The Moon and Stars was a nice, neat establishment situated near the center of Kala'uun, just opposite the main plaza. The hotel was simple and mostly undecorated on the outside, as many Ryloth buildings seemed to be. Inside, though, was different. Colorful woven rugs hung from the walls of the main room, and several potted plants stood in the corners. One of them had long, spiny growths on it, but the others had bright leaves and even some flowers, like most of the plants that grew in the Temple.

A green Twi'lek man came forward to greet them, asked how long they'd be staying, and talked about how the Moon and Stars was famous for its hospitality. He talked for what felt like a long time about that, actually. Quinlan stood next to his master and half-listened, trying to hold back a yawn.

Eventually, Master Tholme paid for two nights, accepted a large key made out of hard wood, and led the way up the stairs. As he entered their room, Quinlan paused in the doorway and glanced interestedly around. Two beds, piled with furs and blankets, stood against either wall. Kindling and logs had already been laid in the small fireplace against the back wall – good, it was getting chilly.

As his master went over to light the fire, Quinlan tossed his pack to the ground and looked down at the black rug that lay between the beds. He'd never seen a fur rug with a head on it before, except in pictures. It was kind of cool, actually. "What is this animal?"

"I'm not sure." Tholme joined him, studying the rug briefly. "Some kind of bear, perhaps."

"Nifty." Quinlan leaned down to measure the length of the sharp teeth against his hand. "Wow – bet this could take your head off, no problem."

"I imagine so." Tholme tossed his outer robes onto the nearest bed and opened his pack. "Padawan, I'm not sure when my contact will arrive, or how far away I will need to meet him."

"Okay." Quinlan flopped onto the rug, sinking his hands into the deep fur. "This is so soft . . . Hey, who is your contact?"

Master Tholme went to the entrance and checked down the hall in both directions before closing the door securely. "Cham Syndulla," he answered. "He is a Twi'lek who seems to have gotten on Senator Kaa's nerves. He's never done anything illegal, at least that anyone is aware of, but I think he might know more than most when it comes to what exactly Kaa and Secura are after."

"Got it." Quinlan lay flat on his back and stretched his arms to either side. "I think this thing was nearly twice my size!"

His master looked up with a sudden smirk. "That is not hard to accomplish, young one. I am twice your size, after all."

"Yeah, but you're three meters tall!" Quinlan stared up from his place on the floor, trying to look offended.

"Padawan, your skill for exaggeration is astonishing." Tholme pulled a black tunic over his normal one. "I am one hundred and ninety-five centimeters in height."

"Okay, almost two meters." Quinlan gazed at the wooden beams of the ceiling for a moment, then bounced to his feet as he realized what Master Tholme was doing. "Wait a second – why are you wearing that, Master?"

"Because," Tholme replied, tying shut the blaster-resistant tunic. "I desire to be protected against potential blaster shots."

"You think you're going to be shot at?!" Quinlan frowned. "Maybe I should come with you –?"

"No, Padawan," answered Tholme, slipping his lightsaber under the black tunic. "I am not going out there with the expectation of being shot at. I just prefer to be prepared for as many eventualities as possible."

"Oh." Quinlan wandered over to the opposite bed and sat down. "Well – I guess I'll just hang around here and wait for you to return?"

"You will do exactly that." Tholme strapped a small blaster to his left leg. "And do not leave the room, please."

"All right." Quinlan stared around the four walls and tried not to sigh.

"If you get bored, you can always study," his master said, eyes twinkling briefly. "I seem to remember something about your Old Republic history course and low marks due to a lack of application on your part."

"Oh . . . yeah." Sighing, Quinlan opened his pack and pulled out his datapad. He hated studying Old Republic Senate history. Real history was interesting, but this wasn't exactly history. Well, it was history, sort of, he supposed, but it sure as heck wasn't interesting. The course only involved the history of laws passed in the Senate over the past thousand years. There were so many of them, and the authors argued about the reason for them, and the wording was beyond confusing. Also, studying in general was just plain boring . . . especially when he was on a mission.

