Anakin sped down the narrow lanes, occasionally stopping to unload a bin of spice so that he wouldn’t look suspicious. He didn’t want to leave the floor. The head count could begin at anytime, and he needed to be able to sneak the Twi’lek back in. Soon he would be in trouble himself. He was allowed a strict amount of time for his rounds.
He circled around the processing floor and returned to where he had a good vantage point. The guard droid was beginning a head count.
He heard a soft moan from behind him. “I’m dead.”
“No, you’re not.” Anakin was not yet adept at moving objects with his mind. Yet he knew the Force was around him, even here. He drew it up from the scarred ground below, from the living energy of the beings around him, from the toxic sky. The Force bound all the slaves together, and they were part of one another and the rest of the galaxy, no matter how isolated they might feel. He struggled to block out everything but the pure quality of the Force. Slowly, he felt the Force grow around him, and he gathered it in and then sent it out to a pile of unprocessed spice sitting on the end of the worker line. One block of spice trembled, then another. Anakin held out a hand, feeling the Force move through him. The pile tumbled over, along with a stack of durasteel bins.
The guard droid immediately wheeled about. “Violation! Violation!”
“Go!” Anakin hissed.
The Twi’lek paused for one instant. Her eyes met his, and he saw a kind of forgiveness there. “My name is Mazie.” Offering her name was a kind of apology, a gesture of friendship, he knew.
“Anakin.”
She scooted out of the gravsled. The other slaves bunched up, shielding her for the few seconds it took her to slip back in line.
Anakin turned the gravsled. The guard droid could blame no one for the accident, since no one had been near. It circled, aiming its red laser light randomly, but the slaves continued to work. After a few seconds it went back to the head count. Mazie was safe.
Anakin was grateful for the hard physical training he’d been put through at the Temple. The slaves were rationed two scanty meals a day. He felt constant hunger like a beast inside him. He was not yet at Obi-Wan’s level, capable of forgetting about food for long periods of time. He had to use meditation to allow his hunger to exist without weakening him.
As he parked his gravsled at the end of the day and headed for the lift tubes with the other slaves, he felt a deep weariness in his bones. He knew it had to do with a weariness of spirit as well.
Obi-Wan was looking for him. That he knew. He was also confident that his Master would find him. But how long would it take? How much of him would be chipped away before it happened? Swallowing rage and fear did not fill up his empty belly, but it made him worry about losing his Jedi detachment.
He kept his eyes on the slave in front of him as they trudged to their quarters. A rain was falling, and it tasted bitter and metallic on Anakin’s lips. He felt it soak his hair and unisuit.
Suddenly he felt a surge in the Force. Startled and hopeful, he lifted his head. Was his Master near? He searched the platforms high above. The factories and slave quarters were on the surface of Nar Shaddaa, but the city was built above. He did not see his Master. Instead, he saw Krayn.
The pirate stood on a platform a hundred meters high. Standing next to him was a nervous human man who Anakin did not know. Siri stood on Krayn’s other side. Strange, but Siri’s gaze seemed to focus right in on Anakin. He felt the Force gather, and he did not understand it. Did he have a connection to Siri? He didn’t know. Was she demonstrating that she still could utilize her Jedi abilities? Maybe it was a warning. He didn’t care.
He was about to drop his gaze when another being joined the others on the platform. Anakin was surprised to see the Colicoid captain, Anf Dec. What was he doing there? Weren’t Krayn and the Colicoids bitter enemies? After all, Krayn had attacked Anf Dec’s ship!
Krayn pointed below and made a sweeping gesture. Anf Dec nodded. Siri stared serenely ahead, no longer focused on Anakin.
He didn’t know what it all meant. But somehow, he resolved to find out.
CHAPTER 14
Obi-Wan adjusted his blast pads and helmet. Then he checked to make sure his lightsaber was hidden among the jumble of weapons on his belt. He was disguised as a slave trader named Bakleeda, and he hoped he would pass. When he had gathered his concentration, he strode down the deserted corridor toward Security Room A.
It had taken careful planning to get him this far. He was on the space station Rorak 5, a half day’s journey from Nar Shaddaa. It existed as a fuel stop for traveling freighters and was also well known for having a suite of security rooms available for meetings, clandestine or otherwise. The security rooms were outfitted with the highest defenses, and it was possible for all parties to leave their ships and travel there without being seen. As soon as Obi-Wan landed, a moving corridor attached to his landing ramp. He exited his ship and followed a set of verbal directions from overhead speakers to his destination.