So, after tweaking my pre-existing chapters in Feburary, I'm finally at a place in my other big story I'm finishing (a Lord of the Rings tale called Just One Drop) that I'm pretty sure I can work on the both of them together.

This chapter is dedicated to Starhunter79, whose encouraging messages and words motivated me to come back to this story and bring it back to life, and to Raven's Dusk, whose review only a few days ago reminded me that I had promised to do just that. Thanks guys.

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Qui-Gon was meditating when he felt the craft he was captive on pull out of hyperspace. Easing his eyes open, he found nothing had changed in his immediate surroundings – the blank walls of the starcraft still gave away no information to help him identify his location, hazy as they were through the force-cage. Aside from the dull sound of the engines, and the distant shouting of orders to crew, the hold was quiet.

The captive Jedi listened as the engines of the ship slowly changed pitch. If he focused, he could sense the ship's change in angle and knew they were landing. Idly, Qui-Gon wondered exactly where they were – the final destination of the trip, or a waypoint to refuel, perhaps? He supposed he would find out soon enough.

There was a slight bump as the craft touched down properly, and the whine of the engines died away. A moment later Qui-Gon heard footsteps approaching and the door to the room he was in hissed open. Aarlo, the Trandoshan who had taunted him earlier, entered. He was with the same human from before, Kazel and the silent Bith. Qui-Gon stood as Kazel levelled a blaster at him, and Aarlo reached out to the controls of the force-cage.

"No trouble now, Jedi." The slits in Aarlo's orange eyes narrowed. "There's no point."

As soon as the cage was deactivated, Qui-Gon found the blaster barrel shoved under his chin in a completely uncivilised way. There wasn't much need for it, as the Force-suppressor he had been given earlier was still clouding his mind and his exhaustion from the fight on the sky bridge had not abated. The Bith came forward, a needle in his hand, and Qui-Gon could only stand as a fresh batch of the suppressor flooded his veins. Almost immediately he felt his clouded mind grow worse, as he struggled to keep his attention to what was going on. Once the initial effects had passed, he was unceremoniously marched from the hold and off the craft.

Waiting at the base of the ship's ramp were the rest of Aarlo's crew. They were an odd assortment of humans and aliens, and one or two droids. Each one wore an expression of contempt or boredom in regard to their Jedi captive, and all were armed. These pirates were taking no chances, giving him a fully armed escort to whatever their destination was.

As they walked to the hanger doors, Qui-Gon took in his surroundings. The starport was small and unimpressive; evidently not a major trade port. There was only one small battered craft in the bay aside from the one he has been prisoner on, and it was undergoing repairs. The open hanger doors they were making their way towards showed glimpses of an ordinary sky; it was a partially cloudy day and, from what Qui-Gon could guess of the shadows, late afternoon.

A transport awaited them. Qui-Gon, still at the mercy of numerous blasters and blaster rifles, was pushed into a seat and settled in for the ride. The streets they passed through reminded him of Coruscant's industrial district – unadorned, simple architecture, useful rather than beautiful. There was no sign of grass, just metal structures belching out harsh smoke and uniform warehouses of rough metal covered in grime. Wherever they had landed, it wasn't meant to attract attention.

As the mismatched band travelled, Qui-Gon watched as the landscape began to change. Slowly the warehouses grew cleaner and more extravagant, and soon the transport began to rise as the buildings became less industrialised and more leisurely, then utterly grandiose. So he was on a wealthy planet, or at least one that had a wealthy contingent of population. As the rose higher, Qui-Gon saw the expanses of the glittering city stretching before him, the darker lower levels lost amid the glass and crystal structures that glittered in the sunlight like trophies; obvious indicators of the wealth and status of those who resided there. An ecumenopolis, then? A city-planet, akin to Coruscant, where the rich and beautiful existed in the clouds and the rest of society descended, from level to level, until the dregs of society existed in the shady underworld of levels so low the sky was hardly seen.

They were still rising, heading into the top lanes of traffic – evidently meeting someone of power and influence then? Interesting. Whoever was behind this plot was evidently high in society.

