Jenispra
The gold-link gown was not a creation of Danae Trilium's. Sabé had purchased the piece on a whim— she'd always been a little bit more daring than her sisters. Danae actually had far too great a sense of classiness to have designed the thing, and frankly, as Sabé felt the thick Jenispran air cloying to her highly-exposed neckline, she was glad nobody in her family could see her now.
The gown wasn't actually as heavy as it looked. Whatever alloy had been used in its construction—from some planet Sabé couldn't remember offhand— was just about as light as metal could be. There was even a matching headpiece, behind which Anakin's lightsaber was carefully nestled, her hair braided and twisted around it to keep it hidden. She'd told Ben that if it happened ignite, giving her an accidental trim, she very much hoped he was as in tune with the Force as he thought.
Clinking slightly, she rose to her feet, twisting a heavily-wrinkled handkerchief in her hands as a man she presumed to be the prison bailiff entered the room through the far doorway. Sabé looked grossly out of place in the drab, chipped room. Certainly the way the bailiff's eyes boggled at the sight of her gave good reason to believe Ben's rather superficial plan might work. What she really needed to do was keep these folks' attention on the go so that they didn't have much time to stop and think.
"Oh, sir!" she cried out in a half-sob as she approached the bailiff, not giving him any chance to make the first move. "Please, please would you allow me to see him? I don't have much time. My lord does not know I left my post today. If he returns prematurely, I'll be punished for my absence."
"The prisoner is not supposed to have visitors, Lady… Katana," the man said, trying to sound gruff and sympathetic at the same time.
Sabé twisted her handkerchief more tightly. "I know. Your sentinel told me," she said, nodding at the younger man, a slightly leaner version of the bailiff himself. They wore identical expressions in all things, it seemed. "I asked him to fetch you. Is there any way you'd be willing to make an exception?"
This was the main bit of the rescue that Ben was supposedly helping her with, though without him being here it was hard to be sure if it was succeeding. "Your prisoner," Sabé began, leaning forward. The men leaned forward slightly too. "He's a Jedi," she whispered loudly.
That definitely caught their interest. The bailiff straightened and his eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. "A Jedi?" he repeated carefully, crossing his arms. "What makes you say that?"
"We're in love!" she wailed, flailing her hands as if giving up. She wished she was better at fake crying, but this was just going to have to be good enough. "He's only a Padawan Learner, but he ran away from the Jedi and entered into my lord's service to save me! He loves me so much. He never was a very good Jedi."
She collapsed into the hard chair she'd been sitting in a moment before looked up at the two men with eyes as big and watery and brown as she could make them. "I just want to see him," she implored. "To ask him what he wants me to do! We're going to run away together; that's what he was doing when he got arrested— trying to find a way for us to do it!
"If my master learns I was trying to run away, he'll surely send people out looking for me. I'm very valuable to him. I'm so scared!" With that, she buried her face in her hands and heaved deceiving sobs while she pushed as hard as she could with her thoughts, hoping Ben would be able to pick up her signal. She felt a little bit ridiculous. The Force might as well have been pepper gravy for all she could connect to it, but Ben assured her he could sense her strong emotions as easily as Anakin's, so she simply had to trust him.
The seed she'd planted into the minds of two greedy souls was thus: Not just a Jedi, but a Jedi runaway was in their grasp, as well as a helpless and valuable slave who'd wandered into their prison like a mouse in a trap.
She knew immediately when Ben's plan— or this part of it, at least— had succeeded. The bailiff seemed to become someone else entirely. "There now, sweetheart," he said in a crusty, sugary sort of voice not used to playing at kindness. "Of course you can see your young Jedi. I'll take you right to him."
He took her greedily by the arm and Sabé resisted the urge to recoil at his possessive touch. "Oh, thank you!" she cried, wiping at her eyes with trembling fingers. "He'll tell me what to do; I know he will."
"Mind you, he is in prison," said the younger man, causing the bailiff to turn around and glare at him sharply.
