost tangible. Obi-wan concentrated on her as she moved away, and to his Force sense her aura was a deep, brooding purplish-black--like a bruise, Obi-wan thought, or like the sky just before a hurricane. He shivered involuntarily.

Abruptly he became aware that the river of people funnelling in through the tunnel had stopped. Nearly the entire camp, several hundred people, was crowded into the cave. He couldn't distinguish individual voices, but everyone was talking at once. They sounded afraid, almost panicked, and even the soldiers' tones had an uneasy edge.

"Sit down and shut up!" Laska's sharp voice cut through the chaos like the crack of a whip. There was abrupt silence. "Better," she said in a more normal tone. "All right, you know the procedure. This won't be any different from the other raids; they don't really know where we are, after all. As long as you keep calm, it'll be fine." She kept talking, but it was more of the same. Obi-wan was impressed by the way she handled the crowd. Gradually the fear faded from their faces as they listened. If Laska wasn't worried, there was no reason for anyone else to be.

"All right," Laska said. "Now, I want you to post sentries in the main cavern and some of the offshoot tunnels so we'll have some warning if any troops land. Yitta's squad, Ander's squad, Penn's squad. Go." The soldiers detached themselves from the group and disappeared into the tunnel. "The rest of you, sit down, relax. We'll be here about an hour if past raids are any indication, so make yourselves comfortable."

Obi-wan sat down on a low metal crate, leaning his head back against the wall. After a moment, Rian joined him there. "Still guarding me?" he asked, surprised.

She shrugged. "You're better company than the rest of these." She gestured contemptuously at a group of women huddled against one wall. "They're all convinced Vanner's soldiers have found us." Rian frowned, looking up at him. "Do you think they've--"

There was a distant sound of thunder, and the cavern trembled slightly. Dust drifted down from the ceiling. People looked around fearfully, their voices rising. "They've hit the docking caves," someone said.

"If they land troops they'll find the connecting tunnels for sure! They'll be in the main cavern in no time!"

"No, no, the blasts'll collapse the tunnels, they won't find a thing."

"But they'll search, if they see the ships! They'll know we're nearby--"

"They already know we're nearby!"

Another blast, another, another. The cavern walls shook violently. Obi-wan wondered how structurally sound this hideout was. Much more of this and I guess we'll find out, he thought.

The strikes were coming closer, or getting stronger. They seemed to be falling in a regular pattern now. Obi-wan counted off the seconds to himself: one two three four one two one two three four one two-- "They're laying down pattern fire," he realized. "Firing to a grid layout, to have the best chance of hitting us." He saw Rian's expression and added quickly, "That's good news. It means they still don't know where we are, and since they must have destroyed the docking caves by now, it means they don't have much chance of spotting us." He realized then to what extent he had identified with the rebels as "us", and made a mental note to guard against that. The self-preservation instinct was strong and contributed to the sense of the government as the enemy, but he couldn't let himself forget that he was a prisoner here.

"The Jedi's right," Laska said loudly, having overheard. "Listen to him! We're safe here. They haven't seen us."

Rian cocked her head sideways, listening. "I think they're getting quieter," she said.

Obi-wan nodded. "Laying down the other side of the grin." He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the pattern. It was difficult since he didn't know what the terrain outside looked like, but-- "If they have enough ammunition, they'll probably make a second pass over this area and then break off." Some things were constant from world to world; there were a limited number of ways to make this sort of attack.

Indeed, after several minutes the blasts began to get louder again. This time they seemed to be passing directly overhead. Obi-wan's teeth rattled, and he gripped the edge of the cate to keep from tumbling to the ground. The cavern floor bucked and shuddered. Dust and chips of rock rained down.

Then there was a sudden series of hollow booms that were not weapons fire, as the unseen planes accelerated one by one to supersonic speed. At the same moment, Obi-wan felt a violent disturbance in the Force, somewhere nearby. "Something's happened," he said urgently, turning to Laska. "Someone's hurt." Images of falling rock, fragmented pain. "Not in here. Somewhere close."

"The sentries," Laska said grimly.

"Sural," Rian whispered, her eyes slightly unfocused.

Laska snapped her fingers at the nearest group of soldiers. "You, follow the Jedi. Can you show them where?" Obi-wan nodded. "Well, go!"

They ran back up the tunnel, Laska and Rian staying abreast of Obi-wan and the soldiers following. Despite her age, Laska matched their speed easily. "Is it an attack?" she demanded as they ran. "Have they landed ground troops?" Obi-wan shook his head; he didn't think so, but he wasn't sure.

As they reached the main cavern, Kariev emerged from one of the south-leading passageways, flanked by two other soldiers that Obi-wan didn't know. Her face and uniform were covered with dust. "Laska," she said with relief. "Good to see you. There's been a rockfall in the third gallery. Sural and Penn are trapped." Rian gasped.

"Are they alive?" Laska demanded.

Kariev nodded. "I think so. Ander's trying to dig them out. He sent us to find help--"

"Well, you've found it. Let's go." They followed Kariev back into the passageway.

The rockfall was near the end of the third gallery. A section of wall had collapsed, blocking the tunnel. "It goes for about ten paces," Kariev said. "We went in through the second gallery and it's blocked just before the intersection. Ten paces at least."

Laska grunted. "Well, it can't be blocked all the way along, or they'd be dead. You're sure they're alive?"

Kariev nodded. "We heard them calling out. They're alive."

"They must be in an air pocket, then. We'll have to get them out quickly before it collapses on them; this gallery doesn't seem stable. Do you know if they're badly hurt?"

"Sural isn't," Rian said, her eyes still oddly unfocused, "but he's worried about Penn."

Obi-wan turned sharply, staring at her. "How do you know that?"

"Kariev!" Ander called from up ahead. "You've brought--good. Get over here. I can't move there." As they approached the edge of the rockfall, the problem became obvious. Ander had pulled away most of the smaller rocks, but several large boulders blocked further progress. They were too big to be easily moved, but the narrow tunnel wouldn't allow more than two people to stand side by side. Ander and another soldier had clearly been trying to move them, but without success.

"Can we break those rocks with wedges?" Laska asked. She answered herself a moment later: "No, it'd take too long to bring that much water this far, and we'd probably bring the ceiling down on them anyway."

Obi-wan frowned. The rocks were large--the smallest was the size of his torso--but as Master Yoda always said, size didn't matter. "Everyone stand back," he said. "I think I can clear some of this away."

He concentrated on the rocks, on the Force flowing through and around them. Narrowing his focus, he targeted one of the rocks at the top of the pile--no use causing another quake by pulling out one of the lower ones. Carefully, he edged it forward, then set it down on the tunnel floor and began immediately to pull at the next one.

"I see," Rian murmured, and abruptly another boulder began to shift. Obi-wan was so startled he nearly dropped his rock, but recovered his concentration before it hit the ground. Rian's rock touched down beside his. Working in tandem, it only took them a few minutes to clear the boulders.

Someone shouted wordlessly from behind the rockpile. Ander and several other soldiers ran forward to pull away the smaller rocks, and Sural's head and shoulders appeared in the opening, relief on his face. "Is one of the doctors with you?" he asked urgently. "Penn's leg's been crushed and he's bleeding badly." One of the black-uniformed men hurried forward as the others worked at widening the hole.

Obi-wan, meanwhile, was looking at Rian, trying to figure out what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but Laska was faster. "What did you do?" she demanded, and there was anger in her tone. "That was you, don't bother denying it."

Rian studied her feet intently. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean--" "You know that sort of thing is forbidden. How did you even know how to do it? Have you been practicing in secret?"

Rian's head came up sharply. "I never--" she protested. "I wouldn't! I just--I was so scared for Sural, and I saw how Obi-wan was doing it, and it looked so easy--"

"You're a Force user," Obi-wan said. Both women turned to look at him. "You're--you don't even know what the Force is, do you? But you've got the raw ability, and fairly strongly, too."

"I'm sorry about this," Laska told him, her voice still edged with anger. "Rian is a stupid, disobedient, insubordinate--"

Obi-wan looked closely at the old woman, staring into her face and then reaching out with a tendril of the Force. "You have it too," he realized. "It's deeply buried, but it's there. You--"

Everything clicked into place then: the odd vividness of the rebels' Force presences, the way some, like Kariev, seemed able to affect him so strongly-- "You're Force users," he said again, unable to quite believe it. "You all are."

* * * * *

"Impossible!" Vanner slapped his open hand sharply on the table. "Completely impossible. Surely you must see that."

"Vanner," Qui-Gon said patiently, "it wouldn't hurt to at least let him finish his proposal. We can discuss the specific points when we've heard the whole thing." Vanner nodded grudgingly and gestured to Crayheit to proceed.

Crayheit cleared his throat. "Okay," he said, picking up from where he'd left off. "I told you before, I don't lead the whole North Continent. There's scattered groups all over, some I don't even know about, maybe. And we both know this isn't gonna work unless everyone has a say in it. If whatever we work out doesn't include them, they'll just keep fighting and hiding in the hills no matter what you do."

"You're right," Qui-Gon said. "So what do you suggest we do?" He already had a fair idea himself, but it was better that it come from Crayheit.

