And here is another chapter – the last one.

Cerasi5, I have included the last part especially for you ;-)

Thank you, Athena.

~*~*~*~*~

The closer they got to the magnificent building of the business-center the more some vague uneasiness grew in Obi-Wan. The seemingly baseless heaviness in his heart slowly shaped out into a full-blown premonition. Something was dreadfully wrong – and it threatened to become irreparably wrong any given moment. But what it was remained a mystery, veiled by the shroud of ignorance, and his inability to be more specific frustrated and annoyed the Padawan greatly.

However before Obi-Wan could form the words to describe his elusive feelings to try if Qui-Gon would accept his premonition this time their air taxi descended onto the gleaming on the sun metallic landing platform.

"Here we are," the driver said, giving them a wink and raising a brow that suggested they should pay.

Qui-Gon got out of the taxi, followed quickly by his apprentice. Having paid to the driver, the Master started to walk briskly inside the building. The Padawan was forced to almost run and still he managed to keep up with his long-legged stride only by force of habit. Obi-Wan knew they were making their way to Imata apartment to retrieve Kamon and Namira. Perhaps, Kamon would understand his bad feeling, or at least listen to him…

His train of thoughts was unceremoniously interrupted by a sudden appearance of Tarlott. For a few seconds Obi-Wan wondered how it was that he knew the man's name. Then he remembered… The memory brought dizziness, and he shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. Strangely enough, it helped.

"How do you feel?" Qui-Gon asked Tarlott, slowing down, but not stopping.

"Um, thank you, Master Jinn, I'm fine – now, khm, yes." The man seemed nervous, clasping and unclasping his hands. Noticing what he was doing, Tarlott hid his hands behind his back. His large gray eyes regarded the Master almost fearfully.

"I'm glad you are better, Mr. Tarlott," Qui-Gon replied.

Just then Tarlott noticed the Padawan, and his already large eyes widened even more. "Is he… back?" he asked, disbelief showing clearly in his voice.

"Yes, he's back. Now if you'll excuse us, we need to go." Politely but firmly Qui-Gon stepped around the stunned man to continue on his way.

Entering the Imata apartment Obi-Wan immediately knew that neither Kamon, nor Namira were there, and his stomach lurched with foreboding. Qui-Gon was also, apparently, very much aware of their absence, but he went in anyway. Wondering what his Master had forgotten there, Obi-Wan followed. And then his eye caught what had obviously attracted Qui-Gon's attention – a small black box without any decorations, sitting on the massive empty table in the full view of those entering. Cautiously the Master approached the table, checking through the Force if the carton wasn't a bomb.

With one deft move Qui-Gon opened the box. Obi-Wan came to stand beside him and peered curiously at the contents.

The simple box didn't contain much: a holo-tape and a flimsy. Qui-Gon took the holo-tape out, turned it over in his hands, studying it, then tucked it into one of his pockets. After that he unfolded the flimsy. The note, written in a somewhat sharp and angled, definitely masculine handwriting, contained the address of Imata's country-house. In the lower left corner was another word added, written in a shaky handwriting: "hurry".

"Whoever left us this present apparently knows more than we do," Qui-Gon commented dryly, but Obi-Wan discerned a trace of anxiety in his voice. "Let's hurry up then."

******************

A room was basked in the artificial twilight, night lurking in the corners. Illness resided here, her silent dark companion – death – hovering on the periphery, waiting to claim the body, weakened by the wound. Harsh, laboured breathing was the only sound to break the thick silence.

A door opened quietly, but even its soft sound alarmed the person on the bed. The barely visible in the dimness of the room bundle on the bed stirred. Two jaded eyes opened to regard the newcomer - a black silhouette against a slightly lighter rectangle of the door.

"Is that you?" the woman on the bed croaked through dry lips, her eyes sparkling with suspicion and fever.

"Yes, it is I." The man moved inside, shutting the door tightly behind his back. "How do you feel?" Concern coloured his voice. He now stood above her.

