"Anakin?"

Pausing in his walk down the hallway, Anakin turned to see Master Windu standing beside him. He greeted him with a nod and a faint, wry grin.

"Master—I'm glad to see you survived." They continued to walk again, side by side.

"I appreciate your concern," said Windu, smiling. "But surely Senate meetings aren't quite as bad as you make them out to be."

"No, they're worse," Anakin corrected darkly. "What did they want you for, anyway?"

"Despite your low opinion of senators, Anakin, they do occasionally have something of import to say. Senator Kelm, from Aridius, has informed us that the Neimoidian Viceroy was seen on that planet before leaving for Geonosis."

That got Anakin's attention; he frowned. "Then the Geonosians are still supporters of the old Separatist movement?"

"That may not be the case," said Windu. "It seems likely, taking into consideration their history, but I suppose we will be unable to know for certain until we can gauge the depth of their cooperation in finding him."

Anakin was about to answer, but then realized what time it was. He excused himself, then returned to his room, mulling over what Windu had told him. The capture of Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the corrupt Trade Federation, would close off a wide opportunity for a rebellion or any other sort of trouble. Anakin had experienced firsthand the Geonosian version of hospitality, however, and he was doubtful as to how much help the Jedi would receive on that planet.

When he reached his room, it was empty. That was a good sign; it meant that he wasn't late, and Drin wasn't there yet, which gave him some time to collect his thoughts and get into "teacher mode". Hardly had he sat down at the kitchen table, however, when the door opened and Drin stormed in.

There was no other word for it; his face was twisted into a scowl, and his feet stomped against the floor as he walked. Moving a chair backwards with the Force, Drin slumped into it, his arms folded resolutely across his chest, as though daring anyone to talk to him. Anakin deliberated a moment on whether or not it would be possible to ignore his pupil's mood, then decided reluctantly against it.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Drin sullenly. Anakin wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious lie, but didn't push the matter—it was only a few moments before Drin elaborated, anyway. "You know what she said?"

"Who?"

"My Master!" Drin cried impatiently. "You know what she said?"

Anakin shook his head. When Drin answered, his voice was dripping with sarcastic fury.

"She said I was looking at her the wrong way. She yelled at me for fifteen minutes for looking at her."

Anakin was confused. "Looking at your Master the wrong way?"

"Not her; Aviva," Drin corrected scornfully. Anakin stiffened. He could guess what 'the wrong way' was.

"Were you?" he asked, his tone sharper than he had meant it to be. Drin looked at him resentfully.

"No," he said—but Anakin heard the split-second hesitation, saw the faintest instinctive shrug of his shoulders. He knew Drin was lying, not only because of all these signs, but because he himself had seen 'the wrong way' on Drin's face for a split second when Anakin had caught him gazing at Aviva, not with dreamy longing but with a hungry, almost callous desire.

Drin did not mention it again during the lesson once he'd cooled down, so Anakin did not mention it either—but he was worried. Schoolboy crushes were one thing; lust was another, especially for a Jedi, and one so young.

When lessons were finished for the day, Anakin waited until he knew Drin would be at lunch before he left. He didn't know exactly which rooms belonged to Ka'ela Brun, but he knew they were close to Drin's, so he headed in that direction. Luck was with him; he spotted her coming out into the hallway, and stopped her.

"Master Brun, I need to speak with you," he said. The short woman looked up at him.

"Is this about Drin?" she asked. Anakin nodded, surprised, and Master Brun sighed. With a wave of her hand, her door reopened, and she invited him inside with a gesture.

"How did you know it was him I wanted to talk about?" asked Anakin, stepping in. The door led into a small living room. Sitting down on the couch, Master Brun motioned for him to do the same.

"All of Drin's teachers have come to me with complaints about his behavior," she explained, an attempted lightheartedness in her tone. "I assumed that naturally you would have the same sort of thing on your mind."

This was news to Anakin; he hesitated, torn between his original mission and discovering more about these complaints. He decided to continue as planned, then branch off later.

"I haven't had any sort of problems with Drin's behavior lately," he said honestly. "I wanted to talk to you about something that he told me this morning that worried me."

Master Brun nodded, giving him permission to continue.

"He said that you'd been angry with him, for looking at a girl the wrong way. What—what exactly did you mean by that?"

Anakin was hoping for some denial of his original thoughts, an explanation that would make him look back on his suspicions with relieved mirth. Master Brun's serious face belied all that; she shook her head.