"The raids have to stop," Crayheit said, "and you have to promise, in writing, that nobody's gonna be thrown in prison or nothing just for being part of one of the--the free settlements."

"Amnesty?" Vanner said incredulously. "Out of the question!"

"Do you think you can convince them to come out knowing they'll be arrested on sight?" Qui-Gon asked mildly.

Vanner glared at him. "You know that won't be necessary. Once Crayheit and his band surrender, the rest of the criminals will fall in line."

"Surrender?" Crayheit jumped to his feet. "Now wait just a damn minute, you spineless little--"

"Enough!" Qui-Gon thundered. Both of them stopped, mouths agape. Qui-Gon grinned inwardly, but kept his outward expression dark. "Sit down, Crayheit." Meekly the rebel leader sat. Both men watched him warily. Their attitude toward the Jedi has its points, Qui-Gon thought. He'd tried persuasion and patience; now it was time to get results.

"Now," he said in a more normal tone, "we will discuss this as rational adults. Vanner, you will stop being deliberately antagonistic. You asked me here to negotiate a settlement, not to listen to the two of you insult each other. And you, Crayheit--" Qui-Gon let his voice shade into sarcasm, "--if you could please try to keep your temper for more than three minutes at a time? It might help matters."

Crayheit's face was red with mixed anger and embarrassment, but with an obvious effort he kept his voice level. "If he's willing to talk, I am too. But we're not discussing surrender. We might as well stop this now if he's gonna keep treating us like criminals."

"You are criminals," Vanner said icily. "You, or your parents or grandparents."

"That's a filthy lie!" Crayheit snapped. "I was born on the North Continent!" Qui-Gon wondered what that had to do with anything.

"Oh, please," Vanner said with a theatrical sigh. "Nine tenths of the North Continents population is descended from the criminals my predecessors sent there. Your parents were--"

"It doesn't matter who my parents were!" Crayheit snapped. "I never did anything except be born in the wrong place."

Qui-Gon looked over at Vanner. "So the North Continent used to be a penal colony, then?" He hadn't known that, though he had had suspicions.

"Until about twenty years ago," Vanner agreed. "I ordered a ban on exiling criminals there when the first rebellion occurred--no point in swelling their ranks."

Crayheit frowned. "That's mostly true," he said grudgingly, looking sideways at Qui-Gon, "but they'd pretty much stopped sending people there anyway. For the last century there's only been a handful of crimes that'd get you shipped north; in the town I grew up in, about two thousand people, there was maybe fifteen or twenty came from overseas." He glared at Vanner. "Our ancestors may have been criminals, but we aren't."

"He has a point," Qui-Gon said. "Although, as Vanner says, you've placed yourselves in rebellion against the government--that makes you criminals, in the eyes of the law at least." Vanner nodded with satisfaction. "Perhaps the government would accept a partial amnesty: freedom from persecution so long as you remain on the North Continent, for instance. You'll have plenty of work to do there in any case, Crayheit, for years to come yet."

"I will consider it," Vanner said stiffly. He glanced at the wall clock. "It's nearly lunchtime. I suggest we reconvene in a few hours." He stood and left without waiting for Qui-Gon's acknowledgement.

Qui-Gon sighed, and climbed to his feet. He was tired and worried, and Vanner was proving more obstinate than he had expected. Still, he was making progress, if slowly. The delay wouldn't have bothered him so much, he thought, if it weren't for the fact that Obi-wan was missing. The longer it took to make a settlement, the less likely it was that his apprentice would still be alive when the rebels came out of the hills, and the thought weighed heavily on Qui-Gon's mind.

Crayheit waited at the door for the Jedi. "Listen, uh, Qui-Gon," he said uneasily, "I just wanted to say that, if this thing falls through, somehow--I appreciate you trying, I wanted to say."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said, smiling. "But do you expect it to fall through?"

Crayheit shrugged. "Vanner hates us. I don't think he wants any treaty that'll let my people go free. And the longer this takes, the more chance there is that someone on either side'll start something, and the ceasefire will fly out the window and that'll be that."

"You're right," Qui-Gon said, surprised at the other man's perceptiveness; he had thought Crayheit fairly unsubtle. "Why does he hate you so much, I wonder?"

"We're criminals, or so he believes," Crayheit answered. "That's the name the world gives us, and names are sacred to Vanner's people as well as mine. He thinks he's doing right." A mirthless laugh escaped the tall man's lips. "His name fits him well enough."

"Vanner Five Winds?" Qui-Gon asked. "What does it mean?"

"He took it when he was elected First Minister," Crayheit said. "It's an old story, something we tell to children. The five winds of the gods that sweep down from the five corners of the world to drive evil into darkness. That's what he wants; he'd sweep us all away if he could." He shook his head, and turned to go.

"If I may ask," Qui-Gon said behind him, on a sudden impulse, "what does your name mean?"

"Mine?" Crayheit said. There was an odd note in his voice. "Mine's an unlucky name; rockfalls are a common hazard in the mountains, and since the government began open attacks on our towns--" He shrugged, turning back to Qui-Gon. He overtopped the Jedi by head and shoulders, but he seemed withdrawn into himself, wrapped in some deep shadow. "A cave-in eight years ago at Glennon Height took my family and half the people living there, including our mayor and his deputy, and left the rest of us stranded up on the west side of Glennon Peak. The pass down to the valley was blocked, and we had no supplies, no food. I took charge when it became obvious that no-one else was going to."

"What did you do?" Qui-Gon asked. He wasn't sure why Crayheit was telling him this, but it was best to go along with it; the more the rebel leader trusted him, the better. By Jedi law, mediators weren't allowed to use the Force to influence negotiations, but Qui-Gon would use every other tactic he could. "What did you do, Crayheit?"

"We needed help," Crayheit said, "so I told them to build a signal fire. There was another town nearby, Rivermark, and we knew they had aircraft; they could carry us out past the rockfall if they knew we were in trouble. We gathered together everything we could find that would burn: wood, grasses, anything flammable we could dig out of the wreckage, our own clothes when nothing else was left. We kept the fire burning all night and into the next morning." He stopped.

"Someone saw it, I guess," Qui-Gon said, and then looking at Crayheit's face he knew what had happened.

"Oh, yeah, someone saw it," Crayheit echoed bitterly. "We were spotted by one of the government patrols. A wing of planes flew over us a few hours after dawn. At first we thought they were from Rivermark, and we waved and shouted for them to land." He looked down at his large callused hands. "And then they opened fire."

His voice was bleak, devoid of emotion, but Qui-Gon could almost see the scene in his imagination: the people huddled among the rocks above the pass, their hope turning abruptly to panic and terror as death rained down from above. He blinked, dispelling the vision. A Force glimpse, maybe--whatever it was, it had been deeply disturbing. Crayheit was speaking again.

"We had children with us, and wounded, but the pilots must not have known that, or maybe they didn't care. I'd rather believe they didn't know. They probably thought we were some of the rebels, up in the mountains like that; they couldn't have known what had happened. I remember seeing the people scatter-- some of them ran back toward the ruin, some of them ran toward the pass, some just crouched down against the cliff wall hoping they'd be overlooked. Not many were."

He took a deep breath. "I was hit, and I fell. I must have blacked out; I woke up in the hospital in Rivermark. They'd spotted our fire after all and sent help, arriving just a few minutes after the bombers went away. They rescued all of us that were left. I was lucky. Nearly a thousand people survived the cave-in; after the raid, the Rivermark searchers brought in one hundred and sixty."

"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon said quietly.

Crayheit nodded. "I took my new name that day: Falling Rocks, to remind myself and everyone else that the price we're paying is too high. We've got to find a peaceful solution to all this soon--otherwise we're all going to be killed, and what'll be the good of these few extra years of freedom then?"

"I'll do everything in my power to help you reach an agreement," Qui-Gon promised. "You can be sure of that."

"I am," Crayheit said, a smile on his blunt face. "Everybody knows you can trust a Jedi. That's why I said we should ask your Council for help." He ducked his head in an awkward bow. "Thanks." He turned and hurried out of the conference room.

Qui-Gon watched him go. If this negotiation fails, he thought, it won't be because of him. He frowned. Think positively. It won't fail. You've handled far more difficult situations than this. But despite his best efforts, he was hard-pressed to stay optimistic. You won't fail, he told himself firmly. You can't afford to.

* * * * *

"Unbelievable," Obi-wan said softly. Now that he saw it, it seemed so obvious. The feelings he had from the others in the camp were remarkably similar to what one sensed on Coruscant in the Jedi Temple: a large number of Force users in close proximity. It felt a little different here, but similar nonetheless.

Laska was frowning at him. "Force users?" she repeated suspiciously. "What are you talking about? What sort of force?"

"The Force," Obi-wan said, emphasizing the word. "It's the--the power that allows people like us to do things. I can use it; so can Rian; so can you, I think, or at least you can learn. Everyone here seems to have the ability."

"I see," Laska said. "What Rian did was the same as what you did. You call that the Force?" Obi- wan nodded. "We don't have a name for it here. It's forbidden."