"If that's nothing to the lady, that's nothing to you," the bailiff snapped.
"It doesn't matter," Sabé said confidently, as they led her through the back door into the rows of prison cells beyond. "The Jedi will come and get him out. He'll get in trouble, but when he's done with his punishment, he can run away again, and come and save me."
Sabé Naberrie would have probably snorted at this very silly declaration of confidence, just as the younger guard did some feet behind them, but Lady Katana was entirely too consumed with the prospect of seeing her beloved to notice anything else, not even the catcalls and queries being thrown at her from the sporadic cells they passed that were actually occupied. All the while, the bailiff asked her transparent questions about her master and her residence, which she answered with such complicity she decided the man must have the brain of an eopie.
"And here you are!" the bailiff announced after two flights of stairs and the third block of cells they'd walked through. There were no other prisoners on this level. Just Anakin, whom Sabé's eyes found immediately and communicated the briefest warning.
"Darling!" she cried, running forward. She extended her hands. Anakin accepted them, wisely keeping his face neutral. Sabé clutched them tightly, pressing one to her cheek in melodramatic sorrow. "I'm so happy to see you. I snuck away from Lord Tam's to come here."
"Won't he know you're here?" Anakin asked, concerned. He continued clutching one of her hands in his own, but reached out to touch the side of her face with the other. Sabé had to admire his ability to play along.
Seeing an opportunity, Sabé gave a ninny-like giggle. "No," she whispered, smiling for the first time since she'd entered the prison almost half an hour ago. "I checked in at the door with a different name. Lady Katana. Clever, wasn't it?" Though Anakin kept himself from a literal smirk, she could still see it in his eyes. Katana, Ben had informed her, was a code word for lightsaber.
"Very clever," Anakin agreed.
"All right love-birds," said the bailiff, stepping up and prying Sabé away. "That's enough of that. "Blevish, put her in a cell across the way."
Sabé whirled around. "What?" she asked in feigned confusion.
The bailiff grinned. "Wouldn't want to keep slaves from their masters now would we, my lady."
"But—"
"I promised you'd see him, didn't I? Well now you've seen him. Blevish!" Blevish took her by the arm exactly like his boss before him and dragged her to a cell diagonal to the one Anakin was in, just across the corridor. "Oh, and Blevish," the bailiff added, turning around and grinning. "Don't forget to search her person."
Sabé had expected this part of the process to come much earlier, but she was glad it had fallen out this way. She sent a wide-eyed look of panic and warning to Anakin and a second mental push to Ben. Not only would the whole effort be pointless if Blevish managed to stumble upon the hidden lightsaber, but she didn't relish the thought of his wandering hands, either.
"You don't need to search her," Anakin called out across the way the minute the door had thudded behind the retreating bailiff. He stepped close to his cell bars and stared at the deputy with a rather creepy stare. His voice was Force-laden, and Sabé was grateful she didn't have to witness this particular Jedi talent very often, much as it was benefiting her now.
Blevish looked up, kind of confused, between Anakin and Sabé. "I don't need to search her?" he repeated.
Anakin shook his head. "She's harmless. You didn't find anything."
"She's harmless. Nothing there," repeated Blevish, nodding satisfactorily.
When he was gone, Sabé sighed with relief and slumped against the bars wearily. "Am I ever glad I'm not an actress," she breathed.
"There are cameras in here," said Anakin, crossing his arms.
"I know," Sabé said, even as she reached up and began untangling her braids. "We're not staying long, but mostly the rest is up to you."
Theed, Naboo
"I'm sending you what little we were able to learn about the ship," Richard said, his holo-image wavering slightly. Claria twiddled the control mechanism, trying to improve the reception. She'd often wondered how, with intergalactic transmissions possible, a transmission from one side of the same planet to the other could still have such tiresome technical difficulties. "It's probably nothing, but something doesn't smell right with this Mirak guy."
