Lostandfound2

Title: Lost and Found (Part Two)
Author: Kat

*****

Their escort led them to the turbolift and took them up almost to the top floor - the one below the roof, Qui-Gon thought. Once there, the young man led them down several corridors to a set of double doors, and pressed a control. The doors slid open silently.

The young man stood back to usher Qui-Gon in, and he entered the room cautiously, the droid at his heels. The first thing he noticed was that the room was empty, but that there was another smaller door in the wall to his left. Assuming that Gatt would enter through that door, he turned to survey his surroundings.

The room he entered was a huge, richly-decorated rectangular chamber outfitted with white and gold hangings. The floor was paved with marbled cobblestones and a long, gleaming dining table sat in the centre of the room, with two places set, one at each end. A collection of comfortable couches sat at the far end of the room, in front of the wide diamond-shaped window, which faced the now-setting sun. The lights were kept low, but the light from the window bathed the whole room in a red glow.

Qui-Gon heard the door to his left hiss open and turned just in time to see a tall, powerfully-built man walk through it. He was at least as tall as Qui-Gon, possibly an inch or two taller, and very heavily muscled. His hair was yellow-blond, cropped short, and a long, thin scar ran down one side of his face. He was dressed simply in black, which made his pale skin look even paler, and he was smiling, although the scar across his cheek made it look more like a sneer.

"Quinn Tel-Gon, I presume," he said, offering his hand. "I am Gan Gatt. I apologise that I could not meet with you before this, but now we can get down to business. I hope you have enjoyed your stay so far?"

Qui-Gon nodded, keeping a smile on his face as he silently assessed the man with the Force. "Your home is very impressive," he said.

Gatt nodded, still smiling. "I like to live in comfort, and since I am often offplanet seeing to my other businesses, I like this retreat to be comfortable to come back to. Besides, my guests enjoy it, especially the ones such as yourself who hail from troubled areas. It can sometimes take a few days to get the shipments in and since they are paying me good money -" the smile widened "- I think I can at least provide them with a bit of fun."

Qui-Gon nodded, his mind racing. There was something strange about Gatt, he thought. For all his charm, there was something dark and almost - *unstable* - about him. Qui-Gon had no doubt that he could be very dangerous.

Gatt gestured to the table. "But please, have a seat, I have an excellent meal prepared. We can talk business while we eat. I'm sure you are anxious to proceed."

Qui-Gon sat down at one end of the table and Gatt sat opposite him. Slaves came in to serve drinks and the first course, and then departed hurriedly. Qui-Gon could practically taste their fear, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because of him. /So it is Gatt everyone is so afraid of. Is he a cruel master then, or is it something else?/

As they ate, Gatt began to talk business. "Well, you gave me a sketchy idea of what you were looking for via the subspace communication we had, so why don't we get into the specifics now. You tell me what, and how many, and I'll tell you how much." Qui-Gon nodded, gesturing to the little astrodroid to come to his side and tapping a few commands into the computer terminal that linked to it. "I have a list of possibilities here, as well as quantities. We weren't sure exactly what you'd be able to get."

"You name it, I can get it, my friend," Gatt said calmly. "Why do you think my security is so tight? I'm the best arms dealer around. You just tell me what you're looking for. If you have the funds, I have the weapon. And if by some chance I *don't* have it, I'll get it."

Qui-Gon nodded, glancing down at the terminal. "Well, we want small arms, of course. Our supply has been badly run down by the war. Hand guns, blaster rifles. Something unusual would also be useful; projectile weapons or something like - something our opponents would not be expecting."

"Easily done," Gatt said, typing quick notes into a small datapad on the table beside him. "What else?"

"We were also hoping for some decent anti-aircraft guns, either portable or not, it isn't important. And mobile explosive launchers for our front lines."

Gatt nodded, making more notes. "Anything else?"

"Larger explosives. Whatever you have. And ammunition, and power packs."

"Of course," Gatt said. "All right, I'll show you what I can get along those lines and you can pick and choose. Then we'll talk money."

As Qui-Gon watched, Gatt pressed a control on his datapad and the centre section of the table's surface retracted, leaving a square hole in the metallic surface. With a soft whir, a small holoprojector rose out of the opening and projected a glowing display screen into the air above the table. Using the datapad, Gatt began to scroll through the options shown on the screen.

"All right, let's start with small arms," Gatt said, still pressing buttons on the datapad. "For hand guns, I'd recommend this one."

He touched a last control and a life-size hologram of a blaster weapon appeared in place of the display screen, revolving slowly so that Qui-Gon could see it from all sides. "This is the J-12 heavy blaster. It's one of the most reliable side arms available. Charge time is minimal, so it's good for heavy combat situations."

Qui-Gon eyed the hologram, checking out the gun's features. Gatt paused to let him observe it, then touched another button and a different gun appeared. "And for rifles, this one is probably the best; the K1-90 phase plasma rifle. It comes with an expanded charge pack and has a longer lasting power cell. Both of these guns are more durable than the average, so they'll take a lot of hard use before they quit on you. These models are both used by Republic agents in the outer rim territories because they're good for heavy fighting and can take more knocks."

He looked at Qui-Gon around the revolving hologram. "I have other models, of course, but for your situation I would recommend these ones."

Qui-Gon nodded. He recognised both models of gun, and Gatt was telling the truth about their capabilities. "Yes, I would agree with that. I've used both of those guns. Those should be suitable for small arms."

Gatt smiled approvingly, tapping at his datapad again. "What quantities were we talking about?"

Qui-Gon checked the readout on his computer terminal, searching through the data available to him. "Probably in the realm of 15,000 units of each."

"Fine." Gatt made more notes. "Now, you wanted something a bit more unusual. Projectile weapons, you said? If you're looking for something to get through blaster-ready defenses, I can show you a few models that you might be interested in."

Qui-Gon nodded for Gatt to proceed, and found himself being shown examples of several lethal-looking projectile guns.

"The VRK-2 is good," Gatt said, gesturing to the hologram. "It's a sniper rifle. It fires depleted iridium rounds; they'll punch straight through most blaster-proof armours." He pulled up another hologram. "Or there's the Cardin 580 variant assault rifle. This one can be loaded to fire explosive rounds, stun rounds, armour penetrating rounds and mini gas canisters. It doesn't have the range of the VRK but it's more versatile."

Qui-Gon selected one of the better projectile guns, but in smaller quantities than the blasters. Gatt noted down his choices and went on to display a selection of anti-aircraft guns. Qui-Gon listened carefully as Gatt explained the various merits of several weapons, displaying each one so that his client could see what he would be purchasing.

/Gatt is certainly an efficient salesman,/ he thought. It made sense. After all, Gatt ran several legitimate businesses as well, and had many years of experience.

His eyes narrowed as the next example was displayed. It took him barely a moment to recognise it for what it was. This was one of the weapons he had been told to keep an eye out for.

"This is the MR90 portable twin pulse EMP cannon," Gatt was saying. "This is new technology, very advanced. It's a shoulder mounted energy cannon that fires two pulses at the target. The first one sends a disruptive charge which weakens a portion of the shields long enough to let the second pulse pass through and disrupt the ship's systems. If you hit her right she'll be dead in the air."

Newly designed, barely past the testing stage, the gun Gatt was displaying was available only to certain select units of Republic troops. A shipment of weapons containing these guns had been stolen very recently, and Qui-Gon had been told to watch for them during his mission. This finally confirmed the theory that Gatt was selling stolen Republic weapons. Now all he needed was to find out who was telling him how to do it.

Qui-Gon made appropriate selections from the anti-aircraft guns and explosives that Gatt presented to him, and consulted his computer terminal about the quantities that would be needed. The slaves returned to serve the next course of the meal, and shortly after that the discussion turned to money. They haggled back and forth for a while, but Qui-Gon had been well briefed on how far to take the dickering and conceded at a price that, while still fairly exorbitant, was within the limit he had been advised to adhere to.

The bargaining concluded, Gatt leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. "Well, that takes care of the difficult part," he said. "Now it's just a simple exchange. Once payment is confirmed, I'll hand over the guns and off you go."

"Will I be permitted to bring my ship closer in order to load?" Qui-Gon asked. "It's quite a distance away."

"I'll send one of the men with you to fetch it tomorrow, and you can use my landing field. Having new customers land that far away is just a security precaution. We're actually quite hard to spot from here, so close to the mountains and all." Gatt grinned darkly. "Not that anyone on this rock cares what I do anyway."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Understandable when you're out this far. Koslos is much the same." He allowed his expression to darken. "It was, anyway."

"Mmm. Ugly business, that. I've had a few from Koslos buying from me this year. Only the well-funded ones, of course." His lips twitched. "I cost too much for the non-funded groups. Takes money to even find me." He glanced over at Qui-Gon. "A shipment that size will take me a couple of days to prepare, so I hope you will consider yourself my guest until everything is ready?"

"I appreciate your hospitality," Qui-Gon said, feeling a thrill of satisfaction. This was just what he had been hoping for. This meant he had a couple of days to try to find out who Gatt's Republic contact was. And as he was now technically a paying customer, he might be allowed a little more freedom to poke around.

Gatt nodded, looking pleased. "That's settled then. Now, how about dessert? And a few drinks, perhaps, to celebrate a successful deal?"

Qui-Gon accepted the offer, and Gatt summoned slaves to bring the food and drink. They had been darting in and out all through the evening, clearing plates away and supplying more, not saying a word. All of them had been fearful, and that fear was directed almost solely at Gatt.

Qui-Gon had not seen anything of the man yet except the pleasant face he offered a potential buyer, but Gatt made him uneasy for reasons he could not quite explain. There was definitely something dark about the man.

Three slaves entered the room bearing dessert and drinks, and Qui-Gon's gaze flicked briefly over each in turn. An older woman, a girl in her late teens and a young boy...

Qui-Gon's heart gave a sickening lurch.

It couldn't be. Force, it *couldn't* be. But somehow it was.

The boy was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Qui-Gon stared at the boy, horrified. How was it possible? How in the name of the Force had he ended up *here*, of all places?

The last time he had seen Obi-Wan had been nearly eight months ago, when he left Bandomeer after his mission there. Despite Obi-Wan's best efforts to convince him otherwise, he had refused to take the boy as his Padawan. Instead he had gone back to Coruscant and left Obi-Wan to begin his duties with the Agri-Corps. It was for the best, he had thought at the time. The boy was too angry, too undisciplined. It would be too risky to train him.

Obi-Wan had appeared to accept his decision, but Qui-Gon had seen the heartbreak in his eyes.

He had wondered, afterwards, if he had made the right choice, but he had ruthlessly quashed any doubts he might have had. What was done was done, and he could not change it now. He could only go forward.

And so he had, continuing to take the missions assigned to him and carry them out to the best of his abilities. He worked hard, trained hard, continued on his quest for justice.

And if his quest was occasionally interrupted by a vision of a miserable young face, the green eyes pleading for acceptance, he had managed to ignore it. What was done was done.

Except that apparently it wasn't, because it seemed his past had caught up with him yet again.

All these thoughts flew through Qui-Gon's mind in mere moments, although it seemed like an eternity as he stared at the boy in disbelief. Then, remembering his situation, he clamped down on his spiraling emotions, forcing his face back into impassivity. A swift glance at Gatt showed that the man had not noticed his distraction.

He looked back at Obi-Wan, keeping his face carefully blank. The boy had not seen him yet; he was keeping his head down and his eyes on the floor. It wasn't until he neared the table that his gaze lifted to glance briefly at Gatt and then at his guest.

He froze, his eyes widening in horror. A myriad of emotions flashed across his face as he stared at Qui-Gon for a long moment. Then he wrenched his gaze away, looking back down at the floor, schooling his features to calm.

Qui-Gon shot another quick glance at Gatt and was relieved to see that the man had not noticed Obi-Wan's reaction either, distracted as he was by the drink he was being poured. Qui-Gon could feel the shock pouring off Obi-Wan in waves, but the boy looked mostly calm. Impressive control, Qui-Gon thought. But then, the boy was Jedi-trained. What else did he expect?

He eyed the boy surreptitiously as dessert was served. Obi-Wan had both grown taller and lost weight, Qui-Gon saw, and his hair had grown out considerably from the short-cropped initiate style. But more visible to Qui-Gon than the physical changes was the air of defeat that hung over the boy like a cloud. The Obi-Wan he had known had been full of fire and hope and determination. This boy seemed merely a pale shadow of the one Qui-Gon remembered.

The older woman placed a plate in front of him and poured him a drink, and Qui-Gon nodded his thanks. Gatt was taking a large swallow from his own glass, which contained a particularly potent alcoholic beverage that he favoured. Qui-Gon had chosen something a little less lethal for his own drink.

Duties finished, the three slaves turned to depart, but Gatt's voice stopped them. "You - boy. Come here."

Obi-Wan turned back, his face carefully blank, and walked slowly across to Gatt's side while the two women scurried for the door, as if fearful that Gatt would call on them next. Shooting one lightning glance at Qui-Gon, the boy dropped gracefully to his knees at Gatt's feet.

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth and had to control a shudder as Gatt reached out a hand to stroke Obi-Wan's hair. The boy kept his eyes lowered, submitting to the petting, but Qui-Gon could see him trembling slightly.

Gatt continued to make conversation with Qui-Gon, all the while stroking Obi-Wan like a favourite pet. Qui-Gon had to fight hard to control the emotions that raged inside him. He could feel Obi-Wan's humiliation at being treated in such a manner, but the boy remained motionless. For whatever reason, he had clearly decided it was better not to fight.

Qui-Gon shuddered to think of what could have reduced the fiery boy he remembered to the defeated one he saw before him.

Gatt's glass was empty, and he motioned to Obi-Wan to refill it. The boy stood, reached for the bottle and began to pour, but his hand trembled slightly and a few drops of the amber liquid splashed across the tabletop.

Gatt moved so fast that it took even Qui-Gon by surprise. Springing to his feet in one smooth movement, he backhanded Obi-Wan savagely across the face.

The bottle flew from Obi-Wan's hand to shatter on the floor several metres away, and the boy himself went tumbling head over heels to land in a heap on the floor. He lay still for a long moment as Qui-Gon stared in horrified disbelief, calling on all of his control to keep himself in his chair and not intervene.

Gatt, his face as calm as if nothing had happened, sat back down in his chair, barely sparing a glance for Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon watched as the man picked up his drink and took a sip, appearing totally unruffled by the violence that had just occurred. So that was why the slaves were so afraid of Gatt, Qui-Gon thought grimly. /I was right, he is unstable./

After a moment, Obi-Wan shakily picked himself up. His right cheek was a livid red from the blow and already bruising. Visibly trembling, the boy walked slowly back over to Gatt's chair, dropping to his knees again at the man's feet and bowing his head.

Gatt extended a hand to stroke Obi-Wan's hair again, smiling slightly. "Good boy," he rumbled. "You're learning."

/Learning?/ Qui-Gon thought in anguish. /Learning *what*? To be struck without reason and then come back for more?/

He could barely contain his distress. Gatt had just brutally assaulted the boy and was now stroking him like some kind of *pet*. And Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan had scurried back to his feet like a kicked puppy.

To see the boy being treated in such a manner sparked a cold fury so powerful that Qui-Gon could hardly see straight. It took him several moments to centre himself in the Force again and release the anger he felt, pulling his emotions back down to a manageable level.

Gatt looked over at Qui-Gon, still petting Obi-Wan's hair lazily. "He's one of my newer ones. Still learning how to behave. Go and greet my guest, boy," he said sharply to Obi-Wan. "And be polite, or I'll whip the hide off you."

Obi-Wan rose to his feet and padded silently down to the other end of the table, his eyes on the floor. He did not meet Qui-Gon's gaze, but simply went to his knees at the Jedi's feet, his head bowed, despair radiating off him like a beacon. Gatt continued to talk and Qui-Gon struggled to contain his revulsion, feigning a calm he did not feel.

"I was going to offer you your pick of them for the night," Gatt was saying. "I find they provide a useful distraction for my customers while they wait for their shipments to be ready. Keeps them from becoming too bored..." He grinned at Qui-Gon. "They've all been well-trained, of course."

Qui-Gon's mind was racing. If Gatt was going to offer him his choice of companions, did that include Obi-Wan? Perhaps if he showed an interest in the boy, Gatt would offer Obi-Wan to him for the night. Then he might be able to find out just *how* the boy had ended up here...and also find a way to smuggle Obi-Wan out with him when he left.

Because one thing was positive, there was no way he was leaving this place without him.

With that in mind, he reached down to take the boy's chin in his hand and tilt his face up, forcing Obi-Wan to meet his eyes. "Pretty," he said, keeping his face impassive as he looked the boy up and down. His eyes narrowed as he noticed that Obi-Wan actually wore two collars - as well as the slim silver band Qui-Gon had seen on most of the other slaves, he also wore a thicker black one. "What's the extra collar for?"

"The black one? It's an inhibitor collar. The boy's a bit of a Force-user. The collar keeps him from doing anything he shouldn't."

Qui-Gon looked back down at the collar, feeling a fresh wave of horror. Using the Force, he probed experimentally at Obi-Wan and found that his Force signature did indeed feel strange - it was fuzzy, almost...muted. The collar was clearly inhibiting his Force abilities.

Qui-Gon ruthlessly squashed the anguish he felt. His distress would not help Obi-Wan. The only way to help the boy was to play along.

Still holding the boy's chin in one hand, he ran the other hand over Obi-Wan's hair. "A Force-user? He's not dangerous, is he?" he asked. Most people who could not use the Force were at least a little worried about those who could.

"Not with that collar on," Gatt said, clearly unconcerned. "You can take him for the night if you like. Or I can bring in some more for you to choose from. Hell, take a couple. I like to keep my customers comfortable."

"He'll do," Qui-Gon said, keeping his voice level. He forced a sly grin onto his face. "Why sleep alone when you don't have to, eh? Plenty of time for that once I get home." He cringed inwardly at what he was saying, hoping that Obi-Wan would know he was acting.

"My thoughts exactly," Gatt said, nodding. "Well, since our business is concluded I think I can leave you to find your own entertainment for the night." His gaze passed over Obi-Wan, and he grinned knowingly. "If he doesn't please you, or you decide you want another to keep him company, just tell your housekeeping droid, and it'll relay the message. If he doesn't behave himself, you can punish him, but don't do anything permanent or you'll have to pay for him. Understood?"

"Of course," Qui-Gon replied calmly. He stood, and Gatt followed suit, crossing to Qui-Gon's end of the table.

"I'll find someone to take you back to your room," Gatt said. "Oh, and as a safety precaution the rooms are kept locked to guests, so if you want anything tell your droid and it'll see that you get it. The door won't open for you and if you try to force it it'll set off an alarm. Just a precaution, you understand. Can't be too careful in my line of work."

"Indeed," Qui-Gon murmured. /Damn, so much for having a poke around while everyone's asleep. I'll have to try to do it during the day. *If* they ever let me out of my rooms./

"In that case, it's been a pleasure doing business with you," Gatt said, shaking Qui-Gon's hand again. He went to the door to summon a guard, and in moments the same young man who had escorted Qui-Gon to dinner appeared.

"Take Mr. Tel-Gon back to his rooms," Gatt said. "And you, boy," he directed at Obi-Wan, "behave yourself, or you'll answer to me."

Obi-Wan shot a quick, careful glance up at Gatt, then rose to his feet, keeping his head lowered. The guard led the way from the room, and Qui-Gon followed, with Obi-Wan and the little astrodroid trailing behind him.

They were escorted back to Qui-Gon's suite, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "Can we speak freely?" he asked in a low voice.

Obi-Wan looked up at him. "Yes," he said quietly. "There's no surveillance, except for the housekeeping droid. Gatt doesn't care what goes on in here, so long as you don't try to leave the suite. The door's alarmed."

"Bedroom then, away from the droid," Qui-Gon said, and led the way through from the main room. Once he and Obi-Wan were inside, he shut the door and engaged the locking mechanism. Then he turned back to Obi-Wan, allowing his distress to show for the first time. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. He looked up at Qui-Gon briefly, then shrugged, dropping his eyes again. "I guess so, anyway."

Qui-Gon ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Obi-Wan, what happened? What are you doing here? How did you *get* here?"

"Does it matter?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

"Of course it matters! I can't -" Qui-Gon stopped, taking a deep breath and fighting for control. "Obi-Wan...I want to help you. Please, tell me what happened."

Obi-Wan sighed, then began to speak. He sounded tired, defeated, and it make Qui-Gon's heart ache to hear it. "The Agri-Corps workers on Bandomeer have to make special supply runs every month or so, for some of the specialised equipment they use. There's a crew that handles it, but a bunch of the others go along every time, to help out with the loading and stuff. I'd been there for about three months when they asked me if I'd like to go along for the ride on the next run. I was bored, so I was happy to."

The boy paused for a moment, looking up at Qui-Gon as if expecting a rebuke. Qui-Gon said nothing, simply gesturing for him to continue, and after a moment he did so.

"The run was routine. There had been no problems, and we were nearly there. But then we were attacked. Boarded. The crew was killed. All of the Agri-Corps workers - we were all pretty young, I guess that's what they were looking for - were taken to their ship." He shook his head tiredly. "We didn't understand what they wanted us for - there weren't even that many of us, and the ship wasn't anything fancy either. But the next thing we knew, we were being tagged and sold off to a slave-dealer. They made a killing on us because we were Force-sensitive."

"*Because* you were Force-sensitive?" Qui-Gon echoed, horrified at the thought.

"Apparently, for all the good it did us. At first they kept us so drugged we couldn't have used the Force anyway, and then after the slave-dealer had us he slapped these collars on us." He tugged at the black collar around his neck.

"It stops you from using the Force?"

"Yes. It doesn't work very well, though, so I can still feel it. I just can't do anything much with it."

Qui-Gon shook his head, disbelieving. He had left Obi-Wan on Bandomeer because he had thought it would be safer for all concerned. And perhaps it had been, for him. Obi-Wan, however, had been abducted, sold and enslaved. And by the sound of it, he had been taken *because* he was Force-sensitive. Qui-Gon was sickened by the very thought.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, willing calm into his voice when he spoke again. "And then you were sold to Gatt?" he prompted.

"We were shipped offplanet first - I'm not even really sure where, but somewhere in the mid-rim I think. I imagine that's where the dealer did most of his trading, out of the way of the core systems. Then Gatt showed up, looking for new merchandise, and he bought me. I don't know what happened to the others."

"How long have you been here?"

"Nearly four months." The bleak expression on Obi-Wan's face told Qui-Gon all he needed to know about those four months.

"And has Gatt - have you been - " He couldn't bring himself to ask it, instead he gestured meaninglessly around at the room, at the bed, then back at himself. Obi-Wan understood what he meant.

"Has he handed me out to other buyers? Yes. All the young ones get passed around. Gatt does quite a lot of business." His voice was toneless, his expression carefully blank. "Gatt trains his slaves up himself. If you don't please the people he gives you to, you get a refresher course. It's far, far better to just try to be pleasing."

Despite the calm fa��ade, Qui-Gon saw the boy shudder slightly at the memory, and gritted his teeth. When he spoke, his voice was low and urgent. "Obi-Wan, you're not staying here. I'll only be here for a couple of days, and when I leave I'm taking you with me. Do you understand? I'm *not* leaving you here."

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long moment, his eyes reflecting doubt, suspicion, and a hopelessness that made Qui-Gon wince. But he met Obi-Wan's gaze squarely, hoping that the sincerity behind his promise showed in his own eyes.

After a moment, he boy looked away again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked flatly, changing the subject.

"Gatt is selling stolen Republic weapons." Qui-Gon didn't see any reason to be secretive with Obi-Wan. He knew he could trust the boy; he had never doubted that for a moment. Besides, when he left he was taking Obi-Wan with him anyway. He'd find out what was going on soon enough.

Obi-Wan didn't seem surprised by the information. "I wondered where he was getting them. He sells everything; including really sophisticated weapons. He's supposed to be the best arms dealer around out here." He looked up at Qui-Gon again. "So you're after Gatt?"

"Not really. Someone is informing him, someone inside the Republic and probably in quite a high position - someone who knows when and where the weapons are being shipped. I'm here to find out who."

Obi-Wan nodded. "So you're undercover, buying arms from him?"

"Yes. I'm posing as a member of a militia group. The idea was that I'd be able to do some poking around while I'm waiting for the shipment, find some things out."

Obi-Wan frowned. "That won't be easy. Gatt's very paranoid, so the security here is *tight*. Buyers are watched constantly. He doesn't trust anyone - that's why the suites are always locked, and why he hands his slaves out like candy. He figures if he keeps the buyers busy in the bedroom they won't have time to cause any trouble, or want to go sneaking off somewhere they shouldn't."

"If he's so paranoid, why is there no surveillance in here?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Because so long as you *stay* in here, he doesn't care what you do. That's what I'm for; to keep you amused so you'll stay in your suite. It's only if you try to leave when you shouldn't that there'll be a problem."

Qui-Gon winced inwardly at Obi-Wan's blunt description of his purpose. He thought of Obi-Wan being handed over to other, real buyers; probably rough types who would not care in the least that Obi-Wan was only a boy...

Qui-Gon's fists clenched, and he fought back another surge of anger. /I *will* get him out of here,/ he thought fiercely. /Even if I have to *buy* him!/ He took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke again. "Gatt strikes me as being more than a little unstable."

"He's a bloody nut-job," Obi-Wan said bluntly. "The slaves are all terrified of him."

"With good reason, if that little display I saw is anything to go by."

Obi-Wan's hand drifted up to gingerly probe his bruised cheek. "That was nothing. He wasn't even really annoyed." He shot a quick glance up at Qui-Gon, then looked away again, seeming to steel himself. "You...you'll have trouble finding anything out, I think, with the security Gatt has. At the very least it'll be dangerous. But..." He took a deep breath. "But I might be able to." He risked another glance at Qui-Gon, his eyes wary, as if expecting to be rejected outright.

/Hardly surprising,/ Qui-Gon thought grimly, /considering how many times you've done exactly that./ He looked carefully at the boy. "How?"

"I can get into Gatt's quarters. He's - um - taken an interest in me, recently. The guards won't think it's odd if I'm in there."

"If he's taken an interest in you, why did he give you to me for the night?"

"That's what he does to the ones he...fancies," Obi-Wan said flatly. "It keeps them on their toes. The more he likes you, the more buyers he offers you to." The tone of his voice spoke eloquently of what he had endured.

Qui-Gon had to grit his teeth against the fury that rose up within him. /Anger will solve nothing!/ he told himself sternly. Willing himself to calm, he considered Obi-Wan's suggestion. "How would you find the information? I doubt he'll just have it lying around."

"If it's anywhere, it'll be in his computer. He has a special terminal in his rooms, where he does all his work. All his communications go there, orders, shipments...everything. If it's not there, I would swear it won't be anywhere."

"If there's so much important information on it, it must have a good security system, surely? How would you get in?"

"A lot of the security is that no one goes *into* Gatt's rooms except Gatt and his slaves. His system is password-protected - and I know his password."

"How did you find that out?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I watch him when he puts it in. He changes it all the time, but I've been in his rooms a bit recently, since he decided he liked me. I saw him do it a couple of days ago."

"What is it?" Qui-Gon asked. "It's random, I think." He rattled off a complex string of numbers, letters and symbols that would definitely have taken a Jedi's talents to pick up from watching someone enter it. He looked up at Qui-Gon, his gaze hesitant. "The problem would be getting into his rooms. And - well, I could do that a lot more easily that you could. You can't get out of here without an escort, and they'll be watching you every second."

Qui-Gon thought for a moment. /I don't want to endanger him...but I may well *need* his help. If Gatt's as paranoid as he says, it's going to be very difficult for me to find out anything./

He looked carefully at the boy. "I do not want to put you in danger, Obi-Wan. But you are right, it will be very difficult for me to find out what I need to if security is as tight as you say. So, if you wish to help me, I must accept. But - " He raised a warning finger, fixing Obi-Wan with a stern look. "You must promise me that you will not take any unnecessary risks. I will not have you harmed for my sake. Is that understood?"

Obi-Wan looked surprised, but he nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"All right then. We only have a couple of days until the shipment I've ordered will be here. When do you think you will be able to get into Gatt's quarters?" "He'll probably summon me tomorrow, when you get taken to get your ship. I'll see what I can find out then."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I wish you did not have to put yourself at such risk, Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan just shrugged, saying nothing, and Qui-Gon felt a sudden surge of grief for the boy, and an equal rush of anger at the random cruelties of the universe. He calmed himself with an effort yet again, resigning himself to a night spent in meditation. "Well, we should get some rest then. I don't know about you, but I could use it."

Obi-Wan nodded. He glanced uncertainly at the bed, then back at Qui-Gon. "It'll look better if I sleep in here - in case someone comes in or something - but I can take the floor if you like." "Don't be ridiculous," Qui-Gon said. "That bed's big enough for six. We can share." He realised how that might sound to Obi-Wan, after what he had been through, and shot him a look of concern. "Unless that would trouble you. We don't have to."

To his surprise, Obi-Wan gave him a faint, lopsided smile. "No, that's OK. It is a big bed." To show his willingness, he walked across to the huge bed and tugged the covers down on one side, then pulled off his shirt and climbed in, flipping the covers back over himself.

Qui-Gon had to take a deep breath as he caught a glimpse of the lash marks across Obi-Wan's back, but he refrained from commenting. He went across to the other side of the bed, unbuckling his belt and dropping it over a chair. He stripped off his jacket and boots, then lay down - on top of the bed rather than in it, hoping that it would make Obi-Wan feel a little more safe.

He reached out to snap off the light on the bedside table and a moment later, Obi-Wan did the same on his side. Steadying his breathing, Qui-Gon drifted slowly into a state of deep meditation, which would eventually end in sleep.

***End Part Two***