When Qui-Gon and Tahl finally returned to the lodging-house, Ki-Erin and Tomas were already poring over the diagrams and data that Tahl had earlier acquired, as they finished up a late meal.
"There's more on the table, Masters," Ki-Erin told them. Her tone was polite, but from her fidgety hands and the way her eyes followed them, Qui-Gon guessed that she was itching to discuss their findings of the evening. Tomas got up to get them each a bowl of stew; Tahl made her way to the table while Qui-Gon fetched her data station for her.
"We moved the ship to a different landing pad just in case Tahl's transmissions were noted," Qui-Gon informed the others. He took the bowl from Tomas with a nod of thanks, and sat down before the wall screen to examine the Palace diagrams. Like Ki-Erin, he was eager to get down to business. "I found which lift tube is being used to transport Obi-Wan to and from the arena," he told the others, as he brought the relevant diagrams on screen.
"Then we can figure out which room he's in!" Ki-Erin said, her eyes bright.
"We learned something important as well," Tomas said. "Xanatos is collecting Force-sensitive slaves."
Tahl and Qui-Gon immediately stopped what they were doing, all their attention on Tomas.
"We saw a Force-sensitive woman being brought down the service hall," Ki-Erin explained. "We followed, and hid in a room nearby. There's a room down there that's full of slaves who are Force-sensitive."
"About eight or ten of them. None of them strong enough to be considered for the Temple, but enough to notice, once we knew what to feel for," Tomas interjected.
"And we overheard two Palace workers talking, after the woman was brought in. They were talking about her midichlorian count, about how Xanatos would be pleased, but they needed more slaves with higher counts."
"He's experimenting on them, using them somehow," said Tahl.
Qui-Gon said, "Like he is with Obi-Wan. The nephrolite..."
"That's what we guessed as well." Tomas nodded at Qui-Gon. "The lab workers were discussing the drugs they were using: they're trading off between inhibitor drugs, the main drug, and a catalyst drug to delay symptoms, they didn't mention of what nature. Whatever Xanatos is up to, he must be stopped."
Qui-Gon looked up to the wall-screen, where he had found the number of the suite to which the lift-tube led. Quickly he cross-referenced it with the list of Palace guests Tahl had downloaded.
"Mazala Lidocha," he said, uneasy. "Tahl, isn't that the name..."
"Yes, it is. Though I still haven't remembered where I heard it before. Let me think..."
"I saw Xanatos entering the arena with a woman on his arm. Maybe this is her name." Qui-Gon looked over at Tomas. "He's up to something with her. She would jump a cliff if he told her to - she's under such heavy compulsion."
Both men and the young girl looked silently to Tahl, who sat with her head tilted back, thinking.
"It was recently - the data I've been gathering -" Suddenly taut and focused, Tahl bent over her lap desk, tapping away. For several minutes there was no sound but that of her fingers on the touchpad. Qui-Gon stirred at his stew absently.
Tahl blew out a long breath. "This is bad," she told them, turning her sightless eyes toward them. "Mazala Lidocha is the planetary governor of Midorion. And Midorion holds mining rights for an extensive asteroid field in their system - one which is a prime source of nephrolite."
When the lights came on bright over Obi-Wan's head he considered staying where he was. Despair dragged at him. His stubborn nature won out, however, and he pushed himself to his feet. He would continue, would survive, would look for ways to pull Xanatos down until his master could come for him. He stripped off kazaba and slave harness and put them in the cleansing bin: as always, Xanatos had unlocked the fastenings on the harness some time in the night. Qui-Gon is coming, he reminded himself as he used the 'fresher, washed, and took water from the tiny sink. He ate a little of the food the dispenser had delivered for him that morning, then sat on the bunk to wait for Sitaris. His morning exercise with the trainer was the only part of the day he looked forward to: in strenuous movement he could forget his nightmares for a time, and the darkness weighed less heavily on him.
The inner door, the door to the utility area, hissed open and closed. The energy field deactivated. Sitaris entered, carrying a fresh harness and kazaba: Obi-Wan stood and folded up his bunk, then let the man fasten the harness around his torso, clipping straps to the manacles on his arms and legs. Sitaris paused when he finished clipping the last wrist strap, and turned the boy's hand, examining it. Obi-Wan looked down to see what had caught the man's attention: the skin at the base of his palm was bruised and lacerated where the manacle had dug into it in the night - every night for the past week. Sitaris took up his other hand, looking at it where it was cut in the same way. Then he dropped both hands, and passed Obi-Wan the kazaba to put on, turning to check the food dispenser, the remains of his breakfast.
"Hungry?" he asked, turning back to look at the boy. Obi-Wan shook his head no.
"Did you eat this morning?"
The boy nodded.
"Last night?"
He shook his head.
Sitaris stared at him a moment longer. Then he folded up the bunk and led him to the door, where he took the chain from a hook and coiled it around his hand before thumbing open the access panel.
