Three years ago today a great tragedy hit America in the form of terrorists' attacks. Although this story has nothing to do with those attacks, nor was it written in remembrance of those lost, I just want to say how much I love my country, and how much I grieve for those lost. By posting this chapter, and proving life does go on, I want to show that the terrorists did NOT complete their goal: to ravage the heart that makes our country great.

"This is a day when all Americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. America has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day, yet we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world."

- George W. Bush

…

In memory of those who lost their lives in the attacks on September 11, 2001.

We will never forget.

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Part Four

"My name is Korben Hunter," Obi-Wan told his reflection. He winced at the mirror. He did not look like a "hunter." Maybe if he changed it to "hunted" the officials would buy it.

The 'fresher he stood in was small, but it did its purpose. He ran his hand along his freshly cropped hair, fingering the side of his head where his braid should have been. Groaning, he forced his hand away and exited into his room.

The layover on Candalas had gone smoothly, for which he was extremely grateful. Ever since leaving the Temple, he had been in a state of anxiety that had no name. It wasn't fear, not quite… he sat on his cot and decided to banish it from the back of his mind. It was just nervous anticipation.

He fiddled with his fingers, sighing and rubbing at his clothes. After more research on Yanari and the capital city Tanrai, he had found the world to be liberal, which surprised him. They did not accept Jedi, but they allowed their citizens to worship as they pleased or not worship at all, and had a governor for each city. Tanrai, however, had many governors, for it was controlled by the High Council of Yanari. It was the largest city, reaching ten thousands of citizens, and he supposed they needed the ten governors.

However, his clothes were those of that he had seen on the security officials of Coruscant. They all dressed in a wide variety of clothes, but Obi-Wan had already begun constructing his persona by the time he stepped into the marketplace. Korben Hunter, Obi-Wan decided, would be a rough man who had battled his way to his position. He would be a no-nonsense sort of man, and for that he needed clothes that screamed his personality. He had selected tunics of varying degrees of black and dark blue, the material coarse and rough to touch. He wore black gloves, black trousers that, according to the salesman, did not tear nor scuff. His boots were leather and reached up to his knees. His lightsaber was hidden in his right boot. The left held a holster for a blaster and inside was the dagger Qui-Gon had given him.

He lay back on the cot, closing his eyes. He had about another hour before they reached the Yanari air space. His pilot was a rough and tough older Corellian who gave him a very patronizing look as Obi-Wan stepped onto the ship. "I'm making a quick run this day," the Corellian said. "We're stopping at a bunch of planets before we get to your Yanari." He scanned Obi-Wan's clothes. "I hope you're not a Jedi."

Obi-Wan had chuckled nervously, headed to his room, and had not gone out for anything. The trip to Candalas had been a day. The trip from Candalas to Yanari would come to a total of six hours. His muscles felt cramped from sitting so long and staying in one place. He stood again, stretching his limbs.

"My name is Korben Hunter," he told the empty room. He wasn't sure what kind of accent they had on Yanari, if they had any at all. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to hide his. His text docs said he came from Coruscant, and that world was made of so many diverse cultures none would really care if he had an accent or not. The trick, though, was how well he wanted to blend. Taking his accent off and adopting the Yanarian one would take him in… but what if he couldn't manage it?

He decided to step onto the world and feel his way as he went. If they had a manageable tone of voice, he would take it for his own. If not, he would stick it out with his Core World one. It didn't really matter.

He stepped back into the 'fresher. "My name is Korben Hunter!" he told the mirror forcibly. "I am a security official of the Republic." The mirror did not seem impressed. Not quite the reaction he was going for. He tried again. "My name is Korben Hunter."

"MY NAME IS KORBEN HUNTER!" he shouted at the mirror.

The room was quiet. He took solace in the fact and went back to his cot, laying down and closing his eyes. He needed to rest and clear his mind. He knew he should meditate, but he couldn't quite bring himself around to doing it. He should sleep.

Sleep would do him good.

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He was back in the corridor. The same closed doors greeted him; the same evil was in the black air. He reached out a hand and touched the wall, snatching his hand back when he found it ice cold. There seemed to be a fuzzy gray haze around his eyes as he moved down the hall. It obstructed his vision and lulled him into the feeling of sleep.

He shook his head and headed towards the door at the end of the corridor. Behind him, he could feel the evil drawing of the red light begin to gather strength. He reached the door, and touched it again. It was cold this time, so icy to the touch he had to pull away. He wanted to kick the door and rattle it with his fists, but it seemed as if that was what the red light wanted him to do. Could light have desires and feelings? He wasn't sure.

He turned away from the door, this time searching for a way out. The red light approached him slowly, as if taunting him. Sickened, he tried to look past the light, but all he saw was darkness.

A crushing blackness that seemed dark enough to touch and light enough to be unreal.

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It was the pounding on the door that awoke him from his cursed sleep. He sprang instantly into motion, heading for the door.

"We're docked!" the Corellian man shouted angrily. "Now get you stinkin' bantha hide up here; I have rules to tell you!"

Rules?Shaking the sleep out of his head and trying to purge the nightmare from his mind, he gathered up his kitbag and tossed his datapads and comlink in. He checked the room once more, took a deep breath, and exited the room. The Corellian was waiting for him in the reception lounge, looking very grumpy.

"Hey, kid, hurry up," he said. Obi-Wan quickly stood next to him, being the only passenger left on the ship. "Okay, Yanari has rules. Firstly: if you're a Jedi, you may as well stay on." He gave Obi-Wan a chiding look. "Not that a runt like you would be one." Obi-Wan burned inside, but said nothing. "Secondly: if you're an off-worlder – as I think you are – security is waiting outside to check your creds and such. After that, you're free." He reached over and pushed down the docking ramp. "Now, please, get off my ship."

Obi-Wan quickly strode down the ramp, spotting a single security official waiting for him. He was relieved to see that his hair was close cropped. He wanted to look around more at the docking bay as he left the ship, but the security official grabbed his arm.

"So, you," the man said. He didn't seem to have any accent at all. Obi-Wan decided Korben Hunter would be a flamboyant and sarcastic rough man, and so kept his accent. "Let me see your text docs. What are you doing in Tanrai?"

"Work," Obi-Wan grunted, taking a file from his kitbag. He handed the durasheet to the man. "I'm a security officer."

"Ah," said the man, uninterested. He glanced at Obi-Wan once more, and nodded. "Alright, Mr. Korben Hunter, you're clear all way around. Have a nice stay." He gave Obi-Wan back the sheet and started away without another word.

Well, that was easy, Obi-Wan thought as he followed the man's footsteps up the dock. He took the time to observe as he walked. The docking back exited onto a cemented street that extended for many miles on both sides. It was a city. Groundcars shot by quickly and pedestrians walked on the sidewalks. In the distance he saw tall buildings. He guess beyond that would be housing districts and such. Across the street from the docking bay he spotted diners and shops.

He felt through the Force, feeling his way along the many lines and curves that befitted a large city. The atmosphere around him was what he expected: turmoil. It wasn't bad turmoil, though. Turmoil came with a big city. So many citizens and all their problems were bound to build up in the Force. He felt under those feelings, searching for anything unusual. There was nothing out of ordinary that he could find. It seemed wrong somehow.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and hailed a cab. As he threw his things in the back, the female driver looked back at him snidely and asked, "Where to, kid?"

"Where do you think I could find work as a security official?" he asked her in turn. Maybe he should have thought to look at a kiosk first, he thought with a sigh.

"Security building, Official District," the woman said. She moved into traffic, chatting amiably. "Workin' as a cop? Well, that's nifty and grand, but that bunch doesn't have much fun. Now, drivers like me, we get tons of fun. Interestin' fares and the likes. Can't beat that, really. Fun and money. Nothin' in the world that can beat that."

She looked at him in her mirror. "Now, kids like you are way too serious if you want to be security."

"Someone has to," he said without real interest. He was watching people through the windows of the cab. They seemed liberal enough. They were dressed differently, and they certainly had free wills. A small child struggled to get away from her mother and run across the street; a young boy was riding a small swoop-like vehicle and offering to sell toys.

"Yea, I guess that's true," said the driver as she turned onto another street. "But truth be told you cin't really trust them, you know? They're supposed to take care of you, but they end up failing. Some of them don't even do their job. Some of them… they ain't that nice to people they don't much like. You in league with them, though, and they make you happy. You fight 'em… and you lose. They gain up on you like no one's business."

"Really?" Obi-Wan asked, in real interest now.

"Aye," she answered. She smiled sadly. "But you in league with them, and you're an offlander… I'm sure they'll like you. They like making offlanders welcome. Try to show us commoners that even offlanders better than us. But you needa be warned, you. Really. Kid like you… how old, kid?"

"Twenty-three," he answered, hopeful for more answers.

"Look younger," she said, even more sadly. "They like 'em young… impressionable. Me, I'm nearing old age. After thirty-five they send you to work on Finistra. Hate that place, I do. Terrible, terrible. Criminals… if you got good job, they don't purge. But us riffraff… they don't take much liking to. But you… they keep cops. They like cops, them. Security building!"

She pulled up to a red squat building and stopped the groundcar. "Sorry I talked too much, kid," she said. "But you need to be warned, you do. Don't let them send you out. You too young."

He wanted to ask her what purging was, but she had pushed a button that opened his door. He shuffled out. "Miss, may I ask your name?"

She looked instantly flustered. "My name, kid? My name's Ked Sol. Why you ask?"

He shrugged. "I may need a cab someday. You have a comlink frequency?"

Stunned at her good fortune for getting a regular, she only nodded and rattled it off to him. He stored it in his memory and took out a roll of credits. He handed her the fare, wishing her well. He would call her later tonight, and ask for a chat. She seemed… whole to him. Pure and trustworthy. His gut instinct told him she was a friend, and he listened to it.

He stepped into the building, pulling out the file with his credentials. He looked at them and blinked. His age was listed as twenty-eight. He bit back the groan on the tip of his tongue and cursed himself. One mistake! He forced his mind to think. One mistake, and it wasn't even that important.

He walked to the front desk where a young man was stationed. "I was wondering where I could make an appointment for a job."

The clerk raised an eyebrow. "Security work, I assume? For an offlander?"

He made himself bristle at the comment. Korben Hunter was not a man to be reckoned with. "I'm in the security building, ain't I?"

The clerk blinked at him, and smiled. "Excuse my rudeness, sir. It wasn't my place." He took a datapad and began to scroll through it. "Let me see… you probably don't know the process. You're to fill out an application listing credentials and the likes. After you turn it in, I'll call in to Respected Warel and see when he's ready." The clerk took a datasheet and handed it to Obi-Wan. "If you fill it out now, I can check if he'll see you this afternoon."

Obi-Wan took the application with a smile. "Thank you," he said and headed to the plush seats that littered the reception room. The room was small with a floor so shiny he could his reflection. There were two corridors. One obviously led to offices and brightly lit. The other was dark, and he could hear no voices.

He quickly filled out the application, painstakingly spelling his name out K-O-R-B-E-N H-U-N-T-E-R. The clerk was smiling when he got there. "Ah, Mr. Hunter," he said, looking at the application. "Respected Warel will see you now. He is, however, very busy, so I suggest you state your cause quickly."

"I'll do that," Obi-Wan muttered as the man led him down the darkened hall to a door at the end of the corridor. The room they entered was plain, the walls wooden and a musky brown. The only things in the room were a large desk and a file pushed up against the wall next to the desk. And, of course, the man sitting behind the desk.

He was an older man with a heavily lined face and sad amber eyes. He motioned the clerk to leave and Obi-Wan to sit. The chair was hard against his back, and he wanted to sag against it in custom Korben Hunter fashion, but stood straight and hard-faced. He looked at the man with a neutral expression.

"Ah," the man Obi-Wan took to be Warel said. "Korben Hunter of Coruscant? Hmm… an offlander… haven't had one of those in a few good years…" Obi-Wan stayed silent, as he suspected the man wanted him to do. "We don't exactly have a position right now… but you're very qualified… a bit overqualified, actually." He looked at Obi-Wan strangely. "Why did you leave Nutu if you were head of security? Anything wrong?"

"Nah," Obi-Wan replied with a wave of his hand. "Change of scenery. Nutu was a world on the way to bankruptcy. I wasn't going to stay for that."

"I see," Warel murmured, eyes back on the application. "You can give me references?"

"Yes, I can," Obi-Wan said, beginning to shuffle through his file.

"Oh, that's fine and good," Warel said. "Let me see…" He accessed his computer and hummed thoughtfully. Obi-Wan forced himself not to fiddle with his fingers as he waited the long, tense moment that Warel took to search whatever he was searching. "I'm trying to think of where we could use you, but I'm afraid you'd do well anywhere."

"What spots do you have open?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Oh, offlander, sorry," Warel said without regret. "We've got many staff jobs if you're interested, although I can't promise you won't be shuffled around – being new and an offlander and all. We've got the Homicide Division, the regulars, the Elites, the Uppers-"

"Elites and Uppers?" Obi-Wan growled.

"The Elites are out primary group of defense if a person acts up. They're first on scene, and such. Uppers are after them. Basically, they take care of threats on demand, whereas regulars mainly take care of routine, out of the way stuff. We've also got the Crimes Against the State office, the Court trial, the-"

"Crimes against the state, huh?" Obi-Wan asked without any interest. "What do you do there?"

"Take care of crimes that are deliberately set against the officials and laws of Yanari," Warel answered. "When such a crime takes place, you're to jail and collect the evidence that is needed for such a conviction. It's boring work, I say. Not many crimes against the state these days. Haven't had one since… that man a while back… it was about a year ago?"

"Boring and routine?" Obi-Wan said with a twisted smile. "After being shot at by trained Nutan snipers and renegade mutineers… I'll take the boring and routine, sir."

Warel finally showed emotion in his surprise. "You're sure about that?"

"Why not? I can switch out if I hate it, can't I? Be an Elite or something of the sort?"

Warel shrugged. "Yeah. I wanted you to be an Elite… Armed Forces Academy would do well now and then, I suppose."

"If you need me," Obi-Wan said without elaboration or emotion.

"I'll call you then, eh?" Warel said as he began to sign the forms. "Well, CATS is down the hall." He handed Obi-Wan a small datasheet. "Give that to the clerk, he'll show you the way. Pleasure having you on the force, Hunter. I'm sure you'll do well."

Obi-Wan smiled and shook Warel's hand. Warel was closing the door when he called out. "Oh, Hunter, I forgot… I'm Respected Warel, by the way. Head of the Security for Yanari."

"Oh, I knew, sir, I knew," Obi-Wan said with a slight grin as he headed down the dark corridor.

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Obi-Wan left the Security building with instructions to be at the office tomorrow at 0730 sharp. The head of CATS was a female name Venira. She was a straight forward older woman who gave him one look and snorted into her hand. She led him to a small cubicle and waved a hand around pointedly. "You breathe, live, and eat here when you're on duty," she told him. "Your world is this place when you're here. Got that?"

He had answered with a resounding, "yes, ma'am!" and had left on a high note. She seemed to like him, which was as good as he could get. He hailed a taxi and headed for the housing district. He had opted on not calling Ked. He would possibly meet her later tonight, and didn't want to take her away from fares.

The housing district was about two dozen miles away from the Security Building, which he found extremely annoying. A cab fare everyday would wipe out his credits sooner or later, although the account he was on would be filled regularly by the Council. He should probably get around to buying a hopperbike sooner or later.

He selected a modest apartment building for his use. His room consisted of a 'fresher, a kitchen, a living area, and a bedroom along with a cot. He tossed his kitbag on the cot and lolled onto it, head falling into his arms.

His first hours on Yanari, as far as he could tell, had been a success.

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AN: I know, I lied. I hereby dub myself the Procrastination Master. In my defense, all I can say is school is hectic. Although the fact this chapter has been written for the last two months or so shatters my defense. Blah.

Janeta siri: Welcome to the story, and sorry for the wait. Thanks for the comments.

WrightergurlThank you, and also welcome.

ObiwanfanThis is random, but do I know you from somewhere? –ponders- Anyhow, thanks, and all shall be revealed in due time.

Moon's shadow: Yeah, sorry again about the wait, but thanks for your wonderful comments. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder…