MacEiver stood with his back to the fireplace, arms folded across his chest. He bore very little resemblance now to the man we had met in Mycroft's reception rooms earlier in the day (had it really only been this afternoon? It seemed like years.). His face was hard, forbidding, and in the black clothing he was almost menacing despite his relatively small stature. No resemblance whatever to the dapper little Scotsman. He was silent now, waiting as the group assembled settled itself into order.

They were an odd group of some ten people besides MacEiver and my own little party. Shannan sat beside the other woman in the group, a voluptuous blond with hard green eyes. Her name, I learned, was Maeve Stonehaven and she had been the one driving the machine Holmes had ridden. I wondered what Holmes made of her. There were four others who had been in the rescue party, including Derry—the least grim of the lot with his round, cheerful face and stocky figure. The others, who had not lingered to speak with MacEiver at his arrival, had changed into more normal clothing, ranging from a grubby fellow who looked like a sailor to a man wearing a fortune in fine clothing and whom I thought I recognized as a nobleman known for his work with the poor and who was often mentioned and pictured in the papers.

I was seated next to Derry, and found him more than willing to answer a few questions. I learned that only four of the assembled Jedi—MacEiver, Derry, the nobleman (whom I knew as Lord W—) and the blond were actually 'posted' in the British Empire and spent a lot of time in London. The sailor traveled all over the world, and Shannan was from New York City. A man from France with long curly hair, an earring, and a distinctly gypsy air about him, an impressive dark skinned man posted in the Middle East, a dark haired man with dreamy eyes who lived in Romania and traveled through the Balkan countries and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, an oriental looking man from the Far East, and a man in explorer's gear who spent his time in the jungles of South America and who, like Lord W—, was fairly well known in the papers for his exploits. The most surprising in appearance, I think, was the tall, bronze-skinned Indian from the American west. He was seated backwards on a chair near the fireplace, the flickering light playing over the muscles of his bare chest and glinting off the beads of his jewelry and in his long black hair. The shining cylinder of his lightsaber added an even more jarring note to his wild appearance.

When silence settled in the room MacEiver turned to us. "I'm afraid the police were called to the scene. They didn't see me, but I'm certain they noticed something odd."

"Is that what you went to check out?" Lord W–– asked. As I had previously noticed with these people, the 'nobleman's' highly educated Oxford accent had been replaced by an ambiguous one.

MacEiver nodded. "Not so odd as I feared, but serious enough." He turned to Qui-Gon. "I need to know—how exactly did you and your Padawan come here without our knowledge? Obi-Wan told me some of it earlier today, but I'd like to hear the whole story."

The tall Jedi nodded, and began to speak. I did not understand many of the references, but I shall endeavor to report the situation as I heard it: He and his apprentice had just returned to 'Coruscant'—I assumed that was a place of some importance—after a mission to some place called 'Malastare', and been summoned by the Council (whoever they were) after only a day. They were told that they were to investigate reports of industrial sabotage and possible theft at the Sluis Van shipyards, inside the CorTech Research and Development offices. It was believed that the thief was a professional one, a small time pirate named Agasar Mailen.

The two Jedi arrived in time to learn that he had just stolen CorTech's newest plans for a starfighter and command ship, and, to boot, had escaped in their only working prototype. (I was unfamiliar with the term 'prototype', but guessed from context that it meant one they had actually built from their plans to experiment with.) They had immediately taken pursuit, intending to follow him to his lair and call in reinforcements to remove his entire operation. Instead, he'd led them deep into something they referred to as the 'Unknown Regions'. I got the impression that this journey had lasted for some time—perhaps even months.

"I believe he was unaware that we were following him until we actually reached this system," Qui-Gon said at this point. He'd eventually noticed their presence and the chase had been rather close as they drew nearer to Earth. They'd pursued him all the way into the planet's atmosphere, and then lost him for a short time. (At this point, I suddenly recalled reading something in the papers about an unusual meteor shower or something that had occurred a week earlier in Scotland. Had that been the two ships?) Locating his ship abandoned in some mountains—here I realized that it had indeed been in Scotland—they'd landed and begun looking for him on foot. I felt there was a whole story unspoken in his terse description of their journey. The reaction of the highland residents of that part of Scotland to the odd pair would have been interesting to see, to say the least. The two men had reached London on their quarry's trail some days later—they traveled very swiftly, it seemed. The idea of going from the mountains of Scotland to London in only a few days was almost unheard of, but I was learning to expect the unexpected from these people. They'd been ambushed almost the minute they reached the city, and separated. The rest we knew, for the most part.

MacEiver looked troubled. "It's strange that we received no report of your arrival. We take shifts in our own ship, patrolling the system to discourage travelers from interfering with this planet. It's been declared off limits by the Anthropological Syndicates, and we're here only to observe and protect. We haven't heard from Ilein, the knight currently up there, in several days. It's not unusual for him to be silent, but in light of these events it's worrying."

"We saw no trace of another ship when we entered the system," Ben said.

"That concerns me," Qui-Gon said, rising. The tall Jedi Master paced a few steps toward the fire, his long robes billowing behind him. "We assumed Mailen had stolen the plans to implement in his own operation, with the intent of improving his success in raiding the shipping lanes. It was a reasonable theory—he has a lot of competition with the Hutts and the larger pirate groups. He's been pushed nearly to the Rim with his last few failures. He's very ambitious, is Mailen, but he doesn't have much in the way of imagination, or brilliance at all. The CorTech people were surprised to learn it was he. The heist was very skillfully and subtly pulled off—unusual considering his customary method of charging in, guns blazing, and making off with whatever he can grab."

"You think he had help," Maeve Stonehaven suggested.

"Yes. Again, we assumed it was local—that he'd made an alliance with one of the larger and more powerful crime syndicates, perhaps in hopes of gaining protection or a patron. But this turn of the path is disturbing."

"Why come out to a planet that is undeveloped and officially undiscovered, with nothing to offer him?" the Indian asked. "Unless he had bigger plans than more successful raids in mind."

"Power is often a far more seductive mistress than money," Qui-Gon said. "With a single ship or two and only a handful of allies, he could conquer this entire world without a great deal of trouble. It's so primitive that resistance would likely be difficult, even against so few."

I was mildly offended at that assessment, but kept quiet.

"But he would need an ally here on the planet—someone who knew the customs and how to manipulate those in power," Holmes said, rising abruptly. "Someone who already had an extensive network of the greedy and power-hungry in place, who'd leap at the opportunity for easy conquest. Do not underestimate the tenacious independence of our people. Even if he subdued the armies with superior technology, he couldn't hold power for long without help."

"Moriarty," I said softly.

"Yes." Holmes nodded. "Professor James Moriarty is one of the premier—if not the premier—criminals in the world. He's brilliant, and entirely without scruples. It's power and control he loves, more than money. He controls major crime operations all over Britain and Europe—and probably the States—with an iron fist."

Qui-Gon tucked his hands into his sleeves. "That makes sense. I believe I may even have seen this Moriarty, during one of my brief moments of consciousness."

"Tall, emaciated, deep-sunken eyes? Moves his head back and forth like a snake?"

"That was he."

"Moriarty," my friend confirmed. He hissed between his teeth. "What has that fiend started now?"

"But that doesn't explain Mailen's unusual raid," Ben said. "I very much doubt that, brilliant as he is, Moriarty could have planned a successful raid on the Sluis Van shipyards. Even with the knowledge that civilization beyond his home planet exists, it is impossible for him to have either the experience or the knowledge to do such a thing with security measures and other things far beyond his ken."

"Are you so certain?" Holmes asked. "I will be the first to admit I know very little about your society, or your scientific capabilities, but I think given enough research material and a healthy imagination—which, I assure you, I do have whatever Watson may claim—I might just have a chance at doing such a thing."

Derry chuckled, genuinely delighted. "I'd like to see you try, Mr. Holmes. That would be fascinating indeed." He sobered a little. "However, I agree with Obi-Wan. Even if Moriarty were given years' worth of reading material, hard knowledge just doesn't measure up to actual experience. Mailen must have an offworld ally."