The craft was approaching a landing pad attached to a grand tower. Dark stone, polished to a high shine, reflected the light and caused the tower to appear like it was glowing, the architecture was majestic and powerful rather than garishly decorated. It emanated wealth and influence – and Qui-Gon did not like it.

After landing, Qui-Gon's ever-armed captors escorted him into an atrium. Elegant paintings adorned the walls, crystalline sculptures stood on pedestals, and a grand window provided a sight of the sky and city, stretching to the edge of the ocean in the distance. Oh yes, Qui-Gon considered – whoever was behind this was going to great lengths to set themselves up in such an impressive and intimidating way.

A male Togruta appeared at the top of the staircase that curved out of sight before the group. He was dressed in flowing dark green robes, which shifted around him as he descended. His lekku and montrals were covered in the blue and white markings typical to his species, but the blue pigment was darker than Qui-Gon had seen, and the white face markings were bold around his eyes against his dark orange skin tone.

"Aarlo, I take it?" he asked quietly as he reached the bottom of the staircase. Aarlo grunted in reply, one had on his blaster.

"And this is the captive?" The Togruta looked Qui-Gon over as if he was appraising him, before glancing at Aarlo. "The lightsaber."

Aarlo scowled and handed over Qui-Gon's precious lightsaber hilt. The Togruta smirked as he inspected it closely. "Part of the deal, bounty hunter. You knew that."

"Where's our payment, Togruta?"

Raising any eyebrow at Aarlo's clipped and impatient tone, the Togruta leaned over to a nearby table and removed a case that was sitting on it. He passed it to the Bith, who had silently come forward to collect it. Aarlo looked on as his Bith assistant opened the case, glanced over the contents, and nodded to him. Aarlo looked back to the Togruta as the Bith snapped the case closed again.

"We're done here."

With a last hiss of contempt to Qui-Gon, Aarlo turned on his heel and followed his men out to the landing platform. The door closed, leaving Qui-Gon with the Togruta The instant they were alone, the Togruta drew an elegant but evidently deadly blaster and levelled it at the Jedi. "Will you walk?"

"I do not seem to have a choice."

"Up the stairs," the Togruta replied, pointedly ignoring Qui-Gon's comment. "Sir wishes to meet his newest asset."

Slowly, Qui-Gon made his way up the stairs. Without the aid of the Force, it was impossible for him to tell if the Togruta had the only weapon trained on him, and he wasn't prepared to take the chance and attempt an escape. Penthouses such as this often had complex and impressive security systems.

At the top of the stairs was a door to Qui-Gon's left, and hall stretching deeper into the residence. The Togruta indicated the door, which Qui-Gon opened somewhat awkwardly with his still bound hands.

He entered into a wide office. The atrium's motif of art and sculpture was continued here, alongside a wide desk made of dark wood and some comfortable looking couches. A wide window gave a splendid view of the city beyond. Standing looking out the window was a figure, who turned as Qui-Gon entered with the Togruta.

Before him was a human man, of average height and slim build. Dark blonde hair fell to broad shoulders, framing the angular face. Dark brow eyes stared out at his captive. He was dressed in dark clothing, reminiscent of Jedi garb but made of far higher quality fabrics. A heavy golden belt sat around his hips, with a lightsaber clipped to it. He tilted his head silently as he started at Qui-Gon, who guessed he was no older than thirty.

Recognition sparked in Qui-Gon's mind. "I know you."

"Oh, I'm sure you've seen me before," said the man, spreading his hands. "Although I hear all records of me have been wiped from the Temple. I find that just a touch insulting."

Qui-Gon was trying to remember this man's name. A story from many years before, just before he took Obi-Wan as his apprentice, came to the front of his mind. A new Padawan, who had fallen to the shadows on a mission in the Outer Rim. Neither him for his Master had returned from investigating a threat, and the Padawan had vanished. All records were deleted, though the story was retained in Jedi lore. Qui-Gon looked again at the man before him. He had seen him around the Temple as a teenager, training, passed by in the halls as just another student. Qui-Gon couldn't even remember who the boy's Master had been.

