Qui-Gon watched with his arms folded as the Armistice's security crew took away the blonde woman who'd finally admitted her name was Chara Polli. She watched Qui-Gon with the bitter resignation of those who have led hard lives. It was an expression he had seen many times before. She schooled her expression well but Qui-Gon had sensed her keen anxiety when she'd given a fake name. The little he had been able to deduce from her sullen silence troubled him greatly. He still did not know who had planted the bomb but Chara Polli had certainly been one of Emalda's attackers back on Wefhuk. There was also the mystery of the package that Chara Polli had been searching the Fahren for.

Poppi edged tentatively up to the fallen W3-D7, still twitching around the metal splinter that pinned it to the floor. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, standing motionless in the middle of the Fahren's cargo bay, and searched his memory. He had a feeling he had seen a package before, wrapped in brown paper, but he had attached no importance to it at the time.

"We are all perfectly fine," said Ben, perched on a treatment bed across the room. "They just insisted on more bureaucracy before they released us. Typical."
As Ben spoke, Qui-Gon's gaze was drawn to Ben's right hand where it rested on his knee. Several shallow cuts peppered the fingers, extending up to the wrist where Ben's sleeve began. Qui-Gon had not registered consciously at the time that a thin sliver of shrapnel was embedded in one of the pouches on Ben's belt - further evidence of the close call.

Qui-Gon remembered but he didn't know why. He could feel the Force prompting him. But to see what?

Ben was perched on one treatment bed. Emalda sat hunched over on the other, her jacket and parcel cushioned in her lap. One of Emalda's braids was partially unravelled. Ben's robe was draped across her shoulders and she seemed to be trying to shrink inside it. Emalda returned Qui-Gon's look without any of the usual hostility.

Qui-Gon's eyes shot open. Emalda had the parcel that her muggers were searching for. It was more difficult than before to fight down the surge of irritation he felt. He reminded himself that it was not his place to judge her. Emalda might prove to be a source of danger rather than simply distraction for them. He would have to make Ben understand this. A more pressing concern was where the parcel was now. If it had been amongst the supplies in the cargo bay, it would have been sucked into outer space. He closed his eyes again and opened himself to the Force.

Ben was turning around awkwardly in the confined space of the bunk when his recently released wrist gave way. Ben tried to catch himself on his elbow but didn't have the strength to avoid face-planting into the the mattress. Poppi moved in, a surprising gentleness in his pudgy arms. He eased Ben the rest of the way out of the bunk.

At the time, Qui-Gon's attention was on Ben. What had he seen of Emalda?

Emalda straightened her numb leg into the space Ben was leaving. Her control of her limb was awkward and in trying to avoid kicking Ben in the head, she kneed the top of the bunk hard. Qui-Gon had not been focusing on it at the time but he had heard the dull thud. He must have glanced her way because he remembered her annoyed grimace of pain.

Poppi had pulled on thick insulating gloves as he reached in to disconnect the remains of W3-D7's power supply. Sparks fizzed harmlessly off the gloves. Qui-Gon shivered at the memory of the electrical charges coursing through his muscles. He shook off that memory for a later time.

Emalda curled up defensively, rubbing her bruised knee.
"Settle, settle," said Poppi.
"I don't want to settle," said Emalda testily. "I want to scream."

Where was the package the droid had been so desperate for? The memory resisted for a moment and then came to him as clearly as if it was happening again.

Emalda kneed the top of the bunk and grimaced in pain. She curled up and rubbed her bruised knee. Her body shifted and moved. Her clothing twisted. There was something brown in her lap.

Qui-Gon had only glanced at it briefly, out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't even consciously realised he'd seen it.

Her body shifted and a brown package slipped off her lap.

Qui-Gon opened her eyes, to find Poppi watching him warily. Poppi's hands were buried in W3-D7's metallic innards and the droid had finally stopped twitching.
"There is something wrong?" asked Poppi hesitantly.
"Nothing I can't handle," Qui-Gon reassured him.
Qui-Gon left Poppi to his dissection of the droid and walked through to the cabin.

There was still no power in the cabin but the cargo bay lighting poured through the jagged hole where the door used to be. Qui-Gon trod carefully through the lingering rubble and debris to the bunk where Ben and Emalda had been trapped. Reaching on his toes, Qui-Gon ran an empty palm through the disturbed bedding. The package was right there, and likely had been there the whole time that Chara Polli and W3-D7 had been searching the Fahren.

It was heavier than Qui-Gon expected. He slowly unwrapped the paper, revealing a folded garment interwoven from rich maroon and burgundy fabric with delicate white tracings. The tracings reminded him of the patterns decorating the Fahren. He pulled one corner of the material out to examine the tracings in clearer detail and revealed a dozen small jade statues. It explained the package's unexpected weight.

Most of them were just smaller than Qui-Gon's fist and took the form of planets. A great deal of detail had been incised into the surfaces of the spheres, each specific enough that he could recognised several as reproductions of actual planets through the galaxy. One was covered by the heavily developed surface of Coruscant, with solid carvings of pollution clouds obscuring large tracts of the city planet. Another sphere was covered in representations of the forests of Ithor. He also recognised Alderaan and Chandila. There was an ice world he couldn't name and one which seemed to be a spherical space station, with a circular indent on one side. The last he held in his palm for several minutes, tracing the precision of the small metallic valleys and channels that criss-crossed its surface. These were sophisticated works of craftsmanship.

Qui-Gon re-wrapped the package and tucked in safely inside his robe. He returned to the cargo bay, finding Poppi wiping his hands with a collection of droid parts gathered next to his tool-box.
"Anything of interest?" asked Qui-Gon.
"Many modifications," said Poppi, frowning at the droid in disapproval. "This droid used for something... not right. Not legal."
"You haven't seen the Investigator from the Wefhuk Investigative Service, by any chance?" said Qui-Gon. "I'm starting to understand what is behind all this."
"Yes, he has gone to the infirmary," nodded Poppi. "He will help for certain. Investigator Tylip, is his name."

Qui-Gon looked sharply at Poppi. He didn't know what his expression was but Poppi seemed unsettled by it.
"You're sure Tylip's gone to the infirmary?"
"I'm sure he has," said Poppi. "He wanted to talk to your friends as soon as possible."
"I'm not certain talking is what he has in mind..."