Quinlan stood next to his bed and dropped the datapad onto the pillow, then let himself tip forward onto the mattress. Opening up the current study module, he rested his chin on his crossed forearms and started to read. Almost immediately, his vision began to blur. Great. It was going to be a very long evening.

Master Tholme paused in the doorway. "Here is an incentive," he said. "Before we left the Temple, Master Jinn informed me that his own padawan shows a good deal of interest in learning Form Five – particularly the reverse-grip variant."

Abruptly, the padawan sat upright.

"As you know," Tholme went on, "I am competent with a lightsaber, but not unusually skilled, and I have less occasion to use it than I do other weapons. I know your preferred forms are Ataru and Jar'Kai, but you would do well to learn these others from Master Jinn."

"Do you think he would?"

"It was he who offered to teach you."

"He did?!" Quinlan yelled, then lowered his voice. "Sorry, Master. He did?"

"I believe I said as much." Tholme turned back to the door. "And I will allow you to join his classes when we return to Coruscant, as long as you prove yourself capable of keeping up with your normal studies."

"Yes, Master!" Snatching his datapad, Quinlan sat back against the wall. Suddenly, the words before him didn't seem blurred or meaningless. He hardly noticed when the door closed behind his master.

Tholme moved purposefully through the streets toward the Golden Rycrit, where his contact had said he would be for the next hour. The general atmosphere of the city was calm, purposeful – everyone going about his or her routine. But whenever Tholme actively reached out through the Force, he could sense a tension, a thin but growing undercurrent of concern and fear and grief. Three times, he noticed guards from Clan Secura patrolling the streets.

Glancing down the western main road, he caught sight of what he'd been looking for: a wooden sign, decorated with a gold painting of one the creatures the Twi'leks used as their chief method of transportation.

The Jedi knight took a moment outside the door to check his comm, but Cham hadn't contacted him. Presumably, it was still safe. When he entered the tavern, Tholme headed straight for the bar and ordered a hard cider. The busy Twi'lek behind the bar swept the credits into her hand and slid the mug to him without even looking up.

Taking a swallow, Tholme headed toward the back corner. An orange Twi'lek male sat alone at a small table there, a half-empty mug to one side. Several sabacc cards lay on the table in front of him – a saber, flask, coin and stave, all ones. Good.

"How's the game going?" Tholme asked, dropping into the seat across from him without asking.

"It's not a game." The Twi'lek glanced up, suspicious.

"I repeated what you asked me to say," Tholme said, leaning back in his chair. "And you saw me on the holocall."

"Yes. . ." Cham Syndulla glanced around the tavern. "You proved you are the person I spoke to. But before we go any further, prove you are who you say you are."

Tholme also looked briefly at the other patrons, but it didn't look as though anyone was paying attention. Keeping his eyes on Syndulla, he flicked his fingers, drawing the cards towards him with the Force. "Satisfied?"

"Hm." Cham Syndulla eyed him, then muttered, "There are plenty of Force-users in the galaxy. I'd be more satisfied if you showed me the weapon of a Jedi – as you said you would, Tholme?"

"I will – but not here." The Jedi Shadow tilted his head toward the door. "Secura's guards have been wandering the city. With his ties to the Senate, I don't want even a whisper of my identity reaching him."

"I can understand that." Syndulla leaned back, crossing one leg over the other and keeping his right hand in his lap. He probably had a gun in his boot.

"You wouldn't draw in time," Tholme pointed out.

Cham Syndulla's pointed teeth showed in a brief grin. "I'll take my chances. Who is the youngling?"

Tholme eyed him, brow furrowed. "Youngling."

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. The Kiffar boy who was with you in the marketplace."

"You were not there," Tholme pointed out. "Do you also have spies?"

"Of course." The orange Twi'lek smirked. "My half-sister owns a rug stand. She described you as a slave buyer."

"Excellent." Tholme raised an eyebrow. "That is exactly what I wished people to think – though I trust you do not believe that."

"I am unsure." Cham Syndulla picked up his mug.

