The timely arrival of Lord W– and several of his carriages solved the immediate problem of transportation. They were driven by those Jedi who had not been captured or on the rescue team.

Mrs. Hudson and MacEiver rode with Holmes and me. I found that I was acutely uncomfortable in her presence. The shock had yet to wear off. I wasn't sure it ever would. At Mrs. Hudson's directions, we were to go to Haven, even though there was almost certainly a 'surprise' waiting there for us, courtesy of the traitor.

Ah, the traitor. I was fairly certain I knew who it was–not through any Holmesian deductions, but the simple process of counting noses. There were now only two Jedi not with the group. One was dead: Holmes had seen the body. The other...

"I wouldn't have thought it would be him," I muttered.

Holmes lifted his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"He seemed so–so friendly. Cheerful, really."

Mrs. Hudson sighed. "I have long feared there was something going on with him. I confess, though, I did not believe he would fall to the Dark Side."

Derry. The traitor was Derry, that round-faced, amiable Jedi who had greeted me with such cheery good-will the night of our rescue. It was difficult to believe. He had been much absent from Baker Street of late, though I had thought nothing of it. None of us had, really. The Jedi had been in an out so much on various tasks that no one had really marked his absence.

Until tonight.

My associate lounged indolently in his seat, fingers steepled. "Didn't you?" he asked. "I am not particularly surprised."

MacEiver's gaze was accusing. "You knew?"

"Not the precise identity, but if you will recall I have believed in the existence of a traitor all along. However, while planning this rescue I sat down with Ben and profiled all the Jedi here. All the Jedi I knew of," he amended, shooting an unreadable glance at Mrs. Hudson. "In the end, the only one to fit the mold was Derry. Outwardly eager to help, but reclusive. Do you know the reason he was sent here to Earth, MacEiver?"

MacEiver glanced at Mrs. Hudson. "No, I don't."

She folded her arms. "But I did. I should have seen it coming."

"Well," said Holmes. "I rather imagine you had other things on your mind...such as maintaining your cover with a houseful of your subordinates underfoot?"

I frowned. Holmes' voice was even, but there was an odd note in it. The dim interior of the carriage made reading his expression difficult.

"This is hardly the time or the place to discuss that, Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson said reprovingly.

"Oh, I'm not really interested in discussing it."

He was angry, I realized. Very angry. I suppose I couldn't really blame him; if I stopped and considered it, I was a bit angry myself. Mrs. Hudson had been a trusted part of both our lives for many years, only to learn now that she had, essentially, been a lie.

"Mr. Holmes–"

"What I am interested in discussing, Mrs. Hudson, is the truth. The real reason Derry has 'fallen to the Dark Side'."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Holmes."

"Don't you?" Holmes was purring now, at his most dangerous. I put a hand on his arm, in warning. He was in a rare mood, and there was no telling what he might say. He shook my hand away. "MacEiver knows what I mean, don't you?"

MacEiver twitched. "What?"

"I think you'd better explain, Holmes," Mrs. Hudson said coldly, all pretense of politeness dropped.

"I once asked Qui-Gon Jinn what, precisely, the Jedi were doing on a planet so far from your Republic's borders. He told me a very smooth story about the 'Galactic Anthropological Society.' I didn't quite believe him. Oh, it's a plausible story, and it may even be partly true–but that does not really explain the need for so many Jedi."

"If you spoke to Qui-Gon, then no doubt he also explained that this planet is a refuge for Jedi in difficulties," MacEiver said, his voice stern.

"Indeed. And yet, there is more. For example: the mysterious manner in which my informant Rat died. You were disturbed by it. Why? Because he was killed by a Jedi, at a distance, with the Force. And yet you were absolutely certain none of your people was in that area that night. We discussed this, if you will recall, the first time I suggested there might be a traitor."

MacEiver shuffled his feet on the carriage floor and said nothing.

"But Rat was, beyond doubt, killed by a Jedi, or someone very like a Jedi," Holmes continued. "From what you have told me of this 'Force', such action must be performed at fairly close range, within line of sight. Unless..." He trailed off. "Do you care to finish that 'unless', MacEiver? Mrs. Hudson? No? Very well, I shall finish it for you.

"Such a thing cannot be done at far range unless, somehow, the Jedi has enhanced his abilities."

"That's impossible," MacEiver said stoutly. Mrs. Hudson remained silent, her eyes intent on Holmes.