"I'll check and see if anything's come out over com-cast," Claria advised. "It's odd that the ship wouldn't have checked in with Theed before landing."
"I agree." Richard paused, and something in his bearing changed. He seemed almost… sheepish.
"Was there anything else?" Claria prompted, sensing he needed a nudge.
He opened his mouth, and then the words came spilling out. "I have a question about Yvenne," he said.
"I know. We were just talking about her."
"Yes, but… this is something different."
It took Claria a full three seconds for the piece to click into place. "Oh…" she said slowly as realization dawned. "Not Yvenne's problem. You mean Yvenne herself."
"Yeah."
"Is something wrong?"
Claria was hard-pressed not to laugh in fond amusement at her brother. His stance made him look as though he were eight again, reluctant and perplexed. But she held her composure and he blunderingly explained, "Well, she's really a great woman. You know— smart, pretty, capable. And I thought she kind of liked me, but the problem is—" he faltered, and ran a hand through his hair confusedly. He gave heavy sigh. "I don't know," he confessed. "She thinks I'm insincere."
"Does she have reason to be?" Claria asked. Privately, she reflected that this Yvenne must be something impressive indeed, if she was making Richard act like such a schoolboy. She'd never seen him quite this way before, at least not for a very long time, and back then he hadn't been much interested in girls.
"No," Richard replied, a little too quickly. Then he winced, reflecting, and amended, "Well, maybe. From her point of view. But she's wrong."
Claria decided that discussing the intricacies of Richard's personal dilemma was not best suited for a holo call. She took the easy road out. "If she really does like you, Richard, then I'm sure she won't be too easy to convince. Just be sincere and politely persistent. That's my advice. Though without knowing this Yvenne of yours personally, I can't be sure what she's really looking for."
He gave an embarrassed grin. "She's not my Yvenne, Claria."
"Okay, whatever, little brother. Now scoot. I'll call you if I find anything out."
"All right. I'll talk to you later."
Claria sat back in her chair after the transmission ended, reflecting a moment on the strangeness of the ending conversation. Truth be told, she didn't really feel qualified to give anyone advice about romance these days. Not after her own spectacular failure.
She wasn't sure where Ceidron had gotten to. She hadn't seen him since that night in her quarters, the memory of which still left conflicted echoes in both her body and mind. She knew where to find him at the university, if she hadn't been too afraid to try. Wherever he was staying, she hoped he was playing it safe. Metti, at least, was still at the palace.
Claria rose to her feet and headed out of the communications center and down the hall. The security offices were probably the best place to start looking into this mystery ship Richard had discovered on the Rialdan plains. It had been good to hear from her brother. With all her siblings gone, the palace had felt very lonely, even despite the friends and attendants she had with her. It didn't change the fact that they just weren't family.
Of course, when Ceidron had been here, she hadn't been lonely at all. Far from it. Annoyed, she tried to push the thought away. Did every line of thought have to lead back to him? Sure, he was smart and attractive. Sure, he stimulated her mind and challenged her on levels few had ever dared to try. Sure, he could make her breath catch with just so much as a sideways glance, but that didn't change the fact that—
That what? her inner voice told her. That he behaved with impropriety?
Claria had always been a very honest person, even with herself. The fact remained that she'd known well and good Ceidron was a man of the galaxy, and he was not the one who had invited himself into her bedroom.
Her own shame was far greater than any lingering anger she felt toward him, but the idea of finding a way to let him know was downright nauseating. Disgusted with her own cowardice and pride, Claria had been chasing herself in pointless mental circles for the past several days.
"Princess!"
The unmistakable tread of staffer boots pounded frantically behind her, and Claria turned to see a harried-looking tech officer rushing toward her. "I wasn't expecting to find you here," he panted, bowing as soon as he reached her. "There's an urgent call for you— a ship requesting immediate clearance to land in the palace hangar bay."
"A ship?" Claria repeated, confused.