"I'm afraid it means exactly what it sounds like," she murmured. "I assume you know that Drin's had his eye on a girl named Aviva Kenmur for a good while—this morning, I caught him alone with his imagination." Distressed eyes flickered up to Anakin's face, accompanied by a wry smile. "You were a teenage boy once, Master Skywalker—you know what they're like."

Anakin nodded, slow and distracted. "This is very dangerous," he said at last.

"Certainly," agreed Master Brun. "But the fact of the matter is that he refuses to hear such a thing." Her tone was calm, but her hands twisted nervously in her lap. "If Drin has given you no problems, Master Skywalker, then you are the only one. His behavior has only grown worse over the past year, and when anyone tries to correct him, he immediately loses any respect he might have had for them."

"Do you think, if I tried to talk to him, he would listen?"

She shrugged. "It might—but then, you might lose his trust, just like I have."

"I'm not his Master, but that doesn't mean I'll allow him to do whatever he likes," Anakin said firmly. "If you'll excuse me, Master Brun, I'd like to try and find him now."

"Good luck."

Anakin's face was impassive as he left her rooms, gazing at all with perfect equanimity. It was a startling contrast with the anger that he felt beneath. That idiotic little brat—had he learned nothing at all in fifteen years under the greatest Jedi Masters ever to live? What arrogance, to so boldly ignore such teachings! How could he even dare to—

Anakin forced himself to stop walking until he had calmed down, or disastrous consequences might occur when he finally caught up with Drin. It was arrogant, and it was willful, but for Anakin to place blame with righteous anger bordered on hypocrisy, considering some of his past actions. He began walking again, so set on his goal that he didn't see Master Yoda's hoverchair until he'd come within a few inches of knocking his head against it.

"I'm so sorry, Master," Anakin apologized quickly. Lowering his chair, the Jedi Master chuckled.

"Glad I am to see you, young Skywalker," said Yoda. "Speaking of you, the Council has been."

"Oh? Why would that be, Master?" Anakin inquired, trying to sound interested while gazing over Yoda's shoulder in an attempt to see whether Drin was anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

"A meeting, the Council has just had," Master Yoda informed Anakin, moving his chair slowly in the direction Anakin had just come. He had no choice; reluctantly, Anakin walked beside him, impatient to get this conversation over with. Lately, he had come to appreciate Yoda's words more and more, and at any other time he would have enjoyed this chance meeting, but right now…

"Word, we have had, from a Nubian contact on Geonosis. Claims, he does, that he knows where the Viceroy is hiding."

"Mm," Anakin agreed blandly.

"Decide, the Council must, who to send on such an important mission," Yoda said, apparently unaware that Anakin was only just barely listening to him. "But perhaps well you would do on such a mission, Master Skywalker?"

"Mm…" Anakin suddenly realized that these last words were actually relevant to him. "No, Master Yoda, I can't go right now!"

"Hm?" The Master's ears perked up. "What is this you say? Accept this mission, you cannot?"

"Not at the moment," Anakin excused himself. "I've just found out something very important, Master, and I can't leave the Temple until I've resolved it."

"Hm!" Yoda repeated, this time in a very disdainful tone. "Too late, it is. Been selected already, you and Master Olin have. Leaves, your transport must, within an hour."

"But Master—!" Anakin broke off, realizing how useless it would be to argue. With every ounce of self-control in him, he managed to bow obediently. Fuming, he returned to his room to pack.

He had tried to look for Drin after he'd finished packing, but there had been so little time that Anakin only had time to check his pupil's room, which was vacant, before boarding the transport to Geonosis. It was a while before he could stop cursing his luck.

At least Ferus was going with him. It was their first mission together since they had both become Knights, which added a bit of excitement to the whole thing. Neimoidians had a general reputation as cowards, but Master Yoda had stressed to them the importance of capturing the Viceroy, which was why two Knights had been sent on such a simple mission.

Geonosis looked just as Anakin had left it a little over a year ago: its rocky surface remained the color of red clay, and tall, winding spires still dotted the landscape. Anakin, self-designated pilot of the mission, landed in the shadow of one such stone spiral.

"We're close to the city," Ferus remarked as they disembarked from the small ship. "Now we just need to speak with Poggle the Lesser, and he should give us some help."

"I read the mission briefing, too," Anakin said dryly as they walked across the pebbly ground. "And I'd prefer it if you did a good amount of the 'speaking'."

"But Jedi don't hold grudges, Anakin," reprimanded Ferus in a saintly tone. Anakin shot him a look.

"Tell that to the next guy who strings you up by your arms and sticks you into a battle arena for the general populace's entertainment," he retorted. "I wouldn't trust Poggle any farther than I could throw him."

"And how far would that be?"

Anakin considered. "With the Force, or without?"