"Stand there, and wait," Sitaris told him, indicating a spot in front of the now-closed door to his cell. Then the trainer walked across the utility room to open one of the steel wall cabinets on the far side, rummaging through the contents. Looking unsatisfied, he closed the cabinet and turned to Obi-Wan.
"Wait here," he said, "and don't move from that spot." Obi-Wan nodded, surprised, and watched Sitaris leave the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Through the open door he could hear Xanatos' voice, coming from his office.
"I have the tapes here, Jafar, on my desk. You can have them as soon as you arrive this evening, as long as I have your assurance that you'll keep your end of our bargain."
The second voice had a tinny quality, as it were coming from a holographic connection.
"The mining station is yours, and all the mining families who occupy it, as soon as Mazala is impeached from office. Which will only happen if these tapes of yours are legitimate."
"I assure you, they are more than adequate for the purpose."
"Mazala Lidocha, anti-slavery crusader, defender of mining vagrants - fascinated by a slave boy. The hypocrisy amazes even me!"
Xanatos chuckled. "As you say. But you're certain you will not be, perhaps, 'forced' to oust me by your constituents?"
"If you can be discreet, then ninety-five percent of my constituents will be content not knowing what is happening in the asteroid field, and the other five percent will be studiously ignored. Especially with Offworld funds visibly contributing to the common good on the planet's surface. Few truly care about the fate of the asteroid field's licensed mining denizens. Who could care about a few thousand crazies who live on space stations and mine the fields? And there's already widespread discontent with the expenditures Mazala has made to secure the field against pirating. You'll have no prob-"
The door slid shut behind Sitaris, who came toward him carrying a small medkit. Obi-Wan waited calmly as the man bandaged his wrists, but inside he was anything but calm. He knew he had to destroy those tapes. The only question was, how? He would need to be alone and unmonitored for long enough to get into the office... Possible, in the evening, if Xanatos required him to help serve his guests. He would need a way to enter the office, which was always kept locked...
Abruptly, his attention returned to the present, as Sitaris attached the chain to his collar; when the trainer drew him to the lift access, a tube running directly from the utility room to the arena and practice chambers, he took his place behind and beside the man, where he wouldn't be tugged off balance.
Qui-Gon rubbed his tired eyes. Once again he'd tried to reach Obi-Wan's mind, to find him in the Force, and once again he had failed. He glanced around the common room of their rented quarters: shabby and disheveled in the morning light. Ki-Erin had been sent to bed hours before; Tahl and Tomas had also gone to get some rest just before dawn. They had worked all night, trying to hammer out a plan. It didn't look good: the Palace was built like a fortress, with Xanatos' quarters in the center, isolated from any access system like the ventilation or service corridors, virtually impregnable. Designed that way, it was certain. The main door opened from the Palace's corridors; the lift tube from the arena made a second entrance. There were the windows, exposed on the twentieth floor. Beyond that, they would be limited to cutting through walls. And pipes and cabling and who knew what else.
He still felt that the arena backstage area was the best chance for getting Obi-Wan out. The others agreed. But with all the guards and blast doors cutting it off from the outside, it was less than ideal. Not to mention that Obi-Wan would almost certainly be accompanied at all times by Sitaris...
Sitaris. Qui-Gon had tried many times in the night to reach him. Tahl had traced the man's address, and he had gone to seek him out, only to find his quarters empty. The landlord told him that Sitaris had not returned in days, thought he might have a woman friend he was staying with; but he had no idea where or who that might be. Where was the man? If he could only use Sitaris to get in and out... The trainer obviously had keys, palm access. He sighed. His best bet, it appeared, would be to watch for him at the trainer's gate at the arena. He had to show up sometime.
Qui-Gon continued thinking, checking the stolen Palace records as new ideas occurred to him, discarding them as unworkable, as the other Jedi woke and began their day. Tahl only sighed, exasperated, when she came out to the common area and found him still sitting where she and Tomas had left him the night before. Tomas said nothing, and set about getting them some breakfast. Ki-Erin joined them not long after, her hair still wet from the cleansing room. She remained thoughtfully quiet as they gathered to share their meal, Qui-Gon joining them only when Tahl demanded he do so.
"I have an idea," the girl said tentatively, looking down at her plate in discomfort. Then she raised her face, jutted out her chin, a stubborn glint in her eye.
Tomas laid down his eating utensils and studied her face. "Why do I get the feeling I am not going to like of this idea of yours?"
"You haven't even heard it yet!"
"Go ahead, Padawan. We're all listening."
"Well, one of the problems we've had is that we have no way to be certain that Xanatos is occupied away from Obi-Wan when we go in. I've thought of a way to deal with that, and maybe even gather more intelligence on his 'experiments' while we're at it."
"Yes?" Tomas prodded when she paused again, looking uncertain. She took a deep breath.
"We disguise you as Mozelle, Master. It shouldn't be hard to get some skin tint, some clothes. Most of the Mozelle are as dark as you anyway."
"And?"
"And we disguise me as your slave."
"Padawan -"
"You can pretend you're going to sell me. Bring me to the Palace. They'll jump when they check my midichlorian count."
"No."