"Then why are you here?"

The orange Twi'lek ignored his question. "She also believes the youngling has 'strange abilities'. Does he?"

"That is hardly your concern."

"It is very much my concern. Is he with you, or not?"

The Jedi Master studied him for a long moment. "He is my student," he said at last.

"Ah." The Twi'lek took a final swig of his drink and set it down with a thud. "Then let us go somewhere we may discuss our business."

"Indeed." Tholme watched him get up. "Where did you have in mind?"

"I wish to meet your student." The Twi'lek's calculating gaze fixed on him. "I am not sure I believe your story yet."

"Interesting." There was absolutely no threat in the Force. . . Yet. Tholme finished his drink and got up. "I have met some suspicious contacts in my time, but you are one of the more paranoid."

"For good reason." Syndulla led the way to the door, pausing to check the street before entering it. "There have been more betrayals in this city in the past month than I would ever have believed possible."

Tholme nodded. "Personal betrayals?"

"No, thank the Sun. The Syndullas are more closely knit than most." Cham glanced over his shoulder. "But among the citizens overall? Yes."

The Twi'lek headed straight for the hotel, and Tholme stopped. "Where are you going?"

Syndulla glanced back with a shrug. "I take it you are staying at the Moon and Stars."

"I take it you have been watching me for some time."

"Since you left the plaza."

"Hm." Tholme was not pleased to hear this. He had felt no observation whatsoever, perhaps because there was no threat. Still. . . it was not ideal.

Cham didn't speak again until they reached the street with the hotel. "I'll go around the back," he said. "You might say I am – well known – around here."

Tholme huffed. "And I am risking being seen with you why?"

"Because you need the information I have. You can let me in through the window."

"Fine." Tholme didn't wait to watch Cham vanish into the crowd, instead heading quickly back inside the Moon and Stars.

When he entered their room, Quinlan was still sitting upright, studying with obvious focus. If Tholme had known it would be that easy, he would have asked Qui-Gon to start a lightsaber class weeks ago.

"Padawan," he said. "Our contact is coming here."

"He is? Cool!" Quinlan bounced off the bed, tossing his datapad onto the mattress behind him. "Cham Syndulla? I've never met a contact before! Is he a spy? Did he find out a lot of stuff? Wait, are we working with him?"

"Quinlan," Tholme said. "Would you open the window?"

"Okay." The padawan unbarred the heavy shutters and opened them, then leaned out to look around. Suddenly, he jerked back into the room and swung the shutters closed, twisting to look at Tholme. "There's a guy climbing the wall."

"Is he an orange Twi'lek?" Tholme asked, even though he could already feel Syndulla's presence.

"Yeah."

"Good. That is our contact. That is why I wanted you to open the window."

". . .Oh." With a slight grimace, Quinlan reopened the shutters. "Sorry, Master."

"Better to be safe," Tholme told him, shutting off the lights so Cham could enter with less chance of being seen from outside.

A moment later, the quick-moving form clambered into the room and closed the shutters behind him. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome." Tholme turned on the lights, checked the hallway, and bolted the inside door. "This is my padawan, Quinlan Vos."

"Ah." Cham Syndulla folded his arms and stepped forward, studying the padawan intently.

After a couple of seconds, instead of looking uncomfortable, Quinlan smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, my clan tattoos are pretty neat, aren't they?"

Tholme coughed suddenly, and had to clear his throat. "Quinlan, our contact is not convinced that I am a Jedi."

"Oh." Quinlan reached under the pillow and withdrew his lightsaber. "Well, did you show him this?"

"I was hardly about to in a crowded tavern, or on the streets," Tholme answered, but he was focusing his Force-senses on Syndulla. There was still no sign or even a hint of a threat, only relief. Eventually, the Jedi felt himself relax.

Syndulla inclined his head briefly to Quinlan. "I am convinced," he admitted to Tholme. "One has to be more careful now than before, that is all."

"For good reason," Tholme said dryly. "Quinlan, we were observed in the marketplace, and our location is known."