"How do you think I feel?" There was no mistaking the sarcasm in her voice. She wished she could laugh, but even a hushed whisper brought stabs of agony into her side. "Did you put the box there?"

"Yes, I did. But how can you be sure they will find it?"

"They are - Jedi." Her speech became faltering and agitated as what little strength she had started to abandon her. "Their Force - or whatever - will lead - them - there."

"Do you think the Jedi will be able to put Arones into prison? Brimar is worried. If Arones finds out about his betrayal..."

"I think - they will... And - I hope - they'll get there - in time - to save - those two."

"You need to rest. I'll be going now." Taking the silence for a 'yes' Rahe Tarlott left Anisa to fight for her life. He had already done all he could to help her. And though he wished he could do much, much more it wasn't in his powers to change anything.

******************

Kamon didn't know how much time had passed since he had been thrown into the small dusty and completely dark room – it could have been minutes or it could have been hours. Nothing broke the silence here, leaving the young man cut off from all the life outside. Suddenly an echo of heavy footsteps burst into the silence, tearing it apart. The footsteps resounded ominously throughout the underground corridors of the manor, sending shivers down his spine.

The echo of the heavy, sure footsteps was soon joined by another footsteps, and then another. Four people approached the makeshift cell, and Kamon wondered briefly if they were afraid of him or merely over-cautious. Heavy metal key jingled in the old lock, rusty from a long disuse. The bar of light from the lamp one of the 'visitors' was holding blinded the Jedi momentarily, and he raised his hand to shelter his eyes. Next moment Kamon felt a cold riffle of a blaster firmly pressed against the nape of his neck.

"You, Jedi, are not to joke with," said the leader – Kamon had nicknamed him 'Black Snake' for his black outfit and cold stare. "Get up!" he ordered.

Kamon scrambled onto his legs, his every move deliberately slow and dignified as though they were on a reception of some kind or a political meeting. Straightening, the young man gave Snake a glare of his own and was rewarded with a scowl that twisted the man's already not too handsome features into a grotesque mask of evilness. With a nod from Snake another man pushed Kamon forward roughly and thus they started their journey to the upper rooms of the house.

Heavy wooden doors opened before the procession to reveal a large hall. This one was almost the precise copy of the first one Kamon had seen in this house, though this room was decorated in a blue gamma, colours varying from pale blue of the early morning to deep rich blue of falling night, here and there a splash of lavender and vinous induced variety into this realm of blues. In the middle like a queen of fairies Namira sat, clad in a startlingly bright canary-yellow cape. As Namira's eyes fell onto him, Kamon saw them brighten. She moved forward as though trying to reach him, but a hand on her shoulder all but threw her back into her chair.

With a brutal shove Snake urged Kamon forward until the young Jedi was standing in the center of the room. Snake went out to stand before Kamon so that the girl could see them both. Calmly, with just a small sneer frozen in the corners of his mouth, Snake leveled his blaster at Kamon.

"So, miss Imata. Would you like to see what this pretty young head contains? I can arrange that," Snake said lightly, but his hard intense stare belied his tone. Kamon saw Namira's face contort in fear and something – something he was hard pressed to discern, yet… sympathy? Or could it possibly be something more?

The blaster muzzle, pointed at Kamon, didn't waver, and he was sure the man wouldn't hesitate to implement his threat. Two blue tearful eyes looked at him in silent cry, begged for him to be someplace else, knowing it was impossible. Ominous silence seized the moment.

Abruptly the mute scene was broken by a dolorous ringing of broken glass, and a second later Kamon heard what sounded better than any music to his ears – the double snap-hiss of igniting lightsabers.

Green and blue fire danced in the stale air of the room, deflecting blaster bolts with surprising accuracy, sending them back at those firing. Using the moment of confusion, Kamon spun on his heels and knocked the blaster out of the hand of the man behind him. Another blow caught the man at his jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor.

The fight was over in a matter of minutes. The invaders completely subdued – some dead, some just unconscious, lying like black ugly dolls on the parquet floor.

