Hey! So yeah, late update BUT! you'll be happy to see what's inside. Now I know if you've been following the story you know nothing's been revealed about Siri's child . . . well, due to some unsmart plotting :p I left out a very important part that explains it all. (silly me) All will be revealed in a flashback by Obi-Wan of a conversation unincluded that took place the night of Siri's confession (or chapter 3). I'm sorry if its confusing, but you'll probably be happy to read it anyway. Shoutouts to all my faithful reviewers JediKayKenobi + nineteenninteytwo :D okay, here it is...

Qui-Gon sat, in a very uncomfortable seat, in the private office of the Governor Amos, with many irritations on his mind. One: The Governor had issued a search for their Padawans courteously, though declining the suggestion to let the Jedi search themselves. Two: The Jedi had been trying despairingly hard to convince the Governor that he had to leave Douron because of the weapon threatening to destroy the Facility. But Amos' stiff attitude had deflected every reasonable suggestion against him.

So Qui-Gon sat, his ears ringing with the voice of the Governor and the sound of his own fingers drumming impatiently on the desk in front of him, and waited for Amos to listen to the Jedi's plea.

"You obviously don't understand Governor," Master Cla'isaid to Amos, standing left of the wooden desk, "The exceedingly hazardous atmospheric conditions of Douron are going to eventually leak into your Facility. You may think you are safe, but you aren't. Air is inevitable to breathe, and you will eventually breathe it. If you are exposed for ten minutes – ten minutes – to the air here, you will grow feverish and form a rash, begin to vomit blood and become delusional and in a matter of hours, you will die."

Gatham gave Amos an impatient stare. "By staying, you are not only endangering your own life butyour citizen's. There is no possible way to avoid an evacuation, and if you don't do it soon, you will be too late."

Amos, who sat behind the desk, folded his bluish-pale hands on his lap, his fierce twin hazel eyes scarcely blinking as he stared at Master Cla'i. "The Seikh are not concerned. Not even one of them are concerned. If they will perish, they are at peace with it. If it is their fate-"

"But it doesn't have to be!" Adi interrupted, seated aside Qui-Gon, "The Republic is willing to house and relocate your population until Douronis safe again, and then you may return. Do not let your people die because of your stubborn will."

"The Seikh aren't wanting to become involved in an evacuation-"

"Have you asked them? Have you even told them of this life-threatening oxygen that will kill them and their children?"

The Governor stood abruptly, causing his chair to screech, and the Jedi to cringe from the sound. He clenched his pale teeth and jutted his chin out in confidence. "They do not need to know, must I repeat myself, and they are not interested in an evacuation!"

Adi leaned closer to the desk, "Have you not even given them a right of decision-?"

The quarrel continued, passing itself back and forth from Adi to Amos, and occasionally Master Cla'i; Qui-Gon only observed, knowing in the Force that he was in no mood to squabble with such a man as Amos. Qui-Gon usually kept his centre of focus balanced in the Force, his mind virtually free of irritation and stress, but his impatience for Amos was interrupting his stability, and he felt his mental scale tilting slowly.

"Governor, please," Adi said, "we as Jedi only want these people to have a free right to live - "

"It is my decision as a ruler over them to decide their fate, and I am not changing my mindset!"

"Enough!" Qui-Gon shouted, rising swiftly and letting the group silence. He directed his gaze toward Amos. "If you and your obstinate, irrational attitude do not want to just contribute with us, then you succeed. If you do not want to see the sense in this conversation, fine. It is not my decision. I am not one to judge one, but if I were, you are being heartless letting your people die under your watch."

Qui-Gon was breathing heavily,"We are leaving as soon as our apprentices are found. I ask for your permission to let us."

Amos narrowed his hazel eyes, his azure skin almost red, and folded his hands behind his back. "I give you my consent. I hope that you Jedi will eventually learn you have no authority over me, nor any other freestanding government."

Qui-Gon stepped out from his chair, and nodded to the Governor, "And I hope that you will eventually come to your senses."

They left the office without another word, walking in silence. Qui-Gon could tell that Adi couldn't stand it, "Qui-Gon, you do know that we just let him succeed-"

"Did you notice that Amos addressed the Seikh as 'they', not 'we'?" Qui-Gon observed, "It seems to me that he plans on leaving before any contamination takes place. We are going to Thym-Lad-Borat to alert the Senate; his doings may be a felony."

"Then there's only one thing to do now," Master Cla'i stated.

The other Masters looked to him anxiously for his conclusion. Master Cla'is face upturned into a smile, "Find our Padawans."

As she stood in line with the other Seikh, Siri had little clue what exactly she was supposed to be doing. After entering the Working Area, she had managed to slip into a row of Siikh lined up facing the long tunnel of amber coloured rock unnoticed. Adriyn, who ended up disguising in a dark green Watchman's uniform, had snuck past security and was "keeping watch" outside of a tunnel.

Though the Working Area was filled with many prying eyes, she had only received a dubious glare from the Seikh male to her left as she entered her row, and she had tried her best to look natural.

Siri watched the Seikh around her, scraping and etching at the stone with a small durasteel chisel, the residue leaving an ocher dusting on their pale garments.

The sound of a furnace rumbled below them, occasionally sending down a gust of scorching air through the vents above their heads. Siri felt another pair of eyes staring at her, and she glanced to her right at the Siikh beside her, who was examining her, puzzled.

"Are you new on this level?" the young woman asked, her accent distinctly Douronian.

Siri's face was shaded by her oversized hood, and she didn't know if the woman recognized her as a Seikh. "Yes," she replied, softly.

The female laughed tenderly, "Your accent gives you away; you are not a Siikh, are you?"

Siri knew there was no avoiding the truth in the matter, and trying to cover herself up was of no use. "You are more observant than I thought. I'm a Jedi Knight, on a mission from Coruscant; I advise you not to spread it around."

The woman's soft features changed into a smile, her gentle brown eyes lighting up with reverence, "A Jedi Knight; it is a pleasure. My name is Milcah."

"Siri Tachi," Siri replied, partially smiling at her. Milcah held Siri's gaze, a wonder in her eyes that she couldn't quite grasp. She seemed very young, maybe younger than Siri, but she radiated with a sort of wisdom that even ones beyond her age did not exert.

The woman grinned at Siri once again, before turning back to the stone in front of her. "You are young. A learner?"

She nodded, "An apprentice."

"Are you wed?"

Siri did not take the question in offence, knowing the Seikh cultures, "No. Jedi do not marry."

Milcah looked to her in apology, whispering, "I saw that you were with child, and I assumed. I apologize, mistress."

"You . . . can tell?" Siri felt her heart race, suddenly self-conscious. She had been sure ever since she began showing to conceal herself, and she had supposed the loose fitting Seikh dress covered her enough.

The young girl smiled softly in reassurance, "You only show a little, enough for a woman to tell. You are radiant, mistress. Just do get too close to the Watchmen. They will not be pleased to see you here."

Siri saw the Watchmen scattered about the Working Area, guarding the accesses and scanning the vicinity with their dark, watching eyes.

"They are constantly watching, inspecting our work." Milcah murmured.

"What work do you perform here?"

Milcah wiped her hands on her white garment before continuing, "There are three areas where types of work are accomplished. To our left, in another section, is the Cultivation Area, where our food supplies are grown; there is the Production Wing, to our right, where ships and speeders are built and sold, and this is the Harvesting Area, where I have always worked."

"Harvesting," Siri questioned, "of what are you harvesting?"

Milcah dug her slender fingers into the stone, carefully removed a small greenish-yellow rock and placed it delicately on her open palm.

Siri felt her mind race at a momentum faster than she could comprehend as she realized quickly what that small stone was. It was identical to the one she had seen in the Jedi laboratory, shimmering with the similar emerald lustre and emanating the same foreign pulse in the Force. It was Radian.

"Milcah," Siri whispered coarsely, trying to arrange information in her racing mind, "Do you know what this is?"

Milcah's face kept its regular calm, and she replied, "This is Cytainium, used as currency in the markets; its value is immeasurable, though most say it is only worth fifty dataries a piece - "

"Does your government know about this trading?"

Milcah shrugged, "Only a few do the trading, and I have never been in the markets before; why do you ask, mistress?"

"This mineral is illegal," Siri explained, "extremely illegal. You are being deceived."

"Oh no mistress, you must be mistaken. . ." The woman could not find words to say, puzzled at the startling comment.

Siri tried to center Milcah's wandering gaze, "Unless I am mistaken, this is Radian-"

Micah shook her head once more, strolling out of the tunnel into the open dome of the area. Siri reprimanded herself for being so blunt as she caught up to Milcah's pace.

"Milcah," Siri started, "you shouldn't - "

"Mistress, I . . . I cannot get caught up with the matters of the Jedi . . ."

"It is part of my mission to try to uncover as much information as I can." Siri said, blocking Milcah's way to the exit, "Your interference with my mission is the least of my problems."

Milcah's face was drawn in anxiety, but she nodded and grabbed Siri's hand, pulling her away from the door and into a corner, shrouded by shadows. "I have known about this for years now. I expect that many know; all are too cautious to act upon it. As I said, any rebellious activity is chastised horribly."

"Have you tried to contact the Republic? Authorities?" Siri found it hard to rationalize hiding such a secret, "The Jedi even?"

"Many Jedi have came before you, yes. Years ago."

Siri wrinkled her brow, "Who were they?"

"I do not know, mistress." Milcah lowered her voice even more, "They all perished here."

Siri bit her lip; something was not right. The Archives had not said anything about The Seikh Facility being investigated by the Jedi before, especially not anything about casualties. The Council, if they had known, had not seemed to inclined to mention it. Siri felt a smouldering frustration inside her, This is someone's fault.

She glanced out from beneath her hood, her eyes seizing Adriyn's gaze from across the bustle of people in the dome and she gestured him toward her. Milcah was startled by the appearance of the young man, but Adriyn assured her with a nod that he was not to harm her.

"What's the deal?" he questioned, olive eyes wide and attentive.

Siri whispered to him only, "This 'Working Area' is more so a spice harvesting area - "

"Spice?" Adriyn exclaimed, incredulously. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"No wonder Amos didn't show us this place. I was beginning to wonder what in the galaxy it would be for."

"The Governor must be behind this. With his former bounty hunter status and a mine full of spice being harvested beneath his feet, it's obvious why he doesn't want to evacuate." Siri folded her arms, "His entire plan will be busted."

"He's collecting spice, storing his profits away from prying eyes," Adriyn looked to Siri with a scowl, "and making the citizens do the dirty work. And why did this go unnoticed?"

Adriyn gave her a dirty look, and Siri gave him one back, "Don't start pointing fingers, Gain. We aren't the first Jedi to be here; according to Milcah," Siri motioned an arm toward the Seikh female, "We're just some of many to have come . . . and never left."

Adriyn understood the implication, "This mission is apparently not as routine as anticipated."

"Apparently." Siri quickly made a decision, "Milcah has agreed to show us where the spice is being stored."

Milcah instantly shook her head, her brown eyes distressed. "Mistress, I don't have authorization."

"Neither do I."

Siri turned her eyes toward Adriyn who furrowed his brow; when he finally came to realization, his eyebrows shot up. "Oh."

"There is no father."

Obi-Wan did not allowed breath in his throat, maybe in fear if it escaping in a protesting cry. He turned to see her clear gaze. He blinked, waiting for her to retract the statement, though inside he knew nothing had been spoken out of place.

He struggled to form words, and was surprised to hear his voice come out so clearly when inside he was so confused, "You . . . was it, I mean, did it happen . . . out of love? Out of love, as in not in love, meaning . . . forcefully?"

"Forcefully?" Siri seemed disgusted by the word, "I would never let any one do that to me."

"I didn't think you would." Obi-Wan ran a hand along his head, down his neck where he rubbed, "But . . . what did you say?"

"There is no father. I've been with no one."

Siri's gaze froze Obi-Wan again. Did she truly expect him to believe her? First, nothing but a farewell note, and now an excuse a youngling could see through? Does she think I'm that blind?

"Who is he?" Obi-Wan asked, and Siri closed her eyes, "Who? I want to know who it was -"

"No one! Can't you hear me? My child was conceived by no man. No one even touched me." Siri reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan's hand, placing it upon her abdomen.

"What?"

"Reach into the Force." Siri whispered. "I'm not lying."

Obi-Wan stared at her for a split-second before using the Force and focusing his energy on reaching into Siri. He felt his mind unwind as he probed deep into her uterus, and he paused, astonished, as he felt the life of Siri's tiny infant.

He lingered there for a moment, soaking in the stillness and tranquility, letting it fill him, letting it release his array of emotions. And he sensed the essence of Siri's cells . . . but not many of another. Not enough of another. He only felt the sensation of an unfamiliar substance; cells and molecules that were not recognizable to him, and could easily belong to any humanoid man.

But why there were so few of them, he didn't know; it was abnormal, possibly a random imperfection or evidence to Siri's mysterious and questionable plea. Obi-Wan slowly re-opened his eyes, and it was a long while before he spoke.

"What happened?" he whispered.

Siri whispered, "I found a specimen of Radian on Douron –"

"Radian? Siri, you could have killed yourself!" He was upset only out of concern.

"I influenced it with the Force . . . I know this makes no sense, but I'm sure it was that Radian."

"The . . . Radian? That's –"

"Impossible."

Obi-Wan sighed, not looking to her as he was thinking aloud, "I know you know that an element can't create life, even with the help of the Force, or at least we don't know of one that can. Something that complex would require years of advanced scientific research, and even a first prototype would have to be refined multiple times before –"

"You sound just like the lab droid." Siri interrupted his spout of facts, and Obi-Wan heard the staleness in her tone, perturbed by his lack of sympathy. He realized she had probably heard the explanation before, and probably gone through it herself too many times to count. She wasn't looking for an answer from him, but a confide.

"I know it doesn't sound logical, but not everything is Obi-Wan. I've been through trying to explain it, and I can't. I know it doesn't make sense, and it sounds like I'm making this up to save my reputation, but I'm not."

Through the Force Obi-Wan could barely tell if she was confessing or contradicting the truth. His head ached, hating this situation altogether.

"I haven't told anyone else . . . I don't trust anyone else." Siri shook her head, as if to try to shake away the grief in her voice.

"And that's why you don't want to go to Douron . . . ."

"I don't want anything else to happen . . . I don't like it there. But I, refusing to go, will make my Master suspicious, and worsen things further – if they can get any worse. I can't go back."

"What are you going to do?" Obi-Wan questioned. Slow, quite breaths filled the room. Siri closed her eyes, and he sensed her emotion instantly. She's scared, Obi-Wan mused wretchedly, why wouldn't she be?

"I'm going to hope no one else finds out." Siri choked on her last word, as a sob crept up her throat.

"It's all right," Obi-Wan soothed, trying to console her gently. He placed his hand tenderly on her back, and almost felt the tension that had grown between them melt; he could feel her trust him again -

"Jedi?" A little voice asked. "You okay?"

Obi-Wan looked to the Siekh boy Dedian who glanced up at him concernedly, releasing his mind out of the memory. "I'm alright."

"Bad dreams?" Dedian asked, but the Padawan shook his head.

"Just memories, young one. Sad memories."

They sat together in the middle of his Master's empty fac area, waiting hopefully for the Masters to return. Obi-Wan had tried calling with no answer, and the com link had not buzzed with calls from Siri, nor had he sensed anything to indicate Qui-Gon was near. They were in no danger at the moment, though the sounds of footsteps were increasing as they spoke, so they had decided to wait, the little boy resting and him meditating.

Obi-Wan watched the boy absentmindedly, seeing him count the rivets in the floor with childish concentration. He tried to imagine Siri's child, but the image hurt, memories joining it. The memory of that night with Siri at the Temple had returned to him during his alert meditation, and Obi-Wan hadn't stopped it. Despite their mission, he could not ignore the truth of Siri's dilemma like she could.

How can she tell the Jedi Council that she, all of a sudden, conceived a child? How can she tell them she's pregnant at all?

Obi-Wan felt a pang of sympathetic guilt, knowing how he should have told the Council, but also knowing that they would never believe such a story. He could end up being wound around the scandal, and that would be even worse than not telling – or would it? Could he protect Siri from a scandal by stepping up and saying he was the father? Could she be accepted by it, saved from being expelled? Or would they both be outcast and become a disgrace?

Noises cut the thought at the root, the Padawan listening until they faded. Watchmen were hunting more persistently, hastily, for a reason Obi-Wan still did not know. He looked to the child again, thoughts driven back to the trouble on his heart.

"It's not like I don't already feel like the father." He mused to himself softly, a stab of jealousy hitting him as he finished, "But I'm not. Someone else is."

"You are not a father?" Dedian piped in, Obi-Wan startled by his awareness, "You have no offspring?"

"No, I don't. The Jedi do not have any. We do not marry. It is forbidden." Obi-Wan knew the Seikh culture married early, and being eighteen it would be expected of him.

"But you said you feel like a father." Debian pointed out, blue eyes watching the Jedi.

Obi-Wan nodded, "It's complicated - "

Footsteps clamoured outside the door loudly, a great many off them by the duration of noise, and Dedian ran to Obi-Wan in fear. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, knowing they couldn't hide anymore.

"Do you know the facility well?" Obi-Wan asked the boy urgently, and Dedian nodded.

"I know perfect hiding spots. I know the whole place."

Without another word, Obi-Wan rose and helped Dedian onto his back, waiting for the noise to quiet before sneaking out of the facilitation area, and away to another hiding place. For not the first time, he was tired of hiding.