Master Apprentice Archive Echo Quick search:

Echo

by Amberlee ( amberleewriter@yahoo.com )

Archive: MA, Bail Now, my LJ, all others please ask

Category: Obi/Bail, Action/Adventure, Pre-TPM, Non-Q/O, Pre-slash, plotfic, series

Rating: PG

Feedback: If you want to send it I'm happy to recieve, but I don't live or die by the stuff. I do, however, respond to everyone that responds to my stories.

Warnings: no sex

Spoilers: References made to what could be spoliers for Jude Watson books.

Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are assigned to the negotiations between the Tanthal Alliance and the Republic. When the treaty signing goes horribly wrong, it's up to the Jedi to rescue the delegation --including a certain young Senator from Alderaan.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns the major players. Cameo appearances and references are made to stuff from Watson, Wolverton, Zahn, and even Dark Horse and Wizards of the Coast. I don't make a dime for my research or flights of fancy where these characters are concerned.

Notes: Echo may be read alone but is the beginning of a larger relationship arc between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa. Myrrh is to blame for every bit of Bail fic that I write. Clara Swift, Jedi Rita, and Lori are all to blame for getting me to stop lurking and finally put this out to archive almost two years after it was originally written. Laura McEwan should be given a medal for correcting my typos, spelling, and comma splices. Rita also gets a nod for looking over the original and giving some prose suggestions. Sarien Palth, Skuld-chan, and Platinum Anguish (among many others) get the nod for being supportive fans from other fandoms that allow me to be Bail obsessed without fear.

Chapter One

Obi-Wan fought the controls of the small two-person fighter. The white landscape of Rhen Var sped by beneath them, coming closer with every passing second. Black smoke billowed from the starboard engine and Obi-Wan struggled to keep the craft aloft long enough to ditch safely.

Bail Organa tried not to cringe. He was, after all, in the hands of a Jedi. If one had to be chased, shot at, and plummet from the sky, one was probably in a statistically much better position for survival with a Jedi at the helm -- even if that Jedi was only a Padawan.

In spite of Obi-Wan's best efforts, the ground continued to rush toward them at an alarming rate. Rhen Var, once a thriving economic center before the creation of the Republic, was now a world of snow and ice. If he decelerated enough, came in at the proper angle, and managed to find a snowdrift or two to skim against they should manage to walk away from the crash. His eyes scanned the landscape looking for a likely landing area. Clusters of half-buried ruins dotted the white landscape. Finally, Obi-Wan found what he was looking for.

"Hold on, Your Highness. This may get rough."

Somehow Bail was not terribly comforted by Obi-Wan's words, but they were no longer being shot at, and that was an improvement. The fighter that had blown out their engine seemed satisfied with the damage it had caused. Instead of ensuring the kill, it pulled up sharply to join its mate in chasing the craft that held Qui-Gon Jinn and Senator Doman Beruss.

"I'll take that under advisement," Bail quipped. His voice sounded far calmer than he actually was.

The first grazing of the ship against the snowdrifts jarred Bail and jerked him hard in his harness straps. He shut his eyes and tried to suppress the fear he felt rising up inside of him. The second hit was much more extreme. The leather dug into Bail's shoulders and the metal of the hull groaned and popped around him. The third hit brought the sound of parts snapping away and Bail couldn't help the shout of near terror that ripped from his chest.

With a final violent jolt, the craft came to a stop. Bail's neck snapped and his head slapped hard into the support cushion. In spite of the padding, it hurt like hell.

A rush of cold air immediately followed. Obi-Wan wasted no time. He snapped his restraints and popped the glass canopy of the fighter, now spidered with cracks. "Your Highness? Are you injured?"

Bail remained silent, his eyes closed and his body shaking with adrenaline. His head throbbed, his chest felt like it had been stepped on by a thranta, and he had dug his nails into his palms, drawing blood.

"Your Highness? Senator Organa?"

"Well." Bail opened his eyes and smiled weakly at Obi-Wan. The Jedi had turned in his seat and reached over the cockpit divider to release Bail's harness. "I must say the takeoff was fine but the in-flight meal and landing left something to be desired."

Obi-Wan dryly replied, "I'll take that under advisement, Senator."

"What do we do now?"

"We get out of here."

Rhen Var was supposed to be little more than a symbolic stamp on the trade negotiations between the Republic and a cluster of five outer rim worlds that called themselves the Thanthal Alliance. It had taken three standard months of meetings, with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan acting as official observers and mediators, to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement. It was dry, tedious work, but the end result would mean a new shipping route and the addition of the small cluster of planets to the Republic. Qui-Gon was quite pleased with the outcome.

When the representatives from the Thanthal Alliance requested the final meeting and treaty signing be conducted at Rhen Var, Qui-Gon was not so pleased. It was an exceedingly strange request. When Qui-Gon questioned the location and suggested several others as better suited, he was politely rebuffed. The excuse was given that one of the representatives was a historian by trade -- that he had an interest in the Sith Wars -- and hoped to combine business with research.

Qui-Gon couldn't imagine why anyone outside the Jedi temple would have any reasonable call to be interested in the Sith Wars and he had a gnawing sense of unease regarding the request. Regardless, the ambassador was a historian and did, in fact, teach a survey course at his local University that covered -- albeit in a rather vague and sketchy way -- the period leading up to the formation of the Republic. In the end, Qui-Gon could find no real excuse to insist on another location, and the arrangements were made.

The transports containing the representatives of the Thanthal Alliance and the two Republic Senators, Bail Organa of Alderaan and Doman Beruss of Illodia, had arrived on time and without incident. A third neutral ship, provided as a courtesy by the Trade Federation, was already in orbit around Rhen Var when they arrived. After a brief meeting in which the usual political pleasantries were exchanged, the two sides sat down to a celebratory meal. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.

The second day an excursion was planned to the planet's surface to satisfy the request of the Tanthalan Ambassador. Initially, only Doman Beruss was to accompany the small party, but Senator Organa decided at the last moment that he wanted to attend as well. Qui-Gon had made the necessary arrangements with no small amount of unease.

It was, therefore, hardly a surprise to Qui-Gon when things had gone horribly wrong.

After landing near a set of ruins with three of the five Tanthalan Ambassadors, the two Senators, a Republic archaeologist, and several guards, they spent a few hours on the surface. At one point, when they found a particularly detailed frieze that depicted a battle, both the archaeologist and the historian became quite excited. Qui-Gon listened with amusement as the historian offered up tales pulled from bad holonovels about Sith Lords and Jedi locked in mortal combat and presented them as if they were fact. It took every diplomatic skill that Qui-Gon posessed to simply nod and let the man go on instead of calling him on the exagerations.

Finally Qui-Gon had enough, and loudly announced that it was time to return to the ship. As they were walking back to the transports, Qui-Gon's comlink chimed and then went dead. Immediately afterward, two short-range fighters dropped out of the sky and fired on the shuttle, blowing it to bits.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan shared a quick look between them before Obi-Wan snatched Senator Organa's arm and raced toward one of the two escort fighters. Qui-Gon shouted to the guards to take the members of the Tanthalan delegation back to the ruins to wait, then grabbed Doman Beruss and made for the remaining fighter as the attackers came back around for another pass.

Once aloft, Qui-Gon felt a rush of concern when he saw smoke billow from the starboard engine of Obi-Wan's fighter, but there was little he could do. He had complete confidence in his Padawan's abilities. His priority had to be the Senator in his craft and the remaining delegates on the ground. All attempts to communicate with the orbiter above brought nothing but static over the comm.

"Senator, we are no longer able to communicate with our ship. I think it advisable to eliminate the immediate threat and then attend to the delegation."

"Of course, Master Jinn."

"Hold on."

Qui-Gon banked the fighter hard left and went into the fray.

Bail Organa was a peaceful man, as were the majority of Alderaani. He believed strongly in the power of words and held firm in his altruistic belief that all conflict stemmed from ignorance; that if two sides talked long enough they could reach a non-violent resolution to their differences. Education. Understanding. Compassion. Love. This was the currency Bail Organa tendered.

Over a year of work in the Senate had done much to open the young Prince's eyes to the injustice that ran rampant in the Galaxy, but it had not dampened his spirit. He now understood that sometimes even the best negotiator failed; that in those moments after the breakdown of communications there was sometimes a need for military intervention to restore order. Such situations were regrettable and deeply saddened him, but it was a reality he had come to accept.

As one of the younger representatives in the Senate, and the junior of those from Alderaan, Bail found it necessary to adopt a guise of foppery. It was a trick that Bail had learned from, of all people, his sister Celly. Men, she said, would tell a woman anything if they thought she was an airhead and wouldn't remember. They would tell her even more if the lights were low and she was beautiful, charming, and made a habit of handing out favors on occasion.

After the revelation, Bail took the words to heart. He threw himself into the role of playboy with great aplomb. He socialized with all the right people. He made sure to be photographed with a new "lover" every month, never bothering to correct anyone on the assumption that the relationship was sexual. He threw parties for dignitaries, hosted conferences, volunteered his time at charities, and did his best to ensure that he never left anyone with a bad opinion of him. He spent hours selecting his clothing to ensure a proper façade. It was difficult and time-consuming, particularly given his studies and political responsibilities, but he was determined. In no time, he assumed the vacant Senatorial post in addition to his pending ascendancy.

By continuing his schedule of parties, outings, and dates after arriving on Coruscant, Bail's image was constantly plastered all over the holonet. The press was Bail's best friend in his act. The publicity assisted in the careful crafting of his image and distracted people from the sharp mind that lay under dark good looks and opulent clothing. Somehow, no one seemed to remember Bail's ability to speak over a dozen languages, his two degrees with distinction from one of the most prestigious universities in the core worlds, his internships that had garnered him the attention of prominent political figures, or his many other qualifications. That suited him just fine. By seeming to focus more on his social life and his clothing choices than on the business of the Senate Committees on which he sat, Bail was able to move between opposing sides of any issue without raising suspicion. He became privy to information about the private lives of other Senators and their aides. He was able to insert himself in social circles that moved at the highest levels of government, and it allowed him to overhear things that he wouldn't otherwise know. Additionally, powerful lobbies courted him thinking to use him as a patsy, assuming the young Prince to be easily brought under their influence.

They were wrong.

Being appointed as one of the two negotiators to meet with the Thanthal Alliance was a coup for the Prince. It was a high-profile assignment coveted by Senators many years his senior. He would work directly with the Jedi representatives -- something he had longed to do since his arrival on Coruscant. When he discovered that the Jedi representative would be none other than Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Bail was ecstatic. The man was a legend in his own time. It was heady stuff for a Junior Senator just turned twenty-five.

The problem was that Bail found it difficult to maintain his cover once the negotiations began. He couldn't help wanting to impress the Jedi Master with his grasp of the law and his negotiating skills. He had planned to court the favor of the Jedi with every ability at his disposal -- to watch Qui-Gon Jinn and learn from the man at every opportunity. After all, one couldn't use the guise of adolescent playboy forever. At some point, Bail knew he would have to shed his persona. When that day came, he wanted to be respected. Very few men in the Galaxy were respected as much as Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of Diplomacy. To find the secret of Master Jinn's ability to garner trust -- or even to earn the trust and respect of the man himself -- would be even more valueable than the political cache that the appointment as negotiator for a major treaty would provide.

Bail had been prepared to be somewhat overwhelmed by meeting Master Jinn. The Prince had great respect for the Jedi and their mission and, thanks to their mediation of the Ascendancy Controversy, his family owed the Jedi a debt not easily repaid. To meet a Jedi Master, any Jedi Master, was a rare and distinct honor that left many men flustered. However, it was when Obi-Wan Kenobi entered the room that Bail went weak in the knees. Something about the Padawan drew Bail in. He had found it hard to focus on Master Jinn and was strangely disconcerted as he looked at Obi-Wan's blue-gray eyes. Bail hoped that his public persona would allow his nervousness to be overlooked and did his best to recover, inviting Master Jinn and his Padawan to a formal dinner with he and Doman Beruss. While the Prince got the distinct impression that Qui-Gon Jinn was slightly amused by the invitation, it was accepted and Bail got down to the business at hand.

For three months Bail observed Master Jinn: how the man skillfully directed conversation, how he listened and said little, how he always managed to ask the right question at just the right moment, how he suggested a break when tensions ran high. Bail also observed Obi-Wan. He was intrigued by the way the pair worked so seamlessly together. It aroused a strange feeling of jealousy and Bail couldn't be certain of the source of the emotion. Was it a longing for the kind of close mentor relationship that Obi-Wan shared with Qui-Gon, or was it something more basic and much less impersonal?

In an attempt to discover the answer to that question, Bail made a concerted effort to get to know Obi-Wan Kenobi. The time he had initially planned to use ingratiating himself to Master Jinn he instead focused almost entirely on the Padawan. Yet, at the end of the three months Bail had little more insight into Obi-Wan than he had at the start. The Padawan was formal, correct, and aloof, never staying longer than was required to finish whatever task the Prince concocted. Even over working dinners, Obi-Wan remained detached and reserved, restricting conversation to the negotiations, the Tanthalan delegation, and pertinent legal precedents that might affect the agreement.

It was maddening.

Bail Organa had finally met his match. The question was, now that the negotiations were nearing an end, how could he managed to convert the working relationship to a social one? While he was attracted to Obi-Wan -- and who wouldn't be -- he wasn't fool enough to think he could bed him. Bail simply didn't have enough experience in the seduction department. While the press went on and on about the men and women Bail escorted, the fact was that the beings he went out with were not generally sexual partners. Things rarely went beyond flirting, kissing, and public displays of affection. Behind closed doors, Bail was always a gentleman. It helped to ensure no hard feelings or messy complications when he moved on.

So, when Bail overheard one of the Tanthalan representatives discussing the excursion to the surface at the dinner party and determined that Obi-Wan could be in attendance, the Prince jumped at the chance. It seemed a perfect opportunity. He could make a few causal inquiries about the history of the Sith Wars or comment on the ruins. Then he could segue into how much he had enjoyed Obi-Wan's company over the last few months and suggest they have dinner upon their return to Coruscant -- somewhere casual, informal, relaxed. Perhaps he could manage a playful comment on how much he would like to get to know Obi-Wan on a more personal level.

Yes. That was just how he'd do it.

The reality, however, had been far different.

Bail grew frustrated when Obi-Wan lingered at the back of the group, quiet and withdrawn. The two attempts he made to draw Obi-Wan into conversation had been rebuffed. Disappointed, the Prince rejoined the rest of the group and listened politely to the historian and the archaeologist as they droned on and on about this carving or that bit of relief. Bail's dark eyes often flicked backward to Obi-Wan and he noted that the Jedi seemed pensive and kept fingering his lightsaber.

Finally, the outing came to a merciful end. Bail was unsure how to approach Obi-Wan before they returned to Coruscant since the signing was to happen the next day. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the fighters dive out of the sky. Obi-Wan grabbed Bail by the arm and jerked him around roughly, his body a shield between the Prince and the exploding shuttle. Then, before Bail could register what had happened, he was moving -- being dragged in the direction of a small short-range fighter.