"It's useful, though," Sural added, glancing over at the pile of tumbled rock. His face reddened, then, as though he wished he hadn't spoken.

Laska speared him with a glance. "You're not just talking about today, are you," she snapped. "Some of you have been practicing on your own, haven't you?"

"Why not?" Kariev said defensively, and that terrible aura flared around her again. "We're at war. The law is stupid; if we have a weapon, we should use it."

Obi-wan was horrified at her matter-of-fact tone. "The Force isn't a weapon!"

"Not to you," she said scornfully. "What do you know about it, anyway?"

"It is useful," Sural repeated. "You have to understand, Obi-wan, sometimes you have to do things in war that maybe wouldn't be acceptable at other times. The--the Force can be used to turn away the eyes of the patrols, or confuse their instruments so they don't see us land--"

Kariev snorted. "Don't try to pretend, Sural. He knows perfectly well what the Force is capable of. It's the most powerful weapon we have; a lot of us use it, and we use it to carry out our missions."

"Your missions? Like the raid when you captured me? That sort of mission?" With an effort, Obi- wan controlled himself. "You can't use the Force for violence," he said more levelly. "That's more dangerous than you realize--"

"It's a weapon like any other," Kariev snapped. "Weapons are designed to kill people; that's what they're for. The Force lets us do that with less risk to ourselves than any other method. Why should we stop because some law tells us to--or some Jedi, for that matter?"

Laska elbowed past Kariev to grab Obi-wan's arm. "Come on," she said sharply. "I'll speak with you alone. The rest of you, get to work clearing this tunnel. With your hands, mind you." She turned and propelled Obi-wan down the corridor.

They stepped into a small room beside one of the offshoot tunnels, and Laska faced Obi-wan with an expression of anger. "Listen," she snapped. "I don't want you telling them any more about this Force. It's forbidden and that's the end of it."

"That's not the end of it," Obi-wan insisted. "You heard them back there. They've been using the Force behind your back, and they aren't going to stop because you tell them to."

"It's forbidden," Laska repeated, but she sounded a little less certain now. "I'll make them stop. It's against the law--"

"What law?" Obi-wan asked. "Who made the law? It couldn't have been you people--you've all got Force ability, and surely--" He stopped. "Who made the law, Laska?"

It came out almost a whisper. "The government." Then, stronger, "But they're right! It's an evil thing! Everyone knows that!"

"The Jedi don't," Obi-wan said. "The Force can be used for evil, that's true, but it can also be used to great good." He looked at her, at the hard-edged terrorist woman who was his jailer, who had tried by kidnapping him to plunge a planet into war, and somehow he felt a strange sort of pity. What must it be like, he wondered, to be able to feel the Force but forever unable to use it? He couldn't imagine. It would be like choosing to cut off one of his hands, to burn out his eyes. He could barely remember a time when he didn't have his Force-augmented sense, when he was unaware of the wider world around him. Ordinary people lived that way and were content with it, knowing nothing else, but how much more terrible to have those abilities and to be forbidden them!

"No-one on Cormanda is allowed to use the--the Force," Laska said, almost as if she were answering his thought. "In the old days the government could execute people for it. After the North Continent was discovered, they started sending them--us--here instead, along with anyone else they wanted to get rid of. I don't know what they do with them now; no-one's been sent here since the rebellion started. Maybe they've started killing them again."

"You were one of them, weren't you?" Obi-wan asked. "You were sent here for using the Force?"

She nodded. "When I was ten. I knew it was wrong but I didn't want to stop. Then someone caught me practicing and told the police, and they came the next day to take me away."

Obi-wan frowned thoughtfully. It was starting to fit together. "No wonder practically everyone here has the ability, then. With such a small, isolated population, I guess everyone must have a Force user or more than one in their family tree."

"Is that why people have this curse, then?" Laska asked. "It's genetic?"

"Not entirely," Obi-wan said. "If that were the case, it would certainly make our job easier," he added with a wry grin, thinking of all the tedious days he'd spent on Search with his master, flying out to remote planets in the hope of finding potential padawans. "But it often happens that the children of Force users will have the ability as well." He sighed. "And you really should stop calling it a curse, Laska. It's not. I should know; I'm a Jedi--well, almost a Jedi. The Force is a part of nature; it's no more evil than--than the stars, or the law of gravity. It's how people use it that makes the difference."

"You know this for a fact?" Laska demanded. Her voice sounded dubious, and at the same time desperately hopeful. "You're sure of this?"

"The Jedi Order has existed for thousands of years," Obi-wan answered. "We know more about the Force than anyone else in the Galaxy. Certainly more than Cormanda's government."

She sighed, running her fingers through her thinning grey hair. "I'm an old fool," she muttered. "If I'd known this twenty years ago, we'd have won this war by now."

"That's not--" Obi-wan began.

"But it's not too late. Sural, Kariev, some of the others, they've been practicing, so it isn't as though we have to start from scratch." There was a frightening light in her eyes as she spoke. "They can teach the rest of us; if we all have the ability like you say, it shouldn't be hard. Inside a year we'll have such an army as this world's never seen. Vanner and his nest of serpents and traitors won't be able to stand against us!" She jumped to her feet. "Jedi, I don't know how to thank you enough. You've given us hope of victory."

"But you're not listening to--"

"I'm going to gather everyone. They should all hear. With the Force as our weapon, we're sure to win this war!" She left the room at a run, and was gone.

Obi-wan sighed heavily. "Great," he muttered. "Just great."

* * * * *

Qui-Gon returned to the conference room, his mood no better than before. He had spent most of the allotted break in another Force search for Obi-wan, finding nothing, and even the barely visible glimpses he had gotten before had become more attenuated.

The room, when Qui-Gon entered, was more crowded than when he had left. Crayheit still sat alone on his side of the table, and Vanner and his ever-present young secretary Tarv on the other, but beside Tarv were three others, all women, all in businesslike outfits similar to Vanner's. Qui-Gon recognized one of them as Vanner's chief of police and security--something Rain, he remembered vaguely, but he had only met her in passing. The other two he didn't know at all.

"Honourable Qui-Gon," Vanner said smoothly, rising to greet him. There was more courtesy in his voice than Qui-Gon had heard before. "I've spent the last few hours in consultation with some of the members of my government," a gesture took in the three newcomers, "and we've considered your words most carefully." Both the wary false politeness and the barely-concealed anger of the previous sessions were gone from his voice; he spoke with genuine eagerness. "We agree to your terms. All of them."

The shock and surprise on Crayheit's face mirrored what Qui-Gon felt, though the Jedi managed to remain outwardly calm. "That's--unexpectedly good news," he said with a smile. "What changed your mind?"

Vanner shrugged. "We discussed it, and decided you were right; this must be settled, and quickly. And, after all, your--suggestions--are not unreasonable. Cessation of the raids and withdrawal of our patrols, general amnesty for the North Continent populace and limited amnesty for the leaders, government assistance in reconstruction, and an agreement to begin negotiations to discuss autonomy for the Northerners." He looked over at Crayheit. "You seem confused. This is what you wanted, is it not?"

"I--I--yeah, it--that's right," Crayheit managed, still looking slightly stunned. The two government officials were expressionless and still, and the security commander--Larif Summer Rain, Qui-Gon remembered then, with his usual excellent memory for trivia--matched Vanner's eagerness with her own.

"We've sketched out a preliminary agreement," she said. "Tarv, the papers, please." The secretary handed her a sheaf of notes, which she passed to Crayheit. "We've written out the terms as the honoured Jedi has stated them; if there are any changes you would like to make, please tell us."

"This, uh--this looks like everything," Crayheit agreed numbly, flipping through the pages with broad callused fingers. "I'll look it over completely tonight, of course, but--yeah, this looks like what he said."

"Good!" Vanner said with a brisk smile. "Then we should discuss how to approach the other--the other leaders of your people." Leaders, not rebels or criminals; Qui-Gon noted the change, and it worried him. It was impossible that Vanner's mindset could have changed so quickly and completely. There had to be a reason for it. Qui-Gon could tell that Vanner was not being drugged or blackmailed; his eagerness was real. Had he not known better, Qui-Gon would have thought that another Jedi had influenced the First Minister and Larif; but that was impossible. "It would probably be best if we both went in person, together. That should assure them of our good intentions. You know the other--leaders, most of them," there was that slight hesitation over the word again, but still nothing but eager willingness in his tone, "so where do you suggest we begin?"

Crayheit frowned, thinking. "Juil Red Clay and Laska Smoky Sky lead the two largest breakaway groups," he said. "And Kenly New Moon, too. There are others, but those are the major ones. We--we should go along, in my plane; if they think it's an attack, they'll try to shoot us down."

"An excellent idea," Larif agreed warmly. "I was about to suggest the same thing myself. Where will you go?"

"Probably Kenly's settlement would be the place to start," Crayheit answered. "His group isn't the largest, but he's the most likely of those three to listen, and having him with us will help convince the others. His settlement is on the plains near the mouth of the Stones River--if you have a map I can show you where I mean--"

Vanner snapped his fingers at Tarv, and the secretary hurried out of the room and returned a few moments later with a rolled map. He spread it on the table, with stacks of papers on the corners to hold it flat. Vanner touched a blue line on the western edge of the map. "Here?"