"Oh, great. Who noticed us? Does that mean we have to move?"

"Not necessarily. I believe that only our contact and his network know our identity and location at the moment." He glanced sidelong at Cham Syndulla. "We should not have to worry – especially since, should I sense a threat or any hint of intended treachery, we can easily handle our guest."

"I understand." The Twi'lek rolled his eyes. "We have no interest in betraying a potential ally. Now, shall we get to work?"

"Yes." Tholme sat on the bed and reached for his datapad. "When I first traced Chom Frey Kaa's transmissions to Secura, you were mentioned several times. Apparently, they are concerned about your interference."

"They should be." Syndulla leaned an elbow against the mantelpiece. "I have been trying to gather enough information to have Senator Kaa convicted, though he might not know that yet. At the moment, my efforts mostly focus on Secura. Kaa can't do much from Coruscant without his lackeys helping him."

Tholme nodded slowly. "Can you tell us why there are some in the village who seem to be afraid of forgetting?"

"How –? Ah, never mind." Syndulla waved a hand as though brushing away his own surprise. "You know what ryll is, of course?"

"A drug mostly used for medicinal purposes," Tholme answered. "I know there are ryll mines on Ryloth, but I believe they are far to the south."

"Correct." The Twi'lek frowned. "It is usually exported off world. And yet now, much of it is coming into the city and not leaving."

Tholme considered. "You believe the citizens are using it?"

"No. That is what is so strange. I have investigated the mines that ship the ryll here, and it is all being purchased by Pol Secura, or his brother, Lon Secura."

"Did the ryll mines not have previous buyers?" Tholme asked.

"They did, but most of the existing contracts were canceled a couple of months ago, because the Securas are offering prices higher than any I've ever seen."

"What are they doing with the ryll, then?"

"I believe they are using it to make a new drug. . . though I'm not sure how, exactly, they're doing that." Cham Syndulla shook his head. "There are many Twi'leks now who have apparently moved out of Kala'uun. Nearly always, they are relations of those who have disappeared."

"Why are people disappearing?" Quinlan asked. "Are they all being sold as slaves?"

"They are not. Some are being sold, mostly women; the only men who are sold are those who are less able-bodied than average. Most of those who disappear or 'move away' are men as well. I believe they are being taken to work for the Securas."

"I see." Tholme took out his stylus and set to work taking notes. "And those relations whose memories fail . . . why is that?"

"No one seems to know, and that is the trouble." Cham glanced between the two Jedi. "It usually takes a few days to discover the memory loss. I believe it is whatever new drug the Securas have developed, though how they are getting the citizens to take it is beyond me. Most of what I know comes from hearsay."

"But there are glitterstim mines here?" Tholme checked.

"Yes. And I cannot get into them. That is something I hope you can help with. The only entrance I am aware of is in the central plaza. It's heavily guarded, and there are always scores of people around. I've had all my informants seeking another entrance, because there must be another; no spice has been brought out of the plaza entrance for weeks, and yet I caught sight of a shipment going out from the spaceport."

"I see. Have your informants searched for heavily guarded areas?"

"Of course." The Twi'lek eyed him thoughtfully. "All throughout the city. But there has been nothing, which leads me to suspect that the entrance is in the manor itself."

"The Secura manor?" Quinlan held out the map, pointing to the large house.

"Yes."

"Do you know anything else that may be of use?" Tholme asked.

"Not currently. I haven't even figured out what else to look for. Short of breaking into the manor myself, I cannot gain more knowledge."

"Why haven't you broken in?" Quinlan asked curiously.

"Because I do not trust myself." The Twi'lek shot him a wry look. "You are young, and perhaps think you would not betray those working for you, but I do not think that anymore. I am the only one who holds the names of all my informants. Should I be captured, they would be at great risk."

"Oh." Tholme's padawan nodded his understanding. "Well – maybe we can get inside and find the second entrance."

Tholme glanced up at Syndulla. "What would you want us to look for inside the mines, if we are able to get in?"

