Chapter 2

The bright sun was hastily warming the mid-morning sky over the city of Rencrin. The crystal blue sky had a few puffy white clouds to dot the scenery, with several birds flying beneath them in perfect formation. The air was crisp, and a steady drumbeat sounded as if it thought all nature should march to it. Indeed, the beat was solid and stable enough, but only a few musicians decided to step to the rhythm for now.

Jacen looked down on the parade from his fifth-floor hotel window. The balcony was large and luxurious. He reclined in the soft chair as his untouched breakfast steamed away on the table before him. Images of last night kept dancing through his mind, and he couldn't get them to change tracks to that of the food in front of him.

The sound of a door opening and closing from inside Jacen's room let him know that Wiggem had come to give the day's itinerary. Little did the older man know that Jacen had other ideas. "Well, Jacen," Jacen knew he was in trouble when Wiggem used his name rather than sir, "shall we see if today we can't keep a profile that is a little further from the front page."

"There's no picture, and it doesn't mention me specifically," Jacen said in his defense, having already seen the news report in question.

"'. . .after the cries of fake came from a young man in attendance, the necklace was examined by the Honorable Yerinthon and found to be just that. Though chase was given, the thief was not apprehended.'"

"See," Jacen said as he leaned toward the table and began to stir his eggs around, "doesn't even imply me." Jacen tried a few of the eggs from bird-unknown and found them, to his utter lack of surprise, to be excellent. His mind went back to last night. The darts had worn off quickly, and he had been fully conscious when the security team finally arrived. He had lied to them about catching up with the thief and said that HE was gone before Jacen had arrived on the roof. They questioned him little and left his name out of the official report as per his request.

Jacen was glad he was incognito. Wiggem had asked few questions. In the first two days, he hadn't even ventured to ask about the two lightsaber handles dangling ever from Jacen's waist. Apparently, he didn't know what they were and didn't care to find out. He also never asked why Jacen always wore a long green robe. Wiggem seemed to know Jacen was a Jedi, but what that meant today was different from the history books that Jacen was sure Wiggem had studied. Wiggem simply knew that he was the son of the head of state of an ally of Estassia, and he was here to see the sights. But right now, there was only one sight he cared to see.

"Today, after the parade, I thought we might venture on to view the splendid sights of-"

"Tell you what, Wiggums," Jacen interrupted, "I'd like to guess that there isn't a thing on that itinerary that would help tell me what I came here to find out, not any more than I already have discovered, that is."

Wiggem stopped his reading, disturbed about being so abruptly interrupted. He stared with mock interest at his young companion. "What do you suggest?" he dared to ask.

"I suggest," Jacen said, mimicking Wiggem's voice, "a bet."

"A bet, sir?"

"I'm not speaking your language, am I? A wager of sorts, where two people predict the outcome of an event for the potential betterment of themselves at the cost of the other. If I win, I get what I want; if you win, you get what you want. Understand?"

"What is it, exactly, that you want?"

"I want simply to walk the streets of this city and see all the people in their natural environment."

"But sir," Wiggem pleaded in a sincere voice, "there are parts of this city that aren't clean and are quite dangerous."

"I'm counting on it," Jacen replied, expecting the objection. "If I keep going with you to big dinners, fancy museums, expensive concerts, and the like, I only get to see the upper echelon of your society. What about those people?" he asked, pointing down to the street far below. "They make up over seventy-five percent of your population, and they can't all possibly hold the same views as the upper class. Those people down there define your society. All of you guys in your expensive suits and fancy dresses hide behind their glitter and glow, not letting your true self show through."

Wiggem was a professional diplomat and mediator and could debate with the best of them. "You sit there and criticize the very class of people to which you belong. You're the son of the head of your government. You came on a very expensive ship. You wear nice clothes," Wiggem paused, examining Jacen's present attire, and added, "when you desire to do so. To epitomize your hypocrisy, you are staying in the Fringthrop Hotel, the best of the best."

