With the Jedi fanning out around us for defense we left the blazing warehouse. As we had thought, we were in the docks district, and it was simply a matter of getting to the edge, where transportation was more easily found. There were some few of Moriarty's henchmen who attempted to stop us, but most were interested only in fleeing. The Jedi made quick work of the stubborn minority.
Two streets from the warehouse we met up with the other Jedi. They looked as tattered and exhausted as we, but there were grins of fierce triumph on every face. "What took you so long?" Maeve demanded, tugging up the sagging neckline of her low-cut dress. Her three male companions–Grey Wolf, Far Lao, and the Arabic-looking one whose name I couldn't pronounce–watched this process with interest.
"Some of Moriarty's men wanted to discuss our departure," Holmes drawled. "Moran in particular thought we should stay."
"I assume you brought him around to your point of view?"
"Oh, he got the point eventually. You?"
"They got the point almost immediately. Now, if you don't mind, we ought to leave before the fire department arrives. And the police. We left a number of bodies behind us, and policemen get excited about unexplained bodies for some reason."
We almost made it. Most of the district's occupants were more interested in the fire, and those left of Moriarty's gang seemed to have discovered pressing business elsewhere. As we reached the edge, however, we ran into someone who found us more interesting than either fire or immediate survival.
He was a small man with watery blue eyes and lank brown hair. He blinked constantly and rapidly, and had the air of a man who felt himself much wronged by the world. "Hold it right there," he said, holding up a hand. I blinked; it was the same whining, accented voice I had listened to from inside my cell.
"Mailen," Ben said in a conversational tone. "So good of you to save me the trouble of chasing you all over the planet."
"Save it, whelp!" Mailen's pale eyes glittered. He had the look of someone under the influence of drink–or drugs. He pulled his other hand from his pocket. "You're going nowhere!" In his trembling hand, the pirate clutched what appeared to be a ball of metal. His thumb hovered above it, in a position I recognized.
"Oh, hell, not again," Shannan muttered from behind me.
"We're all gonna stay right here," Mailen declared. "'Til my partner gets here."
"Or what?" Ben demanded. "You blow us up with a thermal detonator? What about you, Mailen? You'll be smeared all over the walls, too."
"Maybe. Better than facing Sardius with the news I let you get away. He'll take a long time killing me, I do that."
"Nice partner," Maeve observed. "Are all your friends that pleasant?"
"We're not your enemies, Mailen," MacEiver said, passing his hand in front of his chest. "We can protect you from Sardius."
For a moment, it looked as though it might work. Mailen's rapid blinking stopped for a long breath, his mouth hanging slightly open. Then he shook himself and bared his teeth. "Nice try, Jedi. But it ain't gonna work."
"Are you sure about that, Mailen?" Maeve asked, grinning wickedly. The pirate blinked at her, confused.
A blaze of blue light filled the narrow street, followed by a sharp whine. Mailen blinked a few more times, then his eyes glazed over and he toppled forward. Shannan darted forward to catch him, easing the thermal detonator from his flaccid hand.
"It's about bloody time you two decided to make an appearance," Grey Wolf said in an aggrieved tone. "What took so long?"
"Someone arranged a diversion for us when we tried to leave Baker Street," Qui-Gon said. "Then she insisted we clean up before we came out here." He gestured to the figure standing behind him. Little was visible in the shadow and smoke but a stocky shape holding what appeared to be a blaster
"It's my house. I don't like bodies–or bits of them–lying around unattended," his companion replied. She stepped forward, lowering the weapon in her hand.
As I heard the voice–so familiar, and yet foreign–my world reeled. I reached out and grabbed Holmes' arm. I heard him catch his breath in a strangled gulp, and knew he was a stunned as I. As I saw her face, I was suddenly aware that nothing in my world would ever be certain again.
She stood confidently, wearing Jedi robes of some dark blue material. A pair of lightsaber hilts adorned her belt. Physically, she was the same, though she wore her hair in a long braid rather than her usual bun. All at once, the Jedis' reason for choosing Baker Street as their base over their Haven became clear.
Mrs. Hudson eyed Holmes and I with an expression of mingled amusement and regret. "I'd hoped you would never have to know," she said. "But I'm afraid our common enemies forced the issue."