"We'll suggest they call Xanatos over. You can be stubborn about seeing him -"
"No."
"We could check out the laboratory while we wait. It would work, Master-"
"No, Padawan."
"It would be far too dangerous, Ki-Erin," agreed Qui-Gon.
"It's not worth the risk," Tahl added.
"But -"
"No."
Tomas' tone brooked no argument. Ki-Erin bit her lip. "All this time Obi-Wan's been surviving as a slave," she said quietly. "I could endure it for an hour to help him."
"It would be a good idea, Ki-Erin, if it weren't so chancy," her master told her. "I know you're a brave girl. I know you would sacrifice a great deal to help. But this is too much. I won't let you risk yourself -"
"They wouldn't try to kill me if they're looking for Force-sensitives -"
"Your capture, then. Don't kid yourself: getting out would be difficult, if they chose to stop us."
"You could refuse, in the end, to sell me -"
"As you said yourself, you would be a tempting prize. Tempting enough to call Xanatos' attention to you," said Qui-Gon. "And he is already a match for any fully-trained Jedi."
"There would be two of us. If it became so desperate, we could cut through the windows to escape. You're being overprotective!"
"No, Padawan. Do not speak of it again."
Ki-Erin sighed. "As you wish, Master."
Tahl looked thoughtful. "You could bring me."
"Tahl -" Qui-Gon burst out, exasperated.
"I know you've had no way to notice, Tahl," said Tomas, "but there are no female slaves here older than thirty. Lovely as you are, I don't think you'd pass for younger than forty."
"The Mozelle rule is, no female slaves past thirty, no male slaves past forty," said Ki-Erin. "Besides, the Palace normally won't even look at older slaves - what excuse would they have to do so? The attendants were complaining about that, because it restricted their search," she added belatedly.
Tahl frowned thoughtfully. Tomas looked at her, then pointedly changed the subject.
"I contacted the Temple last night, to inform them of our status, and to warn them of Xanatos's influence over the planetary governor, Mazala Lidocha. Master Yoda asked that we try to effect her rescue when we go in after Obi-Wan. We decided last night, Ki-Erin, that our best bet is to get Obi-Wan from the waiting-chamber before his match tonight, and to smuggle him out through the service corridors. Unless you came up with a better idea after we left, Qui-Gon?"
"I still want to corner Sitaris," said Qui-Gon, ignoring Tomas' insinuating tone. "I thought I'd look for him at the arena. Maybe I can get help tracking him down from some of the other trainers."
Tahl nodded. "We might be able to use him in some way to get in and out of the Palace."
"Maybe it's time to dress up fancy and get us a room there," said Tomas.
"If you're willing to go that far," said Ki-Erin, "Why not my plan?"
"Padawan!"
"You just don't want me posing as a slave, admit it."
"All right, I admit it. I don't want you playing the slave. Now control your insolence, or be restricted to the ship."
Ki-Erin shut her mouth with a snap, but her green eyes still flashed a stubborn gleam.
Qui-Gon sighed. "I'm going to meditate. I'll be out in an hour," he told the others. Perhaps this time I can get through to Obi-Wan, he thought.
"What is wrong with you today, boy?"
Obi-Wan picked himself up off the floor; for the third time that hour, he had been knocked off the practice disk by Sitaris' strikes. He could not keep his mind on the training: all he could think of was wiping those tapes.
Center your mind on the present. The thought came to him in Qui-Gon's voice. Quickly he suppressed the wave of longing, of grief that threatened to overtake him. What would his master do? Part of him laughed bitterly at the impossibility of Qui-Gon being in such a fix. No, he was not Qui-Gon. But the tall Jedi was his master. What would Qui-Gon say he should do?
He gasped as Sitaris landed a stinging blow across his back with the glowing red whip.
"Get back on the disk. I'm resetting the system to give you a good long shock when you fall. Perhaps the threat of pain, and the reminder of what's to come if you lose the match this afternoon, will help you to keep your mind on what you're doing."
Obi-Wan took up the blue whip once more, grimacing, and stepped up on the force field. Sitaris had not left that setting on since their first training sessions in the desert.
"Maybe it's time to speak with Master Xanatos. I'm certain he will have something to say about your lack of focus."
Obi-Wan shuddered at the thought. Xanatos would have much to say, all right, and all of it pointed and nasty.
Wait...
A plan was starting to form in his mind: dangerous, audacious, but it just might work...
The red whip struck his disk. Obi-Wan jumped back from the new gap just in time. The floor suddenly looked much more threatening than it had only a few minutes ago.
Tentatively, Obi-Wan reached for the Force, half-attending to the whip coming at him, shouldering it aside so he could focus on his thoughts. He had lost his confidence in his assessments through the Force, with the Dark Side always so near to him. But this felt right...
What would Qui-Gon say?
Trust in the Force: it will guide your steps. Plan if you can, but be ready for unexpected opportunity.
With a violent snap of his whip, Sitaris knocked him from his disk. Briefly he hoped Sitaris would not see through his subterfuge. And then he was curling up on himself, struggling to breathe through the agony...