"Here," Crayheit corrected, his hand slightly northward of Vanner's. "We should land on the other side of the Stones River; Kenly will send men out to see who we are. After that, we'll take him with us into the mountains--Laska's and Juil's camps are fairly close together. We should speak with Juil first. Laska's going to be hard to convince--I know her well enough to be sure of that--and the more leaders we have with us when we meet her, the easier it'll be. After that--"

They continued talking, sketching out plans, discussing points of the treaty. Qui-Gon watched and listened, saying little. An uneasy feeling was growing inside him. He felt nothing now from Vanner and Larif save a genuine desire to negotiate the terms of the agreement, and this was what he'd wanted, after all. Still, somehow, he couldn't shake the sensation that a storm was about to break.

* * * * *

Obi-wan caught up with Laska just as she reached the main cavern. A lot of people had returned there by now, having evidently decided it was safe to emerge from hiding, and Kariev and Sural and the others who had apparently finished clearly the tunnel were present as well. The cavern was crowded, and Obi-wan had to shoulder his way through the crowd to keep up with Laska, for whom a space opened automatically. Several people threw glares or curses in Obi-wan's direction as he pushed past them, but he barely noticed.

Laska was speaking to Ander and Sural when Obi-wan reached her side. "--were right, after all. Where's Kariev? I need all of you who've been learning to use the--the Force. The Jedi says all of us can learn, so--"

"I don't think you should let Kariev teach you anything," Obi-wan broke in. Three heads turned to stare at him, surprised. He was a little surprised himself; he hadn't intended to say that. He had their attention, though.

"Why not?" Laska demanded. "She knows as much about the Force as anyone here. Unless you're willing to teach us?" she added sarcastically.

"I won't teach you how to fight," Obi-wan said evenly. "No Jedi would. But learning from Kariev, or from most of the other soldiers I've seen, would be a very bad idea."

"Why?" Sural's tone was curious rather than mocking.

Obi-wan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "There's something you need to know about the Force," he said finally. "It has two sides: the Light Side and the Dark Side--"

As succinctly as he could, he explained. All three of his listeners looked disbelieving, but they didn't interrupt. He told them how the Jedi used the Light Side of the Force, seeking to control and master themselves as the way to mastery of the Force and its power, while those who went over to the Dark Side fed their power on the emotions of anger and hatred. "It's a temptation that's very easy to give in to, especially if you don't know what you're doing," he said. "Once you surrender to the Dark Side, you don't care that what you do is wrong or evil; in fact, you revel in it. You see violence and power as ends in themselves, and you don't care about anything or anyone but yourself and your own ambitions."

Laska snorted derisively. "It doesn't take any sort of mystical power to do that to a person. Vanner's one I could name."

"Maybe so," Obi-wan said, "but those of us who have the power of the Force, have a responsibility as well. Because we could do so much harm if we fall to the Dark Side, it's our duty to make sure that we don't. The Jedi serve, not rule, because we believe in using our abilities to help others rather than for personal gain. You have to understand, using the Force for violence is just--" He shook his head, unable to find words to express the repugnance he felt at the idea. "It's just wrong," he said lamely at last.

"Are all you Jedi so self-righteous?" Laska asked ironically. "If you were in our situation you wouldn't be so quick to judge."

"If I did what you do, I wouldn't be a Jedi anymore," Obi-wan retorted. "I'm telling you, that's what the Jedi are; we're people who can use the Force and who choose to use it for good, not evil."

"We're not Jedi," Sural pointed out. "And besides, we're fighting for our survival, our independence. It's not wrong to want to be free." Ander and Laska nodded approvingly.

"I'm not saying that what you want is wrong," Obi-wan said. "But--well, Ander." He turned to the squad leader. "Would you put Kariev in charge of one of your missions, knowing her the way you do?"

Ander shook his head slowly. "Not unless I had to. I see your point. She's not very good at following orders; she enjoys what we do too much."

"And a lot of your other soldiers are the same way, and getting worse," Obi-wan continued. It wasn't a question, but Ander nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm willing to believe you know what you're talking about, Jedi--Obi-wan. I don't use the power myself--I'm not sure whether I can or not--so maybe I can see what you mean better than some." He looked over at Sural. "But you've been on missions with people like Kariev and Yitta and Rayle; they're the ones that use the power the most, and they--" Ander shrugged. "The Jedi's right, I think."

Laska glared at him and Obi-wan both, but the anger faded from her eyes after a few moments. "All right," she said grudgingly. "I suppose if I'm going to believe you that the Force isn't evil and forbidden, I have to believe the rest as well. So what do we do, then? I suppose you want us to stop using it altogether?"

Obi-wan was surprised at her quick acquiescence; he'd expected much more argument. Laska saw his expression and flashed a quick grin. "I can accept reality when it's shoved in my face," she said. "Besides, I don't object to having the Force put off-limits; far from it. I dislike the idea of everyone using this power, even if it isn't evil." She frowned. "So what do we do?"

"We can't do all that much," Obi-wan admitted. "Like I told you, I'm not even really a full Jedi yet. I don't think even Kariev's fully consumed by the Dark Side yet, and she's the most--you know what I mean." Laska nodded impatiently. "But I'm still not sure how to help her, or any of the others, for that matter. Maybe Master Qui-Gon would know, I'm not sure. If you sent a message to him, got him to come here-- "

"No." Obi-wan looked at Laska in surprise. She met his stare unwaveringly. "You're still a prisoner here, Jedi; don't forget that. As long as keep you here, your master isn't going to let the government do anything that'll put you in danger. So you stay. I'm not such a fool as to think he wouldn't try to free you if we did bring him here." She shrugged unapologetically. "Sorry, but that's the way it is."

Obi-wan sighed inwardly; he should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Laska was partially right; he had been hoping to let Qui-Gon know where he was. He had been telling the truth as well, though. He didn't have any idea how to deal with someone who'd fallen to the Dark Side. "Well, then, at least don't send out any more missions for now. The less opportunity they have to use the Force, the better."

"Sounds reasonable," Laska agreed. "I'll pass the word to the squad leaders not to practice with the Force for now. Ander, you speak to anyone who you think could use a personal reminder. Anything else, Jedi?" He shook his head. "Then, Sural, would you take him back to his quarters, please."

"I know the way," Obi-wan said.

Laska nodded evenly. "I know you do. Sural?"

"Come on, Obi-wan," Sural said, putting a hand on the other man's arm. Obi-wan allowed himself to be led away, wondering dismally what he should do now.

* * * * *

The sun was setting over the capital of Cormanda. In the west the sky was a deep orange-red, muted by banks of clouds lit rose and yellow from underneath. The sun itself, slightly larger and redder than that of Coruscant, had already vanished behind the tall hills west of the city; it would be dark soon.

Qui-Gon's window faced west, but he had no eyes for the view. Seated on the edge of the bed in his room in the administrative complex, he ran over and over the events of the day. It just didn't add up. Vanner would never have changed his mind so readily, Qui-Gon was certain. What could account for this sudden reversal? The First Minister wasn't being coerced or threatened; Qui-Gon would have been able to sense that. Drugs were highly unlikely, and Force manipulation almost equally so. No, Vanner was himself, unchanged, and had honestly wanted to conduct--and conclude--the negotiations that afternoon.

That, they had done. Nothing was signed yet, but they had threshed out the details of the agreement and made plans for how to present it to the other North Continent leaders. It was more than Qui-Gon had dared to hope for; even his most optimistic predictions had suggested that it would take weeks to reach this point. It had only been a few days. Whatever the cause of Vanner's change of heart, Qui-Gon knew he should regard it as an amazing stroke of luck.

So what's wrong with this picture? he wondered. He had been taught to trust his feelings, and right now they were telling him that more was going on than he could see. But what?

With a sigh, he removed his outer robe and lay back on the bed. Things might be clearer in the morning; maybe he was just thinking too hard. The answer would come.

In the meantime, though, there was still his other problem: Obi-wan. Where was he? Alive, certainly, and presumably on the North Continent, but what could be keeping him hidden? Qui-Gon ran over the possibilities in his mind once again--Obi-wan hiding deliberately; midichlorian damage (from radiation, perhaps? Such things had been known to happen, though very rarely); a Force shield; the presence of a Dark Jedi; a localized disturbance in the Force--but none of them fit any better than they had before.

Qui-Gon considered trying again, but realized it would probably be as useless as before. He closed his eyes anyway. There was nothing else he could think of to try, short of a physical search, and that would probably yield as little result as the Force search had, even assuming he could reach the North Continent safely. The way the various rebel factions hid their camps and settlements, he'd never be able to find the one where Obi-wan was imprisoned, not without a detailed map of where all of them were--

--like the one Crayheit had given Vanner that afternoon, for instance--

Qui-Gon sat bolt upright, his eyes flying open. Of course. "So that's it," he whispered. It wasn't the treaty itself Vanner was so eager for--just the locations of the rebel camps. No wonder he'd been willing to agree to everything; he never intended to go through with any of it.