"Yes, my lady. It's Mr. Jon Bakuro. He says it's urgent."
"Allow him to land," Claria said immediately. A worried knot had inexplicably formed in her stomach. "I'll meet him there."
Taking up work at the jazz café again had not, perhaps, been the most prudent course of action Ceidron could have taken. After all, depending on how desperate their mysterious criminals were, he could be taking a huge risk. On the other hand, another confrontation would have been a welcome distraction from his current frustrated malaise, and he might even learn something useful in the process.
After three days in which he practically worked himself to death, however, Ceidron remained unharrassed by cloak and dagger figures, but any and all valadrett playing set him on edge. It was definitely a good thing the café did not boast a clavaria, or he wouldn't have lasted, and probably would have broken something he would then have been obliged to pay for. His frustration with Naboo royalty had returned thrice as strong, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so sullen.
His foolishness grated at him. Claria Naberrie had proved that she, like every other woman in the galaxy, was as incomprehensible as the stars themselves. Women were perplexing to infinite proportions, he concluded. Nothing he ever did could possibly change that, and it was better that he didn't try.
It seemed these days he noticed the Naboo loyalty to their royal family even more than he had before. He couldn't scorn it anymore, but it did leave him feeling a little bit ill, like every one of them might find out about what he'd tried to do. This thought was far more frightening than the concept than potential criminals chasing him all over Theed. Fortunately, the common sense part of him told him he was just being skittish and paranoid.
He was a little bit angry at her. Though he would be the first to admit that no, he probably shouldn't have pushed as far as he had (he blamed the combined powers of music and enshrouding dimness and big brown eyes) but did she have to turn those eyes against him with such scathing accusation? As if he were no better than some cheap man-handler? True, he didn't take such a strict view of intimacy as it seemed the Naboo did (a lesson he'd learned a little too late), but Ceidron was not the type to offer himself to just anyone. Only twice before in his lifetime had he felt a connection with a woman to be that strong, and never on this level. If she'd thought he approached such things casually then she did not know him at all, and therein lay his deepest grief.
So here he was, trying to work her out of his blood.
He was failing miserably.
When Metti found him, he was wiping glasses behind the bar and contemplating a nearby bottle of brandy out of the corner of his eye, wondering if chemical amnesia was an option. Not that he was really considering it. He'd always made a lousy drunk, and no, it would not help him forget. He could sense by his friend's posture that this was more than just a social call. Metti's eyes scanned the room with purpose, and when they finally found Ceidron at the bar, his shoulders relaxed slightly in obvious relief.
"You didn't have class today. I had no idea how to reach you," Metti said. "Didn't expect to find you here— this was a last resort."
"What's up?" Ceidron asked, picking up another glass. Though he had nothing against his friend, he remained aloof. Last he'd known, Metti was still maintaining residence at the palace, though Ceidron had begun to suspect this was more because he was greatly enjoying the perks of royal hospitality— and the company of a slew of amicable handmaidens— than any lingering anxiety over his safety. In any case, as long as Metti stayed there, he was a symbolic connection to the flaxen-haired princess Ceidron was trying to recover from. Aloof he must therefore remain.
"I've been looking for you for almost two hours," Metti said. "Jon Bakuro just showed up from Coruscant."
Ceidron looked up sharply. "And?"
"He's got a huge lead on this smuggling thing," Metti said. "I figured you'd want to know about it."
"Really?" Ceidron paused in work.
"It's huge, Cee," Metti said gravely. He looked pale. "Much bigger than I'd ever—" he hesitated.
"What?" Ceidron asked. He put the glass down, now genuinely curious.
"Glowquartz. Bakurcom has been inadvertently used as a major pipeline in the trafficking of glowquartz."
Someone could have come along just then and tipped Ceidron over with a puff of wind. "Glowquartz?" he repeated dumbly. Of all the words in the galaxy, "glowquartz" and "Naboo" were probably two of the last he would have associated together. The planet was just too idyllic for such things as illicit drugs. Or so it seemed on the outside.
