A/N: Sorry, more from JA, with some editions for Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Same disclaimers apply.

Darsant Avat

Take Two

The following night, Guerra, Paxxi, Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan slipped the armor coats over their clothes and donned visors. They had used most of the day to figure out how to get the armor coat to fit on Obi-Wan and succeeded marginally; there were small Phindians, after all, and though the disguise was still uncomfortable for the child, at least outwardly he did not look too conspicuous.

Under the shelter of the overhang, they watched the activity at the warehouse by the spaceport.

There didn't seem to be high security. Syndicat members entered and exited the buildings without showing passes. They would only have to pretend to be delivering a shipment for cover. Or at least the hoped so.

Paxxi and Guerra had worked all day to father authentic- looking supplies. Although their containers were marked "Bacta" and "Medpacs," they were actually filled with old circuit parts, but at least they would have something to carry inside.

"As soon as we're inside, we should split into two groups," Master Qui-Gon instructed. Obi-Wan had mindtricked the guards with satisfactory ease last time, so his master felt comfortable letting him go separately with one of the brothers. "Guerra, go with Obi-Wan, Paxxi with me. We'll start at opposite ends and meet in the middle, if we can. If you can locate your goods and find the anti-register device, leave. If we can't find it, we all exit the building in twenty minutes. We can't take any chances. We'll come back for the pods another time, but we should not linger long."

"But what if we don't find it?" Paxxi asked.

"We try again," Master Qui-Gon said. "We can't risk being discovered. The shorter we stay in there, the better." He turned to Obi-Wan. "Don't forget to keep your hands in your pockets so that no one can tell how long your arms are. We must look like Phindians."

Obi-Wan nodded.

The four walked quickly across the courtyard. At the door of the warehouse, Qui-Gon barked out, "Delivering bacta," to the guard at the door. The guard waved them through.

Inside was a vast, high-ceilinged space. Row after row of transparent shelving units went from one end of the building to the other. Each shelf was piled with bins and cartons. Syndicat members in silver armor coats loaded supplies onto floaters, then headed for the large loading dock in the rear.

Paxxi and Guerra stopped, their faces registering shock. Obi-Wan knew why. Here was row after row of everything the Phindian people desperately stood in line for. Med supplies. Food. Parts to make their speeders run, their droids and machines operational. All hoarded by the Syndicat. The brothers had known this, but seeing it all with their own eyes must have been like receiving a blow.

"Keep moving," His master said in a pleasant tone that hummed with urgency underneath.

Hands in his pockets, Obi-Wan headed off with Guerra to the far end of the warehouse. They quickly strode down row after row. Other Syndicat members sometimes passed them. They would nod and keep going.

"This is easy, Obawan!" Guerra whispered. "So glad we stole these coats!"

Suddenly, the comlink in Guerra's coat began to signal him. "Guard K23M9, report in," a voice said. "Explain whereabouts."

Obi-Wan repressed a wince. Spoke too soon. "It's probably a routine check," He murmured. Guerra activated the comlink.

"Warehouse delivery," he said.

After a pause, the comlink crackled. "Unscheduled. Explain."

Guerra looked at Obi-Wan in a panic.

"Tell him he's mistaken," Obi- Wan whispered.

"Not so!" Guerra said rapidly into the comlink. "Orders received." He shut off the comlink.

That was not as elegant as Master Qui-Gon did it. "We'd better do this fast," Obi-Wan muttered, having a mildly bad feeling about this. Master Qui-Gon sensed this and there was a brief touch from him to inquire. The boy felt a little nervous, but not very frightened, so his master sent him a wave of comfort before focusing on his own search.

They turned down the next row. As Guerra scanned the shelves, Obi- Wan kept watch.

"Found it, Obawan!" Guerra cried softly. "There, to shelf! I recognize my carton of energy cells. It must be here." He climbed up on the bottom shelf, then reached up with his long arms. He grabbed a carton and hauled it down. Peering inside, he smiled broadly. "In here, at the bottom."

Obi-Wan shoved the carton marked "Bacta" in its place. "All right, let's go."

They strode down the aisle, trying to look as though they weren't hurrying. An announcement suddenly boomed out of a speaker near them.

"Guard K23M9, report to security. Guard K23M9, report to security."

"That's me! What should we do, Obawan?" Guerra asked panicked.