"You're lying, MacEiver. Abilities can be enhanced, temporarily, through the use of certain substances. I know this only too well, MacEiver, for I am an occasional user of the drug known as cocaine, which heightens ordinary senses. Cocaine, however, is addictive at the very least. Watson is convinced there are other dangers, as yet unknown. I begin to agree with him." He shot a wry smile at me.

"So." Holmes crossed one knee over the other and clasped his hands over them. "The major purpose the Jedi have in being here is this: there exists on this planet a substance–what, precisely, I do not know–that can enhance Force abilities. You are here to study it, determine if it is of use or not. I can tell you right now that you should give it up; it is far too dangerous."

"And what would you know of it?"

"I know that Moriarty had, under Derry's direction, been feeding into the veins of the captive Jedi a strange substance. That substance served to keep them sedated, and, I think, to somehow give Derry access to their abilities. I believe he has been tapping into the potential of Moriarty's employees, by feeding them the same drug in smaller amounts. That would be why you have had such difficulties sensing the presence of his henchmen. All this he has used to enhance his own power, and in so doing he has driven himself mad." He raised an eyebrow at Mrs. Hudson. "Am I not correct?"

"How did you learn all this?"

"Observation. Deduction. Really, Mrs. Hudson, my brains do not dribble out the bottom of my skull simply because I'm in the presence of alien beings. Derry has allowed the lure of unearned power to drive him mad."

"Mad, but not stupid," Mrs. Hudson amended.

"No, not stupid. Well, not entirely stupid. You must admit that his intelligence is on a serious downward spiral, though."

"That's all well and good," I said, "but what is he going to do now? Moriarty is all but out of the picture, as is Mailen. His plans are in shambles."

My friend slouched down in his seat, steepling his fingers. "This is the trickiest part," he admitted. "Derry is desperate now, and desperate men are unpredictable."

"Not so unpredictable as that," MacEiver said. "I've a good idea where he'll head...and I'd lay credits that you do as well, Mr. Holmes."

Holmes' lips drew into a thin smile. "Suppose you tell me, MacEiver."

The counterfeit Scotsman snorted. "He'll do all he can to lay his hands on as much of this...drug...as he can, and make for the nearest hyperspace capable ship."

"Either the Jedi ship, or the stolen one. Now..." Holmes turned his gaze to Mrs. Hudson. "Tell me about the 'drug.'"

"It's an element, actually, a trace element. We haven't really even named it officially."

"I believe Maeve and Shannan have nicknamed it 'go-dust,'" MacEiver muttered.

"It caught the attention of a Force-sensitive GAS employee when the planet was first discovered. Since she had trained at the Jedi Temple, she passed word of it along to the Council," Mrs. Hudson continued. "MacEiver and myself were the first dispatched here to study it, and eventually others were sent, both to evade difficult problems and to search the rest of the planet for deposits."

"There aren't many, are there?"

"The strongest concentration we've yet found is here on the British Isles. As I said, it's a trace element, existing only in very small amounts. We'd hoped to find applicable uses for it, but..." she broke off with a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid these events have proved beyond a doubt that it is a grave danger. It didn't seem so when we first began testing it, but it seems that there have been some strange and unexpected side effects of late."

"Perhaps in its purest form the element presents no danger," Holmes suggested. "But once exposed to air, to other elements, impurities, what have you..."

MacEiver grunted in agreement. "Possibly. Whatever the case, it has augmented Derry's abilities to a dangerous level. And to allow him to feed of others' Force potential...!"

Holmes sat up, suddenly intent. "So where would Derry be getting this element? Where would he go now that his base here has been compromised?"

"Where did he have his stolen ship land?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Scotland, of course. I wouldn't be surprised to learn he has a stash there."

"Moriarty mentioned a shipment before," I said. "Derry may be transporting a stash from London to Scotland. That is," I amended, "if he managed to get it underway."

"To be honest, I don't know if he did or not," Holmes admitted. "He's just seen the greater part of his scheme go up in smoke; will he turn tail and find a hole to hide in or will he press on, hoping that it will still succeed?"

He sighed then. "It doesn't really matter, as much as I dislike saying so. Moriarty cannot be our main concern at the moment."

"Derry is," Mrs. Hudson agreed.

"What do you think awaits us at Haven?" I asked.

MacEiver shook his head. "Who can say? Wait and see."