Next moment Kamon found himself sitting on the floor, holding Namira gently, whispering words of consolation to her as she cried on his shoulder.

******************

Two weeks later the three Jedi boarded the ship that was to bring them back to Coruscant. Their mission on Allura was over. Arones had been sentenced to imprisonment due to testimonial evidences and the holo-tape Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had found in Imata's apartment. The holo-tape showed Arones threatening Tarnos Imata with death.

Namira Imata became the head of the whole metal-importing market. With the responsibility that came on her out of the blue she was forced to work hard but she still managed to find time to see the Jedi off.

She heard the ship start its engines, and something wet rolled down her cheek. There, in the ship, was the young man she – what? – loved? She wasn't certain. And she'll never know for sure. But she was confident that there was some feeling. The feeling that might have been something special, the feeling that might have been the true light of their lives. But it had no chance to develop, staying forever a sweet memory in a special little corner of the mind – for both of them.

But not only Namira watched the ship leave.

A pair of people stayed hidden in the shadowed corridor of the spaceport's building, watching the ship take off through the tall window.

"Now I know why you own a madhouse, soulhunter," Anisa said jokingly, trying hard but failing to conceal her sadness. "And I know where all those rumors about you eating people came from."

"Um, well, you're right of course. But it saved your life, didn't it?" Tarlott countered, though he sounded more like a child vindicating himself.

"Yes, it did," she replied and stared wistfully into the ever-light sky where the ship has long since vanished.

*****************

About a year later.

Obi-Wan was sitting in one of the Temple gardens, knees tucked under his chin. Technically he was aware that it was a dream, but unlike any other time this knowledge didn't push him out of the dreamland to the state of consciousness. He was waiting for something or someone to come. And the dream didn't fail to live up to his expectations.

"Hello there," a mellow yet ringing voice spoke behind him. A second later the familiar visage of Obi-Wan's copy lowered himself onto the cropped emerald grass. The man was still looking older than Obi-Wan, and he was still dressed in snow-white loose shirt and pants.

"Hello, Loiso," Obi-Wan said, surprising even himself with the near-indifference his voice held. He was glad, after all, to see the man.

"Now, why are we so cranky?" Loiso asked, smiling.

"They don't believe me. Not a single one of them! I thought at least Master Yoda would believe me, but when I told him about that place – nowhere – and meeting you he only said: 'Your own imagination it was. Forget it you must. Need to dwell on it you need not.' But I know it wasn't just my fancy, was it?"

"No, it was not. But I tell you this: they have never experienced anything like this and they will not understand it – ever. You have touched something they know nothing about, and it scares them. It is in all sentient beings' nature to be afraid of unknown. Take my advice and keep it to yourself."

Obi-Wan wasn't comfortable with the idea but he suddenly realized with stunning clarity that there was simply no other way. He'll have to accept it and cope with it.

"And what about you? Has the man you were talking about freed you or…"

"Yes, the funny man called Max has freed me. You don't need to worry about me anymore."

"I haven't…"

"I know you  have  been worrying. You even tried to get back there."

Obi-Wan suddenly found the ground a fascinating sight.

"There's no need to be ashamed neither of your noble attempts, nor of your fear to make them, nor of your failure. You belong here and here you will stay. And you better not try again or you might succeed…"

"There isn't anything I can hide from you, is there?"

"Loiso laughed. "You're too young, my friend, to have secrets from me." He got up and stood towering over Obi-Wan. "Well, thank you for the company, especially there… I must go now."

"Thank you, too." Obi-Wan didn't even make an attempt to rise.

Loiso gave him a wink and a wide grin. Then he abruptly vanished, leaving a slightly wavering grin to hang in thin air a bit longer.

Despite himself Obi-Wan smiled, looking at the 'aerial' grin.

"A little visual effect to lighten you up." Loiso's voice sounded seemingly from every direction. "Do you like it?"

Still smiling Obi-Wan woke up. "Yes, Loiso, I do," he said aloud, absolutely sure that the man could hear him wherever he was.

The End.