Qui-Gon slid his glance to his short companion, noting the sheen of concentration tightening the Sentili’s features as they paused in their flight. They’d barely exchanged any words during the moon’s trek across the sky, although Seph moved tirelessly beside him, despite the fact Qui-Gon towered more than a meter above him. The tribesman brought up a hand, gesturing towards the shelter of a great tree, which grew along the banks of a swollen river.

Following Seph’s shadowed movements as his form blended with the dark form of the trunk, Qui-Gon stepped noiselessly to join him. “We are near,” Seph whispered, his voice barely audible above the restless murmurings of the forest and the constant murmur of moving water. “There are many Upanis. The air smells of them.”

Qui-Gon nodded; he could sense the distant thrums of life emanating from the compound beyond the river, and more importantly, he still traced the thin thread of Bel-San’s life. The other Jedi had yet to reconnect with his mind, and though that fact worried him, he pushed his anxiety aside, falling back on an inner calm honed from years of training.

“It’s going to be difficult for one of us to get in unnoticed, let alone two,” he said softly, his keen vision taking in the general layout of the shadowed compound. “But we have little choice.”

Seph nodded his understanding. “Once we cross Lami,” he said, gesturing towards the river’s rippled surface, “We are on the Upanis’ land.”

He made direct eye contact with Seph, hoping the other man could comprehend. The Sentili didn’t seem to have a future tense in their language, and it made planning somewhat difficult. “We are going to go to the farthest side of the building, away from the main door. We must get inside without alerting them.”

“They do not catch me. I am the wind. I move beside them, but they cannot touch me.” He patted his bow and stocked quiver. “We will enter like spirits.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon said, passing his doubts over to the Force. He didn’t want to involve Seph inside the compound, but from what he could gather of Bel-San’s condition, he didn’t imagine his friend would be walking out without help. He disliked using a local for such a purpose, but Seph was willing, and Qui-Gon had no other alternative. “We must be careful. When we get inside, you must follow my direction. Bel-Sa—Sani wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Seph raised his chin. “Only Upanis get hurt.”

“They must not catch us,” Qui-Gon said again.

Seph’s expression suddenly became petulant, and for a moment, Qui-Gon saw the slightest glimmer of Obi-Wan; his young padawan regularly gave him that look when he felt Qui-Gon was being unreasonable. Uncomfortable with the reminder that he was involving a non-Jedi in his mission, he forced himself to consider his options. Whatever his feelings on the matter, he needed Seph’s assistance.

Taking a quick breath, Qui-Gon pointed to his left. “After we cross the river, I’ll go first. I’ll go right”—he gestured emphatically to indicate the direction—“and get us inside.”

“I follow you,” Seph said softly, moving towards the water’s edge. “Listen. Lami is strong. She is ripe from the rains.” Crouching down, he touched his palms to the river’s surface, his eyes closed. “I ask her for permission to cross. I think she will let us.”

Qui-Gon remained silent, struck for a moment by the tribesman’s reverence. Despite the urgency of their undertaking, Seph didn’t shirk the protocols of his people. There were times when, harried and reckless, he acted without the Force’s guidance, and to see the Sentili’s head bowed, fingers trailing in the dark water, Qui-Gon felt a mild rebuke echo through his mind.

“She says yes,” Seph said with a quick nod, stepping carefully into the river. “Follow me.”

Falling into place beside Seph, Qui-Gon waded into the swift current, which rose around his hips in a matter of steps. Within moments, water swirled around his shoulders, and he cut a line through the river, swimming forward with powerful strokes. At first, the water had felt comfortably cool against his skin, but as they moved closer to the center, it grew suddenly colder, and he felt a chill pass along his body. Keeping close to the tribesman, he sliced silently through the darkness, aware through his Force-enhanced senses that the river he crossed was far deeper than it appeared.

Seph’s path through the water veered to the left, and Qui-Gon followed behind, somewhat confused. His directional change almost would have seemed a capricious choice had their mission not been so desperate. They reached the opposite shore soon after, and Qui-Gon watched to see which footholds the nimble Sentili used to climb the slippery bank, mimicking his movements. As they stood for a moment in the tall fronds that grew along the riverside, Qui-Gon looked down at his companion. “What was in the water you wanted to avoid?” he asked quietly.

Shrugging, Seph’s expression remained passive. “A laopoi. Many teeth. Sani calls it, “snake demon.’ Very good to eat, but sometimes it eat you.”

