Disobedience is a demand for change.

A dark-clad figure stalked up the ramp of the Jedi ship.

His Force signature wasn't exactly dark, but it certainly wasn't light either.

"Xanatos," Qui-Gon said.

"Qui-Gon," Xanatos said, and sat down at the table without being invited. He tossed a datapad onto the surface of the table, completely ignoring Tholme glaring at him from the other side of the table.

No one in this arrangement was completely comfortable with it— Xanatos having betrayed the Jedi and attempted to murder both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon on Bandomeer— but it really was their only option on such short notice.

"Found them," Xanatos said lazily, putting his boots up on the bench. "Seem fine, more or less."

"Less?" Qui-Gon asked warily, picking up the datapad. On it was pictures of both Obi-Wan and Quinlan, alive and mostly intact. It was promotional in nature— advertising their sale. They squinted into the sunlight, and both looked a little tired and sore. Obi-Wan's head had obviously been bleeding at one point, but it was dried by now.

Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief and handed the datapad to Tholme so he could see the same.

Jango came in from the cockpit. "Get your feet off the chair," he said, and Xanatos' feet thumped to the ground before he could apparently consciously think of doing it. He glared at Jango, and Qui-Gon tried not to smile. "Where did you get this?"

"Invite-only auction, to prevent people like, well, you guys from crashing it. It's set to be a big one— the possibility of two Force-sensitives is generating even more interest." Xanatos again ignored Tholme's nasty look. "What? When you get rich enough you start getting invites to things. It's not my fault if the Jedi are too boring to get party invitations."

"This is not a party," Shmi said, also coming out of the cockpit. She didn't have her child with her— Qui-Gon assumed that their assurances that Xanatos probably wouldn't kill them weren't enough for her, for some reason. "What about the worm?"

Jango shook his head. "That went out when the Controllers were sold. Either they found it or she lost it somewhere along the way." Or something worse had happened to the woman Obi-Wan had planted the bug on. Considering the situation she was in— well, it probably wasn't good.

"Buying them back is very last-resort," Qui-Gon said. He was trying not to read too much into the fact that Xanatos was helping them. He had always believed that Xanatos still had good in him, or maybe he had just wanted to believe it. But Xanatos had helped them against Palpatine, and had stayed quiet about any trouble he was causing since then.

Qui-Gon thought that his ex-padawan had a soft spot for Qui-Gon's current padawan. He had agreed readily enough to come assist them, though not without gloating and demanding payment. In this case, the payment was that he be cleared of his crimes against the Jedi from a few years past.

"Agreed," Tholme said. "But then the question becomes— how do we get them out?"

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Xanatos said. "I think Kenobi, as usual, has something up his sleeve."

Aayla was already too canny for her own good.

"If I help," she said, "What do I get?"

"Um," Obi-Wan said, patting his pockets. "Oh! Rrdush candy?"

Aayla considered this, and found it acceptable. She held out a hand, and Obi-Wan tossed the candy Jango had given him over to her. Aayla grinned. Obi-Wan got the distinct sense that he was a sucker.

"How is she going to help?" Quinlan asked.

"You'll see," Obi-Wan said. "Aayla can do her part. We must do ours."

It was a simple enough plan— or, well, at least mostly. Aayla was, after all, only three. But she was smart, and too world-weary, and Obi-Wan had seen how quick her reflexes were, how she sometimes knew things were going to happen. She was already growing into the woman she would be.

The next time the guards came in with food, they struck.

"Aww, it's okay," Obi-Wan said, craned awkwardly so he could pat Quinlan's back through the cages. Quinlan was crying, great big sobs that Obi-Wan personally thought were a little over the top. "We're gonna be fine."

The guards, who had so far only experienced snarking and swearing when they came in, looked a little uncomfortable. "What's wrong with him?" asked the one who'd taken off his helmet earlier.

"What if we neh-ever get to go home?" Quinlan said, scrunching up his face so that he would cry harder. It was starting to look a little bit painful.