Shortly after takeoff, they had been hit in the starboard engine. The craft had spun dizzily -- corkscrewing through the air -- the pitch and yaw causing Bail's stomach to flip. It was a testament to Obi-Wan's piloting skills that he managed to get the fighter back under control. Bail was fairly certain they would end up as little more than a dark smudge on the pristine white of the planet below them, but Obi-Wan apparently had other thoughts on the matter.

Now, Crown Prince Bail Organa, Junior Senator from Alderaan and future Viceroy, was stranded on a frozen planet with little more than the clothing on his back, and was being hunted by someone who had tried to kill him.

It was not a very good day.

Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi found missions where he did little more than sit on his backside and listen to politicians nit-pick over the salient details of treaties to be intensely dull. While he had the utmost respect for his Master, and did his best to learn the finer points of diplomacy, it simply wasn't his proverbial cup of tea. Qui-Gon insisted that Obi-Wan would come to appreciate such missions as he aged -- that flying fighters, wielding a lightsaber, and going to exotic worlds would lose its allure -- but Obi-Wan sincerely doubted it.

The only thing that saved the negotiations from pure tedium was the participation of the Senator from Alderaan, Prince Bail Organa. Obi-Wan was in total agreement with his Master's opinion that politicians were self-serving, power-hungry manipulators that had little more on their minds than how any particular situation might be used to their own advantage. At least he had been, until he met Bail. Now he found himself wondering if he agreed with his Master only because the politicians he had the occasion to meet had been old men who probably should have retired long ago.

The Prince was intriguing. After their first meeting, Obi-Wan had gone to the archives and done some research on Alderaan in general and the Prince in specific. There had been quite a controversy about the Ascendancy on Alderaan, which had been resolved by Jedi mediation and resulted in a decision that granted the throne to House Organa. Afterwards, the Prince had not rested on his laurels as one would have expected. Bail had graduated at the top of his class with degrees in Political Science and Galactic Law. He had led student protests and, along with his eldest sister, championed the plight of refugees from the outer rim. Additional information from the holonet deepened the mystery. The staid, polite, and attentive man he had met did not seem to fit with the social butterfly the press made Bail out to be.

Obi-Wan's curiosity was only further piqued as time went by. Prince Organa seemed to be quite shrewd and discerning despite his reputation. Often the Senator would ask for Obi-Wan's input or viewpoint regarding some rather esoteric point of law or would request to have dinner to discuss a point of the treaty that seemed less than specific. The man was difficult to keep up with -- his mind moving at lightning speeds; his command of law from memory astonishing -- and Obi-Wan often when home from his meetings with the Prince with his head reeling. Bail Organa, from what Obi-Wan could ascertain, took deliberate care in every aspect of his life; from selecting his robes and wine to choosing his words. The man even went so far as to engage a protocol droid to teach him some of the finer points of the language used by the Tanthalan delegation so he could communicate directly. Obi-Wan sincerely wondered where the Prince found the time. Had the man been Force-sensitive he would have made a superior Jedi. This, and the strange fact that he could sense nothing from Bail Organa in the Force, made Obi-Wan burn to know what the man's midi-chlorian count was.

Even Qui-Gon seemed impressed with Bail Organa. For someone outside the Order to earn even the grudging respect of Obi-Wan's Master was something of an occasion in itself and made the young man scrutinize the Prince even more. As the negotiations drew to a close, Obi-Wan found himself in a rather strange situation. In spite of the man's reputation, and his profession, Obi-Wan wanted to spend more time with Bail.

But how could he manage to do such a thing? Bail was a Senator -- a Prince -- and Obi-Wan just a Padawan. Without the pretext of the negotiations, there was no longer any logical reason for him to pursue a friendship with Bail Organa.

And there was certainly even less reason to pursue anything more.

There had been several times when Obi-Wan had been working with Bail late of an evening and he thought the Prince was reluctant to let him leave. Once or twice he thought he had detected a hint of interest during dinner, but there was nothing specific or overt. Obi-Wan chalked what little he did notice up to an over-active imagination. After all, with a reputation like Bail's, the Prince certainly wouldn't be shy about expressing a desire for their relationship to take a different turn.

Obi-Wan had hoped to find a way to broach the subject before the conclusion of negotiations. Bail seemed to be interested in Jedi history and had asked some rather obscure questions about the development of the Jedi Code one evening at dinner. After much consideration, Obi-Wan thought the best course of action was to give the Prince his comm frequency and offer a personal tour of the Temple. It would leave the option for a continued relationship firmly in Bail's court and give no hint of impropriety.

The days slipped by and suddenly the eve of the party was upon him. Obi-Wan thought the function a perfect time to make his move. The offer could be made as they sipped whatever alcohol was served prior to the formal seating and then would quickly be able to retreat into his role as Jedi observer. It would clearly be an offer to extend their working relationship and, perhaps, open the door to something more down the line.

Somehow, the offer was never made. Bail had been quite gregarious after his first drink and one of the Tanthalan representatives kept the Prince engaged in conversation. When the bell sounded to call the group to dinner, Obi-Wan had missed his opportunity and the moment was gone.

When he returned, dejected, to the quarters he shared on the orbiter with Qui-Gon, and his Master notified him that Bail had decided to accompany the group to the planet's surface in the morning, Obi-Wan suppressed a rush of pleasure. He would have another chance! His hopes, however, were quickly dashed when Qui-Gon uttered the phrase his Padawan had learned never boded well.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

In the morning, before the shuttle launch, Qui-Gon had taken Obi-Wan aside and reiterated his unease. He told his Padawan to remain vigilant and to stay at the rear of the party as a guard. Qui-Gon would stay toward the front of the group as scout.

Obi-Wan hated it when his Master was so terribly right.

At least he had been close to Bail when the shots were fired. The Prince had been distracted and Obi-Wan had to drag the man across the snow to the fighter. When the starboard engine went out in a spectacular burst of flame and smoke, Obi-Wan had his hands full getting the small craft under control. However, he had extra incentive to manage the nearly impossible task -- his passenger.

When the craft finally came to an abrupt halt, its front end buried nearly up to the cockpit hatch in a snowdrift, Obi-Wan quickly turned his attention to the Prince. The man was pale and had blood on his hands. Unlatching the harness that held Bail in his seat, Obi-Wan determined that the Prince was simply in shock from his experience and got down to the business of survival. He salvaged a med kit and an emergency pack from under the pilot's seat. Hopping out of the damaged craft, he checked the side panel that housed the emergency tent and other survival gear, but came up wanting -- it had been sheared from the ship along with the damaged wing and engine. Turning his attention back to Bail, he helped the Senator out of the cockpit and then pulled a utility belt and blaster from under the gunner's seat.

"Your Highness, do you know how to use this?"

Bail shook his head, dazed. "No. I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan slid the blaster into the holster and stepped forward. "I hope you will forgive my impertinence, Prince Organa, but I'm afraid I don't allow anyone but Master Jinn to wield my lightsaber." He radiated calm though the Force and smiled as he reached forward, threaded the utility belt between the folds of Bail's robes, and quickly fastened it on the Prince's hips. "You'll have to make do with the weapon I have available for you."

"Well, beggars can't be choosers, I suppose." Bail's discomfort at wearing a weapon was clear.

"We can't stay here. It's not safe, and the temperature will drop dramatically when the sun falls. We need some form of shelter. As we descended I noted a set of ruins in that direction." Obi-Wan pointed east toward the horizon and shouldered the packs. "Are you ready?"

The Prince nodded. He didn't look terribly ready but Obi-Wan had to trust him. "Then let's get moving. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Chapter Two

Moving helped to keep Bail's teeth from chattering. The Prince trudged diligently through the snowdrifts following his leader, Obi-Wan Kenobi. His face was numb, and he long ago ceased to be able to feel his extremities. The young Jedi had not been exaggerating when he said the pair had a lot of ground to cover. Bail was beginning to despair of reaching their objective before nightfall.

He supposed that was why the fighter that shot at them had simply left instead of circling back for a killing strike. After all, it wasn't likely anyone would have survived the crash in the first place and, if they did, without shelter anyone in the craft would be as good as dead once the sun went down.

Bail shook his head and shoved the negative thoughts aside. He was not alone. Obi-Wan, while not a full Jedi Knight, was a Senior Padawan, and a skilled one at that. Certainly, they covered emergencies like this in Temple training? In the Rogue Jedi holovids someone was always doing something amazing like igniting a fire with the Force by looking at something, or jumping out of moving vehicles only to land hundreds of stories down on their feet without injury. While Bail knew the vids were highly exaggerated, there had to be some element of truth to them -- didn't there?

He stumbled, his heavy robes tangled around his legs and in the deep snow. Gloved hands flew out in an attempt to catch the fall, but Bail simply ended up face down in the drift with a loud grunt.

"Your Highness?"

"Wonderful," Bail thought, "A witness to my two left feet. What a way to impress him! At least my red skin can be attributed to the cold."

Obi-Wan turned and retraced a few steps. He found Bail trying to extricate himself from the snow bank. Reaching down, he grabbed hold of Bail's arm to steady him. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing wounded but my pride." Bail waved his free arm toward Obi-Wan in mild frustration. He shook his head, white flakes of snow falling from his black hair and settling on his blue robes. He dusted himself off, looking at his clothes to cover the sudden awkwardness he felt at Obi-Wan's touch. "I don't know how you do it, Jedi Kenobi. I seem to constantly be fighting this robe. You, on the other hand..."

"Well, I'm certain you haven't spent most of your life lightsaber training in your ceremonial robes, Prince Organa. I'm afraid I have you at a disadvantage."

Bail sighed heavily. He looked tired. "We're not going to make it in time, are we?"

Obi-Wan could see the fear in Bail's eyes. He wasn't going to lie to the Prince about their situation but he didn't need the man to panic. "It doesn't look good at this point."

"You'll forgive me if I say that's less than reassuring."

"All the more reason we stop talking and focus on the objective then, Senator."

"Of course." Chagrined by the rebuke, Bail straightened and looked off in the distance. The ruins were visible now, but still quite tiny on the horizon. "And my name is Bail."

Bail strode forward ahead of Obi-Wan, taking the lead. The Padawan couldn't help but be impressed. Bail was a Prince, a man used to a life of privilege and creature comforts. Obi-Wan had hardly expected that Bail would prove to be so doggedly determined, plowing his way through snowdrifts in his finery without so much as a word of complaint. However, after the last three months, Obi-Wan was almost accustomed to being surprised by Bail Organa. It was one of the reasons he hadn't wanted their association to end after the signing of the treaty. He wanted to understand the dichotomy of the man. The need of it was almost compulsive.

Obi-Wan followed after the Prince, contemplating their alternatives. There were few. He had tested his comlink periodically and it responded with nothing but static. It was logical, therefore, to conclude that the orbiter had either been destroyed or its communication signals were being jammed. In either case, there would be no help from that front. Qui-Gon was out there somewhere -- he could feel him in the Force -- but he couldn't depend on his Master to rescue them. Qui-Gon would have his own troubles and had the responsibility of the rest of the delegation to attend to. That meant he and the Senator were on their own with minimal resources, but failure was not an option Obi-Wan was willing to consider. So Obi-Wan Kenobi trudged on, staring at the pattern embossed on the back of Bail Organa's velvet robes and trying to come up with a backup plan.

"Well, Master Jinn!" Doman Beruss' full-jowled face was flushed with excitement. "If I didn't know you Jedi better, I would think you actually enjoyed that."

Qui-Gon helped the rotund senator down from the cockpit of the fighter. After a harrowing high-velocity chase and several close calls, the Jedi had managed to take out one of the two attackers that destroyed the shuttlecraft. A series of rolls and sharp banks, followed by a dive that Doman was certain they wouldn't recover from, resulted in the other attacker slamming into the remains of an ancient building. Qui-Gon had then turned the craft back toward the area where he had directed the guards to take the remaining members of the delegation. Efforts to contact the orbiter still resulted in static.

"There is no emotion; there is peace," Qui-Gon said flatly as he folded his arms into the sleeves of his dark brown robe.

"Qui-Gon, you do have a dry wit!" Doman Beruss laughed and slapped the Jedi Master on the back. "So, tell me, what shall we do next?"

"You, Senator, will remain here with the delegation."

"Qui-Gon, if you think I'm going to just sit here on my..."

"That is exactly what I think, Doman." While Qui-Gon didn't find much to trust about any politician, Doman Beruss was one of the few that kept his word. Over the years he had had many occasions to work with the Senator and the two had a congenial rapport. "I am still unable to contact our ship. I need to determine its status and who attacked us, if I can."

"What about your Padawan and Bail Organa?"

"Obi-Wan is capable of taking care of himself and the Alderaani Prince," Qui-Gon responded evenly. He walked beside the Senator to a nearby building.

"And what shall I tell our companions?"

"Tell them that I have been updating the Council and the Supreme Chancellor at scheduled times each day. If I do not report at the appropriate time, a team will be sent."

A guard ran forward to meet the pair. The Senator turned and bowed to Qui-Gon. "Then may the Force be with you, Master Jinn."

"And with you, Senator." Qui-Gon bowed in return before leaving. Face grim, he strode to the fighter. It was time to find out what was going on.

Obi-Wan scowled as he looked southward. The dimming of the light in that direction was not entirely due to the time of day. While he and Bail had made good progress over the last two standard hours toward their destination, it seemed nature was not to be denied.

"Your Highness."

Bail turned and tried to smile. He could hear the tightness of concern in Obi-Wan's voice. Whatever he was about to be told wasn't positive. He retreated into the comfort of banter to hide his fear. "Are all Jedi so formal in the middle of nowhere? I told you, my name is Bail."

"Bail," Obi-Wan pointed to their left, "I think our situation just became more complicated."

Bail looked off into the distance and swallowed hard. "I supposed that's not a good sign, is it?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Well, what does the Jedi Handbook say to do in such a situation?"

Dropping the emergency pack off his shoulder, Obi-Wan thrust it toward Bail. He responded in a deadpan tone to the Prince's nervous joke. "It says, get to work."

The area they were walking through was fairly flat with compacted snow. Obi-Wan unhooked his lightsaber from this utility belt and ignited it, the hum and snap of the blue energy beam singing in the cold air. A few graceful flicks of his wrist sliced through the snow leaving a crosshatch pattern on the ground. He switched off the weapon and returned it to his belt.

"This is not an ideal location. The wind from that storm is going to cut through here with little to shield us. However, I don't think we have time to find a better spot. We need to move the snow from the interior and stack it..."

"I've done this before!" Bail's dark eyes shimmered with recognition and he nodded vigorously. Now that Bail had a purpose, he seemed to set aside his worries and focus on the task. He moved to stand next to Obi-Wan. "My family has a getaway in the mountains. My sisters and I used to build snow shelters and forts when we played. We pretended they were castles. Mind you, that was a long time ago, and I never slept in one -- mother would have had a fit -- but I know the basic construction." The Prince looked down at the cuts in the snow. "The blocks you've cut are awfully big."

