For the last few minutes, there had been a lot of activity in the large room across from Quinlan and Echo's cell. Gangsters moved in and out through a wide door, removing boxes and barrels and checking with Palabar about numbers and amounts of each kind of merchandise. They seemed to be preparing a delivery of goods to one of their many customers, which was probably not great news for the prisoners. Quinlan wondered if he or Echo were part of the deal for this particular buyer, and if so, whether they'd be split up or not.

Palabar, who had put a bacta patch and black eyepatch over his injury, was busy overseeing the organized commotion, while also directing a medical droid; the droid was plugged into a large computer station that had, until just recently, been hidden behind a false wall panel.

A hidden closet and computer system, really? Quinlan, who was leaning against the cell door bars and watching the organized commotion, mentally added the hidden closet to his increasingly long list of 'things that make the Twisted Star gang cliché and lame'. Item one on the list was, obviously, having a leader who looked villainous in every sense of the word. The new eyepatch only made it worse.

Quinlan studied the Quarren, concerned by the fact that Palabar hadn't dealt out any real retaliation to Echo for the loss of his eye. Oh, he'd taken his scomp link, but Quinlan got the feeling he'd have done that anyway.

So either Palabar was a moron who sold people but also tolerated his prisoners beating him up, or he already had some kind of punishment planned. And Quinlan was under no illusions as to the Quarren being a kind person. Obviously.

While Quinlan worried about what Palabar would do next, Echo sat with his back against the far wall, knees drawn to his chest as his unfocused gaze drifted across the door. His head was angled towards the large room across the hall, as if he were listening.

"What is it?" Quinlan asked.

Echo shrugged. He hadn't exactly been talkative for the past fifteen minutes, but the Jedi figured it didn't matter too much. If Echo overheard or learned anything important, he'd say something about it. Hopefully.

As two Weequay trudged past, carrying a large crate between them, Quinlan leaned sideways with his head parallel to the floor so he could read the label of the crate that was being carried past.

"Food supplies," he said, ignoring the annoyed scowl from the Weequay. "Or so it says, anyway. Do you believe that?"

". . . No," muttered Echo, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why would they smuggle food supplies?"

"Exactly." The Jedi folded his arms, eyeing the camera. There was a lot of noise in the hall, now; it would be safe to speak, if he kept his voice down. Turning to Echo, he said, "Fox and I figured that the Twisted Star were run-of-the-mill drug sellers, with a side business involving people."

"Fox?" The clone trooper squinted at him. "The commander?"

"Mm-hm," said Quinlan, curious about the sudden interest that was evident in Echo's tone and posture. "I've been working on the case with him for a couple of days now. I wonder what time it is. . . It's not like him to be late, so I guess –"

"Late?" said Echo, also careful to keep his voice down. "You mean, he's on his way here?"

"Not here, no; but around nine in the morning he's supposed to head to a rendezvous that I doubt I'll make now, and that rendezvous was going to involve 'here'."

"Oh," said Echo. "So . . . you two already knew about these guys."

"Yeah." Quinlan paced across the cell and back in eight steps. "Why do you think they were after me, anyway?"

"Because you're annoying," the clone replied, with a bit of that fire he'd shown during the fight that led to their capture.

"That was the second reason," Quinlan corrected with a smirk. "The first reason was that I canceled their last transaction."

For a moment, he thought the clone trooper wouldn't take the bait, but after a couple of seconds Echo sighed, rolled his eyes, and gave in. "Right . . . Okay, how'd you do that?"

"Well, the guy who was going to buy a hundred slaves died before he could pay for or transfer the prisoners." Quinlan shrugged.

"What'd he die of?" Echo asked dryly. "A heart attack?"

"Um," said Quinlan. "If you want to call a blade through the heart an attack of the heart, sure. Actually, he had this funny idea that he and his buddies could beat me to death, but it didn't go so well for him."

"Sounds like." Echo eyed him with a expression that was almost wary, then shifted into a more comfortable position. "And what happened to the slaves? Did they escape?"

"They didn't have time to escape," said Quinlan. "Because some guys I know stole them right off the Twisted Star's ship and rescued them instead. Seriously. The nerve."

For the first time in several hours, Echo's expression lightened with real amusement. "Some guys you know," he quoted. "Was one of them named Fox, by any chance?"

"I mean, I didn't ask directly," Quinlan answered, even though Fox had absolutely been one of them. He stopped pacing so that he could stare out the door at a nearby Rodian who was looking a bit too nosy for the Jedi's liking. After a few seconds of meeting his eyes, the alien shifted away, grumbling uncomfortably.

Then Palabar's voice sounded from the large room, directing someone to locate a second medical droid, and Echo shifted, left hand clenching. "So, Vos," he said, with a calm that was obviously forced. "Did these friends of yours keep the slaves?"

The Jedi shook his head. "Nah, we – they – couldn't be bothered. Too much trouble and all that. So they sent the prisoners to a Republic center that cares for victims of slave trafficking. The former slaves will all get back to their homes."

"That's good." Echo looked like he was about to say more, but when a medical droid clattered busily past, he pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled slowly a couple of times. "Let's hope we can say the same for ourselves. . . What are you doing?"

"Trying to see the time," answered Quinlan, who had his forearms against the barred door and his head against his forearms. "Hey, three-eyes!"

The nearby Gran looked up and hissed something that was probably rude or threatening or both. Quinlan didn't understand the language; but then, he didn't really need to. "Just asking about the time," he said. "I have an important meeting later today."

A nearby Rodian chuckled. "Your meeting's been canceled," he said. "Don't worry, your buyer will be here soon."

"How soon is soon?"

"That's none of your concern, now, is it?" Despite his definitely untrue words, though, the Rodian glanced down at his wrist, and Quinlan finally managed to catch sight of the numbers on the chrono.

Turning to Echo, he whispered, "It's just past five."

The clone nodded, weariness etched in every line of his face. "Seems like it should be later, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," agreed Quinlan. "It hasn't been what I'd call a restful night."

The Rodian left, and Quinlan paced back and forth, trying to figure out what his options were at this point. He didn't have many. He could wait until his buyer arrived, and then proceed to escape and come back to save Echo, but the instant he thought about that, his Force-senses all but shrieked in warning.

They were so insistent that he stopped walking for a moment. "Right," he mumbled to himself. "No leaving him alone here, got it."

"What?" said Echo, jerking out of whatever reverie he'd sunk into.

Quinlan dismissed his previous words with a gesture. "We've still got at least four hours before we can even hope for Fox to realize something's wrong," he said. "And as for your team, Echo . . ."

The clone stared out the door, brow furrowed in concentration. "They'd have known something was wrong soon as they got back," he said. "But what they'd do about it, I don't know. I doubt they'll be able to find us."

"Hunter and Tech are good at locating people," said Quinlan.

"Yeah, most places, but here? With all the breaks in the roads, and the interference from millions of different comm signals?"

"You have a point. . . Hm." The Jedi considered, then shook his head. "Well, knowing them, I'm sure they're doing something."

Echo snorted, unamused. "Oh, I'm sure they are. But what that something is, or whether it'll be actively helpful in this situation, I don't –"

He broke off, leaning back against the wall as Palabar appeared suddenly outside the cell with six guards.

Quinlan took a step forward as the Quarren peered at Echo, still in the corner of the cell, with his one remaining eye.

"Domino," said the Quarren in his cool, slimy voice. "Your prosthetic did not supply us with the information I need, so I will have to move to the next stage. That headset of yours should do nicely. Come with us."

When Echo only stared at him, pale and expressionless, Palabar gestured. A Weequay stepped forward, aiming a gun at Quinlan's head. Not this again. . .

"I said, come with us," said Palabar.

Echo said nothing in reply, but clutched at the duracrete wall with his left hand and tried to drag himself to his knees.

The Jedi took another step forward, raising an eyebrow at the gun-wielding Weequay. "I thought you said you had a buyer for me," he commented. "Injuries allowed but no deaths. That kind of thing."

Palabar glared at the Weequay, who hastily transferred his aim from the Jedi's forehead to his arm.

Somehow, Echo managed to get to his feet. He looked shellshocked, his left hand tremoring constantly as he stared off into nothing, almost like he were in a trance.

"Domino," said Quinlan, stepping towards him.

The clone hesitated, then blinked slowly and kept moving towards Palabar, who was standing ready to open the door.

Quinlan stepped in front of him. "You can't remove any more prosthetics," he said sharply.

"We're not removing them," answered Palabar, with a nasty smile. "We have some tests to run. Now, step aside!"

The Weequay fired, and Quinlan jerked out of the way only just in time.

"Come on, Domino," said the Quarren. "NOW!"

But Echo couldn't seem to make himself move. He just stayed where he was, eyes too large and skin even paler than it already had been. A sense of panicked fear pulsed through the Force.

Losing patience, Palabar signaled again.

The Weequay fired twice, and Quinlan twisted and ducked, easily avoiding the lasers as he joined Echo again.

"Very well," said Palabar, as if struck by a new idea. "You bring him to us."

The Jedi considered, several thoughts flashing through his mind in an instant. He could bring Echo to them, let them do whatever tests they wanted – or, he could make their lives difficult. . . and possibly make his and Echo's lives more difficult, as well.

But one thing was for sure: he couldn't drag Echo out to whatever awful thing they wanted to do to him now.

Quinlan reached an arm across Echo's chest and pushed him back towards the wall. The clone was utterly silent, but even the slight step he took made him stumble. He clutched at Quinlan's arm with his hand, but said nothing.

"Well?" said Palabar.

"You want me to bring him to you?" Quinlan scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

Palabar hissed, the tentacles on his face twisting. "Because I will make your life hell if you do not."

"Oh." Quinlan sneered at him. "That's terrifying. Really."

The Quarren signaled to several of his men, who pulled out their stun batons and knives, and Quinlan shifted his stance, already eyeing up the different ways he could take down the seven people outside the cell.

As Palabar reached for the door, ready to yank it open, Quinlan took a quick step forward – and a hand on his shoulder brought him up short.

"No," said Echo, in a nearly-inaudible voice. He cleared his throat, gaze shifting away when Quinlan looked at him. "It's – fine."

The Jedi wanted to protest, but whatever silent order was in Echo's eyes made him shut his mouth.

Everyone watched as Echo made his way to the door of the cell. For a moment, something almost like respect gleamed in Palabar's pale blue eye. Then it was gone, replaced with a victorious leer, and the Quarren jerked open the door and stood aside so two of his men could yank Echo out into the hall.

The cell door slammed behind him, leaving Quinlan as much of a prisoner as he'd ever been. He grabbed the bars, giving them a tug out of sheer frustration before realizing he shouldn't waste his energy.

He had to wait, for just a few minutes. . . Just until he saw what they were doing, and if openly using the Force would be worth it, or if it would just endanger Echo even more. It seemed that Echo had a plan.

Echo, who was almost unresponsive to everything around him, was made to kneel near the computer. His left hand was cuffed to a bar at the base of the wall. One of the medical droids stepped forward, holding a cable in its metal hands, and plugged it into the computer.

As the droid reached for Echo's headpiece, the clone jerked back slightly, and Quinlan winced, almost looking away from sheer revulsion at the very idea. Echo having a scomp link hadn't bothered him at all, but that a droid could just plug a computer into his head? What kind of experiments had been done on him, to make that even possible?

Then the droid plugged Echo in. Instantly, long lines of data appeared on the screen, scrolling up in an endless stream of letters and numbers.

The kneeling clone made a sharp movement, as if trying to reach towards his head, then froze.

At the control panel, the second droid plugged its own scomp link attachment into the computer. "I have accessed the main directory," it said. "Further directives?"

"Find out where Domino comes from," said Palabar. "I have a suspicion as to who made the prosthetics, and if I am correct, he is far more valuable than a mere cyborg –"
The data began to blur and jerk on the screen.

"What is happening?" demanded the Quarren, striding closer.

"The prisoner is accessing our mainframe!" reported the droid.

One of the Weequay shoved it aside, hastily scanning the screen. "He's in our systems, bypassing basic security," he reported. "Keeps requesting permission to access comms – now bypassing secondary security –"
"Get him out of the computer!" snapped Palabar.

Quinlan almost held his breath. Both droids were at the computer now, one inputting commands and the other analyzing everything Echo was doing.

"He's too fast!" said the Weequay. "Get him unplugged!"

"No!" Palabar stopped him with a sharply raised hand. "That could destroy him, and the entire system!"

"He's in our records!" yelled a Rodian, waving his arms in the air as he stared at the silent, shaking prisoner.

The Weequay seemed to panic, jumping suddenly to his feet and punching Echo in the side of the head. "Get out of the system!" he yelled, slamming another blow against his face. Echo sagged against the wall, leaning against his cuffed hand.

The lights flickered. On the ceiling, the camera's little green indicator light blinked out of existence. Quinlan winced when the Weequay dealt Echo a savage kick to the ribs, but the Jedi continued to stand motionless, unwilling to intervene while Echo was still plugged into the computer. The last thing he wanted to do was somehow destroy his mind.

"Has he reached the comms?" demanded Palabar.

"No!" answered the Rodian. "But he has access to all our transaction records now, he's copying the data –!"

The Weequay slammed a blow into Echo's chin, knocking the trooper flat, and he crumpled to the ground. The long cable stayed plugged into his head, though, and Echo lay motionless. Only his wide-blown pupils flickered behind half-closed eyelids. Somehow, he was still conscious – or was he?

Quinlan watched uneasily, one hand clenched around the bars and the other at his side as the computer system went haywire.

"He's tracing our contacts!" snapped the Weequay. "Palabar, you have to do something!"

Before the Quarren could do more than step forward, the door at the end of the hall opened, and the yellow-skinned Trandoshan rushed in. "Security's down," he hissed warningly. "Can't access the systems. . ."

In a sudden rage, Palabar turned to the Rodian and backhanded him away from the computer. "Shut him out!" he snapped to the droids. "Do it NOW!"

Then Echo dragged himself to his knees, leaning his forehead against the wall as he shuddered. There was a fizz-snap! and the medical droid that was currently plugged into the computer jolted away, jagged electricity streaking and popping over its entire surface.

"That's it!" growled Palabar, yanking an extendable baton out of his belt and flicking it to full length. "Knock him out!"

The Trandoshan grabbed Echo around the throat with one hand. Instantly, the streams of data on the screen slowed and glitched, and Echo struggled, unable to reach up towards his assailant's hands.

Enough was enough. Quinlan gathered his focus, raising both hands with his palms up, then thrust them forward in a powerful Force-push that sent everyone except Echo flying. As the clone went limp, only his strangled coughs showing that he was still alive if not conscious, Quinlan reached out again and snatched up the nearest droid, which he half-crushed before smashing it into the Trandoshan's face. The towering alien collapsed with a shriek and stayed down.

"You want a valuable hostage, Palabar?" snarled Quinlan, pacing a few steps away from the door. He might have been able to crush the bars, maybe, but it would take time and focus he didn't have right now. Ducking a few reflexive lasers from the nearest thugs, Quinlan absently blasted a Rodian into the wall. "How about a Jedi Knight? Is that valuable enough for you?"

Palabar got slowly to his feet at the end of the hall near the stairs, blood streaked down the right side of his head and face. "A Jedi Knight," he said, and the delight was obvious in his voice even through the anger. "Yes. . . A valuable prize. Even more valuable than the cyborg!"

The gangsters had already gathered into a huddle near Palabar, all staring warily at this new and unexpected threat.

"What's wrong?" demanded Quinlan, ready to attack as soon as one of them dared to get near Echo or him. He laughed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you seem . . . afraid."

"Get the droids down here," ordered Palabar, and most of his men rushed for the stairs. The Quarren still had his baton extended, despite his unexpected flight through the air. He turned to the remaining Weequay and said, "Contact his initial buyer and tell him the warrior I offered him was not what I expected."

"Do I raise the price?" asked the Weequay, his voice higher than usual.

"No." Palabar smirked. "Why waste our time? Count Dooku will pay a million credits a head for Jedi – two million, if they are alive."

By now, Echo had pushed himself into a seated position, and was staring at Quinlan with silent shock all over his face. The data on the screen near him was flickering off and on, erasing itself, appearing and reappearing, and Quinlan began to worry that Echo had suffered a severe head injury.

But he didn't have much time to worry, because the door opened again and five assassin droids rushed into the room, feet clanking heavily against the duracrete floor.

Within seconds, they'd opened his cell and yanked the door open. Two droids rushed in and grabbed at him, and Quinlan somersaulted beneath their clutching hands, twisted sideways to slip between the next two droids, and kicked off the fifth. He knew he couldn't fight them off, but the intention wasn't to escape – only to lead them away from Echo, distract Palabar as much as possible. He had a feeling Echo had just managed to send out a signal for help, and he intended to make sure both he and Echo stayed alive until they could escape, or until Fox or the Batch or whoever ended up responding arrived.

He succeeded, too – for about five seconds.

Slipping beneath another blow, Quinlan blasted one droid into the room with all the containers and hurled a loose crate at it, crushing the droid against the wall – but that was all he had time for. The next second, he was grabbed by a pair of droids, his arms jerked out straight and pinned to the wall while a third droid dealt several unfairly heavy blows to his chest and ribs.

The Jedi was still coughing and trying to catch his breath when Palabar walked up and stared at him.

"Enough of this," he said, his voice once again smooth and oily despite the way his single eye gleamed with anger. "Droids, put both prisoners into high security."

Quinlan tried to wrench free, just on principle, and Palabar drew back and swung the baton with all his strength, cracking it across the Jedi's face. The world flashed and went dark, and the last thing Quinlan heard through the piercing ringing in his ears was Palabar.

"If the Jedi tries anything, shoot the cyborg."