"Very good, Wiggem," Jacen congratulated the man, using his real name for the first time in a day and a half. Arguing was just like dancing and fighting; there were steps you needed to follow. "This trip was not my idea, nor was the family I was born into, yet I wouldn't trade it for anything - the family, I mean. I would not have chosen this hotel, and surely you know that my government is a republic, a representative democracy. I'm not in line for the throne or anything like that, and I have no intention of trying to get it. I would much rather lead a simple life like those people on the street." Wiggem didn't know about a Jedi's life, or he might better be able to argue Jacen's points.

"I will not go with you into the streets; they can be hostile."

"I had intended to go alone."

"What about this bet of which you speak?"

Jacen motioned with his hand. Wiggem, who was still standing in the main room, tossed the itinerary onto the bed and ventured out onto the balcony. "Come here and look down. Don't worry," Jacen said in response to the man's uncomfortableness with the extreme height, "the ground isn't going to jump up and get you and this balcony seems pretty sturdy." The hotel was situated on the corner of a city block, and Jacen's room was in the same corner of the building. He pointed across the street to which the parade ran perpendicular. "Do you see that small park over there?" Wiggem nodded mutely. The park was small with a few trees and a pleasant brook running through its middle. "I'm going to jump into that park from here." Wiggem began to protest, but Jacen held up his hand, causing the words to physically get caught in the older man's throat. "If I land safely, I will simply stay down there and wander around for the day. If not, then you can go down there, scrape me off the sidewalk, and cart me around the city on your little tour." Jacen motioned to the itinerary back in the room.

"Sir, I hardly think that this is the time or place to be pulling stunts of this nature. Why don't you accompany me back ins-" was as far as he got when Jacen launched himself from the balcony. "Oh, dear," Wiggem said, but his distress turned to awe as he watched the young Jedi float 15 meters away, 20 meters down, and into a group of trees. A few seconds after Jacen had disappeared into the foliage, he emerged from the grove on the ground and waved back up to Wiggem. Not quite sure what had just happened, Wiggem waived humbly back.

The streets were crowded with people as they lined the parade route. Jacen took a constant survey of the crowd. There were no unsavory types in this gathering save maybe a few pickpockets. As Jacen watched the crowd, the fear that Wiggem had shown seemed thoroughly misplaced. Jacen also knew that the whole city wasn't like this, and it was likely that there were sections that closely matched those lower portions of Coruscant. It was socially impossible to have as large an upper class as this society had without having a lower class to step on.

Jacen decided the best way to find who he was looking for was just to find a nice spot, watch the throng of people, and wait.

Ariela stopped at an intersection, pulled a piece of paper from the inner pocket of her vest, checked the address written there, rechecked the street sign, and continued walking. The aircars in the street whisked by her, hovering a couple of dozen centimeters off the ground and traveling at incredibly unsafe speeds. She tried to walk comfortably on the relatively empty sidewalk. She wasn't used to being outside in the city during the day, and she had to do a bit of thinking about what she should wear. She had settled on a black vest over a long-sleeved blue shirt to ward off the cool morning breeze and a pair of black pants that covered the tops of her boots. Her walk was still unnatural as she kept throwing glances over her shoulder, fearful that she was being followed.

Ariela tried to put herself at ease by thinking of where she was going. Was she crazy? What was she going to say when she got there? "Hi, remember me? I'm really sorry about everything, but I didn't have a choice. I'm sure you understand." She shook her head. She was crazy. This was not going to work.

Up ahead, Ariela started to hear a parade in progress. She would feel more comfortable in the crowd, she was sure. "Excuse me, miss," a voice came from the shadows of an alleyway she was passing, "could you spare something for a poor beggar." Ariela looked into the alley to see a man hunched over in a green blanket. "Any amount of money would be appreciated. Just some small amount of change would help." Ariela began to quicken her pace. "Or perhaps a diamond necklace would come in handy."

Ariela came up short, nearly falling forward. She spun on the man in the shadows as he stood tall from his crouch, revealing his identity. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying not to sound as excited as she really was. She walked tentatively into the alley.

