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A Little Game of Cat and Mouse

by The Rose (rosarocaminis@yahoo.com)

She did so enjoy a good, slow death.

Ditella rocked forward on her haunches, wrapping one tentacle around the heavy stillness in her belly, and gurgled at the vid screen. She watched through half-hooded eyes as the prey on the vid screen went down again; probably for the last time, if the quantity of blood he had shed was any indication. The Tor Cat moved in leisurely. With one swipe of her paw, she slammed the pathetic lifeform she had been hunting against one of the permasteel walls. A low moan escaped the victim and Ditella felt her pulse quicken at the sound. She glanced around at their guests. They were watching again, no longer as discouraged as they'd been during the all-too-short pursuit. For the Skitth'r, despite his species' reputation as cunning and fast, had let himself be captured way too quickly.

Ditella shifted sideways until her uppermost tentacles brushed her mate's. "Is this the best prey that your dealers can supply, my dear?" she asked in her harsh, flinty voice.

He turned to eye her, the low set of his brow displaying his own dissatisfaction. "They assured me we would like this one," he growled. He inclined more towards his own screen, his blood red skin oozing only a few precious drops of the milky fluid that she found so enticing. "He does die well, though. But for the rest --- completely insufficient." He rose and addressed the seven mated pairs seated around them. "Friends, I apologize for this less than successful Game. In the next few weeks, in time to save this laying season, I shall have a special treat for you. Please come back. I promise it will be much more stimulating."

The sound of tentacles slapping half-heartedly against scaled chests was his answer, and Ditella leaned against him, pressing her flat face into his secretions and inhaling the faint but intoxicating scent. "Surprise, dearest?" she whispered. "What surprise?"

"I have absolutely no idea, my precious," he said. "But I will figure something out."

"You know, my darling, I do remember something I heard a long time ago that might help us."

His deep-set eyes lit up with interest. "Oh? Well, come on! Don't keep me in suspense!"

"I recall hearing some of the slaves talking about the Jedi. Do you know anything about them, my husband?"

He made a choking noise in the back of his throat. "The Jedi? Are you out of your mind? You can't bring a Jedi here, especially not as prey!"

She waved two of her tentacles in the air. "Well, why in the universe not? I heard the slaves talking about how invincible the Jedi are! How powerful! Surely, a Jedi could survive for days in the arena, not just for a few hours!"

"Dearest, a Jedi would not only survive, he would escape! And kill our lovely little Tor Cat in the process. Us, too, more than likely. No. It's out of the question."

She leaned more heavily against him, pressing her bulging, too-still stomach against his chest plates. "But I want one," she whined. "And they might be the answer we've been looking for. Please?"

"No! It would be the end of us, more surely than another bad laying season!"

"But we could get just a little Jedi, couldn't we? How much trouble could a little one be?"

He sighed, a wheezing, gargling sort of sound. "Very well, my precious. I shall speak to the dealers about it. But if they won't agree to catch one for us . . ."

"If they won't agree to catch one," she took up where he left off, "then surely other dealers could be found." She squinted her eyes at him seductively, and the last of his resolve crumbled, as she had known it would. "Couldn't they?"

He encircled her in his tentacles. "Yes, my wife. Other dealers can be found, I'm certain." Then, he eased her away from him. "Come, now. Let us enjoy what is left of the evening, shall we?"

She smiled. "Of course." She turned back to her vid screen. As she had suspected, the Skitth'r had not regained his feet. He was not dead yet, however. The Tor Cat had him pinned beneath one massive paw and was using the single claw on her other front foot to slowly open his belly. A blood-curdling scream reached her, and she watched excitedly as the hapless creature writhed in the cat's grip as his bowels were oh-so-slowly extracted. Finally, the Tor Cat settled down to feed on her squirming victim. For all her enormous size, she was a delicate eater. Her keepers kept her well fed, and her saliva contained enough coagulants to keep her prey from bleeding to death despite the horrific wounds.

Yes. The Skitth'r was still writhing, and still suffering. Ditella turned the volume up to catch his satisfying screams of agony. But, eventually, like all good things, it was over. With a shuddering, burbling gasp, the Skitth'r breathed his last.

Next time, she thought. Next time, there would be a Jedi in the ring, and everything would be all right.

In the Jedi Temple, on the upper levels of the highly populated planet of Coruscant, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn did not pause in his reading as the door to his quarters opened. "Hello, Padawan," he said without looking up, aware that the fifteen-year-old had stopped in the doorway and was frowning at him. "Well, are you going to stand there dawdling all evening or are you going to come inside?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi took another single step, allowing the door to whisper shut behind him. "Master, you're supposed to be resting," he said, an audible note of accusation in his cultured voice.

"I am resting," Qui-Gon said, sweeping one hand nonchalantly to indicate his semi-prone position on the couch. He heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort from his young apprentice. Respect, he thought somewhat wearily. Must teach the boy more respect.

"In bed, Master," Obi-Wan said as he shed his robe and dropped it casually on the nearest chair. He crossed the room to stand before his Master. "You're supposed to be resting in bed." He pressed one hand against the older man's forehead, checking for fever. "If the Healers find out about this . . ."

"And just how would they find out, Padawan?" Qui-Gon rumbled, looking up finally and pegging his apprentice with a dour glare. "Unless you are planning to tell them."

Obi-Wan had the grace to look at least a little intimidated. But the next words out of his mouth belied his efforts. "I should," he said. "And I may, if you don't let me help you into bed right now."

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. "I suggest you do not try to threaten me, Obi-Wan," he growled.

The boy took a half step back out of reflex. "I'm sorry, Master. But you won't recover if you don't follow the Healer's advice. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

Force save me from a Padawan who throws my own words back at me, the Jedi thought with a sigh. But, the boy had a point. He switched off his reader and laid it aside. "Yes, Obi-Wan. That is what I'm always telling you."

The barest hint of a smile crossed the young face as Obi-Wan realized he'd actually won an argument. It faded quickly, however, as he watched his Master struggle to his feet. He was there a second later, sliding his much smaller form in under Qui-Gon's shoulder, offering his support. The older Jedi choked back the urge to chuckle.

"I believe I can make it to my room without assistance," he said. But Obi-Wan, once set on a course of action, was difficult to dissuade.

"Yes, you probably can," he said, sliding his right arm around his Master's waist for additional security. "But if you will lean on me you won't have to put so much weight on your injured leg."

Touched by the boy's concern --- if not by his overprotectiveness --- Qui-Gon did indeed let a bit of his weight settle on the slender shoulders. He felt Obi-Wan bring the Force to bear to keep from stumbling, and pushed aside a sudden swell of pride. The boy had come far in the two years they had been together.

"Here, Master," the apprentice said as he led his Master to the oversized bed. "Now, you just lie down and I'll fix us some dinner. Would you like some tea first?" he asked as the Jedi Master eased himself onto the mattress.

"Yes, Obi-Wan. Some tea would be appreciated."

Delight lit the changeable gray-green eyes for a moment before the boy contained it, and he hurried away, returning only moments later with a steaming mug of Qui-Gon's favorite in his hands. "How is your leg feeling, Master?" he asked as Qui-Gon sipped the tea. He carefully lifted his Master's bandaged left leg and slid a folded pillow under it.

"It is fine, thank you."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Good. Do you need anything else before dinner? Your reader, perhaps? Or another pillow?"

Qui-Gon waved his solicitous Padawan aside. "No, no, Obi-Wan. I'm perfectly fine." Just as I was perfectly fine on the couch, he added silently, but had the self-control not to say it aloud. "Tell me --- will I be permitted to join you at the dinner table?"

Obi-Wan blushed and he ducked his head to cover it. "I really think you should remain in bed, Master. I'll bring your dinner in here, if that's all right."

"Only if you agree to keep me company, Padawan, and tell me about your day."

The fifteen-year-old looked up, his eyes sparkling merrily again. "I should be most happy to do that, Master."

And then he was gone, and Qui-Gon sagged into the bed. The boy was truly a treasure, if a trying one, at times. Sometimes he marveled at the events that had conspired to bring them together. The Force had indeed had a plan. Of course, Master Yoda's interference hadn't hurt, either. He let his eyes drift closed to the faraway sounds of Obi-Wan puttering about in the kitchen. He didn't realize he had nodded off until he felt a gentle hand shaking his shoulder.

"Master?"

He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of his favorite stewed rice dish, and opened his eyes to see Obi-Wan hovering above him. He smiled, and saw its reflection flash across the sincere young face. "It smells wonderful, Padawan," he said, watching the smile widen. He struggled to sit up, and Obi-Wan scurried to help him, stuffing two more pillows behind his back for support. And then the boy was placing a fully loaded lap tray across him and hurriedly arranging the silverware. Qui-Gon waved him off.

"Enough fussing, Obi-Wan," he said, but he knew he was still smiling. "Sit. Eat, before your own dinner gets cold."

"Yes, Master," he muttered, sinking into the chair he had drawn over near the bed. But, even as he ate, his eyes tracked his Master's movements.

The food tasted as good as it smelled. Qui-Gon made short work of it and was soon chewing happily on the last few bites of warm bread. "Master Thalla called me today to ask if you would assist him for the next three days. It's time for the annual campout on Sirian Prime with the older crŠche children."