"That's where being a Jedi comes in handy. I do the heavy lifting with the Force. You put it together."

Obi-Wan stepped back to kneel in the snow. The look of intense curiosity and anticipation that graced Bail's face as he watched was so open and trusting, almost boyish. It was accentuated by the fact that his hair was being whipped wildly around his face by the wind. For an instant, Obi-Wan felt a flash of attraction. He had an urge to reach up and touch Bail's face, but he pushed it down and closed his eyes instead.

Years of training made finding the clarity of center Obi-Wan required a simple matter. After a few deep breaths, he felt the oneness of being that came from touching the great river of the Living Force. It was humbling and thrilling at the same time; the rush of completeness and harmony, the assuring comfort of a greater power than one's self flowing continuously through the Galaxy. He focused his being on that great connection to all living things, letting it wrap around and through him, and then used his body as a tool to direct that power.

Bail's breath came out as a soft hiss as the first block rose up into the air. He stood there for a moment staring at it, stunned. When he tore his eyes away from the hovering square of compacted snow to Obi-Wan, he realized he was being an idiot. The Jedi's face was set in a grim expression of exertion and concentration. "I'm sorry!" Bail quickly moved to the block to the edge of the area, pushing it down lightly until it was just off the ground. "It's in place now."

The block dropped with a dampened thud.

Obi-Wan's eyes flicked open, and he exhaled slowly before speaking. "Use the largest as bottom supports and keep the thing as small as possible. Leave two blocks off to one side. I'll cut them into smaller pieces and use them to close the entrance. It will be a bit cramped and chill inside, but our body heat should keep the temperature above freezing."

Qui-Gon stepped carefully, his mind open as he picked his way through the ruins. The remains of the destroyed fighter were littered over the area. He wasn't completely sure what he was looking for, but then he didn't have to be. The Force had guided him here and it would direct his eyes to what he needed to see.

"There. Near that tower." The pull of disturbance, of discord in the harmonic resonance of his being told Qui-Gon there was something in that direction. He strode across what was once a balcony and jumped half a story to the icy surface below. In no time, he found what had drawn him there. A large section of the enemy fighter's fuselage lay in open view.

Blue eyes missed nothing as they traveled over the thing. Though the former serial number was incomplete, and much of the paint scorched away, the large symbol behind them was distinct.

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed and he spoke his thoughts aloud. "The Commerce Guild?"

Moving the blocks took a large amount of Obi-Wan's energy. Surrendering himself to the Force opened him to more than just its power, it heightened his senses and attuned him to disturbances in the flow of time and space -- ripples, Master Yoda sometimes called them. Master Jinn often used this ability during negotiations to detect the emotions of those present and thereby guide the participants away from arguments. But Qui-Gon was a Jedi Master with many years of experience, not a Padawan. For Obi-Wan such things took a large amount of focus and concentration. The effort usually left him exhausted and in need of stasis to restore himself.

Obi-Wan felt particularly tired as he knelt on the snow. There had been a strange restlessness -- a shadowy and indefinable something -- flowing through this connection to the Force. An echo of evil seemed to surround everything on the planet. It drained him and made him feel vaguely anxious. He remained motionless for long moments after the last block had been placed, trying to set aside his feelings of unease.

"Jedi Kenobi?" Bail had to shout to hear himself. The velocity of the wind had increased dramatically over the last standard hour as they worked on the snow shelter. Snow had begun to fall, lashing harshly against exposed skin. "Are you all right?"

When Obi-Wan remained still, Bail began to be concerned. He moved forward and dropped to the ground in front of the Jedi, eyes searching for a sign that Obi-Wan had heard him. "Obi-Wan? Can you hear me?"

Bail felt inordinately relieved when the blue-gray eyes flicked open. "I'll be fine, Bail. Get in the shelter now."

Biting his lower lip, Bail hesitated. Obi-Wan looked pale, his light skin had a gray tinge that made the Prince nervous. "Are you sure? Let me help you up."

Obi-Wan could see Bail's concern and apprehension, his genuine want to bring some kind of comfort. It was touching. "I'll be right behind you. I just have to cut the last blocks and fit them over the entrance to seal us in."

After another moment's hesitation, Bail nodded. Obi-Wan was a Jedi after all. He might be a Padawan, but he was old enough to be nearing Knighthood. He had to trust his companion knew his limitations.

Bail stood and went to the small domed shelter. The clearance was so low that sitting brought Bail's head close to grazing the top. The two packs Obi-Wan had salvaged from their fighter were pushed to one side leaving just enough room for two full-grown men. It was going to be a very tight fit, and Bail wondered how he would feel once Obi-Wan sealed up the entrance. He had never been terribly comfortable in tight spaces.

There was a sudden change in the light outside, a bright flare of blue. Not long after, Obi-Wan appeared next to the entrance carrying three smaller cut blocks of snow. "Look in the packs and take out the emergency lantern," he said to Bail as he set down the blocks. "When I bring the others, I'll seal us in from the inside. We'll need light."

Obi-Wan disappeared again, and Bail fished around in the packs, hunting for the lantern. When he found it, the Prince twisted the ends between his hands to break the seal on the luminescent gel contained within. A dim green glow filled the small shelter.

When Obi-Wan returned he set down the second set of blocks, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled into the opening. Turning to face the outside, he reached out and began stacking up the smaller blocks to seal the entrance. He used the Force to levitate the last block and wedge it into place.

Bail watched the entry seal up with an increasing sense of panic. Though he knew intellectually he was perfectly safe, his emotions insisted otherwise. He was going to suffocate in this tiny place. He would freeze to death in the night. The storm would cover their tracks, and Qui-Gon Jinn would never find them. He would die on this frozen wasteland of a planet, and his body would never be found. He had willingly built his own coffin.

As soon as the final block was in place, Obi-Wan turned to face the Prince. Bail was trembling violently with the force of his fear.

"Bail." Keeping his tone even, Obi-Wan continued speaking as he crept closer. "You're safe here, Bail. We can leave at any time."

Obi-Wan reached out and clamped a firm hand down on Bail's right shoulder. He next words were an order. "Senator Organa, open your eyes and look at me."

Bail's dark eyes snapped open. He watched as Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber and held it up between them.

"All we have to do to get out is activate this." Obi-Wan let go of Bail's shoulder and placed one of the Prince's hands on the hilt of the lightsaber. He pushed upward and to the left until it rested flush against the blocks that formed the shelter. "We'll both make the vents now."

Obi-Wan activated the blade. It sliced easily through he blocks of snow, causing them to glow slightly. He almost immediately turned the 'saber back off. Moving the hilt to the right, he turned it on again. The resulting holes in the snow let cold air into the small shelter. "See? Nothing to be afraid of."

Bail flushed and looked embarrassed. He took his hand from the lightsaber and began to pick at his robe. "I'm sorry," Bail said quietly. "I didn't think it would bother me so much."

"It's all right." Obi-Wan hooked the lightsaber back in its place on his belt. "Claustrophobia is a common enough thing. I've experienced it myself. It's nothing to apologize for."

After a few moments, Bail spoke again. "I thought you said only Master Jinn was allowed to use your lightsaber."

Obi-Wan's mouth quirked in a grin. "Well, I suppose I can make an exception for you in this situation."

Bail continued to frown. He was still uneasy. Obi-Wan decided that having something to do might help. "What else is in the pack? Do we have rations? Water? I'm sure you're hungry after our walk."

Taking one of the packs, Bail produced a few flat packages of rations and laid them on the floor of the shelter. "I'm afraid the concierge didn't stock us very well. Perhaps I should file a complaint."

Obi-Wan opened the other pack and found a thermal blanket, two containers of water, another lantern, and some first aid supplies. The Prince's habit of joking about serious situations had not gone unnoticed. There was something charming about it, and he decided to play along. "Well, at least he made sure to give us a picnic blanket."

Bail rewarded him with a smile.

Chapter Three

Qui-Gon Jinn's mind raced as he walked back to the fighter. What he had seen made no sense. The Commerce Guild, though politically powerful and tremendously greedy, had always made sure to work within the system where the Republic was concerned. Tales of their strong-arm tactics outside the jurisdiction of the Republic were becoming quite commonplace, but a move of this sort was contrary to their nature. While they had become increasingly aggressive, the main goal of the Guild was profit and asset protection. An attack on two Republic Senators during a treaty signing would cause them far more problems than it was worth.

Was this simply a set-up by another group to discredit the Guild? Plenty of Organizations had both reason and motive to see the Guild embroiled in scandal. The near stranglehold the Commerce Guild had on obtaining raw materials, the under the table bribes to ensure their interests were well looked after in the Senate, and their use of automata to bully smaller businesses into Guild membership ensured there were many with an interest in seeing them fall. The Trade Federation was jealous of the Guild's political power and wanted a piece of the new shipping lanes that would be opened as a result of the treaty with the Tanthal Alliance. Black Sun was a factor in any terrorist activity. There was always a chance -- no matter how small -- that this was purely the work of pirates that happened to obtain Guild ships. Why would someone choose Rhen Var and this particular treaty delegation? Bail Organa was still new to the Senate, and Doman Beruss was well known to be a man of integrity. Both were well loved by their constituents, and an attack on either would bring public outcry.

Perhaps the Senators were a part of the equation? Did the Guild have some interest in the worlds of the Tanthal Alliance? Nothing had revealed itself during negotiations, but that didn't mean that the Guild had not attempted to sway the proceedings. Qui-Gon new knew Bail Organa well enough to know that, while young and somewhat green, the man was not the sort to take a bribe. The Prince had his own means and was, therefore, not as susceptible to the needs of campaign funding that drove many a Senator to questionable alliances. Qui-Gon had known Doman Beruss for years and the man would have laughed in the Guildsman's face and promptly informed Qui-Gon about the subversion attempt. Had an effort to influence the negotiations failed and forced the Commerce Guild's hand?

There were just too many variables and not enough information to make an assessment.

No, Qui-Gon needed more data if he was going to make sense of the situation. Unfortunately, he had little time in which to obtain it. The sun was setting and a storm was almost upon him. The delegates would be getting nervous about the situation. He would have to go back to them and make some kind of report, but what was there to say? The investigation team would take at least two standard days to be dispatched and reach Rhen Var. Somehow, in that time, Qui-Gon was going to have to keep the delegates safe and find out the nature of the threat. Neither was a simple task.

Qui-Gon climbed into the fighter and started it up. As he nudged the controls and took to the sky, he reached out with his mind, searching for his Padawan. This storm was going to complicate matters for Obi-Wan and the Prince. He wondered for a moment if he shouldn't have gone out to search for them, but pushed the thought aside. No, if he had done that the storm would have covered the wreckage, and he would have even less information than he did now.

The wind buffeted the fighter as the storm advanced and Qui-Gon banked slightly to compensate. Obi-Wan was somewhere to the north and east. The lingering feel of his Padawan in the Force seemed strained and tired, but Qui-Gon sensed nothing to indicate injury or distress. No, he was right, Obi-Wan was capable of caring for himself and Senator Organa.

It was time to get back to the delegates.

A dark figure stepped out of the shadows of a half-collapsed archway as Qui-Gon's fighter took flight. Clothed head to foot in black, it cautiously moved forward and pulled a set of electrobinocluars from the folds of its robes. It watched until the fighter was completely out of range.

The electrobinocluars were exchanged for a comlink. "Master, the Jedi live."

"That is unfortunate."

"Shall I kill them?"

"No. Continue to observe, my Apprentice. This situation may work to our advantage yet. It could prove an interesting test."

"The Guildsmen?"

"I will deal with our inept and profit-driven friends. They will pay dearly for their failure."

"Yes, Master."

The wind whistled through the small vent holes Obi-Wan had placed in the exterior of the small shelter. Condensation from the melting snow accumulated on the domed roof densely enough to create fat drops of water. They fell intermittently, spattering softly on the floor before refreezing.

Obi-Wan moved in and out of light meditation as the storm howled across the flat plain. He was tired, but couldn't afford the luxury of deep stasis or true sleep. To allow himself to sink that far into unawareness would be inadvisable given the circumstances. The elusive feeling of wrongness that floated around the edges of his consciousness continued. Master Yoda always said that one must be mindful of such things -- that they were portents of future events. Master Jinn, while never directly contradicting Master Yoda, often admonished Obi-Wan for focusing too frequently on such feelings. "Live in the present moment and be mindful of the Living Force," was Qui-Gon's mantra. No matter what Master Yoda said, however, Obi-Wan had to admit that Qui-Gon was normally right -- keeping oneself focused in the present moment allowed one to be ready for anything.

Periodically, the Jedi opened his eyes to check on the Senator who was now his charge. Bail Organa slept fitfully, curled on his side and wrapped in the thermal blanket they had found in the emergency pack. Obi-Wan had draped the thing over the Prince to keep the falling water from waking him. The man was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and Obi-Wan needed to be sure he would be ready for whatever might happen come morning.

Obi-Wan had done his best to keep Bail distracted until he fell asleep. The Prince had broken open one of the ration packs and offered half to Obi-Wan as they huddled together in the small shelter. The Jedi rejected the offer, explaining that he wouldn't require much to eat and that it was best to have Bail keep up his strength. The comment had reminded the man of their circumstances and elicited a frown. Bail then began asking probing questions as he ate. What would they do when they reached the ruins? How would they rejoin the rest of the delegates? Would a team be dispatched from Coruscant? How long would they be stranded on the planet before that team arrived? What would happen when their rations ran out?

During the three standard months of their acquaintance, the Prince had shown himself to be pragmatic and realistic about most situations. Obi-Wan took the risk that this trait would continue to apply in spite of the harrowing events of the last few hours. He had done his best to answer Bail in a frank manner. Bail, for his part, had received the answers calmly in spite of the fact that they were not always positive.

"What about Master Jinn? Do you think he and Doman Beruss escaped?"

"I am uncertain of Doman, but my Master remains on the planet. He has not been harmed."

"How do you know that?"

Obi-Wan had responded, "If something had happened to him, I would know."

Bail had sat silently for a moment, pondering Obi-Wan's response. He had asked no more questions after that.

It wasn't long before Obi-Wan suggested the Prince try to rest. Bail didn't argue and quickly curled up in his heavy fur-trimmed robes. It took little time for the overwrought Prince to fall asleep.

All things considered, Obi-Wan had to give Bail Organa credit. The man had managed to keep his composure despite their circumstances. The brief period of panic Bail had exhibited when the shelter was sealed passed quickly enough, though Obi-Wan was certain the Prince still felt uncomfortable. He wondered, as he often had over the last few months, at how different the Bail he had come to know was from the man the press made him out to be. There was something indefinably fascinating about Bail Organa. It wasn't simply that he was physically attractive -- and he was that -- it was something else.

And Obi-Wan desperately wanted to understand that something.