"He's scared," Obi-Wan said, glaring at the guard. They had this one's attention, but the other was still keeping an eye on the surroundings, staying alert. In other words, doing his job. They couldn't have that. "Don't you have any sympathy at all?"

Obi-Wan made his own lip start trembling. The guard started to look like this was way above his pay grade.

"Stop it," the guard said, kicking at the cage. The other one glanced over. "Stop crying."

Obi-Wan let just one tear fall. He was nailing this, unlike Quinlan, who in the spirit of one-upmanship curled up on his side and started to cry harder. He was going to get dehydrated.

The other one was still not sufficiently distracted, but he was looking over. He looked annoyed that these kids they'd kidnapped would dare to have emotions about it. Obi-Wan looked him in the eye.

"You," he said.

There were a lot of misconceptions about Jedi around the galaxy. People feared them, thought that they could do all sorts of magics and mystical things. Especially people with a guilty conscience. When someone was not a good person, they feared someone looking into their soul.

"I curse you," Obi-Wan said, channeling Ventress, her sisters, all the spooky creatures he'd encountered. "For your crimes, I curse you, with the worst of the Jedi curses."

Both Tantels were distracted.

Aayla, bouncing at the corner of her cage, reached out a hand and pulled the keys from the first guard's pocket, face scrunched in concentration. They floated across the room, inch by inch, and into Aayla's hand.

"May you never know peace," Obi-Wan said.

"Kriff it!" the guard said, tossing the food down towards the cages and already turning for the door. "Let's get out of here!"

His friend clearly agreed; they turned tail and fled.

Obi-Wan sat back, satisfied.

"Why am I always the last to know stuff!" Quinlan said, when they were gone. "You never told me you were Force-sensitive, kid!"

Aayla grinned at him.

"She's not that powerful yet," Obi-Wan said. "But haven't you noticed that the guards don't really pay attention to her unless they have to? That they let Aayla go around with us instead of leaving her alone in the dark?"

"Not all of us can see the future," Quinlan grumbled, and held out his hands for the keys. Aayla, showing off now, hovered them over to him. "Very cute, very cute," Quinlan said.

Quinlan unlocked his collar and breathed a sigh of relief before passing the keys over to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan unfastened his own collar and felt the Force rushing back at him, swirling happily around his fingers, though his lungs.

He smiled.

The keys to the actual cells were elsewhere. They could break the locks fairly easily with the Force if they so wanted, but it wouldn't exactly be subtle.

"Come here, Quinlan, time for part two," Obi-Wan said.

"Ugh," Quinlan said, but he came over to the edge of his cage so that Obi-Wan could reach him through the bars. "You're lucky I trust you, Kenobi."

"Aayla, keep a lookout, please?" Obi-Wan asked. She gave him a thumbs-up.

Obi-Wan put his hand on Quinlan's neck, and drew the deactivated worm out of his ear, cupping it gently with the Force until it dropped into his hand. It was still broken from Obi-Wan's impromptu crushing earlier. Obi-Wan healed the cut behind Qunlan's ear.

"Can you fix it?" Quinlan asked.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said. "I'll try."

"Do or do not," Quinlan said, and Obi-Wan pinched him.

Obi-Wan was fairly good with mechanics, though of course compared to Anakin he knew practically nothing. It took a little while, especially with no tools to work with, but eventually he managed to make the worm spark and let out a little hiss of static.

He and Quinlan crowded close so they could both hear anything that came out of it.

"Master?" Obi-Wan said, adjusting some of the loose wires. "Master, come in, are you there?"

Static, for a moment. Then; "Obi-Wan? Quinlan?"

They grinned at each other. "We're here," Quinlan said. "Just checking in to make sure you old people are all right. We're good, of course."

"Of course," Tholme said, crackling along the line. "How— tracker—?"

"It still needs some fiddling," Obi-Wan said, frowning. "I don't know how long the connection will last."

"—working on getting you out," Qui-Gon said. "Are you safe at the moment?"

"Define safe," Quinlan said.

