Chapter 5
Qui-Gon explained that they were in an extensive compound, almost as large as
the Temple. The inhabitants appeared to be all droids like themselves. Cynara
herself did not live there, appearing only as a hologram, which she could do at
nearly any time or place, allowing for little privacy. He had not been able to
gather much about what lay outside the compound they found themselves in, but
Cynara had been more than happy to gloat about what she called her "toys".
The process of creating droid duplicates seemed to consist of two parts. The
manufacture of the body of the droid required three-dimensional measurements of
the subject, which could be easily obtained from any holophoto or transmission.
The second part, the programming of the droid, required an imprint of the brain
patterns of the subject. The technology required to take such an imprint was
something of a mystery. Cynara seemed to be hiring out that part of the
operation.
"But to what purpose?" Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon had conveyed all his
knowledge. "Why does she want a bunch of droid duplicates hanging around?"
"She's a collector," Qui-Gon answered simply. When Obi-Wan continued to look at
him as though his answer was not sufficient, he elaborated. "She collects
various things, as you will see when you explore the rest of the compound.
Paintings, jewels, musical instruments. And people."
"You mean she's done this to us as some sort of…hobby?"
"I do not mean to make it sound too prosaic. We may not be just pieces in her
collection to be ogled. Some of the others that are here seem to have been
duplicated so that she could exact revenge. Our ability to heal quickly may be
a double-edged sword."
Obi-Wan took a minute to digest that. "So which are we?" he asked eventually.
"Are we to be ogled, or tortured?"
"I'm not sure. And I don't intend to stick around long enough to find out."
"Agreed. Why don't you show me around now."
Qui-Gon glanced down at his Padawan. "I think you should get dressed first.
Here." And he reached down under the bed and pulled out a drawer. Inside were
several sets of Jedi robes, exactly what he would have worn about the Temple as
a Padawan. Cynara seemed to have thought of everything.
Once Obi-Wan was dressed, the two Jedi toured the building.
Outside the small room in which Obi-Wan had awakened was a great room. A really
great room, soaring for several stories, up to a huge dome of skylights. Obi-
Wan stood taking it in, leaning on the railing that kept him from falling the
several stories down to the bottom of the atrium. The railing stretched to his
left and right, as did a series of identical doors.
"Each one leads to a room exactly like yours," Qui-Gon explained. "That one is
mine." He pointed to the next door on the right.
"Then there are hundreds…thousands of us."
"I have not made an accurate count, nor do I know how many rooms are vacant.
But yes, I believe there may be thousands," Qui-Gon agreed.
"Where are they all?" Obi-Wan could see only a scattering of figures far below.
"Elsewhere in the complex. This is only the central chamber. Come."
And so Qui-Gon led his Padawan to the elevator and down to the great room floor,
and thence to several wings of the building. There was an artistic wing, where
many beings created works in various media. The library held bank after bank of
terminals where some sat reading, some writing, some lounging on couches,
datapad in hand. Several gardens flourished under glass; a series of gymnasia
provided all manner of equipment for any sport or exercise. And it went on and
on, every conceivable desire of the inhabitants provided for. Except freedom.
"Why does everyone seem so calm?" Obi-Wan asked when, the tour complete, Qui-Gon
led the way to a bench where they could watch a group of beings playing a game
involving a large sphere. "Why is there no underlying sense of rebellion?
Surely in such numbers we could overpower whatever security Cynara has in
place."
"Perhaps, if they could be organized," Qui-Gon answered, nodding. "But the
situation is complicated. Many of the people here do not realize what has been
done to them. Some refuse to believe it, even when told. A number seem to be
genuinely content; I am never sure if I should envy them or pity them. And then
there is a majority that lives in fear."
"Of Cynara." The tone of his voice showed that he was not about to join the
majority.
"I have seen what she is capable of, Padawan. She is not to be taken lightly."
"Then it is just the two of us."
"Yes. Though once we are out, we will be in a better position to end this
atrocity."
"Always plotting to escape," Cynara's voice startled the two men. They turned
to find her walking toward them, for all the world a normal, solid woman.
"Really, Qui-Gon, don't you like my company?" And she sat weightlessly in the
older man's lap. Qui-Gon stared straight ahead, his face passive.
Obi-Wan, noticing that there was no mobile projector this time, peered around
until he found tiny projectors embedded in the wall and a nearby column. Now
that he thought about it, he had seen the devices all over the complex.
"I so hoped that you would be happy here if I got you a friend," Cynara was
saying, smiling seductively at Obi-Wan, her arms around Qui-Gon's neck. Then
her expression changed to something darker. "I do hope you don't turn out to be
more trouble than you're worth." Apparently tired of Qui-Gon's passivity,
Cynara shifted to sit between the two men. A ghostly hand alighted on Obi-Wan's
thigh, began to travel up his torso. "He warned me, you know. Said either one
of you would make a brilliant addition to my collection. But no, I had to have
the set." Her hand faux-caressed Obi-Wan's cheek. "Don't make me regret my
decision." And with a flicker, she was gone.
Obi-Wan found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Which made him wonder why he was breathing at all. Cynara had apparently made
every effort to create lifelike duplicates.
"There has to be a way out of here," Obi-Wan whispered, his fists clenching in
determination. "Perhaps the-"
"No, don't say it," Qui-Gon interrupted, holding up a hand. "As you have seen,
she may be listening, watching. As all my attempts have failed, I leave it to
you. Plan as you will, and when you are ready, give me a sign."
"But, how will I know if I am simply repeating your mistakes?"
"You won't. But that does not matter," Qui-Gon dismissed his Padawan's
concerns. "She may not suspect that I would try the same route again. And
besides, it will be different this time." He put an encouraging hand on Obi-
Wan's arm. "For we will be together."
