Things went reasonably well at first. Nobody seemed to notice Lok as he made his way towards the checkpoint. He did not go straight for the opening, but edged towards the barricades and then slowly and cautiously made his way along them. After all, if he made a noise, people would be able to hear him, so he had to avoid that. The opening was about five metres wide, enough to allow for the passing of vehicles. It was manned by a few Awaré (which, as far as Lok remembered, was what the rebels were called), but there was enough space between them to pass through. Lok drew a deep breath and approached the gap.

And then, suddenly, when he was almost at the other side, he heard shouting, and a shell detonated behind him. He was thrown forward, falling onto his knees. Almost instantly, dozens of heavily armed Awaré soldiers came rushing up towards the barricade. Lok jumped up and to the side in an effort to avoid them, but one of them bumped against him, almost sending him flying. The Awaré stopped in confusion and shouted something, whereupon others turned around. Lok backed up in fear, and that was when his shields slipped. With a jolt of panic, he realised that everyone could see him now; they were all looking at him. Without further thought, he backed away through the gap to where he had come from, then turned and ran. Immediately, the soldiers were in hot pursuit. They were taller and faster than he was; there was only one option, and that was to use Force-enhanced speed, which he had been trained to do, but not cleared to do on his own by a long shot. But there was nothing for it; either that or be caught (and he thanked his lucky stars that the rebels did not seem to be bent on shooting him, but rather aimed at capturing him alive!). He took off across the square towards one of the streets that opened onto it, completely at random, so fast that he was practically a blur. That confused them, but they did not abandon their pursuit. He could now hear the sound of hoverbikes behind him and accelerated. At this speed, he could only just manage to round the next corner, which was where he smashed into an obstacle at full, Force-enhanced speed and blacked out.

He came to again almost immediately. His head was pounding, his vision was blurred, but his hearing was absolutely intact, and what he heard were approaching hoverbikes and loud voices. He tried to push himself into an upright position, but that nearly made him black out again. Panicking, he tried to crawl behind the burned-out vehicle into which he had crashed, but he was too slow. Any moment, he was going to be captured.

Suddenly, a figure loomed over him; a large Awaré, a gun slung over her shoulder. She grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him towards a doorway. He opened his mouth to shout, but she clamped her hand across it, pulled him inside and closed the door. A moment later, hoverbikes were speeding past and soldiers came running behind them.

Lok looked at the women in confusion. It was dawning on him that she had just rescued him from capture, but why? He could not think clearly, his head was hurting too much; and suddenly, he was feeling sick. When the Awaré women loosened her hold on him, he fell to his knees, doubled over and started vomiting. And then he blacked out again.

When Lok came to, he found himself in the dark. For a moment he thought that his vision had been impaired by the injury; but then he realised that it was, indeed, night. He could make out indistinct shapes by the vague light that was coming in through a few gaps in a sealed window. He was lying on some kind of bedstead. The Awaré was nowhere to be seen. He tentatively raised his hand towards his head, which still hurt, but not as badly as before. It had been bandaged; obviously, his saviour meant him well, why ever that was. He tried to sit up. It still made his head hurt and his surroundings spin, but it was not entirely unfeasible. Before he could try to stand, however, a door opened and the Awaré woman came back in, carrying a small torch. Lok shielded his eyes against the light and she immediately averted the beam.

"Do - you - understand - me?" she said in very slow Bocce, in a low voice.

To his own surprise, Lok did; but then, the question had been a simple one.

"Y-yes," he said uncertainly, and added: "A little." And since it seemed that he had actually started communicating in Bocce, he tried to phrase the question that was really on his mind: "You - why?" He did not know any of the vocabulary needed to say this properly, but the woman seemed to understand. She looked at him and then answered something that he only half-understood although she spoke very slowly, but it seemed to involve the fact that he was a "child" and that someone – possibly the other Awaré soldiers – did "bad things". That suddenly reminded him of Flynt, and that, in turn, of his master. There was no way that Eeth could not have noticed that something had happened to him. He had no idea how long he had been out, but judging from how dark it was, it had been a couple of hours at least. Fuck.

He was still internally debating whether it was a good idea to reach out for his master through their bond when the Awaré women suddenly grabbed him under the armpits and helped him up. She said something, and he thought he recognised the word "ship".

"Ship?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes," she said. As soon as she let go of him, however, he started to sway. She quickly steadied him, pocketed her torch and without further ado flung him across her shoulder.

"Hey!" he protested, but she shushed him and made for the door.

The next half hour was a blur. They went down to the basement, through a maze of tunnels, and emerged into another basement from where the women, who seemed indefatigable, carried him upstairs and into a dark and deserted alleyway. She obviously knew every nook and cranny of this city; she made her way through passages, backyards, even across a set of roofs, all that with Lok on her back. Several times, Lok could feel Eeth probing for him; however, he was too exhausted to communicate through their bond, and his Force control seemed fuzzy. At least Eeth was alive, though, he thought vaguely; but most of his attention was focussed on the attempt not to throw up while he was bumped along.

Suddenly, the woman hissed and backed into a doorway; and at the same time, Lok realised that Eeth was close, very close, just around the corner.

"Master!" he called, completely forgetting himself.

"Do - you - know - him?" asked the women in a whisper in her low, clear Bocce.

"Yes," said Lok, "yes!"

"Good," she said. Then she sat him down, gave him a brief pat on the head and climbed up the roof, disappearing from sight. Lok looked after her in confusion. And then, Eeth was there.

"Padawan," he said urgently, kneeling down in front of Lok. "Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

"Yes, and I don't think so," replied Lok, resisting the urge to lean into his master and start crying. "I feel dizzy. Is Flynt alive? Where's–"

"We have no time for this," Eeth cut him short. "We need to get out of here. The rebels have taken over the spaceport, Lakhri could only just get our ship out before they did."

He pulled out his comlink.

"I've got him," he said in fast, clipped tones. "I'll get him to the park two blocks down. That's still just outside rebel control. Collect us there and then take us to hyperspace as fast as you can."

For the second time that night, Lok found himself hoisted across someone's shoulder and rushed away; it seemed almost unreal. The streets were completely dark, but Eeth found his way nonetheless, and then they were among trees and there was the ship, touching down upon a lawn. The ramp opened, Eeth carried him up, and even before the ramp had closed completely, the ship had taken off again.

"You can set me down now," said Lok groggily as Eeth carried him along the corridor.

Eeth did not reply; he merely pushed open the door to their cabin and lowered Lon onto his bed. Lok was suddenly very grateful for that; he still felt dizzy and disoriented.

"Lie down," said Eeth. "I am going to give you a checkover. Then I need to look after Flynt, who is in a bad state. He will live, but the rebels did not treat him kindly."

Lok was suddenly immensely grateful to his anonymous rescuer for having saved him from a similar fate. He was also gradually becoming aware of a nagging feeling of guilt inside his guts.

"Master, I–" he started, but Eeth cut him short.

"Not now," he said curtly. "Your health, and Flynt's, are more important. Believe me, we will discuss your unauthorised outing at length, but now is not the time. Lie down and be still."

Lok sighed and obeyed. As he lay back and closed his eyes, the ship's vibrations changed; they had entered hyperspace. He was safe. Everyone was safe. And despite the huge amount of trouble that he was in, this was all that mattered right now.