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Obi-Wan sighed and leaned against his shovel, weary with hours of non-stop work. Although there were many, more effective, methods of building a trench, the guards watching him thought it would be better if the slaves had to dig it by hand. Obi-Wan felt as if he had already shoveled about two hundred pounds of dirt out of the trench already, and the sores and blisters on his hands proved it. It's not that he wasn't accustomed to hard labor, the young Jedi just wasn't familiar with work being used to break a man down.

He wiped a hand across his brow, his hand coming away wet with mingled blood and sweat. It was bad enough to have to work in the smoldering heat, shoveling endless mounds of dirt, but they were also lashed if they stood still too long. He'd taken quite a few hits himself over the course of the day, leaving deep welts in his back, and a few had hit him in the face. He frowned and winced as he bent over again, his poor back protesting.

One of the guards, riding a massive four-legged beast Obi-Wan had never seen before rode up behind him. He studied the Jedi's work for a moment. "Better hurry, you'll need to dig at least three more feet before the days end, which is in about an hour."

Obi-Wan had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something that might get him another lash to his already tattered back. He also had the feeling that the guards were being extra hard on him, lashing him for no reason. He nodded to the man, the continued to monotonously shovel the dirt.

* * * * * * Qui-Gon pulled his cloak closer around him as he followed the young woman through the dirty streets of the slave-market. Frustration was building inside of him, despite all he tried to do to dispel it. Seeing all of these people enslaved illegally, but no being able to do a thing about it tore at his heart. His eyes fell upon a teenage boy, standing on the raised dias of the auctioneer. The boy turned and met Qui-Gon's eyes for a moment. In them, Qui-Gon saw so much pain and hopelessness that he forced himself to look away.

The feelings of this place were beginning to wear down on him as well. All of the despair flooded his senses, making it hard for him to figure out where their feelings stopped and his began. He tried many times to push everything out of his mind, but he always knew that Obi-Wan had once been one of these people. Obi-Wan had stood on one of these daises only a day before, being scrutinized by beings that could never appreciate him for who he was.

"We're actually one of the few slavers that keep a record of who we sell and to whom. It makes it easier to keep track of what money we should have and what slaves should still be in our possession."

Qui-Gon nodded as the woman spoke, trying to seem interested and act like an actual customer. "Tell me, how did this boy come into your possession? I'm told that he looked much healthier than some of the beings I see for sale here."

The woman smiled. "That one was quite a catch, he was. The kid ran into Tula, and Tula was able to grab him before he could run. We knocked him out, then brought him here. Once we had him stunned, he was pretty easy to handle. Though I think that we wouldn't have been able to handle him very well if he was fully awake. You see, Tula had to go back out onto the streets, looking for more rats to capture. So I don't we wouldn't have much luck getting the kid sedated enough to sell."

"You got a good price for him, did you not?"

"Yeah, seventeen thousand. Better than we've done in a long time." She smiled again. "I hope you can match or beat that if you want to buy him."

Qui-Gon shrugged, trying to calm the rage welling up inside of him. "Who knows? Maybe I could strike a deal with his owner."

The woman nodded, then turned into what looked like a large tent. There was only one other being in it, a dark-skinned male of a species Qui-Gon had never seen before. He looked at Qui-Gon and Tesial for a moment, then turned to the woman.

"What's this, Yulia? Not new slaves, I'm guessing, for they wear no restraints."

Yulia shook her head. "No, Yisul. These men are looking for the records of a sale. Give me your datapad," she commanded, which Yisul quickly obeyed. She turned the datapad on, then looked up at Qui-Gon. "Oh, I forgot to mention. Information has a price as well."

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes at her. Yulia felt a shiver of fear run down her spine, but kept the man's gaze. Finally the large man sighed. "How much?" he asked, reaching into a pouch on his belt.

"I'd say about four hundred credits. This is a business here. We've got ourselves and slaves to feed."

Qui-Gon shook his head, but handed her the coins anyway. She studied them for a moment before nodded. Then she handed Qui-Gon the datapad. "There, it's all there. All the information we had on him.

Qui-Gon nodded and began to read:

Subject # 459-842-233bi

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Approx. Age: 20 standard years

Captor: Tula Hereas

Other notes: Sold to Mille Escalo for seventeen thousand.

Qui-Gon frowned, then selected the underlined name. A whole new page of information appeared.

Mille Escalo

History: has bought 14 slaves from us in the past two years.

Location: Uliniish City, Halbered.

Qui-Gon nodded as he digested the information. Halbered was a planet only half a days travel from where he was. If he was lucky, he could make it on-planet before dark. Enough time to search out his stolen Padawan. He turned to the woman. "I thank you. You have no idea how much this will aid me."

* * * * * * Obi-Wan threw himself onto his thin cot wearily, immediately regretting it when the open wounds on his back met with the rough blanket. He sat up and tried to feel the wounds with his hands, but there were far too many. He shook his head. He hurt all over. His rib, evidentially broken, had taken his breath away a few times while he was working. And the constant lashing and tearing of his back only made things worse.

He rolled over until he was lying on his side, the one position that did not set his back aflame. He wanted to sleep, but the murmur of the other slaves' conversations prevented this. They were all sitting calmly on their cots in the large room, some glancing anxiously at the door. Most had fresh sweat covering their faces, and others wrung their hands in anticipation. One man could not keep himself from tapping his foot loudly on the ground.

The door to the slave quarters then opened, allowing a small man and four others to enter. The doctor carried a bag with him, while the other men carried boxes filled with something that Obi-Wan could not see.

The noise level of the slaves immediately heightened, with all of them talking excitedly and anxiously. Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, wondering what these people possibly had to wait for. His questions were answered when the doctor pulled out a syringe and several small bottles. He began injecting the liquids in the slaves arms, then moving on to the next eager slave.

Obi-Wan's heart sank into his chest. Metacanosol, he thought. These people actually look forward to this time of day, just so they can get their spice. Their whole day leads up to this. He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to shut out all of the noise from his mind. He had almost succeeded when he felt someone kick his boot. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the doctor.

"I don't want any," he said, closing his eyes again. He heard the shuffling of footsteps and assumed that the doctor had moved on. But he suddenly felt a piercing pain in his leg. His eyes flew open and he reached for his leg, grasping the trembling hand of the doctor as he did.

He looked down at his leg, seeing the empty syringe sticking out of it. Then he looked up at the doctor, who smiled as he pulled the syringe and his hand from Obi-Wan's weakening grasp. "Everyone gets it," he told the young Jedi. "Especially you."

Obi-Wan wanted to tell the man something, but couldn't remember what it was. In fact, he was beginning to forget everything. His whole life had gone white again, and he felt as though he were floating, his pain long left behind.

What have I gotten myself into? was his last thought before he passed into a void.