"There's more. Princess Elsinoré says she knows it's not your problem, but since you've done so much to help, you're welcome to come along, if you like."
"Come along?" Ceidron asked, brushing aside the desire to interpret any and all connotations of Claria's request.
"We're going to Rial. Apparently, a friend of theirs is in danger. The princess seems to think we can be of help."
Jenispra
Unfortunately, Ben's master plan had not counted on the sudden, unexpected arrival of a strange newcomer who seemingly had no problems whatsoever convincing the bailiff to allow him access to the prisoner. It had taken Anakin all of five seconds to cut both himself and Sabé free from their cells, but no sooner were they heading towards the far end of the cell-way, than the door opened again, admitting the bailiff, a still-confused Blevish, and a third man, richly and pompously dressed.
There was a stomach-wrenching moment of stillness, the sort that seemed to last forever, as the three shocked men stared back at the equally stilted pair of escapees. Walking in, the bailiff had been speaking to the newcomer with almost groveling enthusiasm, but both of them had quieted as soon as they'd spotted Sabé and Anakin.
Sabé knew that their appearance must have come as quite a shock. Not only was Anakin's lightsaber still fully blazing and thrumming slightly in the otherwise thick silence, but she had shed her confining gown and was now wearing nothing but the tight, low-cut, medium tan jumpsuit that had gone underneath it. In addition, her hair was down and flailing all over her shoulders and down her back, so that, instead of simple but refined Lady Katana, she probably looked more like a crazed wildcat.
Then the endless moment finally lapsed, and the bailiff was quick to draw his blaster. This presented no immediate threat, as Anakin's lightsaber just as quickly flashed into action, but it did leave them in something of a standoff. The only way out of the room was through the three men. There weren't even any windows.
"Perfect," Sabé muttered, doing her best to duck behind Anakin for cover.
"Sabé, I need a little help here!" She could barely hear Anakin over the din. He was right. Blevish seemed to finally be coming to his senses, and was reaching for his own weapon. Sabé knew the best chance they stood was to act quickly. Keeping to a sort of half-crouch, low to the ground, she barreled at the three men, hoping to catch Blevish off guard and prevent him from reaching the blaster. She was moderately successful, though he wasn't a small man, and rather than bowling him over, she really only managed to make him stagger. Still, the suddenness of her attack seemed to be opportunity enough for Anakin to dart forward, depose of the bailiff's weapon with a swift, almost blinding swipe of his blade, and chuck the man to his feet with a heave of the Force.
Sabé, meanwhile had tried to dart away from her own quarry, who did not take to being barreled at— however ineffectively— and was trying to immobilize her. Sabé did her best to kick and flail with something more than just randomness, privately thanking Panaka for what little progress he'd managed to get out of so unwilling a combat student as she had been.
Blevish had sunk to an ultimate low— yanking her hard by the hair— by the time Anakin managed to deal with him. Sabé reached up and clamped her hands onto her assailant's wrists, clinging on as tightly as she could manage until Anakin clubbed him expertly on the back of the head, causing both him and Sabé to tumble to the floor together. "Ow!" she cried, then began to extricate herself from the unconscious guard.
Meanwhile, the third man, the stranger, had not been idle. He'd been attempting to use the com to call security. Sabé wondered whether or not he'd succeeded, but there wasn't really anything to be done about it if she had. Anakin swept his lightsaber till the point rested beneath the man's chest. "I recognize you," he said darkly, taking two menacing steps forward. Sabé straightened slowly, watching the two and trying to tame her errant hair.
"How did the Jedi get involved in this?" the man shot back, eyes hard. He seemed respectful of the weapon pointed at him, but not as intimidated as Sabé would have been.
"If by 'this' you mean illegal smuggling of illicit drugs," Anakin pressed, closing with the blade until it was close enough to give the man a shave, "then I'm not going to answer your question, but I would like you to tell me how you're involved."
