DWF1

Chapter 1

Twin ion engines screamed as a scarlet hued courier vessel erupted from hyperspace. The streamlined craft shuddered slightly as it entered real-space, which caused the two combatants within the ship to momentarily pause in their graceful, almost dance like, duel.

"Your concentration through only a few bumps and shakes seems to falter easily," commented a female voice, the statement bordering on a chuckle, "I sense your loss of control through the Force."

The emanation of the Force suddenly redoubled in the spartan cabin and was almost palatable as the duelists circled warily around each other, each ready to exploit even the barest of openings in the other’s defenses so as to gain a battle advantage. Seventeen year old Obi-Wan Kenobi kept his blue eyed gaze and his concentration directed at his practice opponent, waiting for the force to guide his actions against the younger Padawan. They had been sparring for the better part of two hours now, Obi-Wan knew that the stress and constant concentration was wearing both of them down, it was only due to the quiet strength and guidance of the Force that one of them had not yet made an error.

Kason Storm, though a year younger, was no less concentrated than his foe. His green eyes, pupils slitted vertically like a feline, did not miss even the slightest movement made by Kenobi. Watching for any opening, idly swishing his lightsaber back and forth in small twitches, testing to see if the hum/hiss of the blade would distract Kenobi for the nanosecond Kason would need in order to strike. He knew that patience was his ally, it was only a matter of time. Kason lashed out with his lightsaber hoping to put Obi-Wan’s defenses to the test. He could feel the Force flowing through him, guiding his movements and keeping him out of harm’s way while simultaneously moving him into a position to better press his attack.

On the surrounding bulkheads of the combat area, blue highlighted shadows rallied against opposing shadows tinted orange while the hiss and clash of the blades filled the cabin with the cacophony of battle. Saber blades howled as they seemingly split the air itself, dancing in intricate weaving motions that accelerated until the combatants were nothing but elusive blurs, moving so quickly that the illusion of the two boys overlapping each other was almost continuous now.

They were no longer in the realm of conscious thought, the golden warmth of the living Force was flowing freely around them and through them controlling every nuance of their actions.

A third consciousness carefully yet deliberately entered the fray, delicately touching the edges of the two boys’ awareness. Their movements slowed gradually, the finesse of their sparring remained but now without the mind-numbing speed that they had previously displayed. The boys were now fully aware of their surroundings and their battle slowed even further. A cloaked figure stepped calmly out of the shadows.

"Stand down, Padawans, " Jedi Master Charsa Malon ordered, "your display of control today was impressive indeed, but now is the time to rest, and meditate upon which you have learned from this experience."

Qui-Gon Jinn spoke up at that point, "There will be time enough for that soon enough Charsa, but for now I think all of you should know the orders from the Council. As instructed by them for security reasons, I have not mentioned much about this assignment until our exit from hyperspace, even still…I am troubled."

Three sets of eyes gazed silently at him, waiting for him to continue.

The Jedi Master sighed, his green eyes looking into his Padawan’s questioning gaze. He looked to his fellow Master Charsa Malon, and then down at her Padawan standing next to her. "The mission that we have been assigned is highly unusual, the planet that we are going to has not officially requested help from the Jedi Council. The majority of the populace that we will be visiting is human as well as highly xenophobic, yet the Council deems it necessary to send us there in order to interfere with current political unrest between the planet Osiris and it’s single moon colony Llakret."

"If they are all human, as well as xenophobes," interrupted Charsa, "I fail to see the wisdom of sending Kason and myself." She pointedly gestured at her Padawan’s unique cat slitted eyes, and then opened her arms as if offering her own appearance for perusal. She was a very attractive woman, slim and obviously in extremely athletic shape, but was obviously not human. Her main noticeable non-human characteristics were her large ovoid pupiless eyes and upswept pointed ears. Her ears were, for the most part, concealed by a thick shimmering silver mane of hair that flowed down her back, but there was no way to conceal her eyes short of wearing a mask, even the color of her hair was a dead giveaway.