Jacen shrugged. "I came to get permission."

"Perm-" she started but then remembered what she had said up on the roof. Jacen chuckled to himself at her visible discomfort and walked deeper into the alley. Ariela quickly struggled to get the upper hand. "I'm glad to see you can still walk properly."

Jacen winced at her obvious reference to the kick she had laid on him. "I'll live," he responded. Jacen stopped walking and leaned casually against one of the sidewalls enclosing the dead end. "And how is your chest?"

Ariela paced a short distance away from the Jedi, still unsure of his intentions but confident that she could battle vocally with him. "Being touched by you is not as exciting as you might like to think."

"I guess that depends on your point of view," Jacen responded with a sly grin. "Well, I'd like to let you know that being kicked in the groin is no pleasure ride either," he said with mocked seriousness.

It was Ariela's turn to smile. "I guess that depends on your point of view; I enjoyed it."

"You would."

"I'm sure you'll find that many of the truths you cling to depend greatly on your own point of view." The two lapsed into silence. "You still didn't tell me what you're doing here, and don't give me that permission line because you're just as likely to get that as you are the diamonds."

"You just answered your own question," Jacen told her. "Where are they?"

Ariela was slightly taken aback. "Don't tell me that you're some kind of undercover cop because I won't believe you."

Jacen pushed himself away from the wall and held his hands wide in an innocent gesture. "What can I say," he pleaded, "I am a man that seeks justice, and I won't be able to put my conscious at rest until you are safely behind bars and the necklace is returned."

Ariela looked at him intently, trying to figure out his odd style. "So, you're just going to arrest me?" she asked, not believing for a moment that he would.

"What choice do you leave me with?"

"What if I killed you right here and walked away?" she asked, throwing her own bluff out onto the table. Jacen shrugged. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"You don't believe me; why should I believe you. I've seen your battle prowess, and I don't think that I'm wrong in believing that I could take you quietly."

Ariela thought back to that fight, recalling the odd ending. Something had tripped her at the end of the battle, something she couldn't seem to understand. She looked at the man across the alley from her, wondering what kind of secrets he held underneath that green cloak. "Okay," she said, conceding this little battle of words, "so why don't you just arrest me?"

Jacen nodded at the fair question and began pacing along a short line. "Let's say I wanted to have a little question and answer session first." Jacen paused, looking at the ground, apparently trying to compose his first question. Ariela waited, curious as to what he was up to. "Why?" he finally said, and though he had been through extensive Jedi training and had much better control of his feelings than the average person, he couldn't remove all of the hurt from his voice.

Ariela looked at him, and Jacen had to return his gaze to the ground. She knew what was going through his mind, and it pained her. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" was the common phrase. He was an honest person. A good and upright person, she could see that. But what could she tell him? The truth? The truth had penalties that went along with its knowledge, expensive penalties. He couldn't understand, could he? Who was he? She couldn't drag him into her mess; it just wouldn't be fair. Ariela tried to speak but found her words wouldn't come. What was she going to say?

"Excuse me, Miss Juwel, is this man bothering you?" The voice spun her around and cleared her mind of the dilemma. A man with a medium-length pipe was slowly smacking his hand with it in a casual manner that promised coordination with the crude weapon. Two more men were behind him. "Because if he's bothering you, we can bother him for a while."

Ariela spun back around toward Jacen, who was a little confused, and found that two more men had somehow snuck into the back of the alley and were creeping up from behind him. She had been right to worry about being followed. Jacen found his voice first. "You know these thugs?" he asked incredulously.

Ariela flinched at his choice of words, thinking he might be in over his head and didn't need to make things worse by getting the visitors angry at him. This was her fault. If she hadn't come down to this part of the city, she wouldn't have been followed, and Jacen wouldn't be in trouble. "I'm sorry, Jacen," was all she could manage.

