CHAPTER SIX

Standing in one of the dark cubicle buildings two walkways away from the warden's offices, a lone gray-haired man in a dark cloak studied the static images of the prison's security monitors.

His tall form moved gracefully across the room to the holocam, bringing forth a flickering blue image of no one other than the steward of Naboo.

"Yes? What is it?" Palpatine's voice was rumbling and gravily, not his usual tenor tones.

"My old padawan is here."

"On Raxus? Are you sure?"

"Yes, my master."

The holographic image was silent for a moment.

"Do not reveal yourself to the Jedi, my friend. Now is not the time. Continue with your work sending transmissions for separatist reinforcements. We must gather more support before we can act against the Republic. When you have completed your task, I will meet you on the Bakta moon. There you will train the separatist forces with the weapons you have acquired from Raxus."

"Yes master." The dark cloaked figure paused. "What about the girl?"

"The Jedi must not discover her."

"She will be dealt with immediately, master. I believe the warden has already sent her to the gutter."

"Good…good." The raspy, deep voice barked out. "You have done well Count Dooku. Be patient. Your time will come."

"Thank you, my master."

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan suspiciously as they entered the small cubicle that would serve as their sleeping facility. He was expecting a snide remark from the young man any time, but Obi-Wan was silent.

"Padawan. When they took that young woman away, I felt a hint of your disbelief. What was it that shocked you so?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, seating himself down on one of the two cots in the room. "I believe that the prisoner they took away, Leira, the warden called her – is actually the princess we have been searching for."

Qui-Gon regarded Obi-Wan carefully before questioning him further. He had not recognized the young woman or felt any urging from the Force. He trusted the young man implicitly, but he could feel a tremor of emotion coming from his padawan that he was not familiar with. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, master."

Qui-Gon joined Obi-Wan in his seated position on the cot opposite his and leaned his elbows against his knees, his hands clasped between them.

"Master? What is this 'gutter' the warden referred to?"

"I am not sure, but we need to find out. Perhaps it is the cause of the disappearance of the prisoners."

Obi-Wan nodded gravely. "I'm afraid it is. The young woman scrubbing the floor whom I questioned earlier was horrified that she might be discovered talking to me. She mentioned being sent to 'the gutter' if she were caught. She said that no one ever comes back from there."

"Then we will definitely need to find out, and soon."

"But master, I thought we were scheduled tod depart in the morning?"

"We're not going anywhere, Obi-Wan. In fact, we're going to locate this 'gutter' tonight!"

Deep beneath the surface of Raxus Prime, hidden from the eyes of the prisoners and the prison guards was a maze of durasteel tunnels, its only entrance located at the base of the administrative building, and its only exit, a hidden space portal on the opposite side of the small planet.

As the single elevator dropped down from the warden's office building, its door opened, and a single heavily-armed guard literally dragged the limp form of a female prisoner behind him.

He took the young woman down the shadowy tunnel underneath the illumination of the glow strips, accessed a door control, and flung the young woman inside the stark and abandoned cell that was devoid of light, furniture – any comforts of any kind. The guard slid the steel door shut, eyeing the still form lying on the cold surface of the floor before turning to speak to a robust man approaching him.

"Have her cleaned up and dressed before dawn. She's going on the block as soon as the buyers arrive."

"Yes sir." The guard replied, quite surprised as he watched the hefty man walk away. Either the man was short on credits this month, or there was something about this particular prisoner. Never before had an inmate under his guard come to the gutter and been sold as a slave so quickly.

"And her records?" The guard shot out at the retreating form.

"Report her as a suicide."

"Yes sir."

The guard tapped on his wrist communicator once and gave out the order. "Prep team to cell block 13A immediately. Warden's orders."