A/N: Well, this chapter was rather difficult for me to write, but I succeeded! I found out I have a hard time not describing every little thing that happens, so I had to work out which parts were actually important to the story. One of the charcters was a type I'd never written before, so that was an interesting challenge. I probably would have finished this yesterday, but my friend just moved into a new apartment, so I was visiting her :)

Also, I big thank you to everyone who took the time to review so far! I know I'm not the best about getting back, but they do mean a lot to me.

OHOHOHOHOHOH

Chapter 3: The Dawn

It was still dark when Obi-Wan woke with the sudden urge to use the fresher. After taking care of his immediate needs, he stole a glance in the mirror. He looked awful and it felt as if something had crawled in his mouth and died. It was probably a horrible combination of cold-mucus and left over food from dinner. Before he could do anything about it, Obi-Wan was struck by a bout of coughing so intense he could do nothing for a moment but hack and cling to the rim of the sink. It was a dry, painful cough, and after it finally stilled—passed was not at all the right word as Obi-Wan felt it could start again any moment—he let his head rest on the cool, ceramic basin.

Just when he was beginning to feel a little more under control, Obi-Wan heard the door to the room open and muffled footsteps entering. Cracking open the fresher door he saw a wizened, old, Lenoian woman carrying a lantern checking Qui-Gon stats and shifting him in the bed with practiced ease. Obi- Wan stepped completely out of the fresher.

On noticing him the woman smiled, the whips of gray hair floating about her head like a cobweb. The effect was intensified by the lantern light. In Koshol electricity was a valuable resource and even the richest of households often switched to rechargeable lanterns after dark. "Good morning, child. I am Tura Misshi," she said quietly in Lenoian, setting the lantern down on a side table.

At least Obi-Wan could understand simple pleasantries and reply in kind, "Morning. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi."

She immediately began chattering away, Obi-Wan completely loosing the thread of the conversation, "Er…" he interrupted, beginning in basic and witching Lenoian, "I don't… I don't speak much Lenoian."

The old woman's eyes lit up with understanding, and she continued to speak but began adding gestures to her words. Her grip was surprisingly strong when she took him by the wrist and drew him over to a pile of clothes he assumed were the ones Dr. Lemleshor mentioned. She then drew him over and showed him how to operate the somewhat bizarre shower system common in Lenoia and pointed to the towels and towel racks. Obi-Wan knew how to operate them in general, though the handle on this one was a single knob, rather than the two in the shower at the suite. Not that telling her this would have changed her tour. She went on to explain about meal times—the padawan could nearly follow the key points of that explanation. Misshi then went on the mime drinking. Obi-Wan thought he heard the words bulsk and soon, but she did speak incredibly fast, so he couldn't be sure.

With a smile she said goodbye, and as quietly and suddenly as she came, she left.

Alone again, Obi-Wan inspected the clothes Misshi had left for him. They seemed to be of a standard cut mass produced for the working classes, with adjustable ties and of a bland, bluish grey color. The pants were loose, and the shirt was long-sleeved and baggy, hem dropping to mid-thigh.

Folding them neatly, Obi-Wan set them down and gave into the urge to observe his master, walking over to stand next to the bed. After standing still long enough to ascertain Qui-Gon was still breathing, the young man let go of the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. It was illogical, obviously he was still alive since the nurse just visited and the readings were still registering, but the man's breath was so shallow, so imperceptible, Obi-Wan had to be sure. Irrational misgivings soothed, the padawan gave into his next strongest desire: a shower.

Once finished bathing, wonderfully free of dirty and in equally clean clothes, Obi-Wan noticed the sky outside had lightened imperceptibly and just inside the door of the darkened room sat a cart. On closer inspection, he found a mug of steaming, warm liquid and thought back to Nurse Misshi's comment about bulsk. He brought it up to his nose and sniffed. It smelt odd, pungent, yet sweet, and hesitantly he tried a sip. It was a little hot, but not unpleasant. Obi-Wan couldn't decide if it reminded him of tea, or hot apple cider.

Brining the bulsk over to a chair by the window, Obi-Wan sat down and sipped thoughtfully. He watched the imperceptible changes in the night began to subtly give way to the coming dawn. The drink was having a wonderful effect on his sore throat, and that combined with the hot shower meant he felt better than he had for days. Everything was still so uncertain. Finally feeling at least a little relaxed and slightly less miserable, Obi-Wan felt his eyelids begin to droop. With a resolution to meditate after some more sleep and to get some answers from whoever came by the next day—rather, this day, he set down the cup, curled up under the sheets and fell into a surprisingly restful slumber.

From his seat near the window, Obi-Wan could hear the cheering of a crowd in the distance. One half of the frame could be slid back to allow outside air in, though covering the side that opened was an incredibly strong mesh. After breakfast, a morning visit from Dr. Shehlal and a rather difficult time explaining he wanted his clothes laundered to the on duty nurse, or at least a spare set from their suite, and he still wasn't sure she understood even though she left with the clothes, the padawan was rather enjoying a quiet lunch to himself, along with another glass bulsk. It seemed the drink had been ordered as an addition to his meals.

Unfortunately Obi-Wan still hadn't had a chance to meditate. It was eerie in the room, with Qui-Gon present, and yet still so distant. While the bulsk helped him breath, the urge to cough was only diminished and his sinuses still ached horribly; that and the constant flow of people in and out of the room had kept him from being able to concentrate. Now, at least he could eat in peace and watch the goings on in the court yard. Some tables had been set up and various figures were eating lunch in the sunlight. One group in particular caught Obi-Wan's attention. While most people wore a blue and yellow bandana, a small group wore sashes over one shoulder sporting the two colors in long, bright stripes. They seemed to be heatedly discussing something while drinking, a few eating the pasty pockets commonly bakes for a portable lunch on Lenoia. After a time they broke apart, most of them heading back where they emerged from, but one struck out across the courtyard with long strides, passing almost directly under his window. Something told Obi-Wan that he wouldn't have peace and quiet for much longer.

Not a minute later, time enough for Obi-Wan to hand his lunch tray off to the nurse and sit back down, there was a knock at the door and the very man he'd just been watching entered. He was somewhat short for a Lenoia, only a touch taller than Obi-Wan, with a slight paunch and a smile that seemed to be glued to his face. His skin color was on the reddish side, even for a Lenoian, and dark hair ruthlessly combed back, his completely black eyes seemed to bulge out of his face; the smile that was meant to be ingratiating merely reminded the padawan of a horrible grimace.

When he marched straight across the room, Obi-Wan only had just enough time to stand before his arm was gripped in a powerful handshake, and the man boomed out "Greetings, Greetings, I am Juslath Mustally, who do I have the privilege of addressing?"

"Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, sir," Obi-Wan was glad when the man finally released his hand.

He felt terribly awkward wearing something other than his usual robes, and fumbled when he didn't have wide enough sleeves to slip his arms into the way he usually would.

"No need for formalities, my boy, we are all equals here, all equals," Mustally said, as if he meant to put Obi-Wan at ease, although to the young man he sounded terribly condescending.

"It is a shame about Master Jinn, a terrible shame," the man said with artificial gravity; Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder why every one seemed to know who is master was, but had no knowledge of his identity, as if a padawan was somehow below notice, "It is unfortunate he was there at the time of the attack. But some sacrifices are necessary in the war for Liberty. Some casualties are unavoidable, but no less tragic. In the ideal world, only the enemies of Liberty, Peace and the People would fall, but, alas, it is not so," Mustally shook his head slowly, as if in grief, "Do sit down," he said, gesturing to a seat while sitting in the opposite chair, "You must have so many questions, so many questions. I volunteered to come and speak with you—and understand, when I answer, it is not just for myself, but for the Party, and for the People. Please, ask away."

For a moment Obi-Wan had no idea where to begin, so much had happened since the day before, but eventually he decided to ask the question that had been burning in his mind from the beginning, "What happened?"

Obi-Wan wondered for a moment if he should be more specific, but Mustally just nodded and said, "The revolution, my boy, the revolution. The People could no longer bear the oppression, the absurd privileges, of the Elite. The time had come for true Liberty, true Justice, not false promises and equivocation. The Party has been planning, waiting for this day, and it is finally here. The dawn of a new age has come, my boy, no more, no less."

"But what exactly occurred yesterday?"

"What you witnessed yesterday was the culmination of years of painstaking planning and organization. The time of tyranny and suffering caused by the Elite and the enemies of Liberty and Justice has come to an end, as all such evil must. The Delegation meeting here was precisely the kind of opportunity we've been waiting for. Key members of the party coordinated an attack on the Delegation, taking out important members of the Elite while also sending the message to the tyrants that they are not all powerful. At the same time the People in many districts rose up and took key government buildings and munitions stores. The city is now in the hands of the people, as it should be."

"What about the Delegation security, surely—"

"Years of planning, my boy, years of planning," said Mustally with one eyebrow raised and a confident smirk.

Training in diplomacy and seeing past such colorful language served Obi-Wan well, as he could sense Mustally doing his best to influence the young man with his considerable charisma. Though Obi-Wan remained unaffected, and Mustally had not given him a clear answer, the padawan decided to let the matter drop. Even if he asked for details, the politician, as Obi-Wan decided the man must be, would only give him more vague answer. He therefore moved on the next pressing question, "I don't mean to sound impertinent, by why are we being treated here, and why the security?"

"Ah," sighed Mustally, leaning back and folding his hands on the table, "That is a delicate question indeed, but not unwarranted. You are curious, naturally, as to your particular situation. Now, understand, the presence of Jedi, even the possibility of ambassadors from the Senate, was unexpected, quite unexpected. The Party is somewhat divided over your fate. Some Party Leaders believe you are a danger to the revolution, other Leaders, such as myself, believe you are merely unfortunate victims of circumstance. You must see, however, that we have lit upon a compromise. Some are content to keep you here as prisoners, but I must emphasize it is also for your own protection, your own protection, my boy. Your opponents and the Mob know very little of Jedi but fairly tales, fantasies, they do not understand your ways; what we do not understand, we fear, and that is why you must stay here where you are protected—both from censure and needlessly defending yourself against those who know no better. If you are concerned for your Master, have no fear, none whatsoever. This building contains a fully equipped medical facility. Though of a shady past, we will now use for the befit of the revolution and purify its sordid history with the light of Liberty."

With Mustally's rather verbose answer seemingly finished, Obi-Wan decided to ask a different question. Though he wanted a clear answer, he didn't know how long the politician would stay, or when he would get a chance to ask questions again, "Our spare clothes, our comm. link, they were left in our suite, may we collect them or have them fetched? And what of our lightsabers?"

"I will send someone to see what can be done. I'm afraid there was a great deal of looting during the uprising, and there may be little enough to find. However, concerning you comlink, it unfortunately will be confiscated," though Obi-Wan had done his best to remain impassive, his eyes narrowed at this. Mustally, seemed to notice and elaborated, "It has been decided to limit communication off planet, and even between the Lenoia and other states. You see, the revolution must be allowed to take root, to bring order, before we can allow unwarranted interference. Your lightsabers are safely locked in the city armory, stored in a special compartment of which only Durarr has the key. He is the head of the Public Safety Committee just formed today. As you see, they are kept out of any… inconvenient hands."

Including inconvenient Jedi, Obi-Wan thought sarcastically, but carefully kept his expression neutral. With a brief glance at his chronometer, Mustally smiled his unnerving smile, and said, "I'm very sorry, very sorry indeed, but I have little time to spare. Do you have anymore questions, my dear boy?"

"Nothing pressing, I wouldn't want to keep you from an important engagement," Obi-Wan replied, the smile on his face equally false-feeling.

"I must be off," Mustally said and they both stood, shaking hands one more time.

Once more the door was shut and Obi-Wan was left with nothing but and unconscious Qui-Gon and his thoughts for company. Sitting back down in the chair Obi-Wan surprised to find he was shaking, he hadn't been before. Coughing into his arm, and looking back out the window he could see the Politian crossing the courtyard again, which was now mostly empty. When he was able to breathe again, Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder if he'd handled the situation correctly. Should he have asked more detailed questions? Or was it better to seem compliant, avoiding looking too curious? Qui-Gon would have known what to do, the young man was sure of it, and done a better job. Now, more than ever, he missed his master's calming presence, his experience and cool headedness. It was finally coming home to him that Qui-Gon was gravely injured. Before, he had just been living from moment to moment, too tired to resist and content to see what would happen naturally. Now his tendency to look ahead was returning full force, and things did not look good. Though Qui-Gon always emphasized the importance of the Living Force and embracing the present, Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder how they would get out of this predicament.

Taking a measured breath, Obi-Wan decided to attempt to meditate. His sore, achy head, painful throat and sinuses made it difficult to concentrate, but he needed to—he had to clear his mind, instead of allowing his doubts and insecurities to dominate.

When the nurses came in later to check Qui-Gon's condition, Obi-Wan was certain of one thing: he must wait. Though his entire being itched to be doing something, he must wait for his master's condition to improved, wait to see just what was in store, for them and Koshol as a city. He must wait for more information, for an opportunity. After all, moving Qui-Gon would be a conundrum in its self, let alone without any concrete plan.

As Mustally said, this was the dawn. The revolution was young yet, and Obi-Wan was resolved to be patient, gather his strength, and wait to see what the new day would bring.

OHOHOHOHOHOH

A/N: Sorry about the tons of exposition, but things will get more interesting in the next chapter, I promise.

Reviews, as always, are appreciated and help encourage this poor little writer!