Obi-Wan thought carefully. They had to get the anti-register device out of the building, but if they merely ran for it, they would not make it past the guards.

Master Qui-Gon is going to kill me for this. Considering how his master liked to put everything else on hold for his sake, Obi-Wan was certain if he ever got out of this, he was going to be grounded for years. Nevertheless, what must be done must be done.

"Give me your coat," He ordered Guerra.

Guerra hesitated. "But that will put you in danger, Obawan."

"The Force will protect me," Obi-Wan told him, even though he was not as confident as he sounded. "You must find Qui-Gon and get that device out of here."

"You can use the Force to escape?" Guerra asked.

"Yes. Hurry." Obi-Wan slipped out of his own coat. Reluctantly, Guerra did the same. They exchanged the armor coats. Guerra put on Obi-Wan's and tucked the carton containing the anti-register device under his arm.

"Now go," Obi-Wan told him as Syndicat guards suddenly appeared around the corner on floaters

Guerra swiveled and walked away, past the guards who headed for Obi-Wan. They did not give him a glance. Obi-Wan turned and saw four more guards heading for him in the opposite direction. Too many people to use Force suggestion, and straight-forward fighting was not a good option. Even if he were to get past the guard here, security would lock down the building, and Guerra would never make it out. There was only one thing he could do. He had to surrender.

Guerra disappeared around a corner. The guards sped up to him and hovered, their blaster pointed at his neck, the only unprotected part of him.

"Guard K23M9, you are out of your quadrant," one of them said. "You know the penalty. We will escort you to headquarters. Resist, and you're dead."

Obi-Wan nodded. He climbed aboard the largest floater. The guard behind him kept the blaster against his neck. They took off for Syndicat headquarters.

They quickly noticed that he was not Phindian, but thought it was necessary to scan his irises anyway, as if he had somehow gotten a Phindian eye transplant without the corresponding immune rejection. It made Obi-Wan wonder if all Phindians just generally had a low intelligence quotient, or if the guards were selected specifically for lacking logical-thinking skills. He was then taken to Baftu, the head of the Syndicat.

Baftu was not much more civilized than his underlings.

"Why have you disturbed me?" he barked, scowling.

"I have brought you a rebel—" The security head babbled quickly.

"Why do you pester me with such things?" Baftu roared.

"B-because you ordered me to," The guard's voice was almost a whine.

"You disgust me. Leave the rebel and get out."

"But—"

"Excuse me, Head Slug," Baftu said in a purring, murderous tone. "Are you still here in my line of sight? Or do I need to impale you on an electro-jabber until you shake yourself to death?"

"No," The head of security whispered, and ran past a kneeling Obi-Wan to the far doors. He slipped through them and disappeared.

This one's a charming one, Obi-Wan thought morbidly, and wondered if he was actually going to suffer torture during this stunt. Master Qui-Gon is going to ground me until I'm knighted…

"Baftu!" A woman shouted, though Obi-wan couldn't see her. "I'm not finished!"

Baftu turned away, not even glancing in Obi-Wan direction. He left the door partially ajar. Slowly, Obi-Wan crept forward, his ears straining. He called upon the Force to sharpen his senses so he could hear the two. They spoke in furious murmurs.

"I was against the alliance with Prince Beju from the beginning," The woman said. "What do we know of him? We have yet to meet him or see him. Everything is done through his intermediaries. I do not trust someone I cannot see."

"He is coming tomorrow," Baftu said. "You will be able to look at him. Enough of this."

"And why are you thinking of expansion now?" She went on, ignoring him. "We should consolidate our power here on Phindar. Rebel action is growing. The people are starving. Med centers are crying out for supplies. You have created too many shortages, Baftu! The people are bound to revolt."

Baftu laughed "And what if they do? They are sick and hungry. If they can find any weapons, they are too weak to hold them for long."

…I wouldn't count on that. Sick and hungry people can be surprisingly strong, as Obi-Wan knew from Galactic history. This Baftu obviously never read his textbooks.

"This is not a joke, Baftu!"

"Ah, you're getting soft, pretty Terra! But if the state of things on Phindar worries you, then why don't you handle it? You can appease the people with some extra food this week. Not a bad idea since Beju is coming. It will distract them. Just don't give them any bacta - I've promised most of it to Beju."

"I do not trust that Prince—"

"As you have said," Baftu interrupted, "over and over again. I will handle the meeting. You handle Phindar. Now I have work to do."

"What about the rebel?" Terra asked.

"You handle it. Phindar is your responsibility, remember?"

Obi-Wan heard clicking footsteps, then the opening and shutting of a door in the other room. Quickly, he scuttled backward on his hands and knees, then pressed his face down into his hands.

A moment later, a boot nudged his shoulder. He had not even heard Terra approach on the soft carpet.

"Head up, rebel."

He raised his head. This Terra kind of looked like Paxxi and Guerra.

"So, you are not a Phindian. Who are you?" Terra asked impatiently.

"A friend," Obi-Wan answered.

Terra snorted. "Not to me. You impersonated a guard. You know the penalty. Well, perhaps you do not. Perhaps your Phindian friends did not tell you. You will be renewed and transported off-planet."

Obi-Wan did not move a muscle, but inside his heart seized. Renewed! They were going to mindwipe him without even figuring out who he was? Definitely low average intelligence quotient.

Terra sighed. She suddenly looked weary, and it was dramatically different from her earlier harsh apathy. She looked away into the distance. "Don't worry, rebel. It's not as bad as people say."

The Force tingled around the boy and his mind zeroed in on her words. It's not as bad as people say. As if she would know. Was she…?

If she had been renewed herself…she had that exact blank soulless look, now that Obi-Wan thought of it, and that switch from apathy to weariness…if she had been mindwiped, it would be easier for Obi-Wan to mindtrick her.

"Why do you bother asking who I am if you just renew everyone?"

Terra blinked at this, completely dumbfounded for a moment. "Then who are you?" She demanded, seeming completely unaware that she had never given Obi-Wan a chance to answer the first time.

She suggests renewal without even looking for answers. Obi-Wan thought quickly. Might not have such great mental strength whether or not she was renewed herself. He was not sure if Baftu would renew someone right by him, but the galaxy was filled with crazy people; Obi-Wan would know.

"I am a friend," He said, this time with ample amount of Force-suggestion.

Her eyes blanked over. "You are a friend."

Great! He pushed the elation down. "You will take me to the pods."

"I will take you to the pods."

Master Qui-Gon is going to ground me for life…Obi-Wan thought as he stood up to follow Terra. When they arrived at the pods, he told her to help him start one up.

"You will forget all about me," He told her.

"I will forget all about you."

"Return to Baftu and say you've dealt with it." Doesn't matter what 'it' is.

"I will return to Baftu and say I've dealt with it."

Whew! He thought when she left. Somehow, that experience was even more nerve-wrecking than fighting with a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan plunged into the teeming streets of Galu, the capital city of Gala. It had once been grand and impressive, but the great stone buildings were crumbling. Obi-Wan could see the holes and depressions where ornaments had been stripped off the facades. Trees had once lined the streets, but now there were only twisted stumps. He could see evidence of poverty everywhere. Where the atmosphere on Phindar was one of fear, here on Gala, Obi-Wan picked up anger, which was not promising considering that elections have been announced. A democracy here will cause chaos. Everyone liked the idea of democracy because it sounds beautiful in theory, but as Master Qui-Gon had pointed out to Obi-Wan early on, applied democracy in practice required specific conditions to be met, and not all planets and cultures meet them.

The Galacians were humanoids whose pale skin had a bluish cast. Sunlight on the planet was limited and they were often called "moon people" due to their fair, luminous skin. As a true human, Obi-Wan looked fairly out of place, but for the most part people did not pay attention to him.

The palace of Gala was not far. Obi-Wan hesitated at the ornate jeweled gates, wondering what to do. He could hardly walk in and announce himself. He assumed that the various ministers and candidates for governorship must come to the palace for meetings about the upcoming elections. Should he just stop the nest important-looking person and tell him why he was there?

Obi-Wan wished his master were with him. Master Qui-Gon would know what to do. Obi-Wan had little experience dealing with these sort of situations by himself. He felt exposed here on the street outside the place.

Still wondering how to proceed, Obi-Wan drifted back to stand underneath the shadow of a building overhang. He watched as a small passenger spaceliner glided down from the sky. It seemed to be headed straight toward him. Obi-Wan tensed, then realized he was standing next to a small spaceport hanger.

He moved forward, still keeping in the shadow of the overhang, to watch the ship land. The ramp lowered, and the pilot got out. Someone moved forward to greet him. It was a young man dressed in a long cloak and a wrapped headdress.

"I have been waiting for three minutes," The boy snapped as the pilot approached him.

"My apologies, my Prince. Equipment check took a bit longer than usual. But we are ready to fly."

Obi-Wan stiffened. Oh dear Force, He thought, It's Prince Beju. And he did look like Obi-Wan.

What a loser. He was frankly reminded of Bruck Chun and Aalto, with their snotty attitudes.

"Don't bore me with the obvious," The prince snapped. "Are my supplies loaded?"

"Yes, my prince. Is your royal guard ready to board?"

"Don't bore me with questions—just obey me!" Prince Beju ordered. "I expect takeoff in two minutes. I will be resting during the flight, so do not disturb me."

Prince Beju flung his cloak behind a shoulder and stalked off.

Oh Force, Obi-Wan groaned inwardly, Why does he look like me? Of course, Obi-Wan was a lot more tan, but still…on second thought, election's probably a good idea. This one looks like he'd make the planet go bankrupt in a month.

Cautiously, he slipped onto thew ship. Prince Beju was nowhere in sight. He was likely in his stateroom, behind the gilded door immediately to Obi-Wan right.

Obi-Wan quickly went into the cockpit. He sat for a moment, familiarizing himself with the controls. Master Qui-Gon forbade him from flying on Coruscant, but this was Gala, and there was no one else to fly the ship. He hoped he could do it, because if not…Well, maybe Beju would get a facial surgery and quit looking like me. Though at the same time, Obi-Wan might stop looking like himself too.

Just focus on the task at hand.

He headed back into the stateroom again an opened a closet door. One held supplies, but in the next was a row headdresses similar to the one the Prince wore.

Fancy! And convenient. Obi-Wan quickly slipped one on his head, then wrapped the deep purple cloak in a rich fabric around his shoulders. He took a brief moment to admire himself, before returning to the cockpit and sitting in the pilot seat.

Outside, the pilot was heading to the ship, along with three royal guards. Quickly, Obi-Wan deactivated the exit ramp and started the ion engines. The pilot looked up, startled.

Obi-Wan could see the bemusement on his face. He obviously thought that Prince Beju was piloting the ship. Not for long, perhaps—but if Obi-Wan was lucky, he would have enough time to take off.

The comlink suddenly blared to life. "Two minutes are up!" Prince Beju barked. "Why are we not taking off?"

Force, he was going to enjoy putting this one in his place. "Immediately, my Prince," Obi-Wan said crisply. He started preparations for takeoff, hoping he was doing it right. The ion engines revved. The pilot and the guards moved closer, trying to get a better look. Obi-Wan saw one guard's hand move to his blaster.

"Now," he muttered, praying that he knew what he was doing, since he had never piloted before…

The ship blasted out of the atmosphere of Gala, smoothly and surely as if Obi-Wan had flown it for years.

Oh ho! Obi-Wan thought, delighted at how easily everything went, Who's the boss? I am! Maybe this will convince Master Qui-Gon to let me fly now! Then again, Gala was no Coruscant, but still!

He waited until they were in deep space, before tossing the headdress and cloak aside for the was a weapons cabinet mounted on the wall of the cockpit, as if planted there specifically for him to use on the prince. He selected a blaster, and then made his way back to the Prince's stateroom.

The Prince was reclining on a sleep couch when he entered. "I said I didn't want to be disturbed!" he snapped, not looking up.

Obi-Wan walked closer. He placed the blaster under the Prince's chin. "So sorry to disturb you."

The Prince twisted around to look at Obi-Wan. "Guards!" he screamed.

"They decided to stay on Gala," Obi-Wan said, wondering just how daft this kid was when there was a blaster pointed at his throat. Seriously, even if the guards were around, it's not like that would spare you your head. Idiot.

"Get off of my ship!" Prince Beju blustered. "I'll see you dead! Who are you? How dare you!"

This one was obviously not a sharp one. Maybe this whole sector has a low average intelligence quotient.

"Don't bore me with questions," Obi-Wan said, unable to quell the glee at repeating the brat's words back to him as he hauled the Prince to his feet. "Just obey me."