"Karae Nalvas, at your service" said the man, mockingly inclining his head. "And I recognise you too, Master Jedi. Jinn, wasn't it?"

Qui-Gon ignored Nalvas's smirk. "You fell to the Dark Side."

"I woke up," Nalvas corrected, his smile widening. "And what a world to wake up to! I would tell you how wonderful it is, but you would just lecture me. And that's hardly pleasant." He rolled his eyes dramatically.

Qui-Gon seized his chance. "Why are you capturing and selling Jedi?"

"So you know why you're here? Excellent, I'm tired of explaining it all over again. I find myself in need of funds. Oh, no, nothing for you to be concerned by," he continued in reply to Qui-Gon's unasked question with a patronising wave of his hand. "Just a little side-project I've been thinking of undertaking." He stepped towards Qui-Gon, all flippancy gone. "There are some beings in this universe who would pay handsomely for a good slave. But they would pay beyond belief for a controllable ex-Jedi slave – an icon of the Republic, of authority, under their thumb and subject to their whim."

He stepped back, smile back on his face, motioning for the Togruta to come forward, who had his blaster still fixed on Qui-Gon. The Togruta put one hand on Qui-Gon's bound wrists and guided him from the office and down the hallway, stopping by a turbolift bay. Nalvas led them, talking all the while. Even though his words were light, Qui-Gon didn't need the Force within reach to know they were a macabre façade for a malicious mind and evil soul. There was darkness here, and danger, by all accounts. Far more than appearances implied.

"I'll show you to your accommodation, you must be tired. You'll have a few roommates, should make things nice and cozy. Lights out at ten; and too much talking at any time will get you in trouble with the monitor. And we wouldn't want that. Breakfast is a set menu, and we keep the atmosphere healthy. All activities are currently on hold as the rock-climbing wall is being repaired."

"And now you're insulting me," Qui-Gon said wearily, as if to a child.

Nalvas stopped and turned to look at him, eyes blank but alight. The Dark Side washed over Qui-Gon, even with the Force-supressor still affecting him; and against his will he felt a chill of fear spread up his spine. "Whyever would I do that, Jedi?"

The Togruta roughly pushed Qui-Gon into the turbolift. Nelvas stepped in a keyed in a code rather than pushing one of the pre assigned buttons. As it descended, Qui-Gon was hyperaware of the barrel of the blaster in his side, just below his heart. There was a moment of silence, before Nalvas spoke again.

"You think I'm a fool. Inexperienced, arrogant. Your mind is clouded without the Force, and without the clarity it grants you cannot see more than the trappings I have clad myself in. You think escape will be easy; you await your opportunity to saunter off. Because you see me as no threat."

He turned. Although not as tall as Qui-Gon, Nalvas didn't seem to mind he was the shorter. Qui-Gon could feel the pressure on his mind as the Dark Side closed in around him, Nalvas's eyes unblinking as they bore into him. "I am more than you could dream, Jinn. You will loose yourself here, and be sold without rebellion in your veins. You will be a good little subordinate – and try as you might, you won't be able to withstand."

The turbolift doors opened. They had gone far down into the lower levels of the city; as the walls of the corridor were dank unforgiving metal. Qui-Gon was led into a cell bay, his hands were released and he was pushed into an empty cell without ceremony. Nalvas swung the door to with a clang – these were not force-cages, but barred metal doors.

"Enjoy your stay."

And with that he, and the Togruta, were gone. The outer door of the bay swung closed with unnerving finality. Qui-Gon sighed to himself and looked around. Shapes were moving in the darkness; other prisoners who were here.

"Qui-Gon? Is that you?"

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I should note that Karae Nalvas isn't mine; he's from a campaign in the Wizards of the Coast Star Wars RPG – and there's a glorious twelve-year gap in his history, which fits with my story perfectly. I've taken a lot of liberties with him (like his appearance, because his records really were erased), but he does exist within the universe. And the plans he eluded to, that he needed the money for? Also exist in cannon, though I'm not going to explore them here as they took years. He wanted to create a mobile floating fortress with enough fire-power to take down any cloud-cities that he wanted – and he very nearly succeeded. Crazy – but damn classy.