Pausing only to put on his robe and boots, Qui-Gon ran out into the hall. Crayheit's room was five floors below; Qui-Gon took the stairs three at a time and emerged a minute later from the stairwell. He ran down the empty corridor and stopped at one of the doors. The room's sole occupant was asleep. Qui-Gon pounded on the door. "Crayheit!"

After a moment, Crayheit emerged, bleary-eyed and in rumpled clothing. "Qui-Gon," he said, surprised. "What're you doing here?"

"We've got to hurry," Qui-Gon said, deciding not to waste time on pleasantries. "Vanner's betrayed you. We have to get to the North Continent right away, now, tonight."

Crayheit blinked at him. "Let me get dressed," he said, and disappeared back into the room. Qui- Gon waited in the hallway until Crayheit re-emerged in uniform. "Now. Why are we going to the North Continent?"

"Vanner never planned to honour the treaty," Qui-Gon answered. "That's why he had Larif at this afternoon's meeting; he's planning a military strike now that he knows where your major settlements are. Which way to the hangar? You said you brought your own plane?"

"Top floor. The elevator's this way." Crayheit turned at a fork in the hallway, and Qui-Gon followed. "You're sure about this? If you're wrong--"

Qui-Gon nodded. He was certain; all his trained and Force-enhanced senses were telling him he was right. He would have been willing to step blindly off a cliff on that certainty. "I'm sure."

"Then we'll have to hurry," Crayheit said. "It's maybe six hours to the North Continent from here by my plane. I guess he'll wait till dawn to attack; radar and infrared aren't reliable in the mountains. That gives us a few hours to warn everybody. It's going to be close, and even if we do get to them all in time there's no guarantee they'll be able to get away or get ready to defend themselves before the army arrives."

"I know," Qui-Gon said. They entered the elevator and Crayheit touched the symbol for the roof. "So we do what we can."

Crayheit grinned. "You should have been born a Northerner, Qui-Gon. We need more people like you."

"Well, with luck, this is all going to be over with soon," Qui-Gon told him. Crayheit grimaced.

"Half the time I hope that's true. The other half, I'm afraid it is." A soft ping announced the elevator's arrival at its destination. "Let's go. We'd better not waste any time."

* * * * *

Obi-wan awoke with a vague sense of disquiet. The alarm bell wasn't ringing and he could hear nothing outside, but he felt somehow--odd.

Opening the door quietly, he found Rian standing outside. Guard duty, Obi-wan guessed, and wondered how long she'd been standing there. She looked asleep or nearly so, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, a blaster in its holster at her waist. He touched her arm. "Rian?"

She jumped, then relaxed as she saw him. "Oh. Obi-wan. Good morning." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "You're up early. It's not even sunrise."

"You're up earlier than me," Obi-wan pointed out. "Or later."

"Yeah, well--" She shrugged. "Laska didn't want you left unguarded. A lot of people know what you said about the--the Dark Side? That's what you called it? Anyway, she thought people might be angry."

"She's probably right." Obi-wan wondered why Laska had assigned Rian the task, though; the girl barely seemed able to care for herself, let alone him. "Did she make you stand there all night?"

"What?" Rian laughed. "No, she put Sural here actually. I made him go to sleep at midnight. He wanted to stay."

"He did?" Obi-wan asked, surprised.

Rian nodded. "You did save his life, you know, back there when the tunnel collapsed on him and Penn. He thinks he owes you something. It would hardly be a fair repayment if he let one of his squadmates kill you."

Obi-wan frowned at that. "Does he really think that's likely? Nobody's tried anything so far--"

"That's because you've had a guard on you nearly every minute since you got here, Obi-wan," Rian said with exasperation. "I'd think a Jedi could figure that out himself." She yawned. "I'm going back to sleep now. You come with me; you can sleep as easily in our quarters as in here."

Obi-wan didn't argue. They made their way down the nearly deserted hallway, past seemingly endless rows of offshoot tunnels and doorways. They had almost reached Rian's quarters when the bell began to ring.

* * * * *

"Get moving, you lazy slugs! Come on, come on, let's get this stuff under cover!" Red hair and beard bristling, Kenly New Moon paused for a moment in his shouting to look at Crayheit and Qui-Gon. "Thanks for the warning. You'd best go now if you're planning to warn all the camps. Mickie's refuelled your plane. How many more places have you got to visit?"

"Four," Crayheit answered. "Just the mountain camps." He glanced once more around the village. "Good luck, then. And--listen, Kenly, I'm really sorry about this--"

"Yeah." Kenly shrugged. "What's done is done. We can talk about it another time. You just get moving now." He stalked back across the packed dirt to shout at a pair of women loading boxes into a speeder. Qui-Gon and Crayheit returned to the plane.

"Where to now?" Qui-Gon asked as he climbed into the copilot's seat. Beside him, Crayheit was tightly fastening his safety harness. Qui-Gon did likewise.

"Up into the mountains," Crayheit answered. "There's four camps there to warn: Kanea Dying Tree, Laska Smoky Sky, Toro Radial Symmetry and Juil Red Clay. Toro and Laska are the closest, Juil's the largest. We should probably--" He broke off, cursing, as two of the screens' borders turned red. A siren wailed ear-piercingly in the close confines of the cabin for a few seconds until Crayheit shut it off.

"What's wrong?" Qui-Gon asked sharply. The displays, in curlicued Cormanda script, told him nothing.

Crayheit frowned at the controls. "No time for preflight checks," he muttered, "we'll have to just take off and hope nothing goes wrong in the air. That tech of Kenly's had better have refuelled her properly-- "

"Crayheit! What's wrong?" Qui-Gon repeated. Then, suddenly, he knew.

"Planes," Crayheit answered shortly, gesturing to the red-bordered screens. "We've just run out of time." He pounded his blunt fist against the edge of the console. "Come on, you stupid piece of junk!" As if in answer, the small plane's engine roared to life. They taxied down the runway at what Qui-Gon was certain was an unsafe speed, and in moments they were airborne.

Once they reached cruising altitude, Crayheit seemed to relax a little. "They're turning east," he said. "Must be going after the coastal villages first; hopefully all those'll have had time to get to shelter by now. We've still got time to warn the mountain camps, I hope. If I was Larif I'd leave those till last."

"Why?" Qui-Gon asked.

"They won't be able to take them from the air; those mountains are more tunnels than rock. They'll have to bring in heavier transport planes with ground troops, and I don't see any sign of those yet." The plane banked northward. "We'll head for Toro's camp first, then--"

Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt a flash of something far below. It was faint and lasted only a moment, but it was unquestionably there. "Head that way," he said, pointing downward and north-north-west.

"Toward Laska's camp?" Crayheit said. He shrugged. "All right, but I don't--"

"Obi-wan's there. I'm certain of it."

"Your apprentice?" Crayheit maneuvered the plane into a slow descent curve. "All right, but don't forget we've got three other camps to visit still. We talk to Laska,, pick up the kid if he's there, then we get out. Or I can leave you there if you want, but either way someone has to warn Toro and Juil and Kanea."

There was an odd mixture of firmness and diffidence in his voice: he knew he was right, but at the same time he didn't want to contradict the Jedi. He needn't have worried. "You're right," Qui-Gon said, slightly ashamed of himself. "Warning the other settlements is our first priority; we won't stay any longer than we have to. If I can't find Obi-wan right away, I'll come back for him."

They approached a peak that to Qui-Gon's eyes looked no different from any other, and Crayheit guided the plane into a steep descent. A narrow crevice seemed to open out of nowhere directly ahead. The plane dove inside, its left wing almost brushing the rock, and abruptly they were inside a yellow-lit hangar, with rough-hewn walls hollowed out of the rock. "Quite a hiding place," Qui-Gon observed.

"Yeah," Crayheit muttered. He was sweating.

A man in an all-black uniform jogged toward them, and Crayheit opened the hatch. "Names?" the man demanded.

"Crayheit Falling Rocks and Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Crayheit answered. "We need to see Laska right away."

"A Jedi?" the man repeated, looking at Qui-Gon dubiously. "Yeah, okay. Follow me." Qui-Gon heard him mutter under his breath as he turned away, "Wonderful. Another one."

As they climbed out of the plane, Qui-Gon saw that the shape of the hangar was strangely irregular; the far end was a mass of collapsed rock and twisted pieces of metal that might have been wall supports and girders. The man in black saw his look and shrugged.

"We were attacked yesterday," he explained. "No casualties, but they managed to trash this part of the caves pretty good and everybody's still on edge. Somebody actually rang the alarm when we saw you guys on our scopes. As if the government would attack us in one unarmed plane. Hah! The techs are all idiots. You're lucky they didn't decide to shoot you down anyway, though, coming in straight without signalling the way you did."

"I figured an old code'd be more suspicious than none," Crayheit explained. "You could see we were unarmed and knew the way in, so I didn't think you'd honestly consider shooting."

The man frowned. "Normally, no, we wouldn't," he said, "but like I said, everybody's on edge right now. The attack and--other things." He glanced at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye. "I'll let Laska explain. She'll want to talk to you, I'm sure."

He led them through a network of tunnels and out into a large natural cave. It was crowded with people, mostly sitting in small groups, eating and talking quietly. There was a wary, subdued atmosphere that hadn't been present at the other camps. "Laska!" the soldier called.

A grey-haired woman detached herself from one of the groups and stalked toward the three of them. "These are the ones from the plane, Ander?" she demanded. "Yes, of course they are. Crayheit, what are you doing here? And who's this?"

"He's a Jedi," Ander broke in. "He--"

"Is he now." Laska studied Qui-Gon with a measuring gaze. "You're Obi-wan's master, then. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Ma'am--" Qui-Gon began.

"Laska Smoky Sky. Laska if you want. Ander, fetch Obi-wan." The black-uniformed man hurried off. "And as for you," she added, poking Crayheit in the middle of his chest with one bony finger, "what are you doing here? Don't tell me you've come to your senses at last and given up on this treaty nonsense."

"That's exactly what I've done," Crayheit said grimly. Briefly he outlined Vanner's treachery. Laska's expression grew darker by the word.

"I always knew you were a fool, Crayheit Falling Rocks," she snapped, "but I never expected you'd manage to blunder this badly, even with an unlucky name like yours. Whatever made you think you could trust a snake like Vanner?"

"If I may suggest," Qui-Gon interjected, "the two of you can discuss this later. Right now Crayheit and I have three other camps to warn, and you have an attack to prepare for."

Laska nodded. "You're right. You'd better get moving." She glanced up as Ander re-emerged from one of the tunnels. "And take your Jedi with you. Please. He's caused more trouble than--than you, Crayheit, if that's possible."

Seeing Qui-Gon, Obi-wan ran forward to meet him. "Master!"

"Obi-wan," Qui-Gon said with relief, clasping Obi-wan's shoulders in a brief embrace. "I'm glad to see you."

"And I you, Master," Obi-wan said, smiling.

"Crayheit, I want to speak with you a moment," Laska said. "Tell me exactly what happened. You have five minutes to spare me at least." She turned her back on the Jedi, ignoring them, and began to talk in a low voice with Crayheit.

"Are you all right?" Qui-Gon asked his apprentice. "You're not injured?"

"I'm fine, Master." Obi-wan grinned. "Aside from being kidnapped and brought halfway across the planet, of course."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon said drily. "In that case, perhaps you could explain something. I tried to locate you using the Force and was unable to. The only explanation I could think of that seemed even remotely plausible was that you were hiding from me. Now why--"

Obi-wan stared at him. "Why didn't I think of that?" he said with disbelief. "Of course, it could have had that effect, couldn't it? I didn't--"

"What are you talking about?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Well--you told me once that being near a Dark Jedi could hide a person from someone else's Force sense--" Obi-wan began. Qui-Gon, who had expected any answer but that one, could think of nothing to say.

"Are you trying to tell me there's a Dark Jedi here?" he demanded at last.

Obi-wan shook his head. "Not exactly, but--Master, these people are Force users. Almost all of them."

"I sensed a small latent ability in Laska," Qui-Gon said doubtfully, glancing at the old woman, who was deep in conversation with Crayheit now. "But it's plain she doesn't use it. Even if the others have the same--"

"A lot of them do use it," Obi-wan said. "And they're soldiers, Master, desperate people; you can guess what they use it for."

Qui-Gon couldn't quite repress a shudder. "How many?" he asked.

"I don't know," Obi-wan admitted. "I don't know if any of them have completely--uh--gone over yet, but there's a few that are pretty far in. Kariev, Yitta, some others. Kariev's the worst of them; she might be beyond help. I didn't know what to do. I think I convinced Laska to try to restrict them from using the Force, but aside from that--" He shrugged. "I hadn't thought of what to do yet."

"That's just as well," Qui-Gon told him. "Dark Jedi, even untrained Dark Jedi, are not something for a padawan to handle alone. For that matter, I'd hesitate to try to handle them alone myself. We'll have to notify the Council and ask them to send some Jedi to stay here on a more permanent basis to deal with--" He broke off. "Of course, that's all academic if we don't manage to survive the current situation first. Are you still a prisoner here?"

Obi-wan opened his mouth to answer, then changed what he was going to say. "I'm not sure. Laska said she was keeping me here so that you wouldn't let the government do anything against them for fear of endangering me. But since you're here, I take it something's gone wrong with the negotiations, so--"

"If that's why she was keeping you here, as a hostage to the government's good behaviour," Qui- Gon said, "then she'll have no reason not to let you go. The negotiations have broken down completely; Vanner's soldiers are on their way."

"You're full of good news today, Master," Obi-wan said. "All right, what do we--"

The now-familiar alarm bell began to ring. Qui-Gon looked up in surprise. "Now what?" Ander demanded, looking over at the Jedi as if he suspected this was their fault.

"It's the attack," Crayheit realized. "But how--?"

"No time for that," Laska snapped. She raised her voice to address the entire cavern. "Prepare for a ground attack! Civilians, arm yourselves and head for shelter. Post guards on all the entrances. Soldiers, assemble on me." The cavern's occupants scurried to obey, and Laska continued to bark orders at the top of her voice at the running men and women.

Qui-Gon snagged Crayheit by the arm as the press of people thinned. "Do you want to try to make it to one of the other camps?"

Crayheit shook his head. "They'll know soon enough. We wouldn't be able to get there in time to make any difference. Besides, my plane's unarmed; they'd shoot us out of the air."

Qui-Gon nodded; he'd expected that. "In that case, you'd better get to shelter." He pointed in the direction of one of the tunnels, where a cluster of obvious civilians was gathering. "How odd," he said to himself.

"What is it, Master?" Obi-wan asked worriedly. "Master? Is something wrong?"

"Vanner," Qui-Gon said. "He's here, somewhere nearby. Now why would--" He stopped and turned to Obi-wan. "They must have radar here, or some other sort of sensors to detect approaching craft. Do you know where they would be?"

Obi-wan shook his head, confused. "No, Master, I never saw anything like that. We could ask someone, I guess." He glanced around the milling crowd and spotted a head of blue-black hair. "Sural!" he called, pitching his voice louder than normal to be heard over the noise. "Sural!"

Sural hurried over to them, with Rian behind him. "What's wrong, Obi-wan?"

Obi-wan glanced at Qui-Gon, who said, "We need to see the attacking ships. Where are your sensor controls?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to say," Sural answered uncomfortably. "Who are you, anyway?"

"It's all right, Sural," Obi-wan interjected. "He's my Master. If anyone can do something about this attack, he can."

Sural nodded, still looking uneasy. "I guess--" He looked over at Laska, who was still surrounded by a knot of soldiers. Sural seemed to come to a decision. "All right, follow me."

He and Rian led the two Jedi back in the direction from which Qui-Gon had just come. "The monitoring centre's just below the hangar," Rian explained to Obi-wan. "Laska won't be happy we let you in, though, it's a restricted area. You're sure you can do something about--"

"We'll do everything we can," Qui-Gon assured her. Rian nodded unhappily.

"Master," Obi-wan said in a low voice, "what exactly is it that we're doing?"

"Vanner's nearby," Qui-Gon explained. "I'm guessing he's with the attackers, probably in the command ship if there is one, though I don't know why he'd be here--"

"Where else would he be?" Rian asked, confused. "A general can't lead except from the centre of battle. How would he know what was going on if he weren't there?"

Qui-Gon and Obi-wan exchanged glances. "All right," Qui-Gon said, "that may make things easier. Killing him will accomplish nothing, but if we can bring him here, capture him, we might still be able to stop all this." Obi-wan nodded. It wasn't much of a plan, but under the circumstances it seemed like the best they could do.

* * * * *

They reached the sensor control room. Red letters painted on the wall outside announced what was probably the Cormanda equivalent of "Authorized Personnel Only". With a last dubious look at Qui-Gon, Sural pushed open the door.

"--the transports first; we can't let them land any--" Kariev broke off and swung around in her seat to face the four of them. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"That's Kariev," Obi-wan whispered. Qui-Gon nodded; he could sense the Dark Side in her, this close, and in the others in the room as well.

"I see someone else had the same idea we did," Qui-Gon said to Kariev. "Why don't you let Obi- wan and me handle this? We're more experienced with the Force than you are; we'll take care of it."

Kariev snorted. "I don't think so, Jedi."

"Really," Qui-Gon said persuasively, "it would be best if you left this to us." He reached out with the Force as he spoke, laying a gentle touch on her mind; untrained as she was, it wouldn't be difficult to--

"Stop that," Kariev said with irritation, pushing his Force touch away with obvious difficulty. "I might not be a Jedi, but I'm not as blind as you seem to think." One of the computers that lined the room beeped loudly. Kariev swore. "They're here. All right, everyone, you know what to do. Yitta, keep an eye on those two Jedi, make sure they don't move." A man with hair as white-blond as Crayheit's positioned himself between the Jedi and the others, a blaster in his hand. Sural and Rian watched in confusion, unsure what to do.

"Two transports, six bombers, six fighters and one that I'm not sure of," another of the soldiers reported. Obi-wan nodded to himself; that would be the command ship.

"Aim for the transports," Kariev said. "Everyone get ready. On my mark."