"Whatever you can. We want to know what the new drug is. . . how they're making it. My goal is to destroy their operations. I do not know what yours is."

"My immediate goal was to have Senator Kaa brought to trial," Tholme answered.

Syndulla tilted his head. "Why? Why do Ryloth and its people concern you, when you are not even a Twi'lek?"

"I am a Jedi Shadow." Tholme got to his feet. "And unfortunately for many, investigating corruption in the galaxy is what I do, whether the authorities have requested my help or not."

His padawan grinned. "Yeah, you could say Jedi Shadows aren't overly popular."

Tholme raised an eyebrow in agreement.

"I see," the Twi'lek said. "Is your authority as a Jedi enough, though, or will you return to Coruscant only for us to hear of your death one day while Kaa continues to stay in power?"

"I never make reports personally." Tholme smiled mirthlessly. "Evidence is always documented and submitted by . . . concerned citizens."

"Do those citizens even exist?"

"Of course not. But a check into their backgrounds always convicts the person I was investigating."

"I see. . ." The Twi'lek frowned. "Forgive me, but I must ask – if you do get caught in this investigation, is there a danger to my people? Those in my network?"

"You know I cannot promise that." Tholme folded his arms. "But staying alive is something Jedi Shadows learn to excel in. Is there nothing else you can tell us?"

Cham Syndulla shook his head. "I only know what has been happening, not why or when or how. But I will stay in touch, and remain in the city for as long as possible. If you should need help of any kind, Master Jedi, contact me."

"I will. If you learn anything new, you do the same."

The Twi'lek bowed slightly. "Ah – apart from those who saw you, my informants do know of your presence. And they will not, insofar as I can help it. But they are good at what they do, so I do not guarantee that they will not discover you."

Tholme shrugged. "As long as it doesn't get back to the Securas."

With a final glance at both of the Jedi, Cham moved back to the window. "Good luck to you, Jedi," he said, as Quinlan hurried to turn off the lights. "You are going to need it."

With those encouraging words, he climbed out the window and vanished into the night.

Tholme closed the shutters behind him and slid the bar into place.

"Well, that was interesting," Quinlan said.

"Hmm. It was not as informative as I'd hoped, but I've worked with less." Tholme seated himself before the fire and gazed at the slow flames. He had no clear plan yet, but once he'd thought through everything he'd seen and heard and felt since arriving in Kala'uun –

His padawan materialized beside him. "Hey, Master, what are you doing?"

"I am attempting to think," Tholme said pointedly.

"Oh. Sorry." Quinlan jumped onto his bed and opened his pack.

Tholme held back a sigh. After listening to his padawan rustle and fidget around for nearly three minutes, he finally gave in and said, "Padawan. Perhaps you should study, or attempt to sleep."

"But Master, aren't we going to make plans for tomorrow?"

"We are not. I am." Tholme twisted to look at his padawan, almost smiling at the disappointed look on his face. "Quinlan, there's nothing much to plan yet. We know what our goal is, and that is all. For all I know, we might end up having nothing at all to do tomorrow."

Quinlan's expression clearly showed his horror at that idea. But after a moment, he sighed and said, "Yes, Master." Tossing his pack to the floor, he stood next to the bed and fell diagonally onto the mattress again. He lay with his face against the mattress, dreadlocks completely hiding his expression.

Tholme shook his head at his padawan's dramatics. "You will survive, I promise."

"I know that," Quinlan said into the blankets. "I don't mean to be impatient, Master Tholme. I'm just excited and it's hard to meditate."

The thing about having a padawan, Tholme had discovered very quickly, was that one could no longer focus only on the mission. It was something he'd had to adjust to, and was still adjusting to.

"Come sit," he said, resigned. "We have not meditated together in a few days. And perhaps afterwards, we can go through some katas."

"Oh, good!" Quinlan jumped up so fast that he overbalanced and nearly fell out of bed.

Tholme felt his mouth twitch again. It was beginning to look as though Plo Koon had been right when he claimed that Tholme had forgotten how to smile, and that having a padawan would fix that very quickly.