Obi-Wan looked up, his own meal forgotten. "I hope you told him no, Master."

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. "On the contrary, I told him I was certain you'd enjoy it. After all, we were sent away on a mission last year and you missed it. And Sirian Prime is a fascinating planet --- heavy with the Force in many areas, shut off from it almost entirely in others. You would find it intriguing."

The Padawan shook his head. "I couldn't possibly go this year!" Obi-Wan told him. "With your permission, Master, I shall call Master Thalla and offer my apologies."

Qui-Gon studied his pupil, noting how the boy had dropped his gaze and was now pushing food around on his plate distractedly. "Obi-Wan, don't you want to go?" he asked gently.

"It's not that . . ."

"Then, what is it?" Qui-Gon urged when the boy didn't continue.

Obi-Wan did look up now, his gray-green eyes meeting his Master's, but only for a second before they dropped once more. "Well, if I left who would take care of you?"

A pleasant warmth swept through the older Jedi's chest and settled around his heart. What had he ever done before this wonderful boy came into his life? He reached to lift Obi-Wan's chin. "Padawan, I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."

Obi-Wan bit his lower lip, then visibly stopped himself. He gave the slightest of nods. "Yes, I know that, Master. But you're injured! Who will fix your meals or help you to the 'fresher or nag you into resting?" This last seemed to embarrass the boy, for he blushed bright red once more and grew silent.

Qui-Gon smiled. "I'm certain I could do without your help --- difficult as it might be --- for the three days that you would be gone." He saw the boy preparing to argue with him, and raised a hand to forestall it. "I would like you to go, Padawan. You don't get to do many enjoyable things. And, you could think of it as a learning experience. All those young, inquiring minds looking to you for guidance."

Obi-Wan actually winced. "Please, Master, don't turn this into another lesson."

The Jedi Master chuckled, and moved his hand from his Padawan's chin to his shoulder, gripping it warmly. "I will not force you to go, Obi-Wan. But, would you do this for me? Please?"

Obi-Wan considered his answer for a long moment before conceding with a slight nod and one of his delightful smiles. "Yes, Master. I'll go. But only if you let me ask a few of my friends to look in on you while I'm gone."

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed, foreseeing a long string of annoyingly helpful young Padawans parading in and out of his quarters. "And just how many of your friends are we talking about?" he asked with a hint of warning in his voice.

Obi-Wan's grin widened. "Oh, not quite enough to drive you crazy, Master," he said, rising and taking Qui-Gon's now empty meal tray. "Mainly only Bant, and Reeft, if he's still here. And maybe Garen Muln. Garen's a great cook, Master, and I could tell him some of your favorite foods and he could ---"

"Now, now, Obi-Wan, let's not get carried away." Qui-Gon paused for a deep breath, eyeing the expectant boy. "Very well. You may ask your friends to drop in from time to time if it will make you feel better." He raised his hand to stop the outburst he could see coming. "However, I will not have them hovering, is that clear?"

"Yes, Master!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. He leaned forward unexpectedly and threw his arms around his Master, drawing him into a fierce hug. "Thank you, Master! Promise you'll call me if you need anything. I'll only be a few hours away, and I can easily come back should you need me."

"I'll be fine, Padawan," he said, disengaging the boy. He felt a wave of embarrassment from Obi-Wan at the liberty he had taken, and he reached to ruffle the spiky hair to soothe it away. "And I want you to promise to have a good time and not spend all your time worrying about your poor old, decrepit Master."

A sly grin crossed the boy's face briefly. "You're hardly old, Master. A bit decrepit at the moment, perhaps, but hardly old."

Qui-Gon threw a pillow at him, which Obi-Wan easily ducked, giggling. "Go on and pack. Master Thalla will call for you first thing in the morning."

"Yes, Master."

"And, Obi-Wan? Have fun."

"I'll certainly try, Master." Qui-Gon opened his mouth to correct him, and Obi-Wan flashed him an embarrassed smile. "I know, Master," he said. "Do, or do not. There is no try." Then he scurried out of the room.

Qui-Gon watched as his apprentice hurried from the room. As he settled back into bed, he realized yet again how very blessed he was to have this wonderful, caring boy in his life. He made a mental note to make certain Obi-Wan knew that, just as soon as the boy got back from his three-day excursion. Yes. He would make certain the boy knew just how deeply he was loved.

Slightly less than forty eight hours later, on the planet Sirian Prime, Obi-Wan and Shori Camira were herding a small group of nine and ten year olds back toward camp after a nature hike. Obi-Wan stopped when he heard Shori call his name.

"What's wrong?" he asked, easily reading the exasperation on her face.

"It's that sneaky little Isorian boy again," she said.

"Ni-Tal?" he asked, looking around for the child in question. "Where is he?"

"That's just it --- I have no idea. He was right behind me not two minutes ago. But when I turned around, he was gone."

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, but could find no trace of the boy. He sighed. "He probably went back to explore that Force-blocked clearing we found. I had to practically drag him out of there when we were ready to leave."

Shori's frown deepened. "Well, I'd better go find him, I suppose."

"We'll both go," Obi-Wan said. He glanced behind him. The group they had been in charge of was even now entering the camp and being greeted by Master Thalla. "Come on. If we hurry we'll be back in time for dinner."

They turned as one and started back down the path. Back into the woods they went, past a pristine lake. A flock of bright yellow waterfowl rose up from it, honking loudly, then settled back down on the water as soon as the Padawans had passed. Finally, Obi-Wan and Shori stepped into the shadowed clearing they had found earlier that morning --- and their Force senses went almost completely dead.

"Ni-Tal!" Obi-Wan shouted, not seeing the child "Come on out! This is no time to be playing games." There was no answer, and Obi-Wan heaved a massive sigh. "Well, Shori, let's split up and look for him."

"May I kill him when I find him?" the Padawan, nearly two years younger than Obi-Wan, asked in a voice that was little more than a growl. It sounded wrong coming from such a pretty, delicate-looking girl.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "That's hardly the Jedi way," he pointed out. "Besides, if I find him first, I'll kill him!"

Laughing, they set out to find the missing boy and quickly lost sight of each other amid the tall grasses and huge boulders that littered the clearing. A few minutes later, Obi-Wan's sharp hearing caught the sound of a surprised cry, quickly cut off, and then what sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the spongy ground. Maybe Shori had found Ni-Tal and killed him after all!

"Shori?" he called. "Was that you?"

Only silence answered him. Turning, he headed toward the opposite side of the clearing to investigate. He had gotten only about halfway there when a musty-smelling old blanket was thrown over his head and a weight greater than his own bore him to the ground. He grunted as the air was driven from his lungs, and instinctively reached out to the Force. But here, in this mostly Force-blocked clearing, it eluded him. He sent out an urgent call to Qui-Gon, not knowing if it would reach him. // Master! //

Hands were grabbing at him now, trying to wrestle his arms behind his back. And something uncomfortably heavy and stiff was being buckled around his neck. Suddenly, what small piece of the Force he had been able to sense was cut off with the suddenness of a switch being thrown. A Force-inhibitor!

"No!" he screamed, struggling in earnest. Something hard connected sharply with the back of his head, and he pitched forward into darkness.

Qui-Gon was jarred from a deep meditation by a terrifying mental cry of alarm from his Padawan. He straightened abruptly, his eyes snapping open. "Obi-Wan!" he said out loud, and then he reached out with the Force, seeking the boy's mind.

Nothing.

Fear clutched at his heart like the icy fist of death. He rose and made his way to the com unit as quickly as his injured leg would allow. "Master Yoda!" he said when the image of the diminutive Jedi Master appeared on his screen. "I fear something terrible has happened . . ." He fell silent, his horror growing as he watched Yoda's ears droop more and more until they lay flat against his head.

"Felt it too, I did," Yoda said, his tone unusually gentle. "Contacted Master Thalla, I did. Disappeared, your Padawan has. Missing are both Obi-Wan and Shori Camira, Master Thalla's Padawan. Kidnapped, he believes."

Qui-Gon sank down a bit too hastily into the desk chair, rapping his sore shin on the leg of the desk. He scarcely noticed the pain. "Kidnapped," he echoed. The word kept repeating itself over and over in his head. Kidnapped! He straightened suddenly and moved as if to rise. "I will go at once . . ."

"No use it would be," Yoda told him, halting him in mid-move. "No longer on the planet they are. This, Master Thalla assures me."

"But, how can he know that? A search must be started at once! Obi-Wan and Padawan Camira must be found!""

"Calm yourself, Qui-Gon!" Yoda demanded, banging his gimer stick on the floor for emphasis. Qui-Gon obeyed out of force of habit. "Searching they are now. But heard a departing ship, Thalla did. Believes, he does, that the children were aboard it. Could not reach his Padawan through their link. Unconscious, or Force-inhibited, he feels the children were."

Qui-Gon struggled for Jedi calm. He must clear his head of this all-encompassing fear or he would stand no chance of helping Obi-Wan. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. On the screen, Yoda nodded his head in approval. "How will we ever find them?" he asked when he felt he had himself once more under control. "They could be anywhere."

"See the ship Thalla did not," Yoda told him. "But hear it clearly, he did. Unusual signature it had, he says. Even now, searching through data banks is he, seeking a ship with the same signature. When find one he does, a starting place we will have."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Consider that now, we will not," Yoda said in a firm voice. "Find the children we will. Promise you this, I do. To steal Jedi Padawans, a terrible crime this is. Go unpunished it will not. Believe this, you must."

Qui-Gon forced himself to nod. "I will try, my Master." Yoda, for once, didn't bother to correct him.

Obi-Wan awoke to a pounding behind his eyes and a growing sense of dread. He lay perfectly still, feigning unconsciousness, but extended his senses to take stock. The first thing he noticed was that the Force-inhibiting collar was gone.

He sucked in a greedy, relieved breath. He reached out a bit further, but felt Shori's presence nearby, apparently unharmed and still unconscious. He could sense other minds --- not all of them sentient --- in the immediate vicinity, but could not pinpoint their locations. Cautiously, he opened his eyes.

He was in a stonewalled room, scarcely more than two meters across in either direction. There was no door that he could see, and no windows. Light streamed in from overhead. Craning his neck, he looked up. The walls extended a good three stories above him. Too high for even a Force assisted jump. He had no doubt that his Master could have made it, but it was well beyond his own skills.

At the thought of his Master, he turned inward, reaching out with his mind. // Master? // he sent, needing to feel the reassuring presence of the older Jedi. But only silence answered him. He tried again, a bit desperately. // Master! Please! I need you! // After a few moments, he gave up. Either this stone room was shielded somehow or the distances were simply too great. He had a vague memory of being bound hand and foot, the two restraints linked together behind his back, and of the discomfort of being bent backwards as a result. He thought he had drifted in and out of consciousness during what felt like a very long space flight. He could be anywhere by now, even halfway across the galaxy. Despair gripped him. His Master might never find him if he were indeed that far from Coruscant! With difficulty, he forced the fear from his mind and released it into the Force.

He was a Jedi. He would not let fear rule him.

Carefully, he scooted back to lean against one cold wall, grateful that the too-tight binders had been removed. He shivered, and only then noticed that his Jedi apparel had been removed, leaving him naked except for his undershorts. He deeply regretted the loss of his lightsaber. Without it, he felt defenseless, although he knew in his heart that that wasn't the case. He had been trained to be resourceful. And there were always solutions other than fighting.

He tensed suddenly as a stirring in the Force set his nerves to tingling. Something was happening, or about to happen. He got to his feet and moved to the center of the room, turning slowly in place until he faced in the direction from which he felt the threat originated. Then, as if by magic, the wall in front of him simple evaporated.

In its place was a wide passageway. It curved sharply just a few meters out, obscuring whatever might be beyond the curve. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, his nose wrinkling at the strong animal stench in the air, and settled his face into what he hoped was a perfect picture of Jedi serenity. Whatever was out there, he would face it boldly, just as his Master had taught him. But his hard-earned calmness nearly left him a moment later. For no sooner had he stepped out of the cell in which he had been held than the wall reappeared behind him, cutting off any chance of retreat.

So be it, he told himself. Whatever my destiny is, it lies ahead of me. Settling his shoulders, he moved forward.

"Oh, Lhesten! This is just perfect!" Ditella exclaimed as she rocked closer to the vid screen. All around her, their guests were doing the same. "He's just TOO cute, isn't he? Such a brave young lad! And trying so hard to be grown up. And you say that these Jedi have special powers?"

"That's what I'm told, my precious," her spouse told her. "The dealers who captured the Jedi children said that they didn't dare bring an adult. Fully trained, a Jedi would be able to wring our lovely little Tor Cat's neck without even touching it! But even these children are dangerous, they say. Even that tiny little female! Why, they had to place them in special restraint collars just to keep them prisoner!"

Ditella R'ta clapped her hands together excitedly. "Did you hear that, everyone?" she asked the guests, who all seemed to be speaking at once. "Special powers!"

"But, we're in no danger ourselves, I assume," a large male named Fonakas asked. His wife sat beside him, tentacles slowly stroking her huge, gravid belly.

"Oh, no, no, no!" Lhesten assured him. "This lovely boy is only partially trained, you see. Enough to put on a good show, I'm sure. But he is no threat to us."

"Excellent," Fonakas replied, turning to the other mated pairs in attendance. "See? I told you Lhesten would not disappoint us!"

There were mumbled agreements all around, and Ditella slid one of her tentacles around her husband's hunched back, squeezing it firmly. "This will surely be our most successful Game ever, don't you think?"

"I certainly hope so, my dear." Lhesten shifted back onto his haunches, then continued under his breath, "Especially seeing how much these two cost me." He glanced at Ditella to see if she had overheard, but she had already turned her attention back to the other pairs.

"Everyone, pay close attention now. Our young Jedi is about to get his first look at the Tor Cat." Tentacles resonated against scaled chests and she leaned against Lhesten's bulk contentedly. "Thank you," she gurgled, pressing her flat face against him.

Three of his tentacles encircled her, tickling her swollen belly. "Just enjoy the party, dearest."

Obi-Wan sensed some great danger just ahead. Moving cautiously, he crept around the next curve in the corridor, pressing himself up against the cold stone wall. What he saw there made his breath catch in his chest.

He'd never seen a creature like it before. As big as a full-grown rancor, it was obviously a feline of some sort, with a relatively long snout and sharply pointed ears that sported tufts of darker fur. It was crouched against the wall in a much larger room.

A vast room, in fact, and laid out in some sort of weird obstacle course. There were large metal cylinders lying here and there along the stone floor, each several meters long, and woven wire boxes big enough to hold a speeder. Knotted ropes hung suspended from the ceiling in places. Also hanging from the ceiling were vid cameras, all of them trained on him. So, this was some sick form of entertainment, was it?

Across the room was a man-made pool, complete with fountain, and the sight of it made Obi-Wan's mouth water. He had not realized how thirsty he was until that moment. He wanted more than anything to race over there and drink his fill, but there was still the problem of the huge feline.

Looking up, he saw the creature watching him, its eyes a deeper shade of purple than the pale violet that streaked its coat. As he watched, the animal moved, slowly settling into a crouch, the tip of its long tail twitching very slightly.

Uh oh. I think it's getting ready to pounce. Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him and prepared himself to move. When the attack came, he was ready. Without so much as a flick of a whisker's warning, the feline sprang. Obi-Wan held his position until the last possible second, then used his training to throw himself into the air. He somersaulted just as he had been taught, and landed several meters behind the beast. But, with a quickness he wouldn't have believed possible for something its size, the feline spun in place and swatted at him with a massive, one-clawed paw.

He didn't duck quickly enough. The paw broadsided him, the single, razor-sharp claw carving a thin furrow across his chest. He felt blood welling from the cut even as the blow sent him tumbling. But he turned the movement to his advantage and rolled inside one of the hollow cylinders. Stumbling to his feet, he hurried to the center of it, favoring the ferocious stinging in his side, and hoping he was far enough from either end to keep the feline from reaching in with a paw and dragging him out.

"First blood! First blood!" one of the guests gurgled excitedly. Around her, the other guests were cheering the predator on and chatting excitedly amongst themselves.

"Oh, husband," Ditella said, reaching over to stroke a tentacle tip through the excretions that were flowing more thickly by the moment from his skin. "Isn't it wonderful to see our guests enjoying themselves again?"

"Yes, dearest, it is." He leaned closer to the vid screen, squinting his eyes. "But now he's gone into hiding, it would seem."

Ditella waved off the notion as if it were of no importance. "Not to worry, my love. Our little Tor Cat will urge him out soon enough."

From the relative safety of the inside of the cylinder, Obi-Wan took a moment to examine his wound. It was not deep, and scarcely bleeding, but it burned like fire. He glanced warily at the dark purple eye that was pressed up against the end of the tunnel in which he hid. The pupil had dilated, leaving the eyeball almost black. But at least the feline was making no attempt yet to reach him. Closing his eyes, he reached for the Force and concentrated on healing the gash.

Five minutes later, feeling much improved, he glanced again to his left. The huge feline was gone. He could still sense her nearby, however, and decided she was probably trying to lure him into a false sense of security so that he would come out. Still, he couldn't stay in here all day . . .

Cautiously, he stood and made his way to the end of the cylinder that was furthest from where the cat lay in waiting. He had to formulate a plan if he were to survive. And, in order to do that, he would have to get a better look at the layout of the room. There had to be a way out. He just had to find it.

He halted near the end of the metal tube and crouched down, peering outside. Just a few meters away was one of those odd woven wire baskets. Now that he was closer, he realized that the wires were spaced far enough apart to allow him to crawl between them. Once inside, there would be no way for something as large as the cat's paw to reach him. It might be a good location from which to scan the rest of the area. He stood up, preparing to move.

With alarming speed and no warning whatsoever, the feline predator slammed her paw against the opening just in front of him. Her paw wouldn't fit through it, but her long single claw did, and it snagged the fabric of his briefs. Quicker that thought, he was dragged outside and hauled high into the air, swinging wildly from her grip. And his destination seemed to be the cat's mouth.

Pushing aside panic, he reached out with the Force. With a thrust of one hand, he sent a wave of power straight into the animal's sensitive nose. With a yowl of surprise, she flipped her paw, shaking her attacker free and sending him flying through the air.

Obi-Wan felt himself flipping end over end until he could hardly tell which way was up. But, again, the Force saved him. "I'll never complain about all those katas again," he told himself when he landed, only slightly off balance, nearly halfway across the huge room. His warning sense flickered, and he threw himself to the side just as the feline pounced, trying to pin her prey to the floor. He was up and running before she had time to wonder where he had gone. He dived headfirst into another of the metal cylinders and crawled quickly to the center. Here, he paused to catch his breath, secure in the knowledge that his pursuer could not reach in this far and pull him out.

"He's no longer bleeding!" an enormous female said, waving at her vid screen. She turned to her hosts. "How is it that he is no longer bleeding?"

"It's one of the powers we were telling you about," Lhesten explained. "The ability to self heal." He heard the joyful chattering turn more somber as the quests considered his words. He wriggled his upper tentacles to forestall their speculations. "Never fear, my friends. He will not be able to save himself from serious injury. Healing something major would take him a long time, I am told. And our dear Tor Cat isn't likely to give him that long, now is she?"

Mace Windu and Yoda watched as Qui-Gon paced back and forth across the Council Chamber, limping with each tense step. The three of them had been here for nearly an hour already, awaiting word from Master Thalla.

Finally, the dark-skinned Council member could take it no longer. "Qui-Gon, for Sith's sake, would you sit down! You're driving me crazy!"

Qui-Gon spun on him, fire in his eyes. "My Padawan has been taken, Mace!" he snarled. "Do you expect me to sit here calmly?"

"Well, wearing a hole in the floor isn't doing any good, now is it?" Windu snapped back at him. Then, both fell silent as Yoda pounded his gimer stick sharply on the floor.

"Enough! Pointless this bickering is!" he said. He aimed the end of the stick at his former apprentice. "You," he told Qui-Gon, "calm yourself you must! And, you ---" He pointed at Mace Windu. "Call Thalla again you should! Answers we must have soon, if hope to rescue the children we do."

Grudgingly, Qui-Gon dropped into a nearby chair. He watched as Mace strode to the comm unit again and dialed up Sirian Prime. Master Thalla's face appeared a moment later, looking as stressed as Qui-Gon felt. For he, too, had a missing Padawan.

"I think I found it!" Thalla said. Qui-Gon got to his feet at once, Yoda's orders forgotten, and he hobbled to stand beside Mace. "I think it was a Glitorian Light Freighter."

"Glitorian," Qui-Gon echoed, his mind furiously reviewing what little he knew about the race. Something sparked in his memory, and he opened his mouth to say it, but Yoda beat him to it.

"A slavers' ship, it was," the wizened green Jedi Master said, his eyes half closed; an expression Qui-Gon had come to know usually meant that he was reading something through the Force. "Heard I have that new slaver activity has been reported in the Tabar system. Taken there, the children may have been."

Mace Windu frowned. "Tabar? Why would anyone come this far to take slaves back to Tabar? There are thousands of planets closer to them!"

"Not if they wanted Jedi," Qui-Gon said, his tone dark and foreboding. He looked down to meet Yoda's eyes.

Yoda was nodding. "Sinister their purpose is," he said, his eyes still hooded. "Find our Padawans quickly, we must, if save them we will."

Qui-Gon was already heading for the door, moving as quickly as his throbbing leg would allow. "Mace! Get me a transport!" he called over his shoulder. "I'll leave at once!"

"Help he will need," Yoda said quietly as he watched the tall Jedi disappear through the doors.

Mace Windu nodded. "I'll arrange it." He glanced at Yoda, and seemed to pause before asking his next question. "Tabar is a long way. Assuming the children are there, will we reach them in time?"

Yoda did not answer, but the tips of his ears slowly began to droop. "Hmmmph," he said as he struggled to his feet. Leaning heavily on his gimer stick, he followed his former Padawan out the door.

He felt rather than heard the feline approach. As long as I stay away from the ends of the cylinder, Obi-Wan told himself, she won't be able to reach me. But he didn't realize that the Tor Cat was well used to prey hiding in the long metal tunnels, and she had many ways of getting them out. This particular little morsel was annoying her. Not only had it so far been more illusive than the other prey she had encountered, but it had actually struck her somehow, although her predator's brain didn't understand just how. So, she moved up to the end of the cylinder, not bothering to move all that silently, and hooked one of her long, curved claws into the open end. With a snap of her foot, she jerked it into the air, trying to tumble the prey out the other end.

Obi-Wan had not been expecting the move. But with his superb Jedi reflexes, he spread his arms and legs, pressing against the cylinder's walls with hands and feet even as he began to slide downward. This stopped his descent. He held on, grimly, as the cat shook the tube. Somehow, he managed to hold on even when it slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor, although the echoing metallic clang as it struck the stone floor nearly deafened him. The cat's nose appeared at the opposite end, sniffing. Obviously, it was wondering why its victim hadn't fallen out.

"Shoo!" he shouted, employing the Force to try to drive her away. Her nose disappeared from the opening. Then, she struck the side of the cylinder with her paw, her massive strength sending it rolling and tumbling away. Once again, Obi-Wan braced himself inside the tube as he was rolled over and over. He grew dizzy and bile rose in his throat, nearly choking him. He fought it down, holding on for dear life. His efforts were cut short a moment later when the rolling tube crashed up against one of the room's walls with another ear-splitting clang.

Obi-Wan fell to his knees, fighting his spinning head. But he forced himself to his feet as he sensed the cat approaching. At the furthest end of the tunnel he could see one of the wire boxes. As quickly as he could, he raced toward it, throwing himself out the end of the cylinder. Hastily, he forced his way through an opening in the woven wire, losing a little skin in the process. To his surprise, he was within a few meters of the pool. A plan formed in his head.

He heard a snarl behind him, but before the cat could strike he crawled out the other side of the woven wire box and sprinted with enhanced Jedi speed to the pool's edge. Leaping off the side, he knifed into the water at a shallow angle, and began to swim toward the fountain in the center. He reached it just as the cat, in a long, athletic leap, landed on the pool's edge and sank into a tense crouch. Drawing a long breath into his lungs, Obi-Wan dived.

"What is he doing?" Ditella asked as the boy disappeared from sight. Around her, the guests were squabbling amongst themselves. A few, she noticed, seemed to be placing wagers on how long the young Jedi would last.

"I don't believe they can breathe under water," Lhesten told her, his breathing coming faster as the thrill of the chase excited him.

Ditella leaned closer to her mate, the tip of one tentacle reaching up to dip hungrily into his excretions, much thicker now that his bloodlust was being satisfied. She could almost feel the young in her belly growing stronger as the hormones she was absorbing went straight to her eggs. Her voice dropped to a hiss. "Then, what is he doing?"

Lhesten rocked back onto his haunches. "I have absolutely no idea, my dearest. I have absolutely no idea."

Just beneath the surface of the man-made pool, Obi-Wan found the pipe that fed water into the fountain. He had hoped it would be large enough to swim through, assuming he could find a way inside it, and that it would lead him outside to wherever this water originated. But, he discovered that the pipe was covered with a thick wire grid. Even if he'd had his lightsaber --- and if he could have made it work underwater --- the pipe was much too narrow for him to fit through.

Not one to let a small setback upset him, he remained underwater, hopefully out of the cat's sight, and swam strongly towards the pool's opposite side. Just before he reached it, he ran out of air and had to surface for a quick breath. He dived back in just as quickly.

The cat had gotten there first!

Her claw tore a gash along his left cheek as he reversed direction with the agility of an eel. The claw snatched at him again, sliding under one kicking leg and lifting him nearly out of the water. A gasp he couldn't prevent used up most of what little air he had managed to drag into his lungs. By the time he reached the fountain again, his lungs were threatening to burst. He broke to the surface under the fountain's spray, gasping and light-headed. Through the curtain of water, he could see the cat's eyes watching him. She sank again into a crouch, ready to spring into action.

"Master," he whispered, desperately wishing the older Jedi were here. "I could sure use some help right about now."

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Qui-Gon demanded as he leaned low over the pilot's shoulder.

"Sorry, Master Jinn," the short insectoid being said. "The ship's giving us all she's got."

Hands settled on Qui-Gon's shoulders and dragged him away from the command console. "Qui-Gon, give him a little breathing space, will you? He's getting us there as fast as he can."

Qui-Gon turned to shoot a challenging glare at Mace Windu, but the Councilman refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he pushed his long-time friend ahead of him into the passenger compartment. Here, two Jedi Knights, Quavar and Tee-su Galgam, sat watching him.

"He's right, Master Jinn," Tee-su said, gesturing with two of his four hands toward a nearby sleep couch. "And you should really try to rest while you can. Once we reach the Tabar system, we may have to move very quickly."

But Qui-Gon couldn't bear to sit and do nothing, not while who-knew-what was happening to his Padawan. His frown deepened and he began to pace. "We don't even know if they were taken to Tabar," he growled. "We're not even certain that it was Glitorian slavers who kidnapped them!"

"And worrying about it won't help us know any sooner," Mace pointed out in that maddeningly calm manner of his. He watched Qui-Gon limp back and forth across the small room. "Qui-Gon, if you don't sit down, I'm going to order these two Knights to throw you into a chair and tie you to it!"

Qui-Gon halted in mid-stride and spun to glare at the Councilman. But his attempt to look intimidating failed miserably as his injured leg gave out on him. He pitched forward. Only Tee-su's quick reflexes kept him from crashing to the floor. Mace and Quavar were at his side immediately.

"Put him on that couch," Windu ordered, and the two young Knights picked Qui-Gon up between them and deposited him on the soft, padded surface. Mace stood over him and aimed a threatening finger at his face. "Now, are you going to stay there and rest? Or do I have to sit on you?"

Qui-Gon frowned at him, but remained where he was. Truth be told, his leg was throbbing unmercifully, and he really didn't believe it would hold him any longer. If he was to be of any help to Obi-Wan, he had some healing to do. "Fine," he said finally. "I'll rest. But I want to be called immediately when we reach Tabar."

"Of course," Mace assured him. "Now, sleep! Or, better yet, put yourself in a healing trance! But, either way, don't you dare move from there!"

Qui-Gon forced himself to relax. He tried, for the hundredth time, to reach out through the Force to touch his Padawan's mind. Again, he met with failure. Either too much distance still separated them or --- He shook his head sharply. No. He refused to consider the alternative. Obi-Wan was fine. And they would find him soon. As he sank into a healing meditation, he could only hope that it would be soon enough.

Obi-Wan wished the water in the man-made pool were deeper. If it were, perhaps it would act as a greater deterrent to the huge cat. His only hope now rested with the amount of water the fountain was spewing out. Cats normally hated getting wet. Perhaps the fountain's spray would keep the beast away from him.

Even so, he knew he couldn't remain here indefinitely. His only hope of survival lay in finding a way out of this room. And he still had to find Shori. But there was no chance of that happening unless he could somehow get past his pursuer. She still sat on the edge of the stone bank, her tail twitching from side to side impatiently. Her purple eyes were locked on her prey, unblinking. Setting a portion of his mind to keep track of her whereabouts, Obi-Wan let his gaze sweep slowly around the gigantic room, desperate for an idea.

Then, he saw it. Set high in one of the walls was what looked like a small doorway; possibly a feeding hatch for the cat. It was closed, but the upper corner stood out a little way from the wall. If he could reach it, he might be able to force it open and escape. But, how to get there . . .

He looked up. Hanging down from the ceiling, just past where the pool ended, was one of the long knotted ropes, its end nearly touching the stone floor. If he could reach it ahead of the cat, and use the Force to get it swinging, he just might be able to jump from there to the small doorway.

He had no illusions that it would be easy, or even that it was possible at all. He only knew that he had to try.

He shoved his face under the spray, swallowing down a few mouthfuls of the cold water and letting it wash the dried blood from the stinging cut on his face. Seeing his movement, the lavender striped cat went back into a crouch, her muscles tensing as she readied herself to spring. Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. With lightening speed, the beast launched herself toward him. Using the power of the Force, he redirected the water pouring from the fountain and sent it straight into her face. With a startled snarl, she reversed directions in mid-air, touching down only briefly with two feet. A single long leap carried her back onto the bank, but Obi-Wan was already swimming toward the opposite shore. He scrambled out of the water and leaped for the rope. He knew he had only seconds before the cat recovered from the shock and came after him. Summoning the Force again, he pushed!

The trajectory was a little off, but the swinging rope carried him high enough that he thought he could make it. Saying a silent prayer, he released his grip and reached toward the fast-approaching wall.

The force of the impact nearly knocked him unconscious. But, somehow, his fingertips locked over the open edge of the doorway. When his full weight came down on it, the door dropped open with a loud creak. Feeling his fingertip grip slipping, he curled himself into a ball and threw himself wildly forward. Before he even had time to draw a breath, he was tumbling through the opening and into darkness.

Lhesten and Ditella R'ta rose hurriedly. All around them, their guests were leaping up as well, afraid of what this escape would mean. Would the boy try to kill them? Would he seek revenge? Just how dangerous were these Jedi, anyway?

Lhesten, who had slammed one tentacle down on the security alarm at the moment of the young Jedi's escape, tried to calm everyone. "Please, please, have no fear!" he said placatingly. "My security officers will apprehend the prey! No one will be harmed!"

"Except that young Jedi," his wife growled. "When he's captured, we'll see how quickly he can move with one of his legs removed at the hip!" She and Lhesten exchanged a grim look. Nothing like this had ever happened to them before. Bringing the Jedi here was beginning to look like a very bad idea after all.

Obi-Wan landed on his back, hard enough that he saw stars. His breath was driven from his lungs and for a moment all he could do was lie there gasping. Around him, the air was filled with the stench of confined animals and the sounds of their rustling movements. Then, the lighting came up in the room as the sensors took note of his presence.

"Obi-Wan!"

That was Shori's voice! Obi-Wan struggled up, holding on tight to his precarious balance, and looked around him. Cages lined the walls, most of them filled with frightened animals. But, in the last one huddled Shori Camira. Her pretty face was dirty and tear-streaked, and a dark bruise marked one temple, but her blue eyes were alight.

"Thank the Force!" she gasped. "Get me out of here! They're going to feed me to some sort of monster!"

"I know," Obi-Wan said, looking around for the keys to her cage. He found them finally, and hurried over to release her. "It's some sort of sick game for whoever owns this place. I barely escaped their "pet" with my skin intact."

"Not quite intact," she said as she slipped gratefully out of the cage and stood looking up at him. "You're bleeding."

Instinctively, he reached to touch his still-throbbing cheek. The cut had swollen and was threatening to close one eye. But Shori was shaking her head.

"Not there," she said. "Here." And she brushed her fingers against the back of his head.

"Owww!" Obi-Wan yelped, flinching away from her. Now that his attention had been drawn to it, he realized that his head really did hurt. He must have struck it when he landed. But there was no time to worry about it now. Shori was apparently thinking the same thing.

"We've got to get out of here, fast!"

"Right." Even as the younger Padawan made her way to the room's only door, Obi-Wan glanced around at the other cages. Their occupants cowered away from him. He could feel their terror through the Force, and their misery. Without a second thought, he began unlocking and opening the doors to their cages.

"What the Sith are you doing?" Shori yelled.

"I'm not leaving these poor creatures to suffer the same fate," he told her, not slowing in his work. "Besides, them running around loose will add to the confusion and possibly give us a better chance of escaping."

Shori gave a brief nod and cracked open the door, peering out into the corridor. "The alarm lights are flashing," she warned. "We don't have much time."

"I'm finished here," Obi-Wan said as the last door swung open. Most of the animals had already fled their cages and were roaming around the room. Before he could stop it, one long-legged antelope-like creature leaped unhesitatingly out the hatchway through which Obi-Wan had entered. He heard its cry of alarm as it fell toward the stone floor of the arena, then the answering snarl of the cat who probably caught it before it hit. The hapless antelope's cry rose in pitch as it was torn apart. Obi-Wan sprinted to join Shori. "Let's go!" he said, and he led the way out into the corridor.

"I wish we knew where they had put our weapons!" Obi-Wan said as they raced toward the stairs visible at the end of the hallway.

"I know!" Shori told him as she ran along at his elbow. "I was conscious when they brought me up here. We passed through some sort of ballroom on the first level and I saw our weapons there, hanging like trophies on the wall!"

"Can you find your way back there?" he asked her as they started to descend the stairs.

"No problem!" Then she halted, catching a Obi-Wan's arm and dragging him to a stop as well. "Um, problem," she said, her eyes wide. "Trouble's coming!"

Obi-Wan sensed it, too; several people were rushing up the winding stairs somewhere below them. "Up!" he hissed, shoving her ahead of him. They reached the upper level again and raced the opposite way down the corridor. The animals he had released were everywhere, running and leaping and bleating in fear. The young Jedi's dodged them, pausing only long enough to shoo them in the direction of the stairs. With any luck, their presence would slow down their pursuers.

"Where are we going?" Shori asked.

"I have no idea," Obi-Wan told her. "But we've got to find another way down to the first level."

"Will that do?" she asked, pointing ahead of them at what looked like a laundry chute. They skidded to a halt in front of it and Obi-Wan jerked open the door.

"It'll do just fine," he told her. "Come on. You first." He lifted her so she could slide feet first into the narrow, downward sloping shaft. "Use the Force to slow your landing," he said. "And then, get out of the way fast. I'll be right behind you."

With a nod, she was sliding quickly out of sight. Obi-Wan waited for no more than a few heartbeats before following her. It was a tight fit. His shoulders rubbed against the sides, and he skinned an elbow as it banged into a rough seam. But he very quickly reached the lowest level and dropped out into a bin full of dirty soiled straw. A hand appeared near his face and he reached out for it, letting Shori help him pull himself out. He dropped feet first to the floor, and swayed.

"Are you all right?" Shori asked, eyeing him critically.

Obi-Wan nodded, then regretted it as his head began to pound unmercifully. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought," he said. But Shori was shaking her head.

"I don't think it's from hitting your head." She reached up with one delicate hand and touched his swollen cheek. She jerked it away just as quickly. "Obi-Wan, the side of your face is as hot as fire! What did you cut yourself on?"

He reached up gingerly to feel for himself, and winced. "That huge cat of theirs scratched me," he explained.

"Well, it must have a toxin or something in its claws, because you're getting sick! Either that, or that wound is infected already."

"Either way, we don't have time now to worry about it." He glanced around, moving slowly when he found his balance was still off. "Is this the first level, you think?"

He sensed the girl reach out for the Force, her eyes half closing. "No. I think we're one floor below ground." Her blue eyes searched the room. "There," she said, pointing at a nearby staircase.

"Good," Obi-Wan said as he made his way there. Shori, he noticed, stayed at his side, ready to help him should he need it. "With any luck, they still think we're upstairs. Let's try to get our weapons and get out of here before they figure out that we're not."

"And then what?" Shori asked, and for the first time he heard a hint of a tremor in her voice. It startled him, until he remembered that she was just barely thirteen years old. No wonder she was frightened. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder as they climbed the stairs.

"And then we get out of here. They're bound to have a landing strip or a spaceport nearby. We'll find a comm and call our Masters. If we have to, we'll steal a ship and leave the planet."

"But we have no idea where in the universe we are!"

"I know. But, the ship will have a nav-computer. That'll tell us something. Besides, almost anyplace would be better than here."

They fell silent as they reached the closed door at the top of the stairs. Obi-Wan stretched out with the Force, but could sense no one around. Cautiously, he opened the door and the two of them slipped out into a grandly decorated ballroom. "There!" Shori said, pointing to a wall nearby. There, amongst a large group of other weapons, hung Obi-Wan's lightsaber and Shori's vibroblade.

"I wish I'd finished my lightsaber before I left," she said in a subdued tone as she eyed her small knife.

He grinned. "Are you kidding? I've seen you use that thing! You're as good with a vibroblade as anyone I ever saw!"

She flashed him a sudden grin, then sobered as the sound of running feet reached them. Silently, Obi-Wan motioned for her to follow. Within a few minutes, they left the huge house and slipped unseen into the woods nearby.

Qui-Gon was dreaming. In his dream, his Padawan was being tortured. Strung up by both wrists from a high ceiling beam, the boy's back was criss-crossed with welts from the lash that was still being applied. With a start, he awakened, sitting straight up on the sleep couch. He sat very still, as if listening.

"Master Jinn?" Knight Quavar said, watching him. "Are you all right?"

"Obi-Wan," the older Jedi breathed. Suddenly, all eyes in the room were on him. He got to his feet, barely noticing the ache of his healing leg. "It's Obi-Wan!" he said much more loudly. Suddenly, Mace Windu was beside him.

"Do you know where he is?" he asked.

Qui-Gon nodded, relief flooding his heart. "Yes! The third planet in the Tabar system! But we must hurry! He and Shori are in great danger!"

Mace left him to go to the cockpit, and Knight Tee-su stepped up to touch his elbow. "We're still a ways from Tabar, Master Jinn. Let me fix you something to eat."

Qui-Gon nodded absently, not really paying attention. For his mind was reaching out to Obi-Wan across the distance. // Obi-Wan? Can you hear me, Padawan? //

"Master?" Obi-Wan said aloud, his steps faltering as he heard the faint call through the Force. // Master? // he sent. Relief nearly overwhelmed him as a comforting presence flooded his mind.

// Yes, Obi-Wan! We're coming for you! Are you and Shori all right? //

Obi-Wan closed his eyes momentarily against the pounding between his temples. // We're fine, Master. We were held prisoner, but we've escaped. We were trying to reach a comm unit to contact you. //

// Find somewhere safe and hole up. We are still several hours away. //

// Yes, Master, // Obi-Wan replied. He felt Qui-Gon probe deeper into his sense, and knew in an instant that the older Jedi knew he was keeping something from him.

// Padawan, are you injured? // the mind voice asked in a worried tone.

Obi-Wan would never consider lying to his Master, but telling him the whole truth now would only worry him more. // I was injured slightly, but I will be fine until you arrive. //

He sensed Qui-Gon weighing the truth of his words, and what might be behind them. But, thankfully, he asked no more questions and the distance between them was too great for him to get any clearer reading. // Very well. I will be there as soon as I can. You and Padawan Camira keep yourselves safe. //

Obi-Wan released a relieved breath that he didn't know he had been holding. // We will, Master. I will see you soon. //

// Soon, Obi-Wan. // And the mental connection faded away. Obi-Wan turned to see Shori watching him hopefully. He smiled at her.

"They're on their way," he told her.

They made their way deeper into the woods, moving more slowly with every minute that passed as Obi-Wan grew more and more unsteady on his feet. Finally, his head threatening to explode, he staggered against a tree. Unable to keep to his feet, he slid down the smooth bark and collapsed.

"Obi-Wan!" Shori said, her voice sounding distant as she tugged at his arm. "Come on! You've got to get up!"

The older Padawan knew better than to shake his head. "Can't," he murmured. "You have to go on without me."

"No!" she cried. "We stay together!"

Weakly, he pushed her away. "Go, Shori. Stay safe. Master Qui-Gon and the others will be here in a few hours. Don't come back for me until they are with you."

"But, Obi-Wan . . ."

"GO!" he shouted, putting a touch of the Force behind it. With tears shining in her wide blue eyes, Shori Camira turned and fled deeper into the forest. For a long time, Obi-Wan fought the pain and weakness in his body, the utter exhaustion of his spirit. But, finally, he could no longer resist the unconsciousness that called him.

When at last he awoke, Obi-Wan found himself bound and immobile. Cautiously, he opened his right eye, finding that the left was swollen completely closed. He winced at the piercing pain in his head, then cringed as he realized that he was back in the house once again.

He felt a hard surface beneath him, and raised his head slightly. A wide, leather band gripped him from mid chest to waist, pinning both of his arms at his sides and binding him tightly to a narrow wooden table. Another, slightly narrower strap restrained his legs. He reached out for the Force, seeking to release the straps, but could not touch it in his weakened state. Then, the sound of harsh breathing made him realize he was not alone.

A frightened, cowering Mon Calamarian female stepped up to his side. Obi-Wan blinked. He could never recall seeing a Calamarian cower.

"Please, Sir Jedi," she wheezed in her native language, raising one hand up in front of her face as she seemed to shrink back from his gaze. Obi-Wan was glad that his best friend Bant had taught him enough Calamarian that he could understand her. "Please, don't hurt me! I had no choice but to bring you back here! The owners would feed me to the Tor Cat if I had failed them!"

Obi-Wan felt particularly slow. "The owners?" he asked, struggling with his thick-feeling tongue to pronounce the unfamiliar language correctly.

She nodded jerkily. "Yes." Her hand went briefly to her neck, and Obi-Wan noticed for the first time a narrow gold band, nearly hidden under the neckline of her tunic. "They keep me collared so that I cannot flee. It is how they control us. Their slaves, I mean. So, you see? I had no choice but to obey!"

"It's all right," he said, trying to ease her anxiety, though he was anything but calm himself. "I understand."

"I am what passes as a Healer, here, for the other slaves. You have a nasty cut on the back of your head, Sir Jedi. It still bleeds. If you will permit me, I will tend it."

Obi-Wan licked dry lips and tried to smile. "That would be appreciated. Thank you."

She bent and retrieved a small, silver bucket into which she dipped her fingers. They came out glistening with some transparent, slimy looking fluid. Setting the pot aside, she lifted Obi-Wan's head and slathered the stuff on his scalp.

The Padawan drew in a hissing gasp as his skin lit up with incandescent heat. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that she had set his hair on fire. Through his agony, he was aware that she was speaking again.

"I'm so sorry, Sir Jedi. I know that that burns terribly! But the Tor Cat's saliva is a coagulant, and one of the few medicines I am allowed. The pain will pass in awhile."

Already, the worst of the agony was receding. He looked back up at the Calamarian, who seemed even more nervous, if that were possible. "And I must do this as well," she said as she stepped closer, an enormous syringe in her hand. She stabbed the thick needle into his thigh, and icy cold pain spread out from the injection site.

"What is that?" he managed to ask through the ringing in his head.

"It will stop the Claw Sickness," she said. She laid the empty syringe aside and stepped up to examine the swollen side of his face. "Soon, this will go down and you will feel normal." She took a deep breath, wringing her hands together. "Please, Sir Jedi. I know that you can use your mind powers on me to make me release you, but if you do, I will suffer a terrible fate! I know that is nothing to you, but ---"

"No, no. Of course, I don't want you to die. But, that is what will happen to me, if I remain here."

She nodded, looking thoroughly miserable. "I know. The owners are very angry with you for spoiling their game. Their guests left without seeing a kill." She paused again, her salmon-colored face growing darker in her distress. "There is more, I'm afraid." She visible steeled herself. "I am told that once the Claw Sickness is gone, I am to remove one of your legs at the hip and then you will be returned to the Game Room. The Tor Cat will finish you this time." She gestured absently toward the nearby wall, and Obi-Wan craned his neck to see. All along the wall were holos of the Tor Cat feeding. In each holo, a different prey was pinned beneath the feline's front feet. As the holo images moved and shifted, he watched the victims squirming and writhing as they were eaten alive. He shuddered.

"I can help you escape," he told her, although the weakness and lightheadedness he was still feeling made him doubt his own words. "Other Jedi are coming. If you help me, we will take you away from this place and give you your freedom."

The poor, frightened Calamarian trembled from snout to toes. "Freedom," she whispered wistfully. Then she shook her huge, salmon-colored head. "I cannot help you. Please, Sir Jedi! I don't want to die like that!"

"Neither do I," Obi-Wan told her. Then, the drug she had injected him with kicked in, and he moaned as fire raced along his nerve endings. Surprisingly, he felt a comforting hand on his forehead.

"Is the pain bad?" she asked softly. "I've never had to treat anyone for Claw Sickness, since you are the only one who has ever lived long enough to need treatment."

That caused Obi-Wan to look up at her urgently. "It is fatal, then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"No. But only those who go into the Game Room as prey get scratched. And none of them ever come out alive." She looked at him, a strange sort of fearful respect in her dark eyes. "You are the only one who has ever escaped."

Obi-Wan nodded. Already he could feel the fever easing, the swelling in his face dissipating. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "How long until I'm better? I mean, how long until you have to ---" He couldn't say it, but he could see in her eyes that she knew what he meant.

"The guests will arrive in a few hours, and then the game will resume," she told him, dropping her gaze so that she did not have to meet his eyes. "Before then, I will have to take your leg. I'm sorry --- it will be terribly painful. They refuse to supply me with pain suppressants. But, I have an ample supply of the Tor Cat's saliva to spread on the wound. It will stop all of the bleeding. Although, as you know, that will hurt as well."

Obi-Wan cringed. A few hours, he repeated to himself. My Master said he was still some hours away, as well. Will he arrive in time to save me, or in time to save my leg? He gazed up into the fearful face above him. Even if his control of the Force was up to his usual standards, he might not be able to mind-trick her into releasing him. That was a skill he had not perfected, although his Master worked with him on it frequently. It was difficult to influence unfamiliar minds. He decided to try a different tactic.

"What is your name?" he asked.

Her huge eyes blinked at him. "The owners call me Calamar, since I am the only Calamarian they own."

Obi-Wan shook his head, regretting it a second later as pain flashed behind his eyes. "No. What is your name?"

"Lupa," she said with a slight, shy smile.

"Lupa," he repeated. "How long have you been a slave, Lupa?"

"Since I was a small child," she said. "Sixteen years now."

A new kind of pain stabbed at Obi-Wan's heart. Sixteen years. She had been a slave longer than he had been alive. "Have you lived here all that time?"

She blushed, her skin turning nearly crimson. "No. These are my fourth owners. And my last. No one is ever sold or released from here. If you fail to please the owners, only one fate awaits you."

"The Games," Obi-Wan guessed. She nodded. "You know, don't you, that what they do is wrong? To get their enjoyment from the suffering and death of others?"

Her voice was soft when she responded. "It's not just enjoyment. The males need their bloodlust satisfied during the laying season. Only then can their bodies release the hormone that allows the young to develop. The last three seasons, only a few, weak hatchlings have emerged. They have all died in the first few days."

"Still, it's not right! Help me and we shall end it!" he said, raising his head up slightly to capture her dark eyes. "My Master is coming. He will be here in just a few hours, and other Jedi with him. No one else needs to die in these games!"

"I cannot!" she moaned. "Please, Master Jedi! I am not brave enough!"

"Let me be brave enough for both of us!" he cried. Then, he broke off as a vid screen nearby flared to life. He felt the Calimarian's fear level spike and watched as she dropped, cringing, to her knees, a sob escaping her. She covered her face with her hands as she faced the image on the screen.

Obi-Wan turned to gaze at the image. It was a reptilian face, probably female, covered with dull gray scales. Her gaze swept across the helpless Padawan as if he were an insect she would like to squash. She gargled something in an unfamiliar language. Lupa listened, then bowed her head lower still.

"Mistress says to tell you, Sir Jedi, that you ruined what was possibly the best party she and her spouse had ever had. The males were just beginning to excrete the hatching hormone when you escaped."

"Offer her my apologies," Obi-Wan said, an audible edge of sarcasm in his voice. "Perhaps if she had told me beforehand that they wanted to watch me being eaten alive, I would have been more cooperative."

Lupa relayed his words, cringing as she did so, then her large dark eyes grew rounder still. She listened as her master continued speaking. When finally the image winked out, Lupa staggered against the side of the table, her breath coming in quick little gasps.

"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan asked, getting a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Mistress has changed her mind about removing your leg," she said. "Instead, I am to force feed you a measure of the Tor Cat saliva. She says its effects on the internal organs is --- interesting --- and entirely painful."

"No!" Obi-Wan gasped, his stomach turning over at the very thought. He could feel, through the Force, Lupa's reluctance even as she turned to obey. "No, Lupa!" he cried. "Don't do this!"

"I must, Sir Jedi," she said as she raised the silver bucket and started to dip into it with a small cup. In desperation, Obi-Wan reached out for his weak grasp of the Force and pushed! The bucket flew from her hand, spattering its vile contents across the far wall. Immediately, he began struggling to release the straps that held him, but his concentration wasn't sufficient for such a manual task.

Lupa struggled to her knees. But she stopped there, neither trying to rise nor looking at Obi-Wan.

"It's all right, Lupa," Obi-Wan said gently. "You can get up now. You know I wasn't trying to hurt you, don't you? I was only trying to prevent you from hurting me."

She nodded despondently. "I must obey my Mistress," she moaned. Her gaze did come up then, but she flinched visibly when she met the Jedi Padawan's eyes. "Forgive me, Sir Jedi! I know I am nothing but a coward, but I do not want to die!" She turned and fled the room. Obi-Wan immediately turned his attention back to the restraints binding him to the table. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he struggled to concentrate. Slowly, the buckle in the center of his chest began to release itself. It sprang open at last, and he sat up on the table, fighting lightheadedness as he reached for the one holding his legs.

"No!" a terrified voice said from the door. Lupa was back, another bucket of saliva in her hand, this one nearly overflowing. She dropped it to the floor in a panic and took two quick steps to the counter beside her. Thinking that she was going to hide, Obi-Wan took his eyes off of her as he reached again for the second strap. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Calamarian slap one palm down hard on the countertop.

Blinding pain erupted along Obi-Wan's spine as an energy bolt shot out of the table beneath him. He cried out, feeling as if his nerve endings had caught fire. His muscles spasmed, then went limp. Barely conscious, he collapsed onto the hard wooden table.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Lupa sobbed as she crept up next to him and strapped him down again. Obi-Wan could do nothing to stop her. "Please, Sir Jedi! I beg you, don't hurt me! I have to do this! I have to!" She brought up two more straps and buckled one across his forehead, preventing him from moving his head. The second, she slipped under his neck and then across his chin. When she tightened this one, it forced his mouth open. Helpless, Obi-Wan watched in horror as she retrieved the bucket and scooped up a dripping handful of transparent slime.

Desperately, he reached for the Force, but his brain felt disconnected from his body. He tried to shake his head, tried to close his mouth or turn his head. But nothing worked. He closed his eyes as Lupa scraped the slime onto his tongue.

White-hot fire burned the inside of his mouth. I won't swallow! he thought desperately. I just won't swallow! But the stuff melted in the heat of his mouth, trickling into the back of his throat. He gagged, horrified, and tried to hawk it back up. It burned --- oh, gods, it burned! A thick glob of it dropped over his windpipe, cutting off his air. He struggled, screaming aloud and into the Force, but out of necessity he swallowed, needing to breathe. It seared a fiery path all the way to his stomach, and a small amount was drawn into his airway, burning that raw, as well.

// Master! Help me! //

They had all but forced him to lie down again, although Qui-Gon couldn't rest. The closer they got to Tabar, the more of his Padawan's pain he felt. He could have pushed it aside, relegated it to a silent corner of his mind where he didn't have to feel it, didn't have to share it. But he didn't. It was his only connection to Obi-Wan, and he desperately needed it, painful or not.

The boy was ill, he knew, although he couldn't ascertain the cause. He could feel the fever, the all-encompassing ache in his head, could feel his balance failing him. He felt it when Obi-Wan lost his battle with consciousness. He tried to reach him, then, tried unsuccessfully to call him back, knowing that once he stopped running he was more likely to be recaptured.

He had felt, also, the moment awareness returned. A sudden jolt of panic had streaked across the link, then, and Qui-Gon knew that the boy was once again in the hands of his captors, and in grave danger, although he didn't know what that danger was. Qui-Gon had begun to pace again, ignoring Mace and the two Knights when they tried to calm him, shoving past them when they dared try to physically stop him.

And, then, the worst pain and fear of all had sent him staggering against the bulkhead. The Jedi Master had barely felt it when strong hands grabbed him, holding him up and finally lowering him onto the couch as he felt as if the lining his throat was being stripped away. It was agonizing, and it only got worse as the fire burned its way throughout his body. He could feel his lungs searing, his stomach. He curled into a tight ball of misery, sensing that Obi-Wan wasn't able to do even that much. But, still, he didn't try to block the pain.

He heard his name being shouted as if from a great distance, and knew it was Mace.

"Qui-Gon! Qui! You've got to break the connection! Qui-Gon! Do you hear me? Break the connection or I will!"

"No," he managed to grate out. He tried to push away the restraining hands that pinned him to the couch. "They're --- torturing him!"

"Break the connection," Mace told him again. "Break it, or at least cut it back! You're useless to Obi-Wan if you don't!"

Recognizing the logic in that, if not the necessity, Qui-Gon closed the link slightly, shutting out the worst of the pain. He struggled for control, struggled to center himself. Finally, he struggled out from under Mace's hands and sat up. Three sets of horrified eyes were watching him.

"They've --- forced something down his throat," he said, finding it hard to talk against the illusion of his burned mouth. "Something acidic. Obi-Wan is in terrible pain." He reached out along the link again, more in control this time, and sent waves of healing energy along it. He was too far away to do much, but maybe it would help. He looked up to meet Mace's eyes. "How much longer?" he asked.

Mace was frowning. "Two more hours, at least. And then we still have to find him."

"I'll find him," Qui-Gon vowed. He spent the remainder of the trip flat on his back, at Mace's insistence, with Knights Quavar and Tee-su left to watch him. He rolled to his feet, however, the moment the ship came out of hyperspace.

He swayed as his Padawan's pain and despair rolled over him, nearly overwhelming his senses. He vaguely felt himself being supported as he stumbled toward the hatch, ready to disembark as soon as the ship touched ground. From the cockpit, he could hear Mace's voice.

"There. Set us down right there."

A moment later came the slight jar of impact, and Qui-Gon slammed his fist over the hatch release, surging forward out of the Knights' hands. A small, slender body rushed out of a patch of undergrowth and flung herself into his arms.

"Shori," he said, wrapping his arms around the trembling Padawan. "Are you all right?"

She nodded against his chest. "Yes. But we must hurry!" she told him. "Obi-Wan was ill with a fever, and he made me leave him! I didn't want to, Master Jinn! Really I didn't!"

"It's all right, Shori. Where did you leave him?"

She pushed back slightly, looking up to meet his eyes and shaking her head. "You don't understand! They found him already! They've taken him back to feed him to that awful cat!"

Qui-Gon's breath froze in his chest. He shoved the girl past him and halfway up the ramp. "Have the pilot see to her," he ordered briskly, unclipping his lightsaber and flinging aside his robe, too warm and cumbersome for the task ahead of him. "Let's go find Obi-Wan."

He used his connection to the boy as his guide, following Obi-Wan's Force presence through a dusk-darkened forest until it led him to a great stone structure set in a wide clearing. His danger sense tingled, urging him faster, though his injured leg protested such rough use.

The front doors were bolted from inside, but a flash of his lightsaber solved that problem, and shoulder to shoulder the four Jedi surged into the building.

"That way," Qui-Gon said, pointing. Knight Quavar pushed past him to take up the point position, while Mace and Tee-su remained at his side, ready to offer support should he need it. Obi-Wan's pain and fear flooded his mind, threatening to overwhelm him.

// I'm coming, Padawan, // he sent through their bond. // Can you tell me where you are? //

// In an arena of some sort, Master, // the boy sent back, and Qui-Gon could feel him struggling with the effort. // It's a game to them, just a game, and I'm the prey . . . // The mind voice broke off with a nearly blinding flash of pain, and Qui-Gon charged forward, shoving Quavar aside as he threw himself at the massive wooden door ahead of him. As he tumbled into the room, he caught sight of a dozen or more large, blue-scaled aliens, all seated before a wide glass window. They rose to their feet, towering over him, but he ignored them all. For he could see his Padawan now, the boy weakly defending himself with a flimsy wooden club from a huge feline.

Without thought, Qui-Gon slashed a whole in the window and somersaulted through it, lightsaber still activated. He fell fast, not bothering to control the speed until he was within a meter of the stone floor. Here, he tucked and rolled, sparing his leg, and came up between Obi-Wan and the snarling predator. Two strokes of his deadly blade and it was finished. As the feline fell, decapitated, he turned to the boy.

"Obi-Wan?" he called, hurrying to kneel beside the small, bloody, form, now lying crumpled on the ground. He sent waves of Force energy to calm the nearly overwhelming pain. "Obi-Wan?"

Heavily hooded gray-green eyes sought Qui-Gon's blue ones, and Obi-Wan smiled weakly. "Master," he gasped. One hand reached up to touch Qui-Gon's cheek in a tender, heart-wrenching gesture. "You're really here?"

"Yes, Padawan. I'm really here." He scooped the boy up into his arms, not surprised to see Mace and the two Knights hurrying toward him from across the large arena. One of them carried the ship's first aide kit. Qui-Gon laid his precious armful atop a long metal cylinder, well away from the dead body of the giant feline, and reached out with the Force to gauge the boy's condition.

What he found chilled his blood. Suddenly, Knight Tee-su was elbowing his way in, one of his hands finding Obi-Wan's forehead.

"He has internal damage," he said, his eyes half closed. He had been chosen for this mission because of his extraordinary healing talent. "The lining of his throat, lungs, and stomach has been burned, seared, from something he was forced to swallow."

"Can you help him?" Qui-Gon asked desperately as the second Knight hooked his Padawan up to an IV.

"I think so." He elbowed Qui-Gon again. "But, I need room."

Qui-Gon stepped back as far as he could while still holding Obi-Wan's hand, refusing to relinquish that point of contact. Through their link, he could feel the worst of the boy's pain slowly dying under the painkiller Quavar was giving him.

Tee-su left one hand on Obi-Wan's forehead, placed another on his throat, and the last two on his stomach. Qui-Gon felt the young Knight gather the Force and direct it into the boy's body, soothing the scorched tissues and easing the terrible cramps that threatened to turn Obi-Wan inside out.

"Talk to him, Qui-Gon," Tee-su murmured. "Keep him awake."

"Obi-Wan?" the Jedi Master said, leaning in closer to the boy's face. "Stay with me, Obi-Wan. Just stay with me."

" . . . hurts . . . "

Qui-Gon winced. "Yes, I know. But it will be better soon. Can you feel the painkiller? And Knight Tee-su, can you feel him healing you?"

There was a weak nod. "Shori?" Obi-Wan managed to gasp out, trying to lift his head to see if the girl was there with them.

"She's on the ship, Padawan," his Master assured him. "She's safe." He stroked the sweating forehead. "You're safe, too, little one. And, as soon as you're able to travel, we'll take you both home. All right?"

"Yes, Master." His eyes closed for a moment, then opened, locking with Qui-Gon's. "Master? There are slaves here, slaves who would have eventually been fed to that cat you killed. One in particular - a Mon Calamarian -"

"Don't worry about that right now," Qui-Gon began, but the boy cut him off.

"We have to help them, Master! We have to help her! She's so afraid, and she wanted to help me, but she couldn't -"

"All right, all right," Qui-Gon soothed, stroking his Padawan's face. "As soon as you're able to travel, I'll ask Master Windu and Knight Quavar to look for her."

Obi-Wan nodded in relief. "She's downstairs, Master. Basement -"

"We'll find her, Padawan Kenobi," Mace said. "We'll take her with us if she wants to leave."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan mumbled, his words beginning to slur. Qui-Gon looked up urgently at Tee-su, but the Knight gave him an encouraging smile before leaning down to speak to the injured boy.

"Sleep now, Padawan," Tee-su said, a subtle touch of Force backing his words. "You've done well and been very brave, but now you need rest."

Obi-Wan's face softened as he slipped into sleep.

They kept Obi-Wan sedated for the entire trip home. Tee-su treated his injuries and continued to work his healing magic until such time as the Temple Healers were able to take over. Qui-Gon stayed with his Padawan, keeping silent vigil at his bedside. Finally, the gray-green eyed opened.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon leaned forward, taking one of the smaller hands in his own. "I'm here, Padawan. How do you feel?"

"Much better, thank you." He raised his head and looked around, then dropped it back to the pillow with a sigh. "Why do I always end up in the Healer's Wing?" he asked.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "You do seem to be one of their best customers." He straightened the boy's braid, letting the silken length slide through his fingers. "I'm very proud of you, Obi-Wan," he said, catching Obi-Wan's gaze. "Shori told me that you were fighting for your life in that arena and managed somehow to escape." He smiled. "I believe she's become quite infatuated with you as a result."

Obi-Wan blushed, as Qui-Gon had known he would. "It was nothing, Master," he said. "I just did what I had to do to survive."

"Still, that was quite a feat. I saw that thing that was after you, remember? I'm not sure I could have done so well against it."

Obi-Wan's eyes opened wide at that. "Are you kidding?" he said. "You'd have just mind whammied the thing into going after its owners instead of you!"

Qui-Gon laughed and pulled the boy into his arms, pressing his cheek against the sleep-mussed hair. They stayed that way for a long minute, then Obi-Wan disengaged and looked at his Master critically. Qui-Gon could feel the Force swirl around him before Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "And, I see you haven't let the Healers look at your leg, Master," he said accusingly.

"My leg is fi-"

"No, it isn't!" Obi-Wan interrupted. "I can feel how much it's hurting you. Now, I insist you let them see to you."

Qui-Gon lofted his brows. "You insist?" he asked mildly.

Obi-Wan blushed again. His gaze flickered away, but only for a moment. "If you don't," he began, a look of practiced innocence flitting across his face, "then I shall worry about you. And worrying can't possibly be good for me, not after all I've been through."

Qui-Gon laughed again, long and hard, the tensions of the last few days melting away. He reached to ruffle the spiky hair. "Welcome back, my Padawan," he said. "Welcome back."

The End