"That's another thing," Ben said slowly. "I've found it difficult to keep a read on his men. First the man who shot me, and the men we fought earlier. It comes and goes, but it almost seems as though someone is deliberately blocking attempts to read them."

"Some non-Jedi have natural shields," Derry suggested. "It's possible that was the case back there."

"All of them at once?" Qui-Gon returned. "I doubt that. Surely you noticed it when you arrived?"

"Actually, no," MacEiver said, looking a little puzzled. "I didn't sense anything unusual at all. But I believe you, Master Jinn, and I agree—it's pushing it to claim that over a score of people all working for the same criminal could have the same talent. Is it possible that Mailen is a Force-sensitive?"

That was the second time I'd heard that word used in a manner that suggested it was not the sort of force I was used to hearing about. Qui-Gon was shaking his head. "No. I find that extremely unlikely. If he did," he added with a slight smile, "he would certainly be a better pirate."

"What is this 'Force' you've referred to?" I asked, unable to ignore it any longer.

They blinked at me, like startled cats. Then MacEiver stirred. "The Force is…" he hesitated. "It's a power, generated by all living things. It surrounds us, and binds us together. It's what makes life possible. Some people have the ability to sense it, and manipulate it—I imagine that, during the fight, you saw Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan do things that you would have, until today, considered impossible?"

I thought back to how Qui-Gon had knocked those men back with a flip of his hand, and somehow brought his weapon sailing through the air to him, and nodded.

"Jedi have the ability to use the Force. We are trained, almost from infancy, in its proper use."

"Proper use?" said Holmes sharply. "Meaning that it can be abused."

"Oh, yes," Qui-Gon replied. "There is both a Dark side and Light side to the Force. The path to the Dark side is the path of fear, anger, and hate. It's the easier path, but in the end, it ultimately destroys its user. The Light side is the rougher way, but when it all boils down, it is the more powerful."

Holmes looked thoughtful. "Light and Dark, good and evil. God and Satan," he said. "The powers that dominate human life. Somehow, it's comforting to know that such things are universal."

I stared at him, a bit startled. Holmes had never indicated to me that he had any views on religion whatsoever—and though this wasn't really an indication one way or the other, it was more than he'd ever said on the subject.

He smiled at me, reading my thoughts. "What, Watson, don't you ever contemplate the infinite?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And that I don't? Come, now, my dear fellow. Everyone does." He turned back to the Jedi. "So you think this Mailen might have some of the same abilities you do?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I very much doubt it. Force-users are generally identifiable, even if they don't consciously use it, because they tend to have faster reflexes than is normal, and a more advanced ability to think quickly on their feet."

I eyed Holmes speculatively. MacEiver caught my look. "But not all people who have abnormal reflexes and brains are Force-users," he said.

"Not the first time anyone has ever accused me of having an abnormal brain," Holmes responded lightly.

"Mailer is none of the above," Qui-Gon continued, looking mildly frustrated at the interruptions.

My associate steepled his long fingers together. "If that is so, then it stands to reason that your thief's other ally…offworld, I believe was the term you used, is a 'Force' sensitive."

There was an uneasy silence. Derry rose then, startling us all. "I'm going to go try and raise Ilein on the comm. again," he said, a worried line appearing between his eyebrows. "And if I can't get a response there, I'm taking the shuttle up to check personally. This is not good at all."

MacEiver nodded his assent. He saw the stocky Jedi to the door, and turned back to the group. His gaze fell on Holmes and I. "I am going to ask Qui-Gon and his Padawan to escort you back to your home. They will stay with you until tomorrow, and we will go from there. It's late."

I glanced at my pocket watch. "Good heavens, so it is. Mrs. Hudson will be beside herself."

MacEiver started to say something, then apparently thought better of it. "Master Qui-Gon, are you agreeable to this?

"I think it would be best," the tall man said. "I sense that there is a great deal of danger in store for all of us." His blue-grey eyes rested on Holmes and I, and I could feel the weight of his gaze settle onto my shoulders. "Especially for you."

I wasn't sure whether he was speaking to me, to Holmes, or to the both of us.