Jacen saw more than she could know. He was an excellent judge of character, and he had immediately seen that she was a good person. That was why he had been so shocked on the roof. Now he understood. She was involved in something big, bigger than she was. He could see that she wanted to get out. "You can tell me," he said. "I can get you away from this. You have to trust me."

"I . . .I can't-"

"Enough talk," the man who had spoken earlier said as he grabbed Ariela's arm roughly and yanked her behind him. "You run home now, little girl; we will handle this now. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

Jacen watched as one of the three thugs in front of him dragged her out of the alley. He saw her mouth "I'm sorry" one last time before she disappeared. He returned his gaze to his present situation and saw the big man with the pipe smiling at him. "Now, if you promise not to go anywhere near her ever again, we'll let you go."

Jacen looked at the man, wondering if he actually thought the Jedi was that stupid. "We are men of action. Lies do not become us."

The head guy shrugged, nodding his head at Jacen's competence. "Let's dance."

Jacen just couldn't seem to escape this parallel, but as the thug behind the chief charged, Jacen thought it looked like anything but dancing. Jacen knew about the two guys behind him and knew that the charge from in front was just a feint as the actual attack came from behind. Timing his jump just right, Jacen flew upward and backward as the two men behind him converged. Stormtroopers would have all kept running and collided in a threesome, forming an uncoordinated pile, but these trained men avoided contact and turned to face their elusive foe.

"Okay, what do you guys excel in," he asked, wondering how a specialized society like this one could produce street fighters.

"We hurt people," said one of the men who had been behind him. He was brandishing a wicked knife and charged a second time. Jacen thought for a moment about bringing out his lightsabers but decided against it. He didn't need to kill them, and they might recognize the weapon as belonging to a Jedi, and then he would be in big trouble. When the man closed in, Jacen lashed out with his right leg toward the man's wrist. The knife bearer was quick and stopped short, letting Jacen's leg sweep by in front of him. Jacen rotated his body with the momentum of his kick, landed on his right leg, and completed the 360-degree spin by kicking out with his left. This second blow caught the thug square in the jaw, and he went down hard.

Jacen was facing forward again, and the other two men, one holding a chain and the other some sort of long, slender hammer, began to flank him slowly. "What did you guys do, rob a mech-tech store? Don't you guys have blasters on this planet?"

"We have orders not to kill you," the chief responded.

"Remind me to thank your employer."

The man on the right with the chain was not one for talk, and he attacked. He had held his weapon well, concealing its true length, and Jacen had to put his arm up to block the long-range attack. The chain wrapped tightly around his forearm, and Jacen flinched as the last link smacked his forearm that was still sore from last night. Jacen grabbed on the chain with his right hand and pulled hard. The man on the other end of the metal rope trusted in his 100-kilogram frame to win the tug of war, not counting on the amount of strength the Force afforded his slighter opponent. The man flew through the air and smacked into the opposite wall. Jacen let go of the chain and unwrapped the weapon from his arm with the Force, so he did not follow the dead weight on its flight path.

The last two men attacked at once. Jacen recognized that his main threat was from the chief. With a motion of his hand, he sent a Force wave into the man from the side. The wave hit him full in the chest, and he went sprawling, down but not out. The chief saw this unusual attack, and his first swing faltered slightly, allowing Jacen the ability to catch the crude weapon. The big opponent recovered quickly from his initial shock and ripped the pipe away from Jacen before the Jedi could do likewise.

The two circled slowly as Jacen looked around for a weapon. The alley was clean. The Force wave only worked well on people who weren't ready for it, and the man opposite him was poised for anything. Jacen could easily run from this opponent, but he knew he had to finish this fight. If he ran, he would lose the respect of his enemy, which usually resulted in getting shot in the back. If he were a coward, they wouldn't waste precious time on him. If they respected him, they would treat him as such usually.

The big man swung again. Jacen jumped to the side, and the blunt weapon just missed crushing his head. As the man with the hammer got up, Jacen realized that he was running out of time. He dodged another swipe right and was then forced to roll back to his left as the head of the second man's hammer moved on a trajectory with his own.

When Jacen came out of his roll, he had one of his lightsabers in his hand. He didn't ignite it and hoped the presence of the unknown object would confuse his enemy. The man with the hammer dropped his guard regarding the new device for a fatal second. Jacen lashed out with his foot and connected solidly with the hammer's handle. The top of the heavy weapon shot back and hit the man in the head, knocking him out. The chief was less startled and swung his pipe out at Jacen's vulnerable leg. The Jedi flipped backward over the swipe.

The two men closed in on each other again. "Does it do anything, or do you just hold it for security?" the big man scorned. He swung at Jacen's midsection, and Jacen ignited the weapon to its one-meter length and intercepted the attack with a textbook parry, the blade perpendicular to the ground. Jacen pulled up hard against the pipe, forcing the shorter but heavier weapon wide.

The chief stumbled back under Jacen's strength. The Jedi had a clear advantage now, and his adversary had to know it. Jacen's battle stance spoke volumes of his prowess. His weapon was a full 30 centimeters longer than the pipe and had obvious advantages over the cumbersome weapon. The thug also realized that Jacen was not the simple young punk that the chief had initially thought. Despite the obvious state of affairs, the thug would not retreat and charged his opponent.

Jacen wished to end this fight now. He swung his weapon above his head and brought it down in a vicious strike. The charging man drew up short and put his pathetic excuse for a sword up for a perpendicular block. The lightsaber cut through the crude pipe and sliced through the air centimeters in front of the startled thug, nipping him on his protruding gut. Jacen didn't let the man sort things out as he stood there with his now 20-centimeter-long piece of smoldering pipe. The Jedi lashed out with a kick to the head, then another, then another, finally finishing the barrage with a spinning blow to the head that sent the large man into a very uncomfortable slumber.

Ariela was being led by a much smaller man than those who had stayed back in the alley. "You shouldn't have snuck out this morning. Where did you think you were going to go, huh? Were you going to go whoring with that young man back there? What did you call him? Jacen? You should know better than that by now. I'm surprised that they even put up with you anym-"

Ariela gripped the arm that held her, stopped short, and twisted the appendage behind the thug's back until he shrieked in pain and released her. She swept the startled man's feet out from under him, and as he fell, she clipped him in the head with her elbow, sending him into blackness.

Ariela took off running, not wanting to go back to the alley. She turned a corner at the end of the block and ran head-on into a permacrete wall. She stumbled backward, but the wall reached down with his arms and steadied her. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" Ariela looked up at the wall's face, way up. The man stood a full 30 centimeters past two meters and half again as wide. Ariela slumped in defeat. There were no tricks she could play on this man, no maneuvers that would move, much less hurt him. Any tart remarks would result in severe pain. "That's what I thought," the giant man said dryly. "You were coming back home, weren't you?" Silence. "Weren't you?"

This last question was accompanied by a sharp twist that forced Ariela to hop to keep her arm attached. "Yes, Borgan," she said meekly.

"This little escapade into the city is over now, isn't it?" Ariela nodded mutely. "Isn't it?"

The vise grip tightened on her arm, causing her fingers to tingle from blood loss. "Yes," she squeaked.

"Who is this new man?"

Ariela sighed. "His name is Jacen."

"Jacen who?"

"I don't know." A slight twist. "I don't know!" she dared to lie again and hit Borgan's hand to try and make it believable. "I met him last night at the museum. Apparently, he wanted more than he got last night."

"How much did he get last night?"

"Borgan!" Ariela dared to yell at him.

"Were you going to sleep with him?"

"I most certainly was not! He is just some hormone-crazed boy in over his head. He's harmless. You don't need to worry about him."

"I think I'll decide who I need to worry about and who I don't need to worry about. But I agree with you. Herink should have handled him just fine." Ariela concealed her hope. Jacen had proven to be a competent fighter on the roof, and he had this unexplainable air about him that spoke of unknown power.