"I don't know. Without, I guess. Seems fairer."

"Probably about five yards. How heavy is a Geonosian?"

"That depends on the age. Do we know how old Poggle the Lesser is?"

"Fairly old, I should think. What's the average lifespan of a Geonosian?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, and the wings might affect the whole process."

The whimsical bantering ran until they reached the tallest spire in the area, presumably belonging to the Geonosian leader. Climbing up the circular stairs took quite a while, but they finally reached the top, thereby accessing a small, unfurnished room; its floor was tiled, the walls and ceiling made of the rock from which it was carved. Its only exits were the open way through which the two Jedi had just come, and then there was a door set in the rock.

As they watched, this door slid open, and a Geonosian entered, paper-thin wings twitching—Anakin thought he recognized him as Poggle the Lesser, though Geonosians were, to him at least, as difficult to tell apart as insects. Then, just as he had remembered with a sinking feeling that neither he nor Ferus spoke Geonosian, from behind the alien walked a silver-plated protocol droid, its halting footsteps clacking and echoing against the tile.

Poggle was the first to speak. When the peculiar clicking noises had left his mouth, the droid translated them into Basic. "His Excellency, Poggle the Lesser, welcomes you to Geonosis," it said in the high-pitched, tinny voice that was typical of all protocol droids. Ferus bowed, and Anakin reluctantly emulated him. The words were amiable enough, but the Geonosian's small, dark eyes bored into him, and they appeared very unfriendly. It was very hard to forget that here stood a being that had sentenced him to death.

"We thank Your Excellency for your generosity," replied Ferus, addressing Poggle, who understood Basic but was unable to speak it. "We have no intention of disturbing you—our only objective is to find and capture the Neimoidian that has taken refuge here. If Your Excellency has any idea where we might begin looking, it would greatly aid our search."

The alien dictated his response to the droid, who translated again. "An unfamiliar ship was sighted landing approximately three kilometers to the south of here. There are several unused aboveground caves in that area—perhaps the Neimoidian traitor is hiding there."

Ferus thanked Poggle and bowed once again, but the alien had not finished. "His Excellency also offers the use of a flying machine to the Jedi," his droid related. "They are kept here for visitors such as yourselves. It is very difficult to navigate Geonosis without some sort of aeronautical transportation."

Anakin was surprised; this was a sort of cooperation he would certainly not have expected from the Geonosians. Once again Ferus thanked Poggle, and after being assured that their transport would be waiting for them at the bottom of the hive, the Jedi began their climb downward.

"Looks like you were just being paranoid," Ferus said with a grin. Anakin had to look over his shoulder to reply.

"It's not being paranoid if they've already attacked you," he replied. "Then it's called being cautious."

They walked a moment in silence.

"So," said Ferus after the pause, "How heavy do you think he was?"

"One hundred fifty, one hundred sixty…somewhere around there."

The flying machine made Anakin very nervous. He had gone to much greater heights than this on much shakier vehicles, but he had a faith in speeders and swoop bikes that did not extend to primitive mechanical devices, such as this thing. It seemed almost determined to impress upon its riders just how unsafe it was: not only was it not closed, there was practically nothing of it but a long, narrow platform made of wood with a propulsion engine attached to the bottom. A few long poles had been stretched over the top for handholds, and they made up the entire safety mechanism of the thing.

There was only one seat, and that was for the pilot, namely Anakin. It took him a couple minutes to work out the controls, and when at last he hit the correct button (they were all labeled in Geonosian), Ferus only just grabbed on to one of the poles in time to avoid being pitched off.

"I thought you said you were good at this sort of thing," he complained from behind Anakin. The engine, once figured out, was surprisingly quiet, emitting only a steady whirring sound to betray its presence. Anakin did not deign to answer this, but simply continued steering as they skimmed over the surface of Geonosis.

"Did you notice how he talked about Nute Gunray?" he asked after they had gone a ways.

"Who, Poggle?"

Anakin nodded. "The last time I was here, they were standing side by side up in that balcony."

He could sense his friend's confusion. "So…what's your point?"

"Nothing." Anakin shrugged. "It's just weird. Why would he turn on his ally like that, giving us all this help and calling him a traitor?"

"Well, Geonosis is under Grievous's rule now," Ferus pointed out. "The Viceroy is mutually considered a traitor by both Republics."

"It's just weird," Anakin repeated stubbornly. "I mean, think about it: if Gunray had gotten it into his head to do what Grievous did, he would be the one with the New Republic, and we'd still be chasing Grievous. It's…what's the word…it's ironic."