Obi-wan realized suddenly what they were doing. They weren't trying to capture the ships, but to destroy them. He lunged forward--

--and Qui-Gon's firm grasp on his arm restrained him. "Stay where you are, Apprentice," Qui-Gon said in a low voice, barely moving his lips. "Wait." Obi-wan obeyed reluctantly, watching the displays in front of them in silence.

Neither he nor Qui-Gon could read the curly script, but that was hardly necessary. The largest screen showed a topographical map of the surface, overlaid with a grid marking out distance. Centred on the display were fifteen blinking dots. It was obvious from their positions which ones were which: the fighters were arranged in protective formation around the bombers, the transports trailed them, probably at a lower altitude, and the command ship hung back, nearly off the edge of the screen.

"Now," Kariev ordered, and "Now," Qui-Gon echoed quietly. As Kariev and the others concentrated on the transports, the two Jedi struck out with the Force. Yitta, the only one of the soldiers aware enough to realize what was happening, tried to shout a warning, but he was too late. The soldiers tumbled from their chairs, unconscious. Yitta fumbled with his blaster, and Obi-wan kicked it out of his hand and struck him on the temple with the side of his hand. Yitta collapsed.

"Good work, Obi-wan," Qui-Gon said. The other two Northerners were watching the Jedi, Sural with interest and curiosity, Rial as if they had grown extra heads. "Now, we'd better take care of those ships."

Obi-wan frowned at the display, then stepped over one of the soldiers to point at a series of rapidly changing symbols beside one of the dots. "Sural, what's this? Altitude?"

Sural nodded. "And it's going down too fast to be landing. I didn't see exactly what Kariev and-- what they did, but--"

"I would imagine they were trying to incapacitate or kill the pilots of those transports," Qui-Gon said, "and I take it they succeeded, with that one at least." He glanced over at his apprentice. "Obi-wan, I'm going to try to bring down the command ship; can you deal with that transport?" Obi-wan nodded slowly; he thought so. Without further discussion, Qui-Gon turned his full attention to his own task, leaving Obi-wan to his.

This isn't that difficult, Obi-wan told himself. Lifting things with the Force is easy. You've done it plenty of times. Of course, something the size of a troop transport-- No, not "of course". Size doesn't matter. You know that. But when he couldn't even see it-- This is no different from those blindfolded exercises Master Qui-Gon made you do all the time when you were younger. And when the ship was already falling-- Well, yes, that makes things a little harder.

It made it a lot harder, Obi-wan found abruptly, as he tried to reach out for the ship. The size wasn't important; by conventional physics, it was as impossible to lift a feather through concentration alone as it was to lift a mountain. Size was a psychological barrier only. Speed and acceleration should be as easily surmountable, but somehow, for Obi-wan at least, that didn't seem to be the case. After all, he reasoned, it was one thing to move an object that was at rest, and quite another to move one that was already moving very quickly in the direction opposite the one he wanted it to go.

All this went through his mind in an instant, and then he made himself concentrate fully on the task at hand. He closed his eyes; that seemed to help. He could see the falling transport in his mind, feel the shape of it as it tumbled through the screaming sky. Carefully he drew threads of the Force around it, drawing off its speed. He moved slowly, partly for fear of injuring the transport's occupants by a sudden deceleration, but mostly because he was afraid he would lose his tenuous grasp if he tried to go faster. This was not easy.

"The transport's at two hundred tan above ground level," Rian reported worriedly with a glance at the screen. "Obi-wan, uh--if you're going to do something--"

"I am doing something," Obi-wan said tightly. On the floor, Kariev moaned, beginning to come around. Obi-wan, unable to spare any energy for her, could only hope she wouldn't wake up soon.

"One hundred forty tan. I don't think it's working, Obi-wan--"

"Then help me," he grated. Rian stared at him. "Come on. It's no different from moving those rocks in the tunnel. Just do what I'm doing."

She nodded, taking a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Obi-wan felt her reach out fumblingly, following his lead. The transport slowed, and slowed more as Sural added his strength to theirs, but it was still falling fast, too fast.

You can do this, Obi-wan told himself firmly. It's not that hard. Master Qui-Gon could handle it easily. But, as he knew very well, he wasn't Master Qui-Gon. He could feel the transport, barely a hundred metres above the uneven ground. It was going to crash, he realized. It wasn't slowing quickly enough, despite their efforts, and it was going to--

A powerful Force blast struck the underside of the ship, kicking it upwards. Seizing the opportunity, Obi-wan caught the ship at the top of its arc, just before it began to fall again, and it stopped, suspended in midair. With great care he lowered it to the ground, setting it down in a narrow cleft in the rock. That would keep the people aboard from wandering, assuming they were inclined to do so, and they could be picked up later.

Obi-wan opened his eyes. "Which one of you did that?" he asked, looking at Sural and Rian. "That push at the end. It was the right thing to do, but how did you know?"

"I didn't do it," Rian said. "Sural, did you--?"

He shook his head. "I thought it was you, Obi-wan."

Obi-wan frowned. It hadn't been Qui-Gon, and who else knew--? His eyes fell on Kariev, lying semiconscious on the floor nearby, and he realized it had been her. Maybe it wasn't an intentional act, not something she would have done had she been fully aware, but--Obi-wan looked up, meeting Qui-Gon's eye. The older Jedi nodded. "Perhaps she isn't a lost cause after all," he said with a smile. Then, "Come on. The command ship has landed; we'd better go meet them before Laska and her soldiers do."

Obi-wan obediently got to his feet and followed his master, trying to pretend he wasn't dizzy. "How did you get them to land?" he asked as they left the control room with Sural and Rian. "I mean, if the other planes notice something is wrong--"

"I convinced the pilot that his engines were malfunctioning," Qui-Gon said with a trace of a smile. "He's set down to make emergency repairs. The other planes have been told to wait for further instructions."

"Clever," Obi-wan said, impressed. Manipulating someone's perceptions even to such a small degree was quite difficult when the person wasn't physically present, but Qui-Gon had a talent for that sort of thing. "Where's the ship? Nearby?"

"Just a short way uphill from the hangar entrance. We'd better hurry; they'll have been spotted landing, and I'd as soon not let Laska get to Vanner before we do."

* * * * *

That hope proved vain; as they emerged from the hangar into the bright early-morning sunlight, they saw a group of the black-uniformed soldiers clustered around the squat bulk of the command ship.

"--get that hatch open," Laska was telling Ander as the Jedi arrived. "They can't hide in there forever."

Ander nodded, motioning to a few of the soldiers around him. They levelled their blasters. "Fire." Red light lanced out, striking the hatch. The metal glowed dully red, brightened, shaded into orange.

"Stop it!" Obi-wan shouted. "You don't know what you're--"

"You must not do this," Qui-Gon said at the same time. "You must not. We need him alive." The older Jedi didn't shout, but his voice carried easily over the whine of the blasters.

"Get out of here," Laska snapped. "This isn't any concern of yours."

"But it is," Obi-wan protested. "The Council sent us to--"

"I don't want you involved!" Her voice softened slightly. "Get away, Jedi. When we break through that door there's going to be fighting, and I don't want to see you get hurt needlessly."

Obi-wan looked at her a moment, surprised, then shook his head. "We're staying, Laska."

She frowned and opened her mouth to answer, but a shout from Ander cut her off. "We're through!" The door clattered to the ground, and immediately two squads charged through, careful not to touch the still-glowing frame.

The battle inside the ship was brief, and unseen by those outside. Evidently the vessel was very lightly manned, and not well equipped to defend itself in a hand-to-hand fight. In short order its crew and passengers were led outside at blaster point: Vanner, Larif, a few soldiers, a pilot, an engineer. "This is everyone," Ander said with satisfaction, emerging last. "They weren't expecting anything; we caught 'em all in the drive room, arguing over the engines or something."

"You were lucky," the pilot muttered, glaring at Ander. "If we hadn't had to set down for repairs-- "

"There wasn't a thing wrong with the engines, you idiot!" the engineer snapped at him. "Whatever you saw on your displays, there was nothing wrong." Obi-wan glanced over at his master, who shrugged.

"Quiet," Laska ordered the two crewmen. She motioned her soldiers aside and they parted obediently, leaving a clear space around Vanner and Larif. Laska smiled. "So," she said, "what should we do with you, I wonder?"

"Laska," Qui-Gon said urgently. "you can still stop this. It isn't too late."

Vanner smiled grimly. "It was too late twenty years ago, Jedi." He seemed oddly calm, for a man facing death. "You must know you won't get away with this, Laska."

She snorted. "Empty threats."

"Hardly," Vanner countered. "You may have managed to bring down one of my transports somehow, but the rest of the planes are still there, and they're monitoring this conversation. If you kill us, they'll open fire, and you and your little band of outlaws will die."

Laska was frowning thoughtfully; she hadn't known about the transport, Obi-wan realized. "So we'll take you into the caves," she told Vanner. "Your soldiers won't hear what happens to you then."

"They'll assume I'm dead," Vanner said evenly. "They'll open fire on your little hideout anyway. They have their orders."

"You're bluffing," Laska said sharply.

Vanner raised an eyebrow. "If you think so, then shoot."