"What do we have here?" Borgan asked as he reached inside Ariela's vest. Ariela braced herself, suspecting his lewd intentions. She was powerless to stop him, but she relaxed when all he did was remove a slip of paper from her inner pocket.

"It's where I was going," Ariela said quickly, telling the truth.

"The Fringthrop Hotel," Borgan read, "located at the intersection of seventeenth and Swingly Lane, room 513. What is this?"

"It's a very ritzy hotel in the middle of the business district."

"I know what the hotel is. I've stayed there myself. I want to know why you have the address in your vest and who is staying in room 513."

"The place is full of expensive art. I thought it might be a good job to pull in the future. There is straightforward access to the building and not very tight security."

"Why do you have a room number?"

"When I called for information on the place, I pretended I wanted to make a room reservation. I wrote down the room number so I would remember what I had said over the phone." Ariela was making it up as she went and hoped for no more questions.

Borgan lifted her head by her chin so that she could look him straight in the face. "I believe you," he said, and both of them knew it was a lie. "But next time, tell me ahead of time and don't sneak off, and I won't have to send Herink out after you. Understand?"

Ariela nodded slowly, realizing she should feel lucky to get off this easily. A transport pulled up to the curb next to them, and the door slid open. The car was huge, and Ariela obeyed an arm gesture by Borgan and entered the back of the vehicle. Borgan began to maneuver his incredible bulk into the vehicle when a shout from outside stopped him.

"Wait! Wait for me!" The man who Ariela had knocked down was running down the sidewalk toward the aircar. Blood was caked on his upper lip where his nose had placed it.

Borgan tried to stay amused as the small man ran up to him, not wanting to be left behind. "What happened, Geoff? Did you trip?" Borgan knew full well what had happened. He had watched it minutes before.

"Uh, yes, sir. I tripped," Geoff said, knowing it was wise not to create tension between himself and Ariela. If Borgan ever had to choose between them, Geoff knew he would be out of a job, and in his line of work, that would also mean he would be out of a life.

"Where are Herink and the others?"

"I don't know, sir? I left them back with," he hesitated, looking into the car at Ariela, "the target. They should be done by now."

Ariela showed no reaction, hoping against hope that Jacen had beaten the odds. If he had come to serious harm, she didn't know how she would be able to deal with it. The last man she had met had found his way into the obituaries the next day. As Geoff climbed into the back of the car, sitting as far from Ariela as possible, Borgan pulled out a communicator.

"Herink," the big man paused, listening to a voice only he could hear. "Herink? Who is this? Where is Herink?" Ariela watched as Borgan almost crushed the communicator in his hand. "Very well. I want a full report when you get back. Pray that I don't think it was your fault."

Borgan got into the car, closed the door, and the vehicle took off down the street. The giant didn't look directly at Ariela, and she was glad. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to keep the smile off her face, and now would be a terrible time to gloat.

Jacen watched from the rooftop as the four men woke up. None of them were seriously hurt as they stumbled about, trying to remember the shoe size of the boot that had hit them. Jacen followed them for two blocks before they piled into a car and sped off much faster than he could travel. It was almost noon, and he knew that he wouldn't see Ariela again today, or possibly ever again. He wished he could do something about it, but there were just so many things he could and couldn't do.

Jacen had to remind himself that he was here to do a job for his mom, and he was only scheduled to stay two more days after this one. He was sure he could extend his stay if he wanted to. He had flown here himself and controlled the time he would leave. It looked to him like Ariela was involved in some small-time thieves' guild. She wanted to get out but feared the consequences. If there wasn't anyone higher up the chain than the guy with the pipe, Jacen didn't think she was in too much trouble, but still . . .

Jacen made his way back down to the street and wandered around for the rest of the day, giving himself his own tour without Wiggem's constant dissertations. By the end of the afternoon, he had almost forgotten about the whole mess in the morning. Whether he ever saw Ariela again, he was pretty sure her gang would leave him alone now. He couldn't have been more wrong.