Opening his senses, Obi-Wan once again closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift in the upper register of his awareness. Perhaps focusing his meditation on his strange fascination with the Senator would grant him some insight. He simply couldn't afford, or admit, the word that another might use to describe the emotions he felt.

Attachments were forbidden for a Jedi Padawan -- they were created by desires, and desires generated greed. Often Master Yoda would teach the younglings the basics of renunciation of self, and Obi-Wan could still hear the ancient Master's voice in his mind, chiding, "Possessions need you not! When attached you are, tied to greed you become." Yoda would punctuate his words with a sharp rap of his gimer stick on the floor. "Greed leads to hatred. Hatred the Dark Side is."

As Obi-Wan searched his heart, the storm raged. The green glow of the phosphorescent gel in the lantern dimmed, flickered, and finally died plunging the shelter into darkness.

"Senator Beruss, might I have a word?"

While the guards had managed to scavenge enough wood to burn, they had come up wanting in the area of food. Qui-Gon had taken the emergency kits from the fighter but they contained only enough rations to last the group a standard day. Potable water wouldn't be a problem, but if it took the team as long as Qui-Gon anticipated arriving on Rhen Var, food would rapidly become an issue.

The cloaked Jedi steered the lumbering Doman Beruss away from the fire and out of earshot. Qui-Gon was going to need an ally.

"What is it, my friend?"

"Doman, have you heard any of the Tanthalan Ambassadors mention the Commerce Guild?"

The Senator looked at Qui-Gon quizzically. "No."

"What about Senator Organa?"

The question shifted Doman's expression to a frown. "No. Qui-Gon, what is this about?"

Folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes, Qui-Gon replied, "I am not yet certain."

"You are not yet certain?" Doman shook his head in frustration. "That's Jedi-speak for 'I have information I don't want you to know.' This is exactly the reason half the Senate doesn't trust the Jedi, Qui-Gon! You and your almighty Council think you know what is best for the whole of the Republic, that your Force sensitivity makes you enlightened and superior to the rest of us poor Force-blind beings. I don't mind saying that I am terribly disappointed."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Doman..."

"That's SENATOR to you, Master Jinn."

"Senator, this is not the time or place for your longstanding debate regarding the purpose and place of the Jedi in the political arena." Qui-Gon's words were short and clipped. "I respect you and your opinion on the matter, regardless of the fact that I find your views narrow and ill-advised. We have a pressing problem at the moment, one which might be resolved faster if you assist me instead of trying to bait me into a pointless argument."

"I hardly find it pointless." Doman's voice raised a notch, causing the nearby guard to look toward the pair. "If you want my cooperation then you should expect to parlay and put trust on the negotiation table. Is that not so?"

"Doman, I honestly have nothing to tell you." Qui-Gon allowed his exasperation to show. "I see no reason to share what is little more than wild speculation on my part. When I have something factual, rest assured that I will share it. You must trust my judgment."

"If you have nothing factual, then why are you asking about the Commerce Guild?"

"Because I need to know if they would have any motive to try to kill you."

Doman Beruss was stunned to silence. He stood there, staring at Qui-Gon Jinn for a long time before saying quietly, "I see."

"No, Senator, you do not see. But that is not important. If we are all going to survive this, I am going to need your help. Can I count on you?"

"Of course you can count on me, Qui-Gon. The day you and I stop trusting one another will be a sad day indeed." Doman sighed and looked back toward the fire and the rest of the delegates. "Tell me what you want me to do."

A static-filled blue hologram hovered just above the metal that comprised the bridge of the Commerce Guild ship. "You have not fulfilled your part of our agreement."

"It was not our fault! The Jedi..."

"Silence! I am uninterested in your excuses. Your failure has caused me to reevaluate our arrangement."

"And exactly what do you mean by that?" Iaco Stark stood, feet apart, not far from the hologram. The pirate-turned-Guild businessman had a score to settle with the Republic and the Jedi, but he wasn't interested in taking the fall for someone else. "We've put ourselves on the line here, and we expect you to keep your end of the bargain."

"That is no longer possible."

Shu Mai stepped from behind the Guild President toward the hologram. She had not worked to become Chief of Property Resources only to have the Guild be banned from doing business with the Republic. She had plans. "And what might make it possible?"

"If the team arrives and there is no one to tell them of your organization's involvement in this incident."

"Are you insane?" Iaco took an aggressive step forward in spite of the fact that the cloaked person before him was only an image. "You're talking about killing almost three hundred Republic citizens and taking out a Trade Federation orbiter!"

The hologram shrugged indifferently. "I am not the inept parasite that bungled their part of the agreement."

"And if no one can connect us to this?" Shu Mai pressed on, trying to find a way to salvage the situation.

"Then, I might feel benevolent."

The hologram shimmered and disappeared as the connection severed. The three Guild officials stood on the bridge, stunned. A hit and run attack on the delegation was one thing, but destroying a Republic cruiser, the Tanthalan Alliance ship, and the orbiter supplied by the Trade Federation would be quite another.

Iaco paced back and forth in front of the Guild President, "I told you we should never have agreed to this!"

"It's too late now. We have only one choice." The President shook his head slowly, but it was a motion of resignation. "We must destroy the ships and leave before the Jedi team arrives."

Chapter Four

Every nerve in Qui-Gon's body hummed with anticipation, a feeling that only increased as the evening wore on. Something was about to happen. He spoke quietly to the guards, moving them closer to the delegates, and then went to explore the area.

The storm was at its height. An attack would not come from the air in such weather and little would be moving outside of the ruins. Qui-Gon slipped through broken archways and half-collapsed walls, looking for the telltale traces of someone's passing. He found nothing. Why then this feeling of fear in the Force? Certainly the delegates were ill at ease, but none of them were emanating this kind of emotion -- the kind that one felt before committing to an irreversible path.

Then it happened. The screams of dying people filled his mind.

Qui-Gon whipped his lightsaber from its clip and ignited it in a fluid motion, searching for a target. When he found none, he ran full-out back to the delegation.

Bail was awakened abruptly by sudden movement. Obi-Wan's lightsaber flared to life and cut through the exterior of the shelter. The Jedi immediately launched himself out into the storm. Bitingly cold wind flooded the shelter with a flurry of snowflakes as Bail sat, shocked, and attempted to understand what had happened. When his mind connected Obi-Wan's sudden act with the concept of a threat, his heart sped up. Had Obi-Wan felt something through the Force?

Fear left little room for reason in Bail's mind. He was afraid, but not of being hurt. He was afraid that something might happen to Obi-Wan. Afraid of being left alone. A hand instinctively grabbed at the hilt of the blaster strapped to his body, and he scrambled toward the hole in the shelter in an effort to see what was happening.

Squinting to keep snowflakes from his eyes, Bail looked out into the night. Snow filled the air so thickly that Bail could barely see more than a meter away but it didn't stop from quickly finding the dark outline of Obi-Wan.

Bail couldn't help but stare. Obi-Wan remained still, his eyes closed in concentration. The Jedi stood with his ignited lightsaber before him in both hands, his hood thrown back and robes flying around him. Snow sizzled and flashed as it struck the blade, creating a small island of luminescence in the night. There was something breathtaking about it -- something incredibly elegant and awe inspiring. It captivated Bail so completely that he forgot the danger.

Obi-Wan, however, did not.

Without opening his eyes, the Jedi removed his right hand from the lightsaber and thrust it outward. The force push impacted Bail squarely in the chest and flung him backward into the shelter. The piece of wall that Obi-Wan had cut swiftly followed, covering the hastily made exit. Bail was plunged into darkness.

With the darkness the Prince's panic returned, compounded by the unknown and the lack of comforting companionship. Shaking, he fumbled with the blaster until it was free of the holster and clutched it in both hands, a finger on the trigger. He huddled there in the shelter, the muzzle of the blaster pointed at where he thought the opening was. In truth, he wasn't sure where anything was; the darkness was so complete that he could see nothing at all.

All his life, Bail Organa had been taught that violence was failure, that weapons were evil. Yet now, here he was, holding a blaster in his shaking hands and ready to fire it at anything that came at him. What had happened to his high ideals? Where were his morality and conviction now? They had left him along with the light.

Suddenly, Bail understood in a very tactile way what the Jedi taught. The blaster in his hands encapsulated the lesson. It was easy to pretend that he walked the path of pacifism in the light of day. The light brought the illusion of safety. But darkness was always waiting, full of powerful emotions that could consume you. In the dark, when you faced the unknown and fear held you captive, it was easy to lose your way. It was easy to fall and give in to your weaknesses and hates -- to act without forethought and, in so doing, commit yourself irreversibly to violence. No, true pacifism came when one made the conscious decision to do no harm. True pacifism was knowing you could destroy a thing, having the ability to cause harm, and exercising the restraint and compassion to withhold the hand of retribution. It was holding fast to the light -- even in its absence -- and in so doing being a beacon for others.

Like Obi-Wan and his lightsaber.

Bail put the blaster down. It wasn't, he thought ruefully, as if he had ever fired one. The thing probably had a safety latch anyway. If it came to a fight he would be defenseless and the deception of security given by the hard metal of a blaster would not change the reality of the situation. He was dependent on another for protection in a hostile environment, but he must let it be a lesson. There might come another day when he faced darkness again -- faced it alone -- and he would remember this night. From this moment on, his lofty words would hold behind them the power of true commitment. His pacifism would be a choice and not the result of naïve platitudes or the hypocritical consequence of his inability to defend himself.

The prince swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He pictured Obi-Wan in his mind, standing without fear to face the unknown, and allowed the image of the Padawan and the brilliant blue of the 'saber to be his light in the darkness.

Iaco Stark paced back and forth on the bridge. He'd taken many calculated risks in his lifetime, more than his share, and come out on the upside. This time, however, he had the sinking feeling his luck would not hold.

The Guild President sat with Shu Mai, the two talking in low voices. Iaco didn't trust either of them any more than he trusted the bastard in the hologram. Shu Mai had her own agenda and the President was a weak-minded fool ruled by greed. No matter what, the Guild would take the fall for what happened here at Rhen Var. Iaco knew it as sure as he breathed.

Reports came in from the scrambled drone fighters as they returned to their docking bays. The Republic Cruiser had been taken out quickly. While they had strong shields, Cruisers were diplomatic vessels and had little in the way of weapons. The Tanthal Alliance ship had scrambled its few fighters and then attempted to run. Coordinated bombardment from the Guild Cruiser and its escort Starship had quickly stopped the escape. The Trade Federation ship had put up a hard fight. The Guild and the Federation both got their droid starfighter squadrons from the Technounion so they were evenly matched. However, once the Tanthalan ship was destroyed and the Guild starship turned its attention to the orbiter, the battle was over.

"I hope you realize what you've done," Iaco said icily. "We've alienated the Trade Federation and the Republic in one move."

Shu Mai turned her attention from the President to Iaco. "I didn't hear you offer any viable alternatives. At least this way, they have no real evidence."

"Oh, they don't?" Iaco stalked over to the pair and gestured toward the viewscreens. "What about all the debris out there? Do you really think the Republic isn't going to conduct a full inquiry? That they won't collect evidence? That the Jedi won't scan the wreckage and put a name to the attackers?"

"Perhaps they will, but Lord Sidious assured us that he controlled enough of the Senate to keep any inquiry stalled indefinitely." Shu Mai smiled as the president continued. "If we are lucky, this incident will ensure the treaty will not be signed. We will have fulfilled our part of the agreement. Sidious will be forced to hold up his end of the bargain."

Iaco didn't even bother with a response. He snorted loudly to indicate exactly how much he believed in lord Sidious' promises.

"Mister President, I suggest we return to Castell." Shu Mai was pleased. Everything was working out wonderfully. Soon she would have the money required to buy back her world from the Commerce Guild and, if she was lucky, the power to take over the Presidency. The loss of revenue this incident would cause was just the leverage she needed. "Our business here is finished."

"Yes," the Guild President replied. "However there is one more item."

Iaco didn't stand a chance. The butt of the blaster hit him in the back of the head and he felt only blinding pain before he collapsed.

Qui-Gon didn't have to go far before the light of the fire came into view. A quick glance showed nothing amiss, and he deactivated his lightsaber. Frowning, he approached the group and talked quietly with a guard. Everything at the camp was fine and it confirmed Qui-Gon's suspicions that what he had felt was something far more sinister than an attack on the surviving members of the delegation.

Doman Beruss got up and approached. He moved to the Jedi's side and pitched his voice low to keep from waking the other delegates. "Qui-Gon, what is wrong?"

Qui-Gon waited a moment before speaking. The echo of death in the Force was still strong. "Senator, our ships have been destroyed."

"Do I want to know how you know this?"

Qui-Gon remained silent; staring off into the darkness, arms folded in his sleeves and his eyes focused on some distant nothing.

Doman let out a long low sigh.

"The rations will run out by mid-day tomorrow." Qui-Gon's tone was detached. "Assuming that the investigation team left when I did not make my report, it will take two standard days for them to arrive. I believe it now prudent to presume our attackers will return to finish what they began. Relocating on foot would be dangerous and time consuming. There is also the matter of Senator Organa to consider. As soon as the weather breaks I would like to scout for a new location. Somewhere north. Once I have found a safe hiding spot, I will shuttle you there in the fighter, one by one."

The Jedi continued to look off into the distance. "There is something strange about this planet, Doman. What I sense here, it is more than simply the history of this place. There is a darkness here I have not felt before. It clouds and taints everything." Qui-Gon paused and turned to focus his blue eyes on the Senator. "I think it best not to share the destruction of the ships with the other delegates. I see no reason to add to their distress."

Doman nodded his agreement. Soon enough, idleness and lack of food would cause tempers to flare. "And the missing Senator and Padawan?"

"After the move is complete, I will search for them."

"I must say that I am more than a bit concerned, Qui-Gon. This storm..."

"Certainly it does not make the situation easier for them." Qui-Gon's posture stiffened just a touch. "However, I have not sensed anything out of the ordinary from Obi-Wan."

The Senator put a hand on qui-Gon's shoulder. "You can't fool me, Qui-Gon. I know you too well. You're worried about him."

Qui-Gon's expression softened a bit. "He is headstrong and impulsive, but the Force is strong in him."

"And who else does that remind me of?" Doman asked with a smile.

The pair stood silently for a while, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally Qui-Gon spoke. "Did you speak with the Tanthalan Ambassadors?"

Doman nodded. He glanced toward the fire before speaking. "It seems the Guild made overtures for shipping rights about a year ago. They also attempted to take over two business concerns on one of the worlds. The Ambassadors insist they have had no contact with the Guild for months now, and that all association was severed well before we began treaty negotiations."

Qui-Gon frowned and shook his head. The information he had still didn't make sense. "Thank you, Doman. Had I asked the questions, they might have been less forthcoming. I know you might find it hard to believe," Qui-Gon looked sidelong at the Senator, "but there are actually some people that don't trust the Jedi."

"Qui-Gon, are you making fun of me?" Doman tried to look indignant and failed.