"That doesn't mean it's weird," Ferus said, ever rational. "Grievous had a vision of peace; Gunray still wants war."

Anakin snorted. "The day Grievous has a 'vision of peace' will be the day that I shave off my skin and become a B'omarr monk. And anyway, since when have the Geonosians been anything but self—whoa, look over there."

Careful to keep one hand tightly wrapped around the pole, Ferus followed Anakin's gaze to see the sun glinting brightly off something silver that was partly hidden behind a dune.

"That's got to be his ship," said Anakin. "Think we should land?"

"He might have a defense system of some sort," Ferus cautioned. "Just be careful."

Anakin swerved the machine around the dune. Sure enough, it was a Trade Federation ship, and though he was a good forty feet in the air, he could see a cave mouth dug into the rock behind it.

"That's probably where he's hiding," Anakin said. "We should—"

"Anakin!"

He jerked his head up at the sound of Ferus's voice only just in time to see a black speck zoom up from the dunes about fifty yards away. It was impossible to make out features at such a distance, but whoever it was rode a swoop bike, and Anakin would have bet a great deal that it was their target.

"How did he get over there?" Anakin demanded.

"There must be more than one entrance to the caves," Ferus moaned. "Hurry, we're losing him!"

Anakin did not need to be told twice. Using every bit of his limited knowledge, he immediately kicked up their pace. They were zooming across the rocky terrain now with furious speed, but the speck hardly seemed to be growing larger. Nute Gunray or not, whoever sat on that swoop was desperate to keep away from them.

"We've got to go faster!" Ferus yelled over the roar of the engine, which was steadily growing louder as the machine accelerated. "Isn't there anything else you can do?"

"Hold on!" was Anakin's shouted reply as he fiddled with the controls. Without warning the machine gave a violent, abrupt jerk, almost toppling Anakin from the platform. He managed to stay in his seat, but even as he heard Ferus's cry he felt the startled fear in their bond, and knew before he whirled and frantically shouted his friend's name that Ferus had fallen to the rocky ground below. Already he was far ahead of Ferus—to go back would mean to lose the Viceroy entirely. Biting his lip, Anakin kept going.

Without Ferus's weight, the gap had begun to close, until Anakin was close enough to be certain of his target's identity. The Neimoidian was a terrible driver, relying solely on his bike's speed to keep him out of the Jedi's grasp. Anakin could have instigated a game of cat and mouse, blocking every move the Viceroy tried to make and then forcing him to the ground and enjoying every minute of it, but Ferus was weighing heavily on his mind, and so was time.

Focusing hard, he raised one hand off the controls and sent a wave of the Force blasting in Gunray's direction, then immediately began a steep plunge downward. The Neimoidian fell, shrieking with terror, from his swoop. Another wave of the Force caught the Neimoidian in midair about twelve feet from the ground; Anakin landed, quickly disembarked, and then let Gunray fall the rest of the way.

The ground was still rough here in places, reminiscent of the stony land they had raced through earlier, but for the most part consisted entirely of dunes. The Viceroy tumbled with a cry onto the slanted sand, then rolled face-up on the dirt.

"Please, don't kill me!" he begged as soon as he saw Anakin's face. Remarkably, he was out of breath. ""You wouldn't—wouldn't kill me—I have no weapon!"

"Get up," Anakin ordered shortly. His mind was working furiously: how far back had he left Ferus? What if he was hurt? Would Anakin be able to find him again amidst the massive maze of hives and boulders?

The part of him that was so very human wanted to blatantly desert the Viceroy , leave him where he now stood, his once-elaborate robes dirty and ragged. It wanted to race back to Ferus and ensure his safety, repeat apologies for leaving him behind—but the Jedi within Anakin knew it was impossible, clamping down on the idea with stern absoluteness. Nothing could be done until Gunray was safely within custody. This mission was too important to throw away.

By the time Anakin and the Viceroy reached the Jedi ship, nearly an hour had passed since the chase had begun. Anakin's nerves were fraying rapidly, helped along by the incessant pleas for mercy from his prisoner, but anyone who saw him at that moment would never have known it. Anakin had at last managed to borrow that unbreakable façade of calm which he had seen on the faces of so many Council members.

Always he had wondered how they managed it, keeping so serene when everything came crashing down around them. Now he understood that the calm, contrary to usual procedure, came only after its appearance: if a show of calm could be made, the real thing would soon follow.

If he could not have appeared at ease, worry would have torn him apart. Anakin waited a few minutes at the ship, hoping against reason that Ferus would return. Then, when he was disappointed, Anakin immediately set off to find his friend, heart clenched in fear.