"Anakin—" Sabé began with some reticence, "there isn't much time to—"
They were standing in the outer corridor now, near the stairwell, and right on cue, they could hear the pounding of boots and frantic orders welling up from below. Anakin, looking slightly frustrated, turned his head from the sound and glanced back at Sabé. "Fine," he said. "Up the stars. Run."
Sabé wasted no time obeying. It was three flights of stairs to the roof, but she had to stop and wait for Anakin when she got there, for the door was bolted tightly and effectively shut, and she had no way of getting around it. Being unarmed as she was made her feel almost more naked than her ridiculous attire.
Anakin was not long behind her, though she perceived they didn't have much time. "Now what?" he asked, almost to himself as he neatly sliced away the lock and kicked the door open.
"Now we hope our ride doesn't take too long," Sabé said matter-of-factly. She reached out with her mind and gave the last of her three scheduled mental shoves, already searching the skies.
Anakin paused to stare at her curiously. "What—?" he began.
Sabé gave a smug smile. "This was always our escape route, you know. You'd better help calling Ben," she added, tapping the side of her head with a wince. "I'm really not that good at it."
"Actually, you're better than you think," Anakin observed offhandedly. His eyes were distant. "They'll be here in about a minute." He took her by the upper arm and began hastening her away from the doorway. "Till then we have to hold our own. Stay with me."
Feeling like the whole sky was threatening them with its emptiness, Sabé ran with Anakin to the far end of the building, where a squat chimney-top offered a sort of cover. It proved much needed as about a dozen prison guards came spilling out of the doorway a moment later, dashing about madly and squinting in the unforgiving Jenispran sunlight. It was clear that until they changed their tactics, however, they weren't going to get anywhere near Anakin Skywalker, so Sabé kept wisely behind their barrier, huddled near Anakin's feet, with one eye on the skies.
The ship came up fast, but presented a problem. When Ben had conceived this plan, it hadn't included a roof full of blasters firing at them. Sabé shielded her eyes as the hatch opened. Whoever had released it, though, did not lower the ramp. Instead, the faces of both Helaine and Ben peered over the edge, and a moment later, a collapsible ladder came tumbling out of the hatch, the end landing three feet from Sabé.
Almost the same moment, Ben landed beside it, nimble as a feline, without so much as a grunt. His lightsaber already gleamed. "Up you get, Senator," he commanded sidelong to Sabé. He was already striding to assist Anakin in the fight.
Sabé turned and considered the ladder uncertainly for a moment. Then a shot ricocheted off the chimney not far from her, and she swallowed her doubts and grasped the nearest rung.
She found she hated climbing the stupid thing every bit as much as she thought she would. It wasn't that she was afraid of heights, but the ladder kept swaying about sporadically, and it was difficult to get a firm foothold. To make things even more nerve-racking, it sometimes felt like every blaster down below was being aimed at her. This wasn't the case; she knew Ben and Anakin were doing a superb job of keeping most of them occupied, but occasionally one or two managed to get a shot off.
She'd successfully managed about three-fourths of the rickety contraption when one of the shots found its mark. Well, maybe not its intended mark, but it hit her solidly in the forearm nonetheless. With a painful cry, she lost her balance and found herself precariously clinging to the ladder with one hand and one foot only. Her terror was blinding, and for a few heart-wrenching moments, she was certain nothing remained for her but a sickening fall the unforgiving rooftop below her. She closed her eyes tightly, too panicked to try and fix her problem.
Then there was a sudden new weight on the ladder, and a strong, warm hand clasped firmly around her good arm. When Sabé opened her eyes, Ben was there, across from her and slightly above. "Sabé!" he called over the persisting din of battle below and the ship's engines above. "Hold on, I've got you. Just get your balance, come on." While Sabé was still trying to regain control of her senses, he looked up at the open hatch, which was now just a few tantalizing feet away. "Helaine!" he called to the young padawan still watching anxiously. Sabé could see now that Dooji had joined her. "Help me to steady the ladder with the Force!"