The Jedi grinned. "Why, Senator, what could have given you that impression?"

Doman laughed. "With an example like you, is it any wonder Obi-Wan is headstrong?"

The wind cut right through Obi-Wan's Jedi robes. He had to suppress the impulse to go back inside the shelter. Something was terribly wrong. He had heard screams and laser cannon fire. He had felt terror and pain. Obi-Wan reached outward, probing the night, but there was nothing outside -- nothing but bone chilling cold, sharp crystal snowflakes, and darkness.

The sounds still reverberated in his head, fragments of urgent communication, shots fired, and then, finally, empty silence.

Into the void came panic. Sharp, focused panic. It emanated nearby, just to Obi-Wan's right. Bail. It must be Bail.

Obi-Wan reacted immediately. He didn't understand what had happened, and there could still be a threat. He abruptly thrust out his hand and shoved with his mind, throwing the Prince back into the shelter and sealing it as best he could. The spike of fear increased, but Obi-Wan could not allow it to distract him. He had to be certain they were safe.

He had no idea how long he stood there in the bitter cold. In a way, the bite of the wind on his skin was welcome. Obi-Wan knew it was real. Part of him desperately wished for his Master -- for Qui-Gon's strong and quiet presence, his steady confidence, his knowledge and experience. Though their relationship was turbulent and they often disagreed, Obi-Wan depended on his Master's advice and direction the same way he depended on the Force. Qui-Gon was always there, sure and steady, a calming hand.

There had been a time, not so long ago, when it wasn't that way. The early years of Obi-Wan's bond with Qui-Gon had been as tenuous as his ability to embrace the Living Force. But time had built trust, and now it was sometimes difficult for Obi-Wan to conceive of a day when he would no longer be Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan. It was like trying to conceive of a day when there would be no Jedi.

The echo of death faded and left only the faint, elusive malevolence Obi-Wan had felt since they landed on Rhen Var. Even Bail's panic receded. Obi-Wan could sense nothing nearby to bring them danger. He deactivated his lightsaber and headed back to the shelter.

When he removed the hunk of snow he had cut from the side of the dome, Obi-Wan heard a rustle of fabric. In the darkness, he could barely make out the form of Bail Organa huddled inside.

"Bail. It's Obi-Wan."

The form didn't move.

Obi-Wan frowned in the darkness. He was letting cold air and snow into the shelter, and that had to come before his concern for the Prince. He backed into the shelter, dragging a pile of snow with him, and then pulled the sliced bit of the exterior back into place. Removing his gloves, Obi-Wan felt for drafts and used the loose snow to help create and ice seal around the cuts. His hands quickly numbed, but it was far better to have one slightly frostbitten set of hands than two frozen bodies. He spoke while he worked.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just..." Obi-Wan searched for a way to describe what had happened to him. "I heard something. I had to be sure it was safe."

When he finished, Obi-Wan groped his way toward Bail. The Prince still hadn't spoken. His hand brushed against the discarded blaster before making contact with the thermal blanket. Obi-Wan gathered both up in one arm and reached out with the other. "Prince Organa? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

Obi-Wan's hand found the fabric of Bail's robe. He could feel the Prince shivering but wasn't sure if it was from cold or fear. "Bail?"

"I was just thinking about home." Bail's voice was soft. "Have you ever been to Alderaan, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan nodded in the dark and the realized it wouldn't be seen. "Yes."

Bail shifted slightly, turning toward Obi-Wan's voice. "I miss it. I miss the water and the bright blue skies. I miss the forest and the mountains and the sunrises. The grass Paintings and the Killik mounds. Coruscant has its own charms -- the soaring buildings, the orange sunsets, the hustle and bustle -- but I love my home."

Obi-Wan put down the blaster and reached forward to wrap the thermal blanket around Bail's shoulders. "I suppose that's natural. My Master and I, we go so many places and see so many things, but the Temple is my home. Only once did I ever feel as though I belonged somewhere the way I do at the Temple."

"Where was that?"

For some strange reason it felt comfortable to talk to Bail. Obi-Wan had the feeling that it made the Prince feel less edgy to hear his voice. "A planet called Melida/Daan."

"Is that where you were born?"

Obi-Wan moved to Bail's side in the darkness. The Prince fumbled with the thermal blanket and finally managed to drape it so that it rested partly on Obi-Wan's shoulders and partly on his own.

"No." Obi-Wan's voice grew a bit distant. "No. I wasn't born there."

Bail's shivering lessened. He groped in the dark and took hold of Obi-Wan's hand. "Talk to me," he whispered. "Tell me about it."

"Master Jinn and I, we were sent there to rescue another Jedi. It was such a sad place. Full of hate." Obi-Wan closed his eyes and lost himself in the memories. "It was a world consumed by war. But, in the midst of it, I met The Young..."

Chapter Five

The storm broke before dawn. Qui-Gon went to the fighter immediately to clear away the snow. He had several guards, Senator Beruss, and the three remaining Tanthalan Ambassadors to shuttle to a new and, hopefully, safer location. The faster that task was accomplished, the sooner Qui-Gon could search for Senator Organa and Obi-Wan.

The fighter took to the sky as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Qui-Gon hadn't said so, but Doman was right. He was worried about his Padawan. In the eight standard years that Obi-Wan had been his apprentice, the boy had made great strides. There had been some difficulties in the beginning, but looking back, Qui-Gon knew they were largely of his own making. The competitive streak he had seen in Obi-Wan during his early teens and had worried him so much that he had resisted taking him on as a Padawan, had resolved itself into a commendable dedication to the Order.

But Qui-Gon had to be honest in his evaluation of his apprentice. Obi-Wan was talented, but the young man had limitations and much to learn of the Living Force. It would be years yet before he would be ready to undertake the Trials. Obi-Wan was impulsive. He opened his mouth when he should still his tongue and listen. He often acted independently instead of asking for guidance. He was too quick to reach for his lightsaber. He was frequently before the Council.

But then, so was Qui-Gon.

Flying steadily northward, Qui-Gon kept his senses open and his eyes toward the ground. He encountered two small sets of ruins and dropped lower to inspect them. Neither seemed right. The first had no good location to hide the fighter, and the second was little more than two spires jutting out of the snow. When he nudged the controls and gained altitude, Qui-Gon adjusted course to fly northeast.

Obi-Wan was somewhere below. Qui-Gon could sense the nearness of his Padawan, and it was difficult not to take the time to search. However, his first responsibility was to the other members of the delegation.

A dark smudge to the east caught Qui-Gon's attention. Banking the fighter, he went to investigate.

As he approached, Qui-Gon reduced his speed and altitude for a closer look. This set of ruins was much larger. Five spires thrust upward out of the snowfield, each with at least three stories exposed. Several other partial structures also pushed out of the ground, and one had a crescent shaped indentation that might serve as a place to house the fighter. The fact that he felt the presence of Obi-Wan relatively nearby meant the Padawan was likely leading the Senator to this location.

Yes, this place would do well. Turning the fighter south, Qui-Gon headed back to begin the transport of the delegates.

Bail and Obi-Wan trudged through the snow toward the ruins. Both of them were tired. While they looked a little worse for wear -- rumpled and scruffy -- they had come through the evening with nothing worse than damp clothes, cold bodies and stiff necks.

They spoke surprisingly little. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it was laden with something neither man was quite able to define. Bail felt off balance and unsure of himself. Obi-Wan was preoccupied, perfunctory, and distant.

Bail wasn't sure, but he thought they had made a connection in the night. He hadn't meant to reach out and grab Obi-Wan's hand the way he did. The story Obi-Wan had told him about Melida/Daan -- about the young girl that gave her life for what she believed in -- had moved him deeply. At first Obi-Wan had spoken about it quietly, hesitantly. But after a while, his voice had gained strength and the words began to flow. Bail was fairly certain that the Padawan rarely, if ever, spoke about what had happened, and he wondered why. He wondered why Obi-Wan held it so tightly inside, why the Jedi had decided to speak about it then. Bail suspected Obi-Wan had been in love with the girl but hadn't thought it prudent to ask.

He hadn't intended to fall asleep with his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder. It simply happened. Bail had never opened his eyes after his panic attack, preferring to replace the unknown with his own visions and, later, with those conjured by Obi-Wan's words -- visions of broken cities full of tombs, lush green forests, and young people fighting to rebuild a world and fill it with hope. A vision of a young and earnest Obi-Wan struggling to help his friends.

Bail's lips brushing against Obi-Wan's cheek when he woke certainly hadn't been deliberate either. The rough feel of stubble and the softness of skin had been startling. He'd felt awkward and turned away quickly to cover his embarrassment. He was glad for the darkness then; it hid the flush that came to his face.

Obi-Wan hadn't said a word about any of it. After waking Bail, he had gone about the business of packing up their things and breaking camp as if nothing has happened. There was no mention of their conversation the night before or what it might have meant. He'd given Bail time outside to himself before joining him with the gear. The Jedi made a joke that showers at their accommodations only came with cold water and that it should be added to the list of complaints for the concierge.

As they hiked through the fresh snowdrifts, Bail's mind wandered. He wondered how Obi-Wan managed to look so fetching in spite of the lack of sleep. The Jedi robes were hardly mussed and the short Padawan buzz cut now seemed to have more than one purpose -- it was easily cared for and meant a distinct lack of bad hair in extreme circumstances. Part of Bail realized exactly how shallow his thoughts were. He mentally upbraided himself for even thinking them. Here they were, stranded in the middle of nowhere with no real assurance of rescue, and all he could think about was how terribly shabby and unattractive he must look. He would have given some serious credits for a toothbrush. Bail knew his focus should be on something vital, like surviving, but every time he looked up and saw Obi-Wan walking just ahead of him, every reasonable thought seemed to fly out of his head. He remembered the soft scratchy feel of Obi-Wan's cloak against his cheek. He remembered the calluses on Obi-Wan's hand when he held it. He remembered how warm and safe it felt to be near the Padawan under the thermal blanket.

This is ridiculous. You're a twenty-five year old Prince and Senator from one of the most influential planets in the Galaxy, Bail thought angrily. Quit acting like a love struck teenager!

Bail was startled from his thoughts by a rumbling crack. He jerked his head up just in time to see Obi-Wan's body dropping through the snow.

"Obi-Wan!" Bail, wading in snow up to his knees, desperately pushed forward as Obi-Wan disappeared from sight. Another rumble brought a feeling of unsteadiness and Bail's legs began to slip from underneath him.

Then he too began to fall.

"While there is much I do not know about the attack, Ambassador, one thing seems certain. The intent was to stop the treaty from being signed."

Qui-Gon spoke with quiet confidence as he piloted the fighter. He and Senator Beruss and discussed it and were working a tandem approach. Qui-Gon would bring up the implications of the attack as he shuttled the Ambassadors, and the Senator would take the political side once the Tanthalan delegates were returned to the ground. The hope was that echoing each other's words would nudge the remaining delegates to return to Coruscant under Jedi protection to sign the treaty instead of returning home.

"Forgive me, Master Jinn, if I say it is likely the culprit will succeed. We were under the impression that the Republic would be providing adequate security during the negotiations. It seems to me that joining the Republic when they can't even manage to keep control of a treaty signing is a bit foolhardy."

"While I can certainly understand your concerns, Ambassador, I must point out that Rhen Var was not the choice of the Republic for this signing." Qui-Gon kept his tone even and light. "In fact, both Senator Beruss and I suggested several alternate locations -- Republic worlds such as Alderaan and Coruscant -- that might have been better suited. However, now is not a time to assign blame. The fact of it is that no one can ever anticipate every situation."

The Ambassador's response was rather negative. "I am an Ambassador and politician, not a Jedi Knight or soldier. I do not care for being shot at, and I certainly am not fond of being stranded on a planet covered in ice. I, for one, am eager to return home."

Qui-Gon had to suppress the urge to sigh. "While the incident is regrettable and unfortunate, you should not let it destroy the hard work you and your associates have put into this treaty -- a treaty that will bring great benefit to the Tanthal Alliance and your people."

Senator Beruss, two of the three Ambassadors, and four of the guards were already at the new location. Each of the Ambassadors had expressed similar concerns during their flights. Getting the delegates to agree to going to Coruscant to sign the treaty was going to be even more difficult than he expected. He had hoped that at least one of them would indicate they were still receptive to the signing.

While the Jedi was concerned that months of work might be undone, at this point Qui-Gon's largest worry was the status of the fighter. The frigid nighttime temperatures of Rhen Var were much lower than the suggested tolerance levels for this type of craft. There was a distinct possibility that the lifecycle of the fuel cells would be shortened as a result of the temperature fluctuations. If that happened before he found Obi-Wan and Bail Organa it could complicate matters significantly. The fact that he had felt a surge of distress earlier through the training bond only heightened Qui-Gon's sense of urgency.

The velocity of the fighter slowed as Qui-Gon approached the ruins. He adjusted the thrusters and dropped the landing gear. "Well, Ambassador, I hope that after you take some time to think about the situation you will reconsider your position."

"Bail, are you certain?"

A worried Obi-Wan knelt near the injured Prince. Bail, unable to protect himself with the Force as Obi-Wan had, had ended up with a severely sprained ankle, a nasty gash on the left side of his head, a dislocated shoulder, and what Obi-Wan suspected were several cracked or broken ribs during the fall. The medkit, which had been in Bail's pack, was buried somewhere in the snow and now lost.

"I'm slowing you down." Bail fidgeted, picking at the edge of the thermal blanket wrapped around him. "You can't keep carrying me, Obi-Wan. Even a Jedi has limits."

Obi-Wan frowned. The Prince was right, but he was uneasy about leaving. The crevasse they had fallen into was deep and narrow. Sheer ice walls gave little hope of getting back to the top without an ascension gun. The only alternative available was to follow the fissure in the ice with the hope that it would lead them somewhere.

When Obi-Wan didn't say anything, Bail pasted a smile on his face and put a hand to Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Besides, you Jedi are nothing but trouble! Since I've been in your company I've been shot at, fallen from the sky, been caught in a raging snowstorm, and fallen in an avalanche. You'll forgive me if I think I might be better off alone."

"Bail." Obi-Wan winced at the rather blunt summation of his inability to keep the Prince safe.

"I mean it, Obi-Wan. It will go faster without me. It's the logical thing to do."

Logical or not, Obi-Wan didn't like it. Bail's nervousness was apparent. If the Prince weren't worried, he wouldn't be trying to cover with jokes and forced smiles. However, there were few options. At least they still had some rations, the blaster, the emergency lantern, and the thermal blanket. "All right, I'll go. But I won't be gone long. If I don't find anything, I'll pick a new camp site and come back for you."

Bail swallowed and nodded. His olive skin now held a permanent ashen undertone and his breathing had taken on a distinctive wheeze. "Obi-Wan, before you go..." Using his good arm, he fumbled with the snap and pulled the blaster free of the hip holster. "How do I use this?"

Obi-Wan blinked. "Well, you see this?" He pointed at the muzzle. "It's the business end. Point it at what you want to stop, then pull the trigger."

