Well, Cerasi5, thank you for the feedback :) Here's the next part.

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All the way down to conference room the three Jedi kept silent. Kamon occasionally sent Obi-Wan worried glances but didn't say anything. From their looks it seemed that only Kamon was worried. Qui-Gon seemed to be intent on getting to the conference room as soon as possible. In truth, neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan knew how to address the issue between them. Besides, there was no time for it now.

When they arrived, the two representatives of arguing parties were pacing the conference room nervously, doing their best to avoid running into each other. Their aids fussed around them, creating an unnecessary vanity. Anisa was here too, standing close to Surten Arones, her hands crossed over her chest, her _expression unreadable. Obi-Wan felt a little chill run up his spine at the sight of her; it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, though. Namira was also present. She tried to talk to her uncle, perhaps to calm him down, but he wasn't listening. As soon as the Jedi entered all the faces turned to them.

"I propose we all sit down and you tell us what is the reason for this urgent meeting," Qui-Gon said in an official tone. Everyone complied, seating themselves in a large circle.

"We have received notes with threats," Arones said, glancing at Imata who nodded in confirmation.

"May we see these notes?" Qui-Gon prodded, looking expectantly from one of them to the other.

"Yes, of course." Both Arones and Imata gave small pieces of durasheet to their aids who in turn gave them to the Jedi. Qui-Gon furrowed his brow at this but didn't comment. He studied the notes for a moment then passed them to the Padawans.

The notes were identical. Both contained demands to leave 'Cratu Center' alone. Otherwise authors of the notes threatened to kill both Imata and Arones.

"What is Cratu Center?" Qui-Gon asked the two representatives of High Houses that were quietly sitting across from him.

"It is an association of few cities with many metallurgic factories in it," Imata answered, looking at Qui-Gon like he has asked the obvious. The Jedi Master met his eyes squarely, unwavering.

"Some time ago a group of people gathered there. They declared that they didn't need any High House ruling them," Arones continued. "They are just a gang," he added with disgust. Imata nodded to show he shared this opinion, his lips curling down in revulsion.

"It is very fortunate that you are here now," Imata said in such a tone that Obi-Wan wished he were somewhere else. "We heard that Jedi often act as protectors. We, of course, have bodyguards but we would like the Jedi guard us as well."

"All right," Qui-Gon said. "We will guard you this night. I will guard Mr. Arones. My Padawan and Padawan Turnell will guard Mr. and Miss Imata. We will discuss our further steps tomorrow," he continued, his tone leaving no space for arguing.

"Very well then," Arones said, standing up. "We will retire for the night. Do you know where my apartment is, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon nodded, and Arones walked out of the room, his staff close on his heels. Imata stood up and went away as well, his aides rushing after him.

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"May I talk to you?" Namira asked the three Jedi as soon as they exited into the corridor, her blue eyes looking at them pleadingly.

"Of course," Qui-Gon said softly, looking at the girl kindly. Obi-Wan wondered, not for the first time, why it was that Qui-Gon could be so kind and understanding with strangers, yet so strict, at times even harsh with his own Padawan.

Namira led them to a small room. Apparently it was meant for rest and relaxation - it had plush armchair, a low comfortable sofa, and a plant in every corner - but Namira's troubled expression told that she was anything but relaxed. She sat down into the cozy-looking armchair and motioned for the Jedi to sit on the sofa across from her. She shifted her eyes from one face to another, studying each one in silence, then leaned closer to them and started to speak in the hushed and wary tone.

"I want to tell you something about my uncle. It might sound childish but he is not a good man." She crossed her hands on her lap, trying to keep her fingers from twitching nervously. She hesitated, as though not sure if she could tell such things to the Jedi. "Not that he killed someone or something like this, no… It's that he loves only money. He doesn't care for anyone, except himself. Not even for his closest relatives." Namira smiled a humorless smile. "If he knew that he could make good money from selling his wife - he would."

The two Padawans stared at her in disbelief. She must be exaggerating. It just can't be.

"Yes, he is like this. Once, when he and my father were children, uncle Tarnos had sold him as a slave. He did it because he wanted a new hoverboard and their parents refused to buy it for him."

Both Padawans were shocked by the horrible story. They just couldn't imagine a person - much less a child - selling his own brother to get a new toy. The Jedi didn't have families: not most of them anyway, but it only made them all one large extended family. There were cases when one Jedi resented another, but what Imata had done was incomprehensible.

"And how did your father return?" Kamon asked, still shaken by what they had just learned.

"Their parents learned what had happened from my father's friend and they were forced to buy my father back." Namira was fighting tears that threatened were threatening to spill when she recalled the look on her father's face when he told her this story.

"I'm sorry that you have to live with such person," Qui-Gon said compassionately, his tone soothing. "But why are you telling us all this?"

"I just wanted you to know who he is so that you were more careful when dealing with him - no one knows what he can do," Namira answered, straightening slightly. Her face looked like she had been hiding an awful secret and now finally shared it, lifting a burden from her soul.

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Cold. Why was it so cold here? Obi-Wan stood up from the couch and took a few steps across the large common room that was connecting bedrooms of Tarnos Imata and his niece. He and Kamon were supposed to guard the two the whole night. Kamon stopped reading his datapad and looked up at the fellow Padawan.

"What is it?" he asked seeing the troubled expression on Obi-Wan's face.

"Nothing. It's just cold here," Obi-Wan replied, trying to suppress a shudder.

"Cold?" Kamon raised an eyebrow at his friend's statement. "I don't feel cold. If anything, it's pretty warm here."

"I'll make some tea. Would you like a cup?" Maybe the tea will make this blasted cold go away.  Obi-Wan thought, making his way to a small kitchen.

"Yes, please," Kamon called then returned to his reading.

Shivering from cold, Obi-Wan boiled some water and started making tea, almost dropping the teapot in the process: his hands were shaking.  What's wrong with me?  he wondered. He didn't feel so cold normally, only when he was very ill. He touched his forehead, expecting it to emanate heat, but found it to be rather cool. So, he wasn't ill, was he?

The tea was ready. Putting two cups on a tray Obi-Wan returned to the room he and Kamon stayed this night.  Guarding the rightful sleep of two very frightened representatives,  Obi-Wan thought sarcastically.

Obi-Wan took his cup and set onto the couch next to the other Padawan, turning to face him. He sipped his tea and delighted in pleasurable warmth as the hot liquid streamed down his throat.

"Kamon." The boy stopped reading and raised his head.

"Oh, thank you." He picked his cup and was about to go back to his datapad when Obi-Wan's question stopped him.

"What happened in the club?" Obi-Wan's voice was quiet and unsure as if he was still debating whether he should ask the question or not.

"What do you mean?" Kamon was confused by the sudden question.

"I mean when I… when we… when Anisa and I kissed. What happened after that?" He could feel embarrassment colouring his cheeks bright red, but he needed to know the answer.

"And you don't remember? Kamon was incredulous. "You better not drink so much next time," he teased.

"I wasn't drunk," Obi-Wan protested.

"Then she had made you drunk," Kamon snickered.

"Just tell me what happened," Obi-Wan said firmly, annoyed.

"Okay, you and she danced a bit, then sat at the table, talking, I guess. Then Master Jinn called me and we all went back." The Padawan studied his counterpart intently, waiting for a reaction. Obi-Wan was staring at the wall trying to pull out the disappeared pieces of his memory. But nothing was coming forth, only black void.

Not getting any reaction from Obi-Wan, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts, Kamon shrugged and returned to his reading. Silence reigned the rest of the night.

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