"At least all Kason has to do is slip on a pair of contact lenses and he’ll fit right in," she stated ruefully.

Kason smiled faintly, revealing a pair of pointed incisors that dimpled his lower lip where they touched. "Ok, maybe not." Charsa conceded.

Other than his startling eyes and…unusual incisor teeth, the only remarkable feature about him was his extreme fitness. Narrow hips tapering up into broader shoulders, not bulky like some of the overmuscled apprentices at the Temple. With his sandy/blond colored padawan braid hanging from behind his right ear, he resembled the many other aspiring Jedi students that traveled the star lanes with their Masters. In fact he could have easily been mistaken as a younger brother of Obi-Wan, except under close scrutiny.

"Actually I said that they are mostly xenophobes," interjected Qui-Gon, "that group mainly controls Osiris. The inhabitants of Llakret are quite the opposite, which is also one of the main reasons why they live on the moon rather than the planet itself. It seems that the difference of opinion between the two groups got somewhat violent at one point in their history and the smaller group migrated to Llakret in order to pursue their own way of life."

"But Master," said Obi-Wan, "If no one requested help from the Jedi, why would the Council send us into this predicament?"

"That is part of what we have been sent here to find out," replied the older Master, "evidently someone from one of the factions has asked for our intervention…we just don’t know who it was…or even which faction they belong to."

<Oh, this is going to be different,> Charsa thought to herself with a mental sigh.

Chapter 2

Countess Neila of Osiris strode through the marble-floored hallways of the capital building as if she owned them. Her robes of state, crafted of Aldarrian spider silk and held together by a clasp at her graceful neck billowed behind her as she made her way deeper into the building.

Normally a striking woman in appearance, today she gave off all the charm of a shard of razor edged ice. She was fuming, and even the bravest of the guards knew to briskly step aside out of her way and let her continue on her journey to the meeting hall of Prefect Lemur.

<How dare he send such a message to a lady of my personage!> She raged silently to herself, <even his bumbling idiot of a father never had the nerve to speak to me in such a way.> She continued with her silent, inwardly directed tirade for the remainder of her trek to see Lemur, <as ordered!> When she finally reached the massive double doors that led to the Hall, she paused for a moment and gave herself a mental shake to bring her back to her normal, haughty self. <It wouldn’t do at all for him to see me in such an unsettled state,> she thought.

<You’re afraid,> her mind whispered to her.

"I have no reason to be afraid," she muttered in reply to that small corner of her mind, "I have power in this government…power protects."

<You’re afraid…>

As the double doors swung ponderously open, she composed herself grimly, and strode regally into the subdued lighting of the Great Hall.

Chapter 3

Vicetta Mermil lounged ungracefully on his throne and glowered at the assembled dignitaries of Llakret, the noise was beginning to get on his nerves. All the whispering and paper shuffling of those gathered before him was the same as yesterday, and would likely be the same tomorrow. <Why can’t they just leave me alone? I never asked for this.>

His gaze shifted to the gaudy décor of the cavernous throne room, deep under the surface of Llakret. His uncle, who had been Vicetta before him had had rather unusual tastes as far as appearances went. The cavern’s walls were covered in a myriad of conflicting, often clashing, colored drapes of silk and satin. Multi colored gemstones adorned most surfaces that were not covered by cloth. On the whole, the room was magnificent when one first entered, after five minutes time within the room though, many developed a headache. It was now common practice among the dignitaries and advisors to wear color-reducing eyewear.

Chief Advisor Jrakior approached Mermil’s throne and bowed deeply. "Vicetta," Jrakior whispered, "I have just received notification that a ship has entered our sector and is requesting landing privileges."

<Interesting,> Mermil mused. "What is the purpose of landing here?" he asked.

"That is unknown at this time," Jrakior answered, " the communication that we received only requested docking facilities. No other information was given."

Mermil considered for only a moment, then shrugged unconcernedly. "Use your best judgement then, whatever you think best."

Jrakior bowed again before he turned to leave, "as you wish."

The chief advisor allowed himself a small, venom filled smile as he walked back to the communications facility. <The more, the merrier for my little party,> he thought, <all the more to witness my triumph…all the more to witness me holding Mermil’s head on a platter.>

Chapter 3.1

The landing cavern of Llakret was so crowded with various other space vessels that it took a lengthy amount of time before the courier vessel "Scourge" could find a suitable place to set down. After a lot of maneuvering and hissing of repulsor fields, the pilot found a barely suitable and cramped landing pad, obviously designed for a smaller craft.

When the Llakretian staff delivered the final "go ahead" for debarkation, Charsa was the first to step out onto the access ramp of the ship. <Something is not quite right here,> her normally calm and composed instinct told her. Her right hand gently brushed the hilt of her lightsaber concealed within one of her ship suit’s many oversized pockets. She was disconcerted by the fact that she was not dressed in her familiar Jedi robes. <Sigh.> For the meantime, she and Kason were dressed as normal space farers, playing a fictitious roll as if they were looking for a break in the monotony of long distance space travel.

She glanced over her shoulder at her young apprentice, hoping to glean something of his reaction to their surroundings. Hardly surprising, he didn’t seem nervous at all, what was unusual…he looked puzzled. <Odd,> she thought, <not a bit of trepidation, just…confused.>

"Kason," she asked, "you okay?"

"I’m fine Master," the young man replied, "I was just wondering why there is no activity here."

<That’s it! That’s what is bothering me.> She mentally snapped her fingers like a sleuth in a holonovel. <There’s no one here, not even droids, nothing moving, just ships.> Charsa knew well indeed that all space ports or docking bays were full of barely controlled chaos with pilots, droids, maintenance personnel, and passengers constantly moving about and taking care of business. But here…nothing moved…there was just the hulking presence of the gathered ships, and the slight hum of power lines running to and fro among the vessels.

Charsa looked around in bewilderment, <there’s not even any transports or hoverpads!> The cavern was at least a kilometer across; <they can’t possibly expect visitors to WALK all the way to the concourse exit!>

As Kason joined her on the ramp a booming, almost painfully loud and obviously pre recorded voice echoed across the huge chamber, "PLEASE FOLLOW THE GUIDANCE BEACONS TO THE NEW ARRIVAL CENTER FOR PROCESSING." Small lights imbedded in the hangar floor suddenly came to life, twinkling in synchronous patterns, evidently placed there to lead foot traffic through the maze of landing pads for the most efficient path to the hangar exit.

"RACE YA’!" Kason’s lithe form shot forward in a run toward the first of the steadily blinking lights at the foot of the boarding ramp.

NO!! Charsa instantly reached out to the Force and used the power she found there to invisibly grab the back of his ship suit collar and stop her headstrong pupil.

"ACK", THUD, "owwwww," Kason moaned, laying on his back at the bottom of the ramp. His right foot was just centimeters away from the protection offered by the overhang of their ship.
Charsa walked slowly down the ramp towards her padawan, she leaned over to look him in his eyes, "have you completely taken leave of your senses?" She hissed at him.

"What’s the big deal, there’s no one here," he spat back, "I just wanted to work some kinks out from being trapped on that stuffy as sith ship for so long."

Charsa regained her composure with some difficulty.

"Kason," the Jedi Master said grimly, "you were very observant while analyzing our surroundings, but did you ever think to look UP?"

Kason guiltily edged his line of sight around the overhang of their vessel to the looming arch of the landing/docking chamber. He finally noticed the pinpricks of surveillance equipment pockmarking the granite above.

"We’re being watched already?" he whispered.

Charsa nodded her head in agreement, wordlessly.

Chapter 4

Countess Neila’s fiery rage had long since faded into ashes of frustration. She had been summoned to Lemur’s Great Hall yet again the night before, and she was still there the next morning. Attendees of Lemur’s current rampage were all exhausted, nobles and servants alike were shifting from foot to foot, inconspicuously trying to ease their discomfort.

"Incompetent!" Lemur roared at those present, the gleam of insanity in his eyes, "you are all incompetent!" His right hand pounded on the arm of his seat of office, emphasizing every word. "I commanded each of you to present to me your theories on how we might gain mineral rights on Llakret and all I get in response is this inane drivel!" He picked up a stack of papers and hurled them at those unlucky enough to be standing in the front row of the assembly. "My city is overcrowded and ugly, we must have materials available to build…to expand. Llakret is the closest source of the ores that we must have! The only ideas you give me involve treaties and trading negotiations. I need full control of those ore deposits, and I want it now! I demand that my city be grand enough for me to rule!"

"Um…Sir, If I may…" an unidentified, quiet voice shattered the sudden silence of the Great Hall.

"Speak up," shouted Lemur, "and step forward so I can see who is addressing me."

A slight shuffling in the crowd occurred in order to allow the speaker to move forward. A middle aged, minor noble stepped to the front row of the assembly. <Doetep,> Neila matched a name to his face, <I surely wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now.>

"You were saying?" Lemur asked harshly, his voice still darkened by barely restrained anger.

"Well Sir," stammered Doetep, already sweating, "well, it’s just that, well, the moon Llakret, well, is it’s own sovereign territory, and as such, well…"

"WHAT?!?!" screamed Lemur, his face scarlet with anger, "spit it out man!"

"And as a sovereign territory, "Doetep’s words stumbled over each other, " there IS no way to gain mineral rights, at least not by any means short of invading Llakret and taking over."

A hushed silence fell over the assembly; all eyes were focused on Lemur.

The ruler of the only city on Osiris sat silently, his right fingers toying with his lower lip. A maniacal gleam sparked to a flame in his eyes. A chilling, cruel smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "Now that," he hissed quietly to the assembled, "is the best idea I’ve heard all day."

Chapter 4.1

Obi-Wan kept his gaze centered on his master’s broad back as they made their way through the tangled undergrowth of the untamed jungle environs of Osiris. The warmth of the midday sun made the humid air uncomfortably warm and stifling.

They had been walking for seemingly endless hours - ever since they were dropped off by the courier ship the night before under the cover of darkness.

Obi-Wan had enjoyed the exercise at first after being cooped up on their transport for so long, but now the humidity and the seemingly endless swarms of stinging insects were making his journey decidedly unpleasant. As yet another trickle of sweat crept down his forehead and stung his eyes with its saltiness, he decided to break the silence that had endured for the last few hours.

"Master," Obi-Wan said half jokingly, "you DO know where we’re going, don’t you?"

Qui-Gon stopped in his tracks and turned to face his padawan. "Nope," he replied, "I’ve just been waiting for you to take the lead and get us there."

<Qui-Gon looks decidedly odd without his Jedi robes,> Obi-Wan mused silently, <and wearing that weird jumpsuit almost makes him resemble a holovid pirate.> He chuckled inwardly at the image that appeared in his mind.

"I saw that," said Qui-Gon in mock surprise, his mouth quirked in a half smile, "though I think it’s better to resemble a pirate than someone who resembles an apprentice nerf herder."

Obi-Wan felt his jaw drop in surprise, <Qui-Gon joking while on a mission? That’s a new one!>

As if reading his student’s thoughts again, Qui-Gon’s expression sobered. "We are close to the main city, probably about another hour’s walk," he informed Obi-Wan, "once there we must concentrate on blending in. I’m hoping that once we arrive, if the person that contacted the Council is indeed there, they will notice our true identity, and the authorities will not.

"How?" asked Obi-Wan.

"They will know." Qui-Gon said offhandedly as he turned to resume walking.

"WHAT?!" Obi-Wan yelped as he resumed following his master, "I don’t understand, how will they know?"

"All in good time padawan," the Jedi Master said over his shoulder, "calm yourself…have patience."

<OOOOH, I hate it when he says that,> thought Obi Wan, <I have a bad feeling about this…>