“There’s a few of that sort in the galaxy,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. Withdrawing a small remote from the waterproof pouch on his belt, he switched it on, engaging the power of his ship. “I’m calling my vehicle,” he explained softly, programming his present coordinates into the remote. “It will meet us here on the riverbank, so we can leave as soon as we find Bel-San.”

Seph’s eyebrows rose. “Like the one that brought Sani?”

“Something like that.” Qui-Gon said. He hoped that they would be out of the compound by the time the ship arrived; it would be a harbinger of their presence there, but he knew that trekking back to the vehicle with a semi-conscious Bel-San in tow would be impossible, since his journey by land had taken most of a day.

“You are take--” Seph began, then floundered for a moment, mouth twisted in frustration. “Sani leave?” His dark eyes seemed ancient, deeper than the shadowed forest.

Qui-Gon chose his words carefully. “Bel-San is injured, and he needs medical help that he won’t be able to get here. But we will know more when we find him.” He paused, momentarily aware that Seph understood more than he had initially given him credit for. “Are you ready?”

Seph touched his bow, ensuring it was still strapped to his back. “Yes.”

Qui-Gon nodded, a chill passing through him as the wind brushed his wet skin. “If they get too close, run away. I can take care of myself.”

An uneasy grin slid onto Seph’s face, flashing white teeth. “So can I.”

Quieting his mind for a moment, Qui-Gon reached out with his mind to the essence of the Force, feeling its richness envelop him. Not for the first time, he wished for Mace’s presence; he had long since realized that this mission was meant for more than one Jedi. Stepping quickly in his sodden robes, he pushed those thoughts away, focusing more tightly on the compound ahead. Some type of pulse-charged fence stood sentinel around the building, its lined silhouette barely visible in the moonlight. Although Qui-Gon didn’t doubt his ability to slice his way through with his ‘saber, he had no desire to make such a brash entrance when a quieter one would suffice.

As they crept towards the fence, he felt Seph’s eyes on him, and he turned, voice hushed. “How high can you jump?”

Seph’s eyebrows rose as he took in the six-meter barricade. “Not that high.”

“If I help you, you can make it. Just stay still and don’t make a sound.”

Despite the concerned expression on the tribesman’s face, he nodded, and Qui-Gon reached for the Force, calling its power to him. Taking a deep breath, he focused his concentration on moving Seph’s body over the fence. Immediately Seph lifted into the air, moving steadily upwards until he crossed the threshold, then Qui-Gon lowered the other man onto the grass, finally releasing his hold.

Moments later, Qui-Gon took several steps back, and then launched himself over the fence, executing a smooth Force-enhanced leap. Landing heavily on his feet, Qui-Gon wasted no time, directing Seph along the wall of the compound itself. They moved silently, and Qui-Gon marveled at the tribesman’s agility; it sometimes surprised him how seemingly Jedi traits would appear in the most unlikely places.

Keeping along the rough surface of the compound’s outer wall, Qui-Gon listened for the slightest sounds, his senses attuned to the unfamiliar surroundings. He knew that Bel-San was inside, and from the distance he perceived through the Force, his friend was most likely somewhere towards the center. Blowing out a silent breath through his mouth, Qui-Gon tried to locate some sort of entry nearby. There had been several guards posted at the front gate of the facility, and although Qui-Gon couldn’t see any more from their place outside, he sensed the presence of others in the immediate area. If they didn’t get inside soon, they would risk discovery.

Seph tapped Qui-Gon’s shoulder, and he saw the tribesman pointing to a metal grate close to the ground not far ahead, partially covered by a thick swath of weeds along the wall. Moving closer, he saw the grate fed out from a larger chamber; he could hear the hollow echo of air thrumming through the passage out into the night. Qui-Gon crouched down, tugging on the grate. It held fast. He pulled out his lightsaber, engaging its green blade and cutting around the outside of the grate, slicing through the clasps that held it in place.

As he slid his lightsaber back into place on his belt, he removed the grate easily, and then dropped down to his stomach, crawling forward through the hole in the wall. The inside of the wall scraped along his arms and sides, but he was grateful the opening was large enough for them to fit through. He waved Seph in, and the tribesman shimmied through with no difficulty. They stood in a dimly lit chamber, behind some sort of gravsled. As his eyes adjusted to the new level of light, Qui-Gon saw the chamber was larger than he initially anticipated, and seemed to be a ballistics stockpile. There were hundreds of cases of blasters, rifles, grenades, and whatever else one would need to arm several hundred men. Whoever had been keeping the Upanis well supplied had not been lackadaisical; there were enough supplies here to keep a regulation army outfitted for some time. Some of the weapons were slightly outdated, but he didn’t doubt their potency. A chill snaked down the back of his neck, and he forced himself to resist the urge to investigate further. Something had gone terribly awry on Was-4.

Stretching out his senses, he sought out the weakening thread of Bel-San’s life, trying to ascertain where the Upanis had imprisoned him. The compound was only one level, since the jungle weather sometimes grew too strong for a taller structure, although it had been built with a surprising number of sections, connected together by narrow, low-ceilinged corridors. After a few moments, he received enough of an impression of the direction where Bel-San lay, and he began moving more quickly, Seph one stride behind. He’d only felt the slightest flicker of consciousness from the other Jedi, and creeping worry spurred his steps.

They rounded a corner and Qui-Gon stiffened, his hand reaching for his lightsaber reflexively. Several life forms moved very close to where they stood, and it wasn’t Bel-San that he sensed. Down the corridor, he saw two guardsmen on patrol, each armed with a long rifle. Drawing on the inner calm forged from years of training, he held up a hand, keeping Seph from moving forward. The guards checked down their hallway, then continued along their patrol, oblivious to their presence. Thankfully, the Upanis had not put many droids into use within their facility, and it made movement through the hallways undetected a much simpler task. Where the unblinking eye of a machine would have noted their presence, the soldiers on midnight detail were often less reliable. Although wariness pricked at both of them, Qui-Gon urged them onward.

When the corridor opened up into another larger hangar, Qui-Gon and Seph crept along the walls, staying inside the dark shadows between cases of stockpiled explosives. Qui-Gon knew there were more guards nearby, but he knew they were close to where Bel-San was, and that knowledge kept prudence at bay. From behind him, Qui-Gon sensed the tribesman’s anxiety rippling from him in waves, but Seph kept it hidden beneath his silent movements. Qui-Gon peered out from their cover, and saw in the center of the chamber an inner keep of sorts, which appeared to be several storage closets. The first two had no light from within, but from beneath the last door, brief snatches of dim illumination scattered across the gravel-strewn floor. Bel-San’s flickering signature finally manifested itself, and Qui-Gon knew his friend lay inside.

Barely breathing, Qui-Gon nodded at Seph, and the two approached the threshold of the last door, caution edging each move. He found it very disconcerting that the room had no guard, but he didn’t sense any kind of trap. That fact unnerved him even more, but given Bel-San’s condition, there was little time to search for one. He reached out, testing the handle, feeling for the mechanism of the lock. Using a handheld scrambler, he disarmed it and stepped inside.

The pungent odor of body waste struck him like a blow to the face, and he turned away, bringing a hand to his nose. Seph brushed at his eyes, now watering, as he moved to shut the door behind them. Regaining his composure, Qui-Gon reached for his glow-rod, igniting it. A blue-green wash suddenly lit the narrow chamber, and Qui-Gon winced involuntarily as his gaze crossed over Bel-San’s prostrate form.

“Bel-San?” he whispered, dropping to his knees beside his friend. Dirty brown curls lay plastered to Bel-San’s forehead, slick with sweat.

Seph dropped down beside them both, his gaze frightened. “Sani. . .” he whispered, raking his hand through his dark hair. He spoke several words in Sentili, looking at Qui-Gon plaintively.

With his arms twisted behind his back and his bare legs limp on the tiled floor, Bel-San looked like an animal ready for slaughter, neck exposed for the knife. His pale body, covered only by a soiled leather sarong around his waist, seemed brittle, as if a loud sound would shatter him. He lay on his side, the hateful charger’s monitors blinking a red light with each strained heartbeat. Touching Bel-San’s shoulder, he gave the other Jedi a gentle shake. “Bel-San?”

His friend didn’t respond, and Qui-Gon felt the fiery glaze of fever beneath Bel-San’s skin. From the way his ribs and collarbone protruded from beneath his skin, it had clearly been some time since he’d eaten anything. A badly healing laser blast marred his right side, and Qui-Gon had little doubt it had gone untreated. It was a miracle Bel-San had survived as long as he had. Reaching into his belt pack, he pulled out a small ion emitter. Although he hesitated to bring any more shock to Bel-San’s system, he needed the other man conscious. Applying the emitter to the base of Bel-San’s skull, it delivered an ionic pulse that stimulated his nervous system.

A low groan escaped Bel-San’s cracked lips, and his face contorted in pain, eyelids blinking quickly. “No. . .” he protested, and Qui-Gon touched a hand to his forehead, instilling his signature in Bel-San’s mind.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly, and realized a moment later he’d said it to all of them.