Qui-Gon explained that they were in an extensive compound, almost as large as
the Temple. The inhabitants appeared to be all droids like themselves. Cynara
herself did not live there, appearing only as a hologram, which she could do at
nearly any time or place, allowing for little privacy. He had not been able to
gather much about what lay outside the compound they found themselves in, but
Cynara had been more than happy to gloat about what she called her "toys".
The process of creating droid duplicates seemed to consist of two parts. The
manufacture of the body of the droid required three-dimensional measurements of
the subject, which could be easily obtained from any holophoto or transmission.
The second part, the programming of the droid, required an imprint of the brain
patterns of the subject. The technology required to take such an imprint was
something of a mystery. Cynara seemed to be hiring out that part of the
operation.
"But to what purpose?" Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon had conveyed all his
knowledge. "Why does she want a bunch of droid duplicates hanging around?"
"She's a collector," Qui-Gon answered simply. When Obi-Wan continued to look at
him as though his answer was not sufficient, he elaborated. "She collects
various things, as you will see when you explore the rest of the compound.
Paintings, jewels, musical instruments. And people."
"You mean she's done this to us as some sort of…hobby?"
"I do not mean to make it sound too prosaic. We may not be just pieces in her
collection to be ogled. Some of the others that are here seem to have been
duplicated so that she could exact revenge. Our ability to heal quickly may be
a double-edged sword."
Obi-Wan took a minute to digest that. "So which are we?" he asked eventually.
"Are we to be ogled, or tortured?"
"I'm not sure. And I don't intend to stick around long enough to find out."
"Agreed. Why don't you show me around now."
Qui-Gon glanced down at his Padawan. "I think you should get dressed first.
Here." And he reached down under the bed and pulled out a drawer. Inside were
several sets of Jedi robes, exactly what he would have worn about the Temple as
a Padawan. Cynara seemed to have thought of everything.
Once Obi-Wan was dressed, the two Jedi toured the building.
Outside the small room in which Obi-Wan had awakened was a great room. A really
great room, soaring for several stories, up to a huge dome of skylights. Obi-
Wan stood taking it in, leaning on the railing that kept him from falling the
several stories down to the bottom of the atrium. The railing stretched to his
left and right, as did a series of identical doors.
"Each one leads to a room exactly like yours," Qui-Gon explained. "That one is
mine." He pointed to the next door on the right.
"Then there are hundreds…thousands of us."
"I have not made an accurate count, nor do I know how many rooms are vacant.
But yes, I believe there may be thousands," Qui-Gon agreed.
"Where are they all?" Obi-Wan could see only a scattering of figures far below.
"Elsewhere in the complex. This is only the central chamber. Come."
And so Qui-Gon led his Padawan to the elevator and down to the great room floor,
and thence to several wings of the building. There was an artistic wing, where
many beings created works in various media. The library held bank after bank of
terminals where some sat reading, some writing, some lounging on couches,
datapad in hand. Several gardens flourished under glass; a series of gymnasia
provided all manner of equipment for any sport or exercise. And it went on and
on, every conceivable desire of the inhabitants provided for. Except freedom.
"Why does everyone seem so calm?" Obi-Wan asked when, the tour complete, Qui-Gon
led the way to a bench where they could watch a group of beings playing a game
involving a large sphere. "Why is there no underlying sense of rebellion?
Surely in such numbers we could overpower whatever security Cynara has in
place."
"Perhaps, if they could be organized," Qui-Gon answered, nodding. "But the
situation is complicated. Many of the people here do not realize what has been
done to them. Some refuse to believe it, even when told. A number seem to be
genuinely content; I am never sure if I should envy them or pity them. And then
there is a majority that lives in fear."
"Of Cynara." The tone of his voice showed that he was not about to join the
majority.
"I have seen what she is capable of, Padawan. She is not to be taken lightly."
"Then it is just the two of us."
"Yes. Though once we are out, we will be in a better position to end this
atrocity."
"Always plotting to escape," Cynara's voice startled the two men. They turned
to find her walking toward them, for all the world a normal, solid woman.
"Really, Qui-Gon, don't you like my company?" And she sat weightlessly in the
older man's lap. Qui-Gon stared straight ahead, his face passive.
Obi-Wan, noticing that there was no mobile projector this time, peered around
until he found tiny projectors embedded in the wall and a nearby column. Now
that he thought about it, he had seen the devices all over the complex.
"I so hoped that you would be happy here if I got you a friend," Cynara was
saying, smiling seductively at Obi-Wan, her arms around Qui-Gon's neck. Then
her expression changed to something darker. "I do hope you don't turn out to be
more trouble than you're worth." Apparently tired of Qui-Gon's passivity,
Cynara shifted to sit between the two men. A ghostly hand alighted on Obi-Wan's
thigh, began to travel up his torso. "He warned me, you know. Said either one
of you would make a brilliant addition to my collection. But no, I had to have
the set." Her hand faux-caressed Obi-Wan's cheek. "Don't make me regret my
decision." And with a flicker, she was gone.
Obi-Wan found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Which made him wonder why he was breathing at all. Cynara had apparently made
every effort to create lifelike duplicates.
"There has to be a way out of here," Obi-Wan whispered, his fists clenching in
determination. "Perhaps the-"
"No, don't say it," Qui-Gon interrupted, holding up a hand. "As you have seen,
she may be listening, watching. As all my attempts have failed, I leave it to
you. Plan as you will, and when you are ready, give me a sign."
"But, how will I know if I am simply repeating your mistakes?"
"You won't. But that does not matter," Qui-Gon dismissed his Padawan's
concerns. "She may not suspect that I would try the same route again. And
besides, it will be different this time." He put an encouraging hand on Obi-
Wan's arm. "For we will be together."