"Oh." Bail frowned. "No safety latch? No stun setting?"

"No." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Military issue. No safety."

"I see." The Prince's hand began to shake. He quickly set the weapon on the snow beside him and tried to grin. "Well then, I'll just point that business end at anything that doesn't look friendly."

"Bail, I can stay. I'll make a new shelter and..."

"No. You said you had a good feeling about heading that way." Bail pointed to his left. "I trust that. I trust you. Now go down there and find us a way out so Master Jinn can get us."

Obi-Wan nodded and stood up. "Try to rest, Bail. I'll be back soon."

Garen Muln rechecked the coordinates in his navi-computer a final time. He would drop out of hyperspace and make the second jump required to reach the rendezvous point. His Glaan starfighter, along with those of Bant Eerin, Kit Fisto, and Mace Windu, had left Coruscant when Qui-Gon missed two scheduled reports. His master, Clee Rhara, had wanted to come as well, but the Council refused. The political situation surrounding the Jedi starfighter training facility on Centax 2 was volatile and the Council felt that Clee's absence might provide an opening for further Senate investigations.

Behind Garen and the Jedi, team followed two Republic Cruisers and a Destroyer from Illodia. The Cruisers had been modified with the addition of turbo lasers and extra defensive shielding. After the team determined the situation, the objective was to rescue the delegation if required and either take them to the rendezvous point or call in backup.

Garen was excited to have been chosen for the mission. While he was worried for his friend Obi-Wan, he was also eager to show Master Windu his capabilities. Soon it would be time for him to undertake the Trials. Technically, Master Windu's opinion would mean little, but showing a member of the Jedi Council his abilities couldn't hurt.

The onboard astromech droid chirped, whistled, and sent data to Garen's viewscreens. It was time. The fighter dropped out of hyperspace and Garen nudged the controls to avoid the gravity well of a nearby moon. Once in position, he punched in the coordinates and was off. In another ten standard hours, he would be at the rendezvous.

Obi-Wan pushed through the drifts that clogged the narrow passage. The light was dim now. Well past mid-day, the sun no longer found a direct path into the crevasse. He removed his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it, using it for additional light.

Within the thick walls of ice, Obi-Wan could see the shadowy remains of buildings. He thought that they might be the outskirts of a former city. If that were so, then the fissure he was following would lead to the ruins he had sighted. However, that assumed the passageway would remain passable that far.

He pressed on.

The area narrowed further, causing Obi-Wan to turn sideways. His breath came in tiny puffs of white and he could feel the jagged ice grab at his cloak. He was uncertain if Bail would be able to make it through. Between the man's injuries and his panic in tight spaces, getting the Prince this far might prove difficult.

Obi-Wan considered using his lightsaber to cut away some of the wall and widen the passage, but it would be a risky proposition. An incorrect choice could destabilize the wall and bring it falling downward. Far better to leave nature alone and take what was offered than risk being buried alive.

Bail had nearly been buried alive. Obi-Wan had found the Senator's boot sticking out of the snow and scrambled to dig him free. The blow to the head had caused Bail to pass out which, in hindsight, had probably been for the best. The man had no idea how close he had come to suffocating to death.

Obi-Wan was angry with himself. He had been preoccupied, and the distraction had led to the accident. His focus had been on Bail -- on how much he had wanted to be close to him and how confused he was -- and not on the situation at hand.

Why had he told Bail about Melida/Daan?

Suddenly, the fissure widened. Obi-Wan turned and stepped forward into a large circular space. The floor was unnaturally level, there was a door in the far side of the ice wall, and when Obi-Wan looked upward he saw something even more disconcerting -- the trusses of a retractable roof.

Chapter Six

Obi-Wan slipped back into the shadowy confines of the narrow fissure in the ice. Finding a fighter hangar was definitely unexpected. What should he do?

"The mission comes first, Padawan. Ask yourself, does this put the mission objective at risk?"

The voice of Qui-Gon in his mind was not the training bond. What was the mission objective now? Obi-Wan could think of plenty of reasons he shouldn't cross the hangar and enter the doorway, but the Force had led him here. He had a strange feeling that there was something beyond the door that he was meant to see. If there truly was no such thing as luck, no coincidence, then why else had he found this place? Surely, his Master would agree.

Wouldn't he?

It was growing late. He needed to return to Bail. In the end, it was the thought of the Prince, wounded and cold, that made up Obi-Wan's mind. If he could find help or a medkit, it far outweighed any risk. He would have to be careful, certainly, but even if he could only manage another blanket or some bacta numb it would be better than nothing.

Besides, this place should not be here. Qui-Gon and the Council should know of its existence.

Obi-Wan flipped up the hood of his robe and darted from the crack in the ice to the doorway. The panel light glowed an inviting green. Obi-Wan frowned. No retinal scan, palm identification, or passcode entry. Either he was coming in the back door, or whoever built this place was confident it would never be found.

Lightsaber at the ready in his right hand, Obi-Wan used his other to palm the door open. A well-lit narrow corridor stretched for several meters terminating in another doorway. There were no sensors that he could detect, but there was also nowhere to hide.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and exhaled, grounding himself in the Force, then he moved over the threshold and stepped inside.

Qui-Gon was edgy as he flew the final guard to the new campsite. It was an elusive kind of unease that he was unaccustomed to feeling but had hung just outside the edges of his perception since they landed on Rhen Var.

It was late in the day now. The fighter's fuel cells were holding up well, but there had been a problem with some of the hoses. The fighter type used by the Tanthalan Alliance was older and the onboard astromech droid was part and parcel of the chassis. That meant it could diagnose a problem and give a solution, but it was left to Qui-Gon and the remaining guards to do repairs. It cost him precious time.

He set down the fighter, popped the canopy, and tapped his fingers impatiently at the controls. As soon as the guard was out and had cleared the landing site, he was in the air again and heading southwest.

Qui-Gon pulled his comlink from his belt and jacked it into the ship's systems. "Scan this frequency and try to boost the power," he instructed the truncated R4 unit. Adding the ship's systems to the hand module would boost the range to around fifty kilometers. The training bond could guide him to Obi-Wan's general location, but a comm signal could be pinpointed. Even a weak signal could be triangulated and make it easier to find him. "Send a periodic test signal and let me know if you find anything."

A black shrouded figure watched a small blue hologram as it moved through a tiny model of a base. The representation of Obi-Wan Kenobi carefully crept down hallways, checked doors, and crouched protectively behind supply crates while the Sith sat in his starship.

A gloved hand reached out and touched a control panel to initiate a comm connection. He waited patiently for the chime response.

"What is it?"

"Master, the Jedi has found the training facility."

A crackle of static accompanied the voice-only comm. The reply was sharp. "What?"

"The Padawan has infiltrated the base." The black robed figure suppressed the urge to flinch. "Master, you ordered me to observe only. Shall I confront him now?"

"No. We must not reveal ourselves. My plans in the Senate are far from complete and you, my Apprentice, are far from ready."

Darth Maul clamped down on his fear at the rebuke. He knew well that tone. Sidious was angry. When his Master was angry, someone always paid. Since the order had been given that the Jedi were not to be touched, Darth Maul would feel his Master's wrath for the loss of the base. The punishment he would receive when he returned to his Master's side would be painful.

"Where is the Senator from Alderaan?"

"I do not know, my Master. He was with the Padawan when the assassination attempt failed. The Jedi would not leave him. Should I search?"

"No. Abandon the facility and return to Coruscant. Destroying Bail Organa and his line is critical, I have foreseen it, but this blankness in the Force surrounding the Senator must be explored more fully before we attempt to eliminate him again."

Darth Maul nodded subserviently in spite of the fact that his Master could not see him. He asked only one more question.

"May I activate the droids before I go, Master?"

A cackle of laughter echoed through the comm system. "Yes, my Apprentice. I see you are not entirely without intelligence and initiative after all. While it may not yet be time for us to confront our enemies, if they happen to find their end through untraceable means, I will certainly celebrate."

Obi-Wan slipped inside another door and found himself in a room that looked disturbingly familiar. A training salle -- but not quite like any training salle the Padawan had ever been in before.

A combination of curiosity and shock flowed through Obi-Wan as his eyes roamed the room. Blasters of various makes and sizes were mounted to the far wall above two inactive droidekas. A rack filled with vibroaxes, gaderaffi batons, standard staves and pikes, and two strange weapons that Obi-Wan couldn't quite identify rested next to a closed cabinet.

Ledges jutted from the walls at varying heights. Pipes and chains hung from the roof many meters above. The floor held its own surprises. Grates and openings peppered the stone. Obi-Wan could see the glint of sharp metal protruding upward.

Whoever, or whatever, trained in this place meant business.

Though he was curious about the unrecognizable weapons in the rack across the room, he was not here solely for reconnaissance. The medical bay he found had been fairly well stocked. He lightened it by lifting two emergency kits from a cabinet. Now that he had medical supplies, getting back to Bail was the priority. While he had not investigated the entire facility, he had seen enough. Aside from inactive droids in the medical bay, and a storeroom full of rations and other necessities, he had found nothing to indicate the base was inhabited.

Yet, in spite of this, he had felt that elusive wrongness coming from a doorway, and it compelled him to investigate. Now here he stood in this training area.

Obi-Wan had a very bad feeling about it. It was time to go. He knew only one thing for certain, he didn't want to meet whoever trained here.

Obi-Wan turned to leave, but he had waited too long. The distinctive whir and hum of droids powering up was all the warning the Padawan received. Unconsciously, he jumped several meters into the air, somersaulting as he activated his lightsaber. The flash of blaster fire followed Obi-Wan's form as he leapt from one small ledge to another, moving upward to evade the attack.

The droidekas swiftly pursued, their insect-like metal legs clacking against the stone floor. Obi-Wan stopped and turned to face the threat, wielding his blue blade to deflect the barrage. When he shifted the lightsaber in his hand and sent some of the blaster fire back at the things, the shimmer of shielding appeared.

His comlink began to chime.

There was no time to pull the thing from his belt and respond. The droidekas kept up the onslaught. The Jedi tactic of wearing down the opponent would not serve. Droids felt nothing and would not tire. The only way to disable a droideka without destroying it was to give it new orders and Obi-Wan could not see a control panel anywhere in the room. There was only one way in and out of the salle, the door he had entered. The hallway beyond was long and narrow. Attempting to escape that way would make him an easy target.

Obi-Wan held his ground while he considered his situation. Blaster fire that wasn't deflected by the bright blue blade sliced past, impacting the stone wall behind him. In a best-case scenario, this was a standoff. At worst, he was in serious trouble. His eyes shifted to the weapons. While his lightsaber was deadly, sometimes the assistance of something like an ion grenade was more than welcome. The energy burst of such a weapon would take out the shields if not outright short the droidekas' circuits.

Leaping straight up, Obi-Wan snatched a chain hanging from the ceiling and swung to the far side of the salle. His commlink continued to chime as he made for the cabinet. Twisting in the air, he grazed a hand against the comlink activation switch. When his feet hit the floor, he was running.

"Padawan?"

Blaster bursts flew past Obi-Wan has he ran, barely missing him. "Yes, Master!"

"Is that blaster fire I hear?"

Obi-Wan grunted, turned, and face the droidekas once more, angry red beams of energy pinging off his lightsaber. "Yes, Master!"

"Where are you, Padawan?"

Taking a step toward the destroyers, Obi-Wan launched himself into the air once more and made for another landing. "Forgive me, Master, I'm a bit busy. Can you help first and ask questions later?"

Qui-Gon's voice crackled with irritation. "I'd be glad to, but my signal says I'm right of top of you and I can't find you."

Obi-Wan dropped from the ledge. He landed in front of the cabinet and sliced the door open before taking off running. The exertion of the fight was beginning to wind him, and his words came in bursts as short as the blaster fire that pursued him. "There is an underground base."

"Padawan, get out of there!"

"I can't!" It was becoming difficult for Obi-Wan not to feel desperation. Even his Master would have a problem in a situation such as this.

"Then get under something!"

The room began to shake.

Though they had gone over the mission plan and objectives before leaving Coruscant, Mace Windu wasn't one to allow details to pass. It was precisely this quality, among others, that had moved him through the Jedi ranks and placed him on the Council at such a relatively young age.

As soon as he dropped out of hyperspace and met the others at the rendezvous, he checked in with the team and confirmed the mission objectives. "Garen, you're my wing. We check on the cruisers and orbiter first. If we encounter resistance, we split up. Garen and I will head for the planet. Kit, you and Bant will head back here to report and bring backup. Questions?"

As expected, there were none.

"Let's get to it."

The four fighters shot off toward the planet Rhen Var. As they approached, Mace's astromech droid began feeding data to his view screens. He frowned. "That can't be right."

The whistle and chirp that Mace received in response was indignant.

Kit Fisto's voice crackled through Mace's comm system. "Mace, are you reading what I'm reading?"

"If you're reading nothing but a debris field then yes, I am."

Bant's voice came next. "I have a distress signal. I think it is a life pod."

"Kit, you and Bant go check that out. Garen, continue a scanner sweep while I signal the other ships. We're going to need help."

Bail had no idea how long Obi-Wan had been gone. He had nodded off several times in spite of the circumstance. The sky grew darker and darker and the wind turned bitterly cold.

Clutching at the thermal blanket, Bail did his best to keep himself covered. It became increasingly difficult. His body no longer seemed to be under his control. He shivered constantly, and the mere act of breathing had become a new education in levels of pain.

Where was Obi-Wan? Had something happened to him? It had seemed so sensible to tell the Jedi to go ahead without him. So reasonable. Perfectly logical. But that was before he stopped being able to feel his arms and legs. It was before his vision began to dim and his limbs began to shake so badly that he could no longer grip the blaster.

Bail knew what this was. This was hypothermia. The core temperature of his body was dropping, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't stand and walk to warm up. He couldn't build himself a shelter to get out of the elements. Intellectually, he was fully aware of what was happening and what the result would be.

He would die.

If the combination of frostbite and hypothermia didn't take him in the night then the shock of his injuries and sepsis onset from his head wound would eventually finish him off. He was afraid but also strangely calm. Bail knew his disorientation and malaise was a side effect of the hypothermia. In an attempt to keep his mind alert after Obi-Wan left, he had recited the treaty he had just negotiated from memory. When that failed, he began to haltingly sing arias from his favorite operas. The singing, however, ended rather quickly in fits of painful blood-laced coughing. In the end, Bail retreated into childhood memories -- recalling stories of handsome princes that his sisters had regaled him with to his chagrin -- and finding comfort there.

Despite his best efforts, Bail slowly sank into another world. His awareness phased in and out, hovering somewhere between a waking reality and a cold and dreamless sleep. He fought hard to keep from giving up and sinking into the darkness. Obi-Wan would never have left him here to die. The Jedi would be back.

Bail had to believe the knight of his tale would return for him. It was all he had left.

Qui-Gon knew what he was about to do was radical and risky. He had no idea about the number of attackers his Padawan faced or the nature of the threat. He had no structural schematics or any idea of how the base had been constructed. All he knew for sure was the Obi-Wan was losing the fight. Qui-Gon was close enough that the training bond sang with Obi-Wan's exertion and desperation.

Only years of experience and training kept Qui-Gon's fear at bay. He had only felt this frustrated and helpless once before -- on Bandomeer. He hadn't even taken Obi-Wan as his Padawan yet, but his fright when boy had been pushed from the mining platform had gone deep. Now, as then, he had been so close and yet so far away.

Even in the face of overwhelming odds, Qui-Gon Jinn was not a man that gave up. He would not let his Padawan down.

"Then get under something!" The order flew from Qui-Gon's lips as he pulled back on the fighter controls. The craft shot upward at full speed before Qui-Gon banked hard and pointed the nose down. He hoped fervently that Obi-Wan would have enough time to take cover and thumbed the weapons controls, blasting laser cannon fire at the ground.

Huge chunks of snow and ice exploded upward, reducing visibility. The little R4 unit squealed unhappily and sent streams of data across the screens detailing exactly how fast the ground was approaching. Unable to tell if he'd accomplished his goal, Qui-Gon pulled up at the last moment and the fighter moved upward again in a sharp arc. As the craft rose, the snow began to settle and the steam and smoke to dissipate. A look downward revealed little. While he had managed to shoot quite a large hole in the ground, Qui-Gon still didn't see any evidence of a manmade structure.

It was time for another pass.

The fighter reversed direction and another barrage of cannon fire was directed downward. This time, gold sparks and bits of silver metal accompanied the white chunks of ice.

"Padawan! Can you hear me?"

Static was the only response from the comm.

Qui-Gon leveled off the fighter and held it steady above the crater he had opened in the landscape. He dropped the landing gear and attitude thrusters forced air downward into the rubble. The smaller and lighter pieces of debris were blown aside, revealing twisted bits of superstructure.

Nudging the fighter to one side, he set it down and popped the canopy. Qui-Gon jerked the comlink from the ship systems while he undid his safety harness. In a flash he was out of the cockpit and pulling an ascension gun from the equipment kit. Then he turned and ran.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon shouted at the commlink. The training bond had gone ominously quiet. "Padawan, answer me!"

The rent in the ground was deep and there were several locations where the ceiling of the superstructure had given way to expose the room below. Picking the one with the largest opening, Qui-Gon stepped out into the open air and fell.

One of the Droidekas had been smashed by the rubble. The other, though obviously damaged, was still functional. Blaster fire followed Qui-Gon as he dropped into the room. The green blade of his lightsaber flared to life as he parried the attack. Focusing all his concentration, he advanced on the droid. As he closed the distance, he used the Force to lob chunks of what had once been the ceiling at the thing.

Bombarded from all directions the droideka seemed uncertain how to proceed. Its design was not conducive to responding to attack from multiple directions. When a piece of the stone finally got past the shielding and impacted a leg, the droid teetered precariously. The red energy bursts, no longer focused on their target, swept upward as the droideka fell over.

Freed from the need to fend off attack, Qui-Gon sent larger blocks of stone whizzing through the air toward the damaged droid. In no time, it was in pieces.

"Obi-Wan!"

Qui-Gon's voice echoed against the ruined stone walls of the salle. His eyes raked over the scene, taking in everything at once. Power cables and chains swung crazily from what was left of the roof, sparks flying when the metal and open wire made contact. Weapons lay scattered and broken to one side of the room. Finally, his eyes locked on a dark metal shape half buried in the rubble and singed by blaster fire.

There.

Qui-Gon deactivated his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt. Picking his way quickly through the wreckage, he approached the toppled cabinet. It had fallen over with the doors face down. Using a combination of his hands and the Force, he hurriedly removed the stone that pinned the cabinet down. Qui-Gon grunted and strained, pushing himself to the limit of his abilities in order to flip the cabinet over. As he did so, the damaged doors fell open; grenades, training remotes, and Obi-Wan Kenobi came tumbling out.

Gathering his Padawan in his arms, Qui-Gon reached outward through the training bond. His Apprentice had sustained some minor injuries but nothing critical. It was a relief when Obi-Wan's eyes flickered and finally opened.

"It took you long enough, Master," Obi-Wan said weakly.

The response was a good natured but stern rebuke. "Don't get cheeky with me now, Padawan. I just had to save your hide."

"Sorry, Master," was the demure response.

"Where is Senator Organa?"

"He is not here, Master." Obi-Wan winced as he hurriedly pushed himself upright and out of Qui-Gon's embrace. His shoulder ached dully and extending his right leg brought a twinge of pain. "I have to hurry. He's injured and needs me."

Blinking, Qui-Gon sat back on his heels. "What? Do you mean to tell me that you left the Senator alone? Injured and alone? You put both yourself and the Senator in peril entering this base. What were you thinking, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan flinched. "It seemed the right course of action at the time, Master. I felt I had no other choice."

Qui-Gon let out an exasperated sigh and stood up. "There is always another choice, Padawan. It may not be the easiest or the most expedient, but there is always another choice." He pulled the ascension gun from his belt. "You and I must have a very serious discussion about your decision-making, but now is not the time. Come."

Chapter Seven

Iaco Stark woke with a splitting headache. His first realization was that he was in a life pod. His second was that he was in trouble.

It didn't take a lot of brains to figure out what happened. Generally speaking, if you didn't know how you got into a life pod, someone put you in it. In this specific set of circumstances, Iaco was pretty sure that he had been placed there by his associates for the Jedi to find.

Or, to be more specific, his former associates.

To say that Iaco was a little pissed off would be an understatement. Iaco Stark -- infamous pirate and instigator of the hyperspace wars that bore his name -- was not a person accustomed to being used as a scapegoat. When he found himself with narrowed options he normally had a backup plan, a way to scoot out the proverbial back door. If no back door was available, Iaco was the sort that made one.

The last time he'd been in tight quarters with the Jedi he'd come out the victor, if only narrowly. No one could have guessed that he would manage to walk away from the war he started as a legitimate businessman. He hadn't made many friends in the process, but Iaco wasn't the sort that cared much about having friends.

Somehow he didn't think his history with the Jedi was going to help him this go around. In fact, it was likely to hurt him. Jedi got a bit testy when one of their own fell and, in spite of their chanting about peace and serenity, Iaco knew they were enough like every other sentient in the galaxy and could hold a grudge.

Assuming someone found him, he'd be taken on a Republic cruiser. While the almighty Jedi would call it "offering him their hospitality," in reality he would be under arrest. Since there was little to no chance that anyone survived the assault, Iaco would be the only witness -- and possible cause -- of the incident. If he opened his mouth, the Commerce Guild would deny everything and the mysterious Lord Sidious would likely have him eliminated. Even if he did turn informer, there was no one to verify his story. Iaco would be unable to clear his name and would probably rot under Republic guard for suspicion of treason. From where he sat, he was out of positive outcomes.

However, being picked up by Jedi and placed under arrest was preferable to the alternatives. Starving, freezing in the vacuum of space, or death by asphyxiation were not on Iaco's list of fun ways to spend a day.

He turned on the distress beacon and waited to be found.

Qui-Gon Jinn's long strides plowed through the snowdrifts. Though Obi-Wan had balked, he sent his Padawan to return the fighter and rations to the delegation. He certainly hadn't needed the training bond to know how unhappy Obi-Wan was about the edict. The petulant look on Obi-Wan's face and the argumentative words had been more than enough. However, Obi-Wan's happiness, or lack thereof, was of little consequence. The Padawan was injured and it was too late in the day to expect they would be able to transport Senator Organa before sundown. One of them needed to look after the delegation. To Qui-Gon the choice was clear, and he sternly sent Obi-Wan to do what was required.

The light was fading rapidly and Qui-Gon grew concerned. Shifting the medkits and survival gear strapped to his back, he put on a bit more speed. While the crevasse would offer some natural shelter from the biting winds that cut across the frozen surface of Rhen Var, it was still more than cold enough to kill. He had to find the Senator before it was too late.

Soon the break in the ice widened. Qui-Gon pulled a light from his belt clip. The beam flared to life and he swept it back and forth, searching. Obi-Wan's description of the location where the Senator laid waiting had been thorough. The injured Bail Organa should be somewhere nearby.

Opening himself to the flow of life around him, Qui-Gon allowed himself be led. In no time, a small lump of blue and gray was revealed to the artificial glow. It didn't move when the Jedi Master approached. Bail was huddled in the thermal blanket, shivering in his sleep. The man's face had a waxy ashen cast. Dried blood, almost as black as Bail's hair, streaked the side of his face. His breathing came in short rapid bursts that spoke of great pain.

Qui-Gon removed his gloves and dropped to his knees beside the Senator. Trying not to jostle him, Qui-Gon removed the Senator's gloves as well and took the two cold hands in his own. Qui-Gon had a difficult time finding Bail's dim life-force, but it was there. He centered himself, pulling the Living Force around him, and attempted to extend that power and warmth into the shivering body before him. As Qui-Gon prodded and probed the nature of Bail's injuries, it quickly became clear that the man would need a bacta tank, and soon, if he were to survive.

Sighing, Qui-Gon released Bail's hands. He had done what little he could and the priority now was retaining body heat. If he could stabilize Bail's core body temperature, and perhaps raise it a few degrees over the course of the night, the man might stand a fighting chance.

The Jedi removed the packs from his back and got to work.

"Where is Qui-Gon?"

"My Master remained with Senator Organa." Obi-Wan limped slightly, gritting his teeth against the extra strain the ration packs added. "He sent me with rations. I will return for him in the morning."

Guards rushed forward to assist in unloading ration kits from the fighter. Senator Beruss followed Obi-Wan, clearly unsatisfied with the information he had been given. "What of the Senator? Why didn't you bring him with you?"

Obi-Wan frowned. He was irritated and in pain. Taking a deep breath, he tried to release some of his negative feelings into the Force and turned to address Senator Beruss. "Senator, the fighter had room for only a pilot and a passenger. My Master felt it prudent for me to return with rations. I did so. It is now too late and cold to retrieve either him or Senator Organa. If you have questions regarding the decision, you may ask my Master in the morning."

Before Doman Beruss could ask another question, Obi-Wan turned and walked away.

Several hours later Obi-Wan sat quietly, far from the campfire and guards. Though his exterior was stoic, to the eye of another Jedi Obi-Wan's mood would have been obvious. He was sulking. If Qui-Gon had scolded him, Obi-Wan would have been able to handle it. However, Qui-Gon had left such tutelage for another day and done something worse -- he had sent his Padawan away.

Obi-Wan always knew when he greatly disappointed his Master. The training bond was not necessary in such cases. There was a stern look of sadness etched on Qui-Gon Jinn's features that led, inevitably, to only one response. Obi-Wan was made to leave his Master's presence and given an assignment so simple a youngling could manage it.

Sometimes the silence and quiet rebuke would last for weeks. Once, when they returned to the temple after a particularly bad mission, Qui-Gon had sent Obi-Wan to assist the kitchen staff for nearly a standard month. It might have been enjoyable had Obi-Wan been allowed to cook, but his Master had apparently left instructions with the staff with his Padawan was to do nothing of consequence. He had spent his time mopping floors, washing dishes, and generally being miserable.

He always returned from such exiles with a strong desire to try harder. Obi-Wan would redouble his efforts to please Qui-Gon, studying late into the night and doing his best to be over prepared for their next mission. Qui-Gon unfailingly responded to Obi-Wan's hard work in the same way. He ignored it completely.

Sometimes Obi-Wan felt extreme frustration at his Master's behavior. Excellence, it seemed, was routinely expected and only failure was noticed. It had always been that way. Obi-Wan had tried so hard to win Qui-Gon Jinn's approval and a place as his Padawan. Over and over, the Jedi Master had held Obi-Wan at arm's length. Yet, in the end, Obi-Wan's perseverance had one out. Even his mistake on Melida/Daan had, in time, been forgiven. It was this, among other things, which gave him absolute faith in Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan resolved to meditate on his actions and accept whatever punishment his Master chose. This mistake too would pass and he would find some way to win his Master's approval once more.

Mace Windu looked through the window of the medbay with a frown on his dark-skinned face. Iaco Stark sat on an examination table in the sterile room beyond. The technician that delivered the report to Mace left the Jedi standing in silence to ponder the information he received.

A door slid open to admit Kit Fisto. He moved silently to stand beside Mace. Together, the pair pondered the newly acquired passenger.

"Have they completed scanning the debris field?" Mace asked.

Kit nodded, the long tentacles on the Nautolan's head swaying. "Nothing."

Mace frowned. "Then they have to be on the planet. Qui-Gon and I might not see eye to eye on many things, but he is far too competent to get caught in something like this. I refuse to believe that he and Obi-Wan are dead. We would know."

"My thoughts as well," Kit replied. "I gave the order to begin scans of the surface. I also have them sending out test signals over the normal frequencies. The last report said they were taking a group to some ruins but it did not give coordinates. If they are down there, we will find them."

Nodding, Mace turned his attention back to Iaco Stark. The situation didn't add up. There was something strange at work here. He had felt uneasy every since they settled into orbiting around Rhen Var. It was something elusive, like a furtive movement caught with the corner of one's vision, lurking.

Kit gestured toward the window. "What did the check reveal?"

"There is nothing wrong with him," Mace responded. "He has a nasty bruise on the back of his head. The technician's best guess was someone struck him from behind with the hilt of a blaster. Other than that, he is perfectly fine."

"Then why isn't he speaking?"

"That is exactly what I was standing here wondering before you came in."

"I don't like this, Mace. There is a disturbance here -- something sinister and dark. I do not believe it to be an echo of the attack. It feels far older."

"I feel it too. However, our priority is the mission. Salvage the delegation. Retrieve Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Those objectives take precedence. When we return to Coruscant, and a full report is made, we will discuss it in Council and send a team for further investigation."

The night had been long.

After tending to Senator Organa, Qui-Gon set up the emergency shelter. Staking it down with metal spikes and packing loose snow up the first few centimeters of the fabric ensured both extra stability and additional insulation. He then transferred the Senator to the shelter.

The man had hardly stirred when Qui-Gon lifted him from the ground. A low moan of pain had been all the acknowledgement Bail gave that he was aware of being moved at all. It wasn't a good sign.

Wrapping Bail in the other thermal blanket from the emergency kit, Qui-Gon went about the business of cleaning the Senator's visible wounds. The cut was indeed deep, and reached from just above the temple and around into his hair. Snow melted in a cup over a small portable flame cleared away the crusted blood. Qui-Gon applied bacta treated gauze to the cleaned wound and hoped that sepsis would not set in.

Things only worsened in the night. Several times, Bail had spoken. Delirious with fever, the Senator carried on one-sided conversations which, while somewhat difficult to follow, had been rather revealing. Qui-Gon had listened as the young man argued fiercely with someone that Alderaan must become a haven for refugees from some unknown war. Later, the man whimpered and called out for his father. Just before dawn, Qui-Gon had heard his own name and that of Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth mentioned. Bail had grown increasingly agitated and incoherent after that.

Qui-Gon's attempts to rouse the Senator did not achieve the hoped for results. Though Bail opened his eyes periodically, they remained glazed and the Senator never left his delusions. It saddened Qui-Gon greatly. While the Senator from Alderaan was young and a bit idealistic, Qui-Gon had developed a certain fondness for the man. Bail was well intentioned, earnest, and bright. Though he was a politician through and through, and as such should not be trusted completely, Qui-Gon had to admit that the Alderaani Prince had the makings of a strong, fair, and honest leader. It would be more than a shame if such a life were to end so soon.

But, such was the will of the Unifying Force. While sad and tragic, sometimes the destiny of a being's life was simply to find an early end. Perhaps Senator Organa was meant to find the conclusion of his story here on this planet. Perhaps not. All Qui-Gon could say was that he would do his best to ensure Bail's survival. He could do no more than that.

The hours passed and the fabric of the tent began to lighten in color. Qui-Gon's comlink chimed once before a crisp female voice filled the shelter.

"This is Republic Cruiser, Intrepid, scanning all frequencies. Please respond. Repeat, this is Republic Cruiser, Intrepid, scanning all frequencies. Please respond."

Qui-Gon pulled the communicator from his belt with a sigh of relief. Perhaps the young Senator's destiny was not yet sealed.

"Obi-Wan!" Bant Erin smiled as she greeted her friend. "I am so glad you are all right!"

"It's good to see you too, Bant."

"What happened?"

Obi-Wan didn't get a chance to respond. Kit Fisto left Senator Beruss and moved to stand next to his Padawan. "Obi-Wan. Report, please."

Obi-Wan bowed respectfully to the Jedi Master and made a swift summation of the attack on the delegation. He briefly recounted what he knew and then said, "Master Fisto, now that you are here, I request permission to be allowed to return to my Master and Senator Organa."

"There is no need. Garen Muln is on a transport with a med technician. They should be picking up Qui-Gon and the Senator now. You may meet your Master on the ship."

Bowing again, Obi-Wan tried to hide his disappointment. His Master had obviously expressed his displeasure to Kit Fisto and the exile had begun. "Of course."

"Padawan, take Obi-Wan to the ship immediately. Master Windu will want to speak with him as soon as possible regarding this base."

"Yes, Master," Bant replied.

Obi-Wan followed Bant silently as she moved toward her fighter. She stopped and turned instead of making the ascent to the cockpit. She looked concerned. "Obi-Wan, what is wrong?"

"I've failed him again, Bant." Obi-Wan scuffed a boot against the compacted snow, his expression grim.

"Obi-Wan, this cannot be so." Bant reached forward and embraced her friend. "You always expect too much of yourself. You see this in Qui-Gon when it is not there. He thinks so much of you!"

"I acted recklessly. I put the Senator in danger. I almost got killed. Qui-Gon had to save me!"

Bant pulled back, her silver eyes searching Obi-Wan's troubled gray ones. "Obi-Wan, do not worry. Qui-Gon will understand. If correction is required he will give it, but he will still be your Master and your friend."

"Bant, it's just that..." Obi-Wan frowned as he words trailed off.

"Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and the Council do not judge your actions based on the mistakes of long ago. If they do not, then you should not judge yourself that way. You must stop this. You have to let it go."

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan wondered how it was that Bant always managed to cut away the layers of complexity and get to the source of a problem. She was right. If Qui-Gon disciplined him in some way it was not because of Melida/Daan or any other mistake he made. It was for the present moment. He had to let go of his fears and stop worrying that every decision he made would be a wrong one. A true Jedi, a Knight, would not spend his time wondering what another Jedi would do in a situation. He would not crave approval or praise. He would be open to the Force and do what was necessary with confidence. Obi-Wan suddenly realized that he had to start trusting himself the way he trusted his Master or he would never be allowed to undertake the Trials.

"You're right, Bant. You always give me such good advice."

"Of course I do, Obi-Wan." Bant laughed. "Now take my advice and get in the fighter, It is cold here! We will talk more where it is warm!"

"Your Highness."

Bail was vaguely aware that someone was talking to him. However, he was no longer sure if the person really existed. A part of him was still lucid enough to realize that his father and sister could not have been there, no matter how vivid the delusion. He had not seen the Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth in many years. But Qui-Gon Jinn -- that may have been real.

"Senator Organa? Can you hear me?"

The voice was a dull and distant echo -- a wet and hollow sound like the ping of a stone dropped down a long well shaft. Struggling to pull himself free of the dream world that had become his reality, Bail's eyes fluttered open. What he saw presented itself in blurry shapes with soft coronas of light. Was he in some kind of shelter? How did he get there? A familiar brown robe and braid came into view but the indistinct features of the face seemed wrong somehow. "Obi-Wan?"

"You're safe now, Your Highness."

Strong arms slipped under Bail and cradled him carefully. The rough feel of the robe was reassuring. Something about the smell seemed different as well, but Bail's fogged mind allowed the detail to pass. "I knew you would come back for me," he said weakly.

Bail's rescuer said nothing and simply stepped from the shelter into the cold air. Shivering and coughing Bail huddled close to the warm body that held him. The Prince groaned in pain as he put his arms around the neck of the person that carried him.

Soon his position was shifted. Bail was being lowered to the ground. A strong hand cradled his head. "We'll hoist you up to the transport now."

"Obi-Wan, don't leave me." Bail felt weak and the world was going dim. He clenched his hands in the robe, not wanting to be alone again. He pulled with all his strength, bringing the face close to his own. His last ace before succumbing again to the dark was to press his lips to a cheek and whisper, "I trust you."

Garen Muln blushed slightly as he untangled the sleeping Senator's fingers from his robe. While he was sometimes mistaken at a distance for Obi-Wan -- the similarity of build and coloring had even been used as a deception on occasion -- having a Senator kiss him was rather unnerving. He looked up into the face of Qui-Gon Jinn. "I apologize, Master Jinn. I assure you it was not intentional."

"Obviously." Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow as he looked down at Bail Organa. His face held an expression of amusement and surprise. "I think, perhaps, I have more to discuss with my Padawan than I thought."

"Sir?" Garen looked confused.

"Never mind. Let me help you with the stretcher."

Epilogue

"Padawan."

"Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon moved to stand next to Obi-Wan. His apprentice was looking through the window that separated the waiting area of the medward from the bacta chamber.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Master. The technician says I have a pulled muscle and some bruising. Nothing permanent."

Qui-Gon continued to stare through the glass at the man in the bacta tank; his face impassive as the liquid swirled around Bail Organa's body. "You seem troubled."

Obi-Wan turned to look at Qui-Gon. "Master, I have meditated on my actions. While leaving the Senator was questionable, I still feel that entering the base was a risk I had to take. Senator Organa was badly injured and needed medical attention. We had only an emergency lantern, a blaster, and a few rations." He paused for a moment then went on. "I will accept whatever correction you feel appropriate, Master, but I did what I thought was necessary."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed, "your skills with a lightsaber will gain little more from instruction. You are a fine pilot. Your studies at the Temple go well. However, you have much to learn of the Living Force and I have more than a small concern for your impulsive streak and your constant desire for my approval. You have reached an age where decision making is critical. The Trials for you, when they come, will not be a matter of knowledge or physical ability. If I felt more confident of your emotional control I might recommend you now to the Council. But I do not feel that confidence, Obi-Wan. I do not feel it because you do not."

Bowing his head in disappointment, Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh. Though the assessment hurt, he knew the truth of it and would not flinch from what it meant. "I understand, Master. I must learn patience. I know that now."

Qui-Gon studied Obi-Wan. There was a shift in the bond. In the past, he felt shame from Obi-Wan in moments such as these -- a tense and over-eager thrum of longing to please that worried him. Now, there was only placid acceptance and introspection. Perhaps his Padawan was finally growing up.

There was another matter Qui-Gon needed to clarify now. He tilted his head slightly and watched Obi-Wan's face for a reaction as he spoke. "You spent a significant amount of time in the Senator's company during this mission, Padawan."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan looked up with a questioning expression on his face.

"Is there anything regarding your relationship with him that I should know about?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I don't understand, Master. I know that you don't trust politicians. For the most part, I agree with your reasoning. However, I don't find Senator Organa to be like the others. I respect him and would like to continue contact with him now that our role in the negotiation is over. Do you disapprove of me pursuing a friendship with him?"

The bond held nothing but confusion from Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon decided to drop the topic. The Senator's actions toward Garen were obviously not the result of his Padawan's behavior. If the relationship with the Senator had escalated beyond friendship, Obi-Wan would have told him so. Qui-Gon rested a reassuring hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "No, Obi-Wan, I do not object to you pursuing a friendship. However, I do caution you to be circumspect. You know the rules. Do not become attached."

Obi-Wan flushed slightly at Qui-Gon's unexpected admonishment. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon noted the color rising to Obi-Wan's face. There might not be a relationship now, but there was attraction. Interesting. "Go and get some rest, Padawan."

"Yes, Master."

Senator Beruss perched his large body awkwardly on a stool next to Bail's bed. He smiled and said, "You certainly gave us a scare, Bail Organa."

"I apologize, Senator. I assure you that it was not intentional." Shifting in discomfort, Bail stretched his aching muscles. The bunk was hard and unyielding. "Where are we?"

"On an Illodian destroyer. We should reach Coruscant in another ten standard hours."

"What about the rest of the delegation. The treaty?"

Senator Beruss shook his head sadly. "Whoever attacked us did a thorough job. The group on the ground is all that remains of the delegation. They even took out the Trade Federation ship. The three Tanthalan Ambassadors that went to the surface are angry that they are being taken to Coruscant instead of going home. The Senate is insisting that they stay under guard on Coruscant for the duration of the inquiry as 'Honored Guests of the Republic.' Unfortunately, they only see it as strong-arm tactics. We'll have our work cut out for us if we are going to salvage anything out of the situation."

Bail was shocked at the news. If he had not made the decision to accompany the group to the surface, he would be dead now. It was strange to think that his attraction to Obi-Wan Kenobi had saved his life. "They don't know who attacked us?"

"I think Qui-Gon suspects the Commerce Guild for some reason, but the Jedi aren't talking." Senator Beruss' face went dark with frustration. "Damn Jedi! Sometimes I wonder if the galaxy wouldn't be better off without them!"

"Senator, no matter what you think of them politically, the Jedi just saved our lives." Bail's voice was stern. "I, for one, am glad to have their counsel and trust them completely."

"I mean no offence to you, Bail Organa, but every member of the Republic knows how you and your house came to power. Of course you will side with the Jedi." Senator Beruss' tone hardened as he lectured. "Perhaps, one day, you will come to understand how dangerous Force-users can be. The Republic may put forward the idea that the Jedi answer to the Senate, but those that wield the Force answer to know one. Ask yourself this: would you want to be ruled by someone that could manipulate your mind and see your future? A person that could, with the wave of a hand, throw you across a room or kill you?"

"A Jedi would never use the Force to control others in that way!" Bail protested.

"And if you believe that just because a person wears the title of Jedi that they are benevolent, you are more naïve than I thought, young man!"

The silence that followed was so complete that Bail could hear the soft bass thrum of the hyperdrive as the ship moved through space. He lay there on the bunk blinking in shock at the Senator's outburst.

"I apologize. I should not have said that. Blame my harsh words on the stubbornness of old age." Senator Beruss stood abruptly, smoothing his robes. "You know, you remind me of my grandson. He's about your age. I should like very much to introduce you to him some day."

"I would like that, Senator," Bail replied quietly. He suddenly felt overwhelmed and exhausted. "Doman, we may disagree about the Jedi, but I've learned much from watching you these last months. I hope we will be able to continue that relationship in spite of our differences."

Senator Beruss nodded. "Well, you need rest. I will have an aide call your office to schedule a meeting once we return to Coruscant. We can discuss tactics regarding the Ambassadors. Hopefully, we can salvage something from all this."

A soft chime sounded rousing Bail from his nap. He pushed himself up in the bunk, wincing as he did so. The medtech had told him his chest would continue to ache for several days as the bones finished healing and his lungs recovered. "Come in."

The door to the cabin opened and Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped into the small room. "Your Highness, we will drop out of hyperspace soon and make our final approach to Coruscant."

Bail smiled. "Thank you."

"Your father will be waiting at the landing platform."

"I see." The smile dimmed slightly. While Bail loved his father, the man was not supportive of his son's decision to represent Alderaan in the Senate. His father was of the opinion that Bail should spend his days training to take over the position of Viceroy. Inevitably, they argued about it every time they saw one another. He could hear the lecture in his head now and the though of getting one as soon as he got off the transport wasn't terribly appealing.

Obi-Wan noted the change in Bail. He wondered about it, but set those thoughts aside. Right now, he had another objective. He hadn't simply come to wake the Prince. Taking a few more steps toward the bunk, Obi-Wan ignored the nervous tension that welled up in him and finally made the offer he'd intended to make at the party. "I've been thinking, Your Highness. I know how interested you are in Galactic Law. I thought you might enjoy a tour of the Jedi Temple. We have an impressive collection of treatises in the archives and then there are the gardens and the..."

"How thoughtful! I would love a tour," Bail interrupted. Thoughts of his father fell away and he had to suppress a flush of satisfaction. He was right, they had made a connection that night on Rhen Var. "I have a condition though."

Obi-Wan frown suspiciously. Was Qui-Gon right after all? Did Bail simply see him as a servant of the Republic? "And what condition is that?"

"You must allow me to take you to lunch."

The look of suspicion was replaced by one of placid relief. "I suppose I can concede to that condition, Senator."

"I told you to call me Bail."

The pair fell into awkward silence. Obi-Wan had to force himself not to fidget. He finally changed the subject, gesturing to the standard issue Republic guard uniform hanging over a chair. "Will you need assistance with your things? I can call for someone to help you with your clothing if you like."

"No, I'll be fine."

"Well, then."

There was really nothing else to say. Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, then wordlessly turned and moved for the doorway. Bail was worried that he'd said something wrong; that the invitation had been retracted. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes?" the Padawan stopped with his hand near the palm panel and turned his head to look at Bail.

"Thank you again for your offer," he said hopefully. "I will let the intern in charge of my calendar know you will be calling about the tour. I look forward to it."

Obi-Wan simply nodded his response before he activated the door and left.

Bail knew it would take him a while to get dressed but he lingered on the bunk anyway after Obi-Wan exited, sliding down under the blanket. He took the pillow from behind his head and hugged it tightly to his chest, a huge smile spreading across his face. Suddenly every cold and frightening minute he'd spent on Rhen Var seemed worth it. Lives had been lost. The treaty might collapse. His father was sure to insist that Bail give up his Senate position and take up some mindless administrative job on Alderaan. But his heart told him quite loudly that something good had come out of it all.

Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi was something very good indeed.

fin