Instead of replying, Laska turned to Sural. "That transport, the one he said we knocked out of the sky. Did you do that?"

"Kariev did," Sural answered. "We were there. We saw her." He didn't give any details, for which Obi-wan was grateful.

"Good," Laska said with satisfaction. Then, to Vanner, "We aren't frightened of your planes. We can destroy them easily with the Force. My soldiers know how to use the forbidden power."

The effect of her words on the prisoners was immediate. The government soldiers shrank away from their captors, their expressions filled with sudden fear. The pilot swayed as though he might faint, and even Larif looked unsteady. Vanner didn't move, but his face was pale as death. "You--you're worse than criminals!" he husked. "You're monsters! Demons! How could even you stoop so low?"

Laska ignored him. "Tell me, Sural--can you destroy those planes from here?" she asked.

Sural blinked several times. "I--I suppose so," he said at last. "But I--I won't."

"You won't?" Laska repeated, incredulous. "You'll disobey my orders? You, Sural?"

Sural nodded jerkily. "I--I--" He stopped and seemed to gather his words together. "You remember what Obi-wan said about the Force," he said. "About the Jedi not using it for violence or evil--Laska, he meant it. They didn't hurt Yitta and Kariev and the others; I saw what they did and they could have killed them, but they didn't. And they saved that transport, when Kariev shot it down. They--" Sural stopped again, then shrugged. "I won't do it, Laska. It wouldn't be right." Rian looked up at him, eyes shining with pride.

Laska looked over at Vanner. He didn't appear to have really heard the exchange; he was staring at her, eyes still fixed in a slightly glassy expression of shock. She drew her blaster, checked the charge and setting. "It doesn't matter," she said. "If you won't defend yourselves, so be it. We're all dead anyway; it doesn't matter." She raised the blaster, sighted it. Vanner stood motionless.

Qui-Gon moved forward, starting to draw a Force barrier between Laska and Vanner. Obi-wan reached out quickly to block it. He couldn't match his master's strength, of course, but the mere attempt was enough to make Qui-Gon stop and turn to stare at him. "No, Master," Obi-wan said in a low voice.

"No, Apprentice?" Qui-Gon said, looking at him in surprise.

Laska glanced at the two of them. "What--you aren't going to try to stop me?" she said, a trace of amusement returning to her voice.

"What would be the point?" Obi-wan said. "If we stop you here, you'll just try again as soon as we leave. You'll kill him, or he'll kill you, or you'll manage to kill each other. And as for convincing you--"

He took a step toward her. The blaster she held didn't waver. "You've already heard everything that needs to be said," he told her. "You've heard what I've said to you--to all of you--about the Force, about the Jedi and what we stand for. And you already know what Vanner and his people believe--about the Force, and about you. They think you're demons."

Another step. He was standing beside her now. "I don't. Your people have been treated unfairly because of what you can do, or who your parents are, or who people think you are; and your people and Vanner's have both done a lot of terrible things in this war. But you aren't evil. At least, I don't think you are. But that's for you to decide, and--" with a glance over his shoulder at Qui-Gon, "we won't interfere. It's up to you, Laska Smoky Sky. What name will they give you after today?" He wasn't sure what he meant by that, but the words felt right.

Laska's fingers tightened convulsively on the grip of the blaster. Her eyes darted from Obi-wan to Qui-Gon to the weapon in her hand, and then settled on Vanner. He met her gaze, seemingly having to force himself to do so.

She stared at him. "I'm not a demon," she said quietly. He didn't move. The world was utterly still. "I'm not a criminal, or an outlaw, or a monster. Those are names you gave us, you and your kind. We never claimed those names for ourselves. We didn't have a name for ourselves, for what we were; we didn't even speak of it. It was forbidden."

Very deliberately, then, she broke eye contact with Vanner and looked around at her people. They watched her silently, some puzzled, some curious, some with no expression at all. Rian, clasping Sural's hand, gave her a faint smile, and surprisingly, Laska smiled back.

"Obi-wan gave us a name," Laska said simply. "He told us there were other people who could do what we did, and that they aren't evil, they aren't feared or hated. He told us that people who had the power are called Jedi, and that that's what we are, too."

Slowly, Laska lowered her blaster. Obi-wan held his hand out toward her, and she carefully placed the weapon in his palm. "This will turn out for the best," he said.

"Only time will tell that," Laska said, but she sounded pleased. "We've got work to do here in the meantime. Vanner," raising her voice, "will you call off your planes?"

He nodded mutely. Larif pulled a communicator from her belt. "All units, abort the mission. Repeat, abort the mission. This is Larif Summer Rain ordering you to break off the attack. Abort and rendezvous at patrol point Green Six to await further instructions." She replaced the communicator and looked questioningly at Laska. "All right?"

"Good," Laska said, satisfied. "Sural, go down to the caves and sound the all-clear." Sural turned and began to climb down the slope.

Qui-Gon stepped forward. "If I might point something out," he said, "you have a unique opportunity here--"

Laska nodded, seeing what he meant. "We do, don't we. Sural!" The man stopped. "Tell Crayheit to come up here. He and Vanner and I have things to discuss." Sural nodded, grinning, and headed downhill.

"What about the rest of us?" Larif wanted to know. "If I may ask," she added warily.

"Your soldiers and crew are free to go," Laska said. "You and Vanner had best stay here for now; like the other Jedi said, we have an opportunity here. If you're willing to talk, that is."

"We, ah--" Vanner stumbled, finding his voice at last, "--I--that is, yes, we're willing."

Laska smiled. Below them, on the lower slope of the mountain, the people were beginning to emerge from the caves. Crayheit and Sural could be seen heading uphill. Laska glanced at Obi-wan. "I am a Jedi," she said softly.

"You're right," Obi-wan said. The Council would no doubt find it amusing, this untrained old woman claiming to be one of them--but in another sense, it was true. "You're right. You are." She nodded and turned to greet Crayheit, and Obi-wan moved back to join his master.

* * * * *

The last thin streaks of atmosphere trailed away from the sides of the small ship as it broke free of the planet's gravity. Red sparks of thrusters burned at its stern, and it accelerated out of orbit and out into the darkness.

Seated beside one of the broad windows, Obi-wan watched the blue and green globe of Cormanda slowly receding out of sight. He was glad to be leaving, but he was glad they had come.

In the days after the abortive attack, they had worked out a temporary agreement, signed by Vanner, Crayheit, Laska, and most of the other leaders involved. Vanner, greatly unnerved by the prospect of having to face a legion of Force-using soldiers, had agreed to Qui-Gon's proposals, and this time the Jedi believed him. The North Continent would have its independence, or some degree of it at least; a good deal more negotiation and discussion would be needed to determine the precise terms, but at least the principle had been agreed to and the government troops and patrols withdrawn. And as for the Northerners themselves--

"Obi-wan." Qui-Gon ducked through the low doorway of the passenger compartment. He sounded surprised to see his apprentice there. "I thought you'd be sleeping."

"I wasn't tired." Obi-wan turned away from the window. "What did the Council say, Master?"

"I just finished speaking with them," Qui-Gon answered, taking a seat on the bench beside Obi-wan. "They've agreed to assign a contingent of Jedi to Cormanda on a semi-permanent basis. They'll be giving basic control training to everyone with Force ability, and helping those who've started to go over to the Dark Side." He smiled briefly. "I must admit, I'm glad we're not part of that mission. Still, it's a remarkable world; with any luck, they'll be sending potential padawans to Coruscant within a few years."

Obi-wan nodded. "That's good news."

"Yes." There was a moment of silence. "You did well down there, you know," Qui-Gon said at last. "I--thank you, Master," Obi-wan said, a little surprised. He shrugged ruefully. "I know I made a lot of mistakes."

"You did well," Qui-Gon repeated firmly. "I must admit, I was worried about you when we were separated. But my fears were unfounded," and Mace Windu's as well, he did not add, "and you proved more than capable."

"Things worked out," Obi-wan admitted, embarrassed. "But I didn't really have any kind of plan--I just tried to do what seemed right."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Then you have good instincts. When Laska captured Vanner, I thought we had lost our chance to make peace, but you handled the situation admirably. Even if your method was a little unorthodox."

"I hoped it would work," Obi-wan said. "Knowing the importance they put on names, I thought telling her she was one of us would help convince her. Even if it wasn't strictly true."

Qui-Gon nodded. "In a way, you were quite right. Had she come to Coruscant as a child, she would have made an excellent Jedi, I think." He touched Obi-wan's shoulder. "I'm proud of you," he said, and stood up. "I'm going to sleep. You should do so as well." He ducked through the door and disappeared into his cabin.

Obi-wan smiled to himself. I didn't do too badly, did I, he thought. Master Qui-Gon thinks I did well. Pride, as Master Yoda often said, led to the Dark Side, but he felt he deserved a little. I did what I thought was right, and it actually worked. And Master Qui-Gon was proud of him. Somehow, that seemed the most important.

He turned back to the window, just in time to see the reflected glow of the main engines firing. The stars outside blurred into glittering streaks as the ship entered hyperspace, heading away from Cormanda and back toward home.

End.