Obi-Wan dashed headlong down the corridor in some vain hope of again encountering the mysterious pair, but knew he had little hope. He had searched every room connected to the corridor, every other hall near it, and had found them all devoid not only of occupants, but furnishings. Bare and white-walled, such areas seemed to stare penetratingly at him, making him shiver.
As Obi-Wan continued to run, picking his turns entirely at random and becoming completely lost in this maze of a building, he began increasingly to believe that the perception of being watched was not solely in his mind. Though he could not find his observers, it was more than the prickling feeling of paranoia - the Force itself whispered to him of eyes that watched him. He began to become frightened, his heart beating faster and faster.
Soon, perspiration covered his brow. Worse, the running had aggravated his wound; the cut on his arm began to breed freely again. As his blood fell, staining the white floor a deep crimson, he became aware of just how vulnerable he was to his pursuers, whoever they were.
As Obi-Wan rounded a corner, he suddenly heard raised voices speaking in hurried Basic. He slipped into the shadows, but the hall was empty. Looking apprehensively about, the Jedi at last noticed a door standing open just up the hall from him. He crouched down, staying absolutely still, and began to listen intently.
"But for all the Reaoem to have been? And you expect me to stand by? No! We must terminate." The voice was excteremly high - feminine in pitch, but it had some quality about it that made Obi-Wan believe a man was the speaker.
"Relax, Shakha," another voice said, low and sickly sweet and oozing menace. A political voice, Obi-Wan thought sarcastically. "All but one were destroyed."
"But what of that one? What of that one? Even one specimen - one - could ruin the enterprise! And you know what his majesty would do..."
"I have faith," said the politician, "that even the last specimen shall be recovered before it poses any threat to us."
Shakha inhaled puffily, stammering, but could apparently think of nothing to say.
Tension was building in the corridor; the silence had become deafening, stifling everything. A single drop of Obi-Wan's blood fell to the floor, and he was aware of how loud the noise seemed to be.
He tensed, ready to run, although he did not know why. The Unifying Force was at work in him, he supposed, guiding his instincts.
With no warning at all, something small and sharp raked across Obi-Wan's thigh, tearing through his robes and drawing a grimace of pain to his face. He sucked in his breath sharply, stifling his cry of alarm, but even that small noise was enough to attract attention.
"Ban! Someone in the hall!" It was Shakha's voice.
This place is... Quite... Obi-Wan could not find the word he was looking for. His very thoughts seemed to be slowing down. He watched numbly as two men - one Hephtharo, one human - emerged from the door and looked quickly around the hallway before spotting him.
"Ahh," the man with the deep voice said. "Our subject seems to have passed his test. He shall make a fine addition."
The man bent over and carefully placed two fingers precisely on the center of Obi-Wan's forehead. The Jedi felt a jolt of pain, but was too far gone to respond. A moment later, he had collapsed, his head striking the cold, hard floor with an unpleasant crunch.
