Note : //...// indicates telepathy.

I ~ PROLOGUE ~
When she could finally opened her eyes, she was genuinely surprised to find herself still breathing. Still alive after the harrowing escape from her pursuer and the violent crash on this unknown planet. Lying unmoving, she let her eyes take in the damage surrounding her. Her spacecraft was tilting at a very odd angle, deck nearly facing skywards. Her safety harness trapped her in the pilot seat, pressing painfully against her ribcage. The console in front of her was blackened and damaged beyond repair. And there was not an inch of her body that did not ache.

Slowly, she unbuckled her safety harness and carefully climbed out of the pilot chair. Crimson-gold hair fell loose from its binding, tumbling over a shoulder and down her back.

Bracing herself against the high back of the chair, she took in the rest of her ship. The damage was extensive. The stern was crumpled like so much paper, crushing whatever machinery and computer systems in that area. The starboard bulkhead fared just as badly - ripped and tore out, letting in the cold rain that was falling outside on the planet. It would no longer fly anymore.

Last, she turned her attention to her injuries. Miraculously, she had escaped with minor injuries, save for the deep gash on her forehead.

Closing her eyes, she sent her awareness inward. The gash on her head, deep but strangely bloodless, began to close. Slowly at first, but it quickened until a scar was all that was left. And even that disappeared in seconds.

She opened her eyes, leaning heavily against the chair, knees buckling. The regeneration had taken longer than usual, testimony to her depleted and exhausted state. She doubted if she could do any more self-repair until she had rested and regained her energy. But she can't rest. Not when the Headhunter who had shot her out of space could come after her anytime.

Pushing aside the support of the pilot chair, she stumbled towards the emergency supplies. Breaking the seal, she dragged out the entire survival kit. The contents within was not entirely suitable to someone of her kind but it would do in a pinch.

It was not as though she owed this spacecraft; she had stolen it from the spaceport. There was no time to be picky when her survival was threatened.

Survival kit in hand, she managed to stagger to the jagged hole before her strength finally gave out. Knees buckling, she collapsed, nearly slicing herself on a jagged edge of metal. The survival kit clattered unnoticed to the wet muddy ground outside.

Her head swam dizzyingly, black spots swimming in front of her eyes, and she felt so weak. How long has it been since she has gone without food or feeding off energy sources? She couldn't remember. Feebly, she changed directions, crawling towards the rear of the spacecraft. There was an energy source, she could feel its hum, almost buried beneath all the debris. Reaching the barrier that was the crushed stern of the spacecraft, she weakly stretched a slim arm into a crevice. She didn't have to look to guide her hand towards the energy source. All her senses were riveted on the flickering energy source, so hungry she was. Then she was there, her fingers closing about the metallic surface of the fuel tank. In it, she could literally sense the presence of pure energy. With one last burst of strength, she broke the metal surface and sank her fingers deep into the energy fuel. Pure power was absorbed by her skin and coursed through her veins.

She shuddered, closing her eyes and her head drooped against the cold surface of her spacecraft. For a long while, she laid there, relishing the feel of returning energy to her limbs. It was barely enough - much of the energy fuel had been used up in her escape from her homeworld. Still it would be able to sustain her for at least a week before she had to feed again. Properly, she hoped. Feeling much better than she had in months, she rose to her feet.

Pausing by the self- destruct mechanism, she activated it. Without another backward glance, she picked up the survival kit and walked into the pouring rain, never flinching when the spacecraft exploded minutes later. There was a town nearby, she remembered from her last scan of this region on this unnamed planet. It was a place she could feed and rest before setting out once more. She knew she couldn't stay long on this planet. She would have to find a way off this world before the Headhunter tracked her down again.

~ ONE ~
The Republic cruiser coursed out of hyper-space and slowed to a more stately speed as it approached the glowing planet in the distance.

Like any planet when seen from space, Theomoral looked extremely benign and peaceful.

Qui-Gon Jinn knew better, though. Standing unobtrusively behind the Captain-Pilot of the Republic cruiser, the Jedi Master studied the planet thoughtfully.

The Crown Prince of Theