Lineage IV

14.

"Their comms are down," Adi Gallia remarked, grimly, as she toggled the relay interface yet again. "And the space port is no better."

"Ord Ursolon is subject to violent dust storms," Qui Gon reasoned. "They may have had their transmission equipment knocked out."

The Tholothian Jedi master pressed her lips together. "This is one instance in which I do not think no news is good news."

Sadly, Qui Gon had to agree. He cursed himself for giving Obi Wan permission to investigate the crash site. He cursed himself for not simply taking the Padawan with him, against both the Council's recommendation and his own rational objections. It seemed that protecting his apprentice from potential harm was a sheer impossibility; it might simply be more convenient to keep him close at hand, so as to face the inevitable together.

"I've said it before," Adi grumbled. "Your Padawan attracts trouble."

The tall man refrained from pointing out that Padawan Tachi would by this logic have to categorized as "trouble"; at the moment, he needed Adi's help to navigate whatever crisis lay ahead. "I'll bypass the spaceport and take us directly to the Ag Corps station," he decided. "They can't check our planetary security clearance without comms anyway."

For once Adi Gallia did not comment upon his disregard for standard protocol.

Soll Carthag was not yet finished tormenting them. The Klatooinian paced around the two captive Padawans, a predatory bird circling on a thermal updraft of his own dark imaginings. "Now we get to see just how attached your Order is to you," he smiled cruelly.

"Jedi do not indulge in attachment," Siri informed him scornfully.

Carthag snorted. "I have seen more than one Jedi master weep," he sneered. "I have been the one to make this happen. Do not lie to me."

When he received no taunting retort, he continued. "What do you think they will pay for you, little ones? Hm? Your weight in aurodium?"

Obi Wan stirred. "Choollo has you fooled, doesn't he?"

"What do you mean, whelp?"

"I'm not even a Padawan, technically. I was at the Ag-Corps because I lost my place in the Order. He's brought you a worthless hostage."

Carthag halted and narrowed his lamp-like eyes. "You lie."

"I do not. Search your feelings. I am telling you the truth."

The Klatooinian curled his lips upward over his stained teeth, concentrating. His forehead creased into rumpled valleys of tough flesh. He hissed. "You do not lie," he growled. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You're the one who let him deceive you," the young Jedi pressed onward. "How do you know the Agri Corps has no comms? He may have lied about that as well. He may be going to betray you as we speak, leaving you here with useless leverage."

Carthag roared aloud and stomped across the hold, back and forth, two and then three times. Siri nudged against Obi Wan's back. "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded, indignant.

"Negotiating. Hush."

"What about her?" the killer demanded, his attention centering on Siri.

"I'm no prize, either," she replied, quielty. Carthag leaned over her, one rough hand tracing over her jaw and cheekbone, eyes slitted appraisingly. Siri held his sallow gaze without flinching.

"Perhaps," the Klatooinian grunted, straightening. He ground his teeth, a nerve wracking sound. "That pizzmah better not double cross me," he muttered. He cast another calculating glance at the two Padwans and then strode away through the open bay doors again, heading for the cockpit.

"How did you do that?" Obi Wan wondered aloud. "That was an impressive mind trick."

"Not truthfully…I really don't feel worthy of the Order sometimes. A great deal of the time," Siri confessed, in a small, downcast voice. "I'm really no better than you are."

Well, that was… nice. "Thank you," he snorted. "I'm flattered."

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Never mind." He – they- were playing a dangerous game. He needed to keep his focus on the present moment, and on the matter of escape. The mystery that was Siri Tachi could wait for a more auspicious occasion, or possibly forever.

Qui Gon set the Republic light shuttle down in the center of Alepo's dry and brittle lawn, the stretch of hopefully tilled sod between the housing unit and the outlying agri-bubbles. One of the vessel's landing prongs neatly impaled the "Do Not Tread on Grass" sign, reducing it to scattered splinters.

He was not encouraged by the sight of Alepo Sator hurrying from the shelter of the nearest dome to meet them as they descended the ramp.

"Master Jinn! Master Gallia!"

The Jedi masters looked about, sensing the milling activity of more than a hundred extra sentients, the disruption of the Agri-Corps' accustomed routine. "How is the evacuation effort proceeding?" Adi asked the hunch-backed botanist.

He waved a hand at the nearest dome. "A disaster, like all government affairs. Situation normal, all farked up. Our comms are down, as you likely noticed, but I'm expecting your Padawans back any moment with replacement circuits."

A chill raced down Qui Gon's spine. "Where are they now?" he demanded, more sharply than he had intended.

Sator squinted up at him. "Easy," he snapped. "Just off to the crash site. Engineer who was here thought they might be able to salvage enough off the wreck to rig something for us as a temporary solution. Ingenious feller."

"What was his name? What did he look like?" Adi snapped.

Alepo faced her, arms akimbo. "Name of Choollo. Why?'

The Tholothian exchanged a look of sheerest alarm with her fellow Jedi – nothing obvious to an outsider, a mere flicker of cold, dread-filled recognition in the Force. "Chucabra Yollo," she murmured, hand closing about her 'saber hilt. "Let's go now."

"Wait." Qui Gon's raised hand halted her in mid-stride. A small dust cloud billowed on the horizon, gradually resolving into the black silhouette of a landspeeder trailed by a cloud of dust and grit kicked up by its repulsors.