“It’s you.” Momentary focus developed in the other man’s eyes, and Bel-San’s tense form relaxed as his breathing slowed.

“Sani,” Seph said, reaching out to rest a hand on Bel-San’s shoulder. Another string of Sentili phrases poured from his lips, and Bel-San shook his head weakly, speaking only several words in response.

Qui-Gon reached for his lightsaber, speaking in low tones both to stay unnoticed by the Upanis and to reassure his friend. “I’m going to get rid of these cuffs. Hold still.”

Igniting his blade, he deftly slit the charged metal, and they fell away. Red welts ringed both of Bel-San’s wrists, and he pulled his arms around his body, stifling a cry as stretched muscles finally moved back into their natural position. “Thank you,” Bel-San said, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Qui-Gon slid the disengaged ‘saber into his belt, and then reached for the clasps on the charger.

“No!” Bel-San gasped, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t.”

Confused, Qui-Gon searched for reason in the other man’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Bel-San drew a shuddering breath, his slight frame shaking. “They said. . .there’s a bomb inside. If you take it off, it explodes.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. What if your heart stopped? It would blow up their building.”

Bel-San heaved in a quaking breath, closing his eyes. “You have to leave it on.”

Qui-Gon flicked a glance to the plastoid charger, and he swallowed back frustration. Placing a hand on Bel-San’s chest, he felt the erratic beat of his friend’s laboring heart. The constant shocks had weakened it, which meant his body was suffering from a diminishing supply of oxygen in his blood. “You’re not doing well.”

Bel-San’s eyes flickered open again, his gaze moving between Qui-Gon and Seph. “I know.”

Tapping into the Force, Qui-Gon released a stream of his own strength into Bel-San, centering a wave of healing Force into his chest, trying to steady Bel-San’s heartbeat enough for them to move him. As he pulled back his hand, he sucked in a quick breath, recouping his sense of calm as best he could.

The red light on the charger flashed crazily for a moment, then settled, and the tight lines of pain that had stretched across Bel-San’s face faded. He felt Bel-San’s mind connect slightly with his own, and sensed the other man’s desperation for contact with the Force. Qui-Gon realized then the true gravity of Bel-San’s situation; as his physical body had suffered, his connection with the Force had been silenced. Such conditions could lead to madness. An unconscious ripple of anger moved through his mind as he looked down at the battered form of his friend, and he forced himself to release it to the Force. There would be time enough later to deal with his emotions, once Bel-San was home and healing in a bacta tank.

Bel-San closed his eyes, drawing a breath as he tried to speak. “You. . .shouldn’t have given me so much.”

“Don’t worry about me.” A series of chills wracked the other Jedi’s slight frame as the fever still raged, untouched by Qui-Gon’s healing Force. Pulling off his robe, which thankfully had dried already due to the nature of the specialized fabric, Qui-Gon wrapped it around Bel-San. “This should help a little.” His friend accepted the warm fabric, his shivers subsiding somewhat inside the oversized robe.

Seph stood, moving towards the door. “Someone come,” he said quietly.

On his feet in a moment, Qui-Gon stepped back, sensing the sudden ripple of other life forms through the Force. Cursing his lack of attention to their surroundings, he waved Seph closer to the area behind the door, moving out of sight.

As they took their place against the wall, Qui-Gon heard a voice grunt as someone tried to enter in the keycode. Since the scrambler had foiled the lock, the guard pushed the override and entered the room, blaster drawn.

Before Qui-Gon could speak, Seph opened his mouth and uttered words in a low growl, his bow fitted with an arrow that pointed at the man’s throat.

The guard spun to face them, and he pulled the trigger on his blaster. Qui-Gon’s lightsaber was already engaged, and he blocked the blast easily, angling it towards the far wall.

“Jedi!” the Upanis cried, already pulling the blaster trigger again. Qui-Gon knew from the first shot his opponent’s weapon was set on stun, and he used his ‘saber to redirect the blast into the Upanis’ torso. The stun shot hit him squarely in the chest, and he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Qui-Gon moved swiftly to Bel-San’s side. “We need to move right now,” he said softly to Seph, who was securing his bow along his back. “There will be more guards here any moment.” He reached down, pulling Bel-San into a standing position. His friend’s knees buckled, ready to give way, but Qui-Gon held him up, easing him towards the door.

Through the Force, he sensed the movement of several other life forms coming in their direction. Cursing beneath his breath, he looked over at Seph. “Can you manage Bel-San by yourself?” Passing over his friend’s diminished weight into the tribesman’s hands, Seph nodded. “I’m going to cover us. Just stay behind me.”

TBC