Helaine nodded, and there was a brief minute of inactivity as the two Jedi were obviously collecting their focus. Steady the ladder, Sabé thought to herself, annoyed. Why didn't we think of that ourselves?
A couple of seconds later, the metal ladder seemed to grow even heavier, and stiffer, as though rust had gathered in its joints and rendered them inert. Ben opened his meditating eyes and fixed them on Sabé. "You're going to have to climb, Sabé. I'll help you. Can you do it?"
The confidence in his expression was more than enough to banish her fear. In fact, she was quite certain she'd never felt more secure. "Yes," she said strongly, giving a firm nod.
He smiled. "All right, then. Here we go."
With Ben supporting her from the other side, and the ladder considerably less difficult to navigate, the last quarter of the distance seemed a micron in comparison to what had come before. Ben scrambled through the hatch first, then together he and Helaine reached down and hauled Sabé the rest of the way. Sabé was on her knees on the deck, just about to get to her feet when the ship jerked unexpectedly, sending her toppling forward onto her Jedi rescuer.
Her face was suddenly inches from his, her body sprawled almost perfectly atop. She felt his breathing, and their eyes seemed to snap together by forces not quite concerned with happenstance.
After this, she knew, she would never be able to tell herself she'd imagined his attraction. This close, this alive, his expression was unmistakably fervent, and Sabé felt heat rip through her body at his proximity. Her hair cascaded on either side of her face, encasing them for a moment in a sort of dark, warm sanctuary all their own, with the outside universe momentarily shut away. Ben stared up at her, his gaze seeming to penetrate into every secret part of her, searching, wanting, sustaining…
The spell was broken by Anakin's arrival, landing like an acrobat nearby. "That's it. Close the hatch," he said. Sabé hastily pulled herself off of Ben, trying not to blush, and grateful that neither of the two padawans were paying attention. Helaine made to pull the rope ladder back in, but Anakin shook his head and cut it away.
As the hatch was closing, Ben called over the radio, "Master Lanelle, we're away. Set a course for orbit, and then Naboo." He stepped away from the radio and close to Sabé. "Here, Senator, let's have a look at that arm."
"Naboo?" echoed Anakin, obviously very confused. "But what about the glowquartz? I was on the trail of these—"
"We learned what we needed to know," Ben cut him off. He was gently and systematically examining Sabé's blaster burn, which had now begun to throb painfully. "I think we'll have to have Master Lanelle attend to this. She's better at this sort of thing than I am."
"What did you learn?" Anakin asked persistently to Ben.
Ben looked expectantly over at Dooji, and the Gungan stepped forward. "Da key lixer of da glowquartz issen from Naboo," he said. "Only Naboo. Da Naboo lixer issen what be makin' da glow."
"We've been two days going over the data," Sabé said, confirming Dooji's announcement with gravity. "There's very little room for doubt. The chief component of the makeup of glowquartz is the phosphorescent chemical that gives the colo claw fish the ability to glow in the dark. This is a bigger problem than we could ever have imagined."
"Why?" Helaine asked.
"Because, the colos are critical to the Naboo ecosystem, but due to their size, they're also very rare. If they're being farmed for this chemical, we could face ecological problems of greater impact than even the ills of glowquartz."
"It does leave us with one advantage, however" Ben added.
"What's that?" Anakin asked.
"With so few of the colo clawfish on Naboo, it shouldn't be to difficult to trace this trail to its end."
A/N:
A thousand apologies for the delay, folks. But I hope this chapter will be worth it. Also, please forgive me for not doing individual reviews this time. I'm about to fall asleep right now, and have a dozen other things to get done today, as it is. Be assured that I adore and appreciate every single review. I'm gonna go out on a limb that, of the two, you'd prefer the update more anyway.
Cheers!
Saché