"There they are," Alepo muttered. "About time."

But when the speeder pulled to halt outside the boundaries, they could see that it was not the Padawans returning from their errand. A single figure, short and middle aged, with a jolly lined face and a cropped bush of curling grizzled hair, nipped over the side of the vehicle and approached them at a casual pace. In his hands he bore a small bundle, which looked like the cloth of a Jedi robe.

The Force rippled, a harbinger of ill tidings.

"Yollo," Adi Gallia breathed, as the stranger approached them with all the self-possession of a conquering hero. "What does he want?"

But they already knew the answer.

Carthag returned to the cargo hold in a state of pronounced agitation.

"I think you're lying," he growled, pointing one clawed digit at Obi Wan. " I've met your type before in gambling dens and swindlers' auctions. You're too suave for your own good."

The young Jedi shrugged nonchalantly. "If you say so."

"I do say so, you oh-so-holy little vetch spawn." He loomed nearer, squatting beside the two prisoners. "And I don't' like liars."

"Yet you keep company with Choollo."

"Enough!" Carthag barked, the stolen knife once more appearing in his thick-fingered hand. "He stands to gain nothing by betraying me."

"That's not true," Obi Wan insisted. "He'll claim to have been coerced by you; and when he goes to report our whereabouts and arrange your capture, he'll be hailed as a hero."

"He's behind this," Carthag objected. "You heard him."

The Padawan raised his brows. "Yes, but I'm not a very useful witness dead, am I?"

The Klatooinian thrust the knife under the Padawans' chin and twisted a little. Obi Wan did not react, even when a hot trickle seeped its way down to his collarbone. "You manipulating little chob-sucker," Carthag snarled, abruptly withdrawing the weapon and standing up. He licked the edge of the blade clean, leering evilly. "If you're lying, I'll cut your tongue out before I get down to business with you ."

He tramped away again, the echo of his muttering curses carrying down the ruined passageway.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Kenobi," Siri whispered.

"So do I," he muttered darkly.

"This will do nicely," Chucabra Yollo murmured, looking about the dimly lit interior of the bio-lab. He led the way into the small facility and waved a finger at his three companions. "Close the door, there's a good fellow. A little privacy for these delicate negotiations, I think."

Alepo Sator closed the door with a sour expression and leaned his misshapen back against it, features drawn into a scowl of disgust. The two Jedi masters loomed over Yollo menacingly, cloaks thrown back to reveal the saber hilts at their sides. The old genetlemn took little notice.

"Now," he fussed, plopping his bundle upon the polished lab table and carefully unfolding the layers of brown cloth. "As I said, there is no need to arrest me, when I have such important items to show you." He flipped the last fold of cloak aside, to reveal his various trophies.

Adi Gallia reached out and picked up the long plait of golden hair. Her face stilled into a deadly calm. She set it aside and took her apprentice's weapon instead, clipping it at her belt beside her own saber. Qui Gon said nothing.

"Yours, then, I presume," Yollo grinned, fingering the small coil of auburn hair and the other 'saber hilt. "How fortunate that you returned just in time. I was afraid that Director Sator here would have to make all the arrangements… but I'm sure two Jedi masters will have a much easier time fulfilling my requests."

Qui Gon grasped Obi Wan's saber hilt in one hand. "Which are?"

"Twenty –five thousand Republic dataries and your ship. And of course, no attempts to follow or track us once we depart."

"Where are the Padawans?" the tall man inquired softly.

"In good hands. Well, I should say, competent hands. My associate will have them in custody until we can arrange their release."

Adi nodded. "The credits I have with me," she said. "This mission was cllassified top priority."

Qui Gon grimaced. "What are the terms of release?"

Choollo spread his hands thoughtfully. "I am reasonable. One of them – the young lady - to be handed over to you when we leave; the boy to be deposited at a remote location forty standard hours after we depart, if we have not been tracked or impeded. That location will be sent to you by coded transmission later. Standard procedure, I'm sure you understand. A man in my line of business becomes accustomed to treachery."

"We will meet you in person to deliver the ship," Qui Gon countered. "No money until we retrieve the second prisoner."

"Not acceptable," Yollo smiled. "You see, if this meeting does not go well, my associate is authorized to cull the herd, so to speak. One hostage is far more convenient to transport than two. And I daresay a corpse would convince you of our sincerity."

The tall master leaned forward. "That exchange will be made in person, at the site. I hope I need not convince you of my sincerity?"

Choollo sneered. "You cannot intimidate me, Jedi. I am familiar with your Code."

"I have a reputation as a… maverick," Qui Gon assured him, dead pan.

A quick glance at Adi Gallia's appalled but sober face seemed to confirm that this was, in fact, true; Choollo hesitated. "Very well," he agreed, at last. "We will take your ship to the crash site. And you will disable the long range transceiver before we depart."

"You are still officially under arrest," Adi warned him.

Choollo made her a mocking bow. "As you say. Now – shall we? My associate is not a patient man, and your apprentice, Master Jinn, is of an exceedingly trying temperament."

"Stay here," Qui Gon instructed Alepo Sator as they left. "This could get complicated."

The horticulturalist nodded grimly and clasped the tall man's arm. "May the Force be with you," he muttered, with a terse but earnest nod.