"We're fine," Obi-Wan said.

"—best time to—" Jango said, still flickering in and out of hearing. "Not sure of your situation— Auction?"

"You're in contact with Xanatos, I assume," Obi-Wan asked. "He'll know when the slave auction is. That will be our best time to strike."

The security on the facility itself was just too good. Maybe if Obi-Wan and Quinlan had their lightsabers, and no prisoners to worry about, and were fighting droids instead of people. But without that, it was just too dangerous. At the slave auction, there would be opportunities to escape with everyone intact— the guards would be distracted, and the open air of the arena, as proved on Geonosis, could be a downfall in terms of security. Anyone could come in from above.

"We'll need a better plan than that," Quinlan said, so they made one. It was difficult with both sides only able to hear about fifty percent of what the other side was saying, but both sets of masters and padawans knew each other very well, and they knew how each other worked. They managed to hash out most of a plan before the worm fritzed out and could not be coaxed back to life.

And for the rest— well, they'd improvise. That was half the fun anyway.

First step was finding out where the other slaves were kept. This would be fairly easy now that they had the stupid collars off, but that didn't mean if would be comfortable.

"I don't suppose you have any brighter ideas?" Quinaln asked Aayla. She considered this, eating her candy.

"No," she said.

"And there we have it," Obi-Wan said.

"Who can argue with that?" Quinlan said. Now that the Force was back, he was being very careful not to touch the bars or anything else with his bare hands. Even with the gloves on he could feel pain and misery buzzing, echoing in the Force. "Let's do it."

They hid the keys and the deactivated bug once more, in case they were searched, which Quinlan guessed they probably wouldn't be. They'd found the vibroknife he always kept in his boot when they'd taken them in the first time, and had seemed satisfied with the quality of their service since then.

Idiots.

"Okay, do it," Quinlan said, resigned, putting his arms over his head to protect his dreads the best he could.

Obi-Wan reached up at the ceiling and used the Force to yank downwards. Approximately all the sprinkler pipes broke at once, drenching them in water. Aayla shrieked, half delighted and half surprised.

When the guards came in, all three of them were sitting in the water, which was an inch or so off the floor now.

"Oh gods," one of the guards said, "We really are cursed."

They got taken to a different room while a cadre of confused repair droids got sent into their previous lodgings. They wore the collars around their necks still, deactivated, which was almost as uncomfortable as before.

They got taken to a room that was a lot bigger and fuller than the other one. There had to be at least a hundred miserable people crammed into cages, most of whom flinched when the guards walked in.

"Get in," said one of the Tantels, directing Obi-Wan and Quinlan towards one cage and Aayla towards another.

"She can stay with us," Quinlan said hurriedly, infusing his voice with a Force compulsion. The guard shrugged and prodded all three of them into one of the little cages.

"This is cozy," Obi-Wan said dryly.

"This is your fault," Quinlan said.

Obi-Wan shot him an innocent look. Even leaning on opposite sides of the cage their legs were all tangled up around each other, not to mention their little Twi'lek friend. Quinlan imagined it was as uncomfortable for the others, packed in as much or more as them.

"How is Aayla?" Quinlan asked, in probably terrible Ryl. "Aayla okay?"

"Yes!" Aayla said. "Exciting."

"All right," Quinlan said, grinning at her.

"Hello there," Obi-Wan said, looking through the bars at their next-door neighbor. Quinlan looked; it was the Togruta who had been serving the Hutt when they were brought out into the arena. She was young, but her Force-presence was already sad and weary. This was not her first stint as a slave.

"The Jedi," she said, half a greeting and half an acknowledgement.

"That's us," Obi-Wan said. "Obi-Wan, Quinlan, and that's little Aayla."

"Myrgan," said the Togruta. "But don't get attached. After the auction, none of us will ever be seeing each other again."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Quinlan said cheerfully. "You've just got to have a little hope."

"The slave markets are where hope comes to die," Myrgan said. She rolled over, hunched into two other women who were already asleep. "Take your peace now while you can. You'll not find it again."

"Take your peace," Obi-Wan said. "A good phrasing. How would you like to fight for it?"

That got Myrgan to sit up again. "That sounds like an oxymoron," she said warily.

"It also sounds like a lot of fun," Obi-Wan said. "Doesn't it?"

Slowly, reluctantly, Myrgan smiled.

They spent a restless night among the slaves. Aayla helped Quinlan wring out some of his hair, and then she fell asleep, half on his lap due to the lack of space. She was too skinny, but her warmth and weight was nice, not to mention the implicit sense of trust. Now that the collar was off, Quinlan could get a faint feeling of the Force running through her.

Quinlan took over watch from Obi-Wan halfway through the night after Obi-Wan nudged him awake with a foot. He grumbled, but woke, and spent the rest of the night— he was pretty sure Obi-Wan had stayed up longer than he should have— staring at the walls and listening to the other prisoners breathe.

But morning came eventually, and the guards came back.

"Rise and shine!" they said, hammering at the cages with the butt-end of their blasters. Quinlan grumbled, but followed docilely enough when they started lining up outside the cages.

They started grouping them; different lots to be sold. How many sellers were there exactly? This was going to be a much bigger sale than yesterday.

Quinlan, Obi-Wan, and Aayla got pulled along with their own Hutt's group, back out and into the arena. It was bright and miserable, especially with everyone else cramped into it now too.

Quinlan looked up. Jerga's box was still where it had been, with Myrgan lounging in front of Jerga, watching the arena with sharp eyes, and various serving droids and slaves milling around.

The other boxes were all full too, mostly with Hutts. But there were others; rich people, dressed fancily. In one was Xanatos— who Quinlan recognized now even though he didn't understand why he was working with them— flanked by a slim Tantel guard, helmet obscuring their face.

Most of the slaves were cowering in various groups around the arena, some shackled but mostly just kept docile by the looming guards and the impossibility of escape. They all looked hungry, beaten, but— the thing that the slavers didn't seem to notice— hopeful.

Jerga let the hovering droid cover his mouth so he could project across the whole space. "Lllllleeet the auction… beeegin!"

The crowd roared.

It was a little intimidating. Obi-Wan, of course, looked as if this was a perfectly regular day. He had his head tilted, listening to the Force. Timing would be important on this one.

It seemed like Quinlan and Obi-Wan were set to be the showpieces for the auction— which made sense. Quinlan was a star anywhere he went. They were up first.

Guards pushed them into the center of the arena, where someone had brought in a platform raised above the rest of the slaves; almost a stage.

"First lot up for bidding is verrry special today!" Jerga said. "Two youngling Jeedai! On special sale!" Droids hovered around their heads, projecting video of them from all angles up on big screens at the side of the arena.

So the cameras caught it when both of them smirked at the exact same time.

An audible sound of confusion went over the crowd. Quinlan grinned outright.

Up in one of the boxes, a figure shed her helmet and pulled out a weapon. Down on the ground, one of the guards turned and punched out the other. Obi-Wan and Quinlan dropped their collars.

And up in Jerga's box, things seemed to be going awry for the Hutt. The green-skinned man was struggling with a guard. Myrgan had gotten up, no longer laying on the floor but at her whole height, snatching at the vulture droid— the one with control of all the slave chips.

She freed them all at once.

Obi-Wan moved to the side and caught his lightsaber without looking; Quinlan looked back and found Qui-Gon Jinn pulling off another guard helmet and tossing Quinlan's saber over.

"Get them!" shrieked a Hutt in another box.

Quinlan ignited his lightsaber at the same time as Obi-Wan and Master Jinn, and, up in the stands, Xanatos turned on his saber as well, lighting himself and Shmi, still dressed as a Tantel, in red.

The Jedi turned and whirled in time to catch several blaster bolts and deflect them directly back at the offenders. Xanatos jumped showily out of the box and into a neighboring one, running several armed mercenaries through. Shmi had a grappling hook gun— Mandalorians— and she shot off across the arena to do much the same thing with her blaster.

Quinlan jumped several feet in the air, and landed in front of some of the former slaves. "I'm sure you felt it, but that little pop in your necks was all of your chips deactivating, permanently," he said. "Do you want to help?" He used the Force and called several guns, the owners of which who would no longer be needing them, to the ground at his feet. "If so, this is for you."

"It's true!" said a slave, "You've come to save us!"

"Actually," Quinlan said, "I think you'll come to find that you're freeing yourselves."

Indeed, even as Obi-Wan ran sideways up a wall and sliced the barrels off several blasters without even looking, and Master Jinn gave out several more weapons, the slaves were getting to work.

Quinlan watched half in horror and half in awe as Myrgan, the green-skinned man, and a few other slaves absolutely decimated Jerga. There were no weapons up there, which didn't seem to be bothering them any. They had broken several of the delicate little wine and cocktail glasses, and were using them to stab Jerga, over and over.

Myrgan, face covered in thick, greenish Hutt blood, raised her arms with a scream of triumph and completely severed one of Jerga's hands from his body.

Quinlan decided to look elsewhere.

The slaves, growing bolder, were starting to do most of the work for them. Spectators were running for it, but slaves caught them by the ankles and hit them or scratched or punched them.

A Hutt shouted something in Huttese, and a Trandoshan mercenary gathered up a rocket launcher and aimed it. Quinlan was too far away to do anything about it, but—

Out of the sky swooped Jango, on a jetpack, and Quinlan's own Master Tholme, looking like he was having considerably less fun as Jango held him aloft. Jango let Tholme go, and he rolled with the fall, landing in front of the rocket launcher and springing to his feet.

He kicked the Trandoshan in the chest, then spun and stuck his lightsaber down the barrel of the launcher, completely destroying it. Then he deactivated his saber and used the hilt of it to knock the Trandoshan out.

Quinlan was already more or less there; with a Force-assisted jump, he leapt up next to his Master. "About time," he said.

"Padawan," Master Tholme said. "Remind me to look up the rules and regulations on permanently grounding an apprentice to the Temple when we get back."

"Sorry, Master," Quinlan said. "If I look at the rules for too long I get hives. Maybe ask Obi-Wan."

Tholme laughed, big and booming.

They moved as one, taking down the slavers— nonlethally when they could. For the most part they ignored the Hutts, who by and large weren't armed and were very slow. And Quinlan didn't really want to get in the way of the slaves, who had taken their freedom and run with it. They did not seem to have any lingering good feelings towards the Hutts.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were a similar whirl of blue and green sabers, in step and deadly as they moved. Kenobi was always good with a partner. Quinlan didn't know why.

Xanatos swept almost lazily through the arena— but he was helping. Quinlan moved to block a blaster bolt coming for Shmi, and she returned the favor by shooting a mercenary off Quinlan's shoulder.

He heard a familiar voice— Aayla. She was shouting in Ryl; swearing, he was pretty sure. She was also biting a slaver repeatedly on the hand as he tried to pick her up and back away from the fight, trying to get his profits and get out while he could.

Quinlan leapt down and used the Force to pull her out of his arms, into his.

"Fun!" Aayla said, then Quinlan could feel her poking around the edge of his Force signature, trying to get a feel for what he had done. Then, to Quinlan's utter amusement, she got it, and used it immediately to push out and trip the slaver's feet out from under him.

"All right!" Quinlan said, and they high fived. He put her back down on the ground, but she didn't run away towards the safety of the other slaves— the ones who couldn't or weren't fighting, huddled in a corner and well protected. Instead, she clung to Quinlan's pant leg.

Quinlan spun his lightsaber and looked for another opponent, only to find that there were none. They'd won.

The remaining bad guys had, smartly in Quinlan's opinion, decided to surrender. Others had run away, and some had even made it.

"Well, how 'bout that?" Quinlan said.

"That," Shmi said, "Was very therapeutic."

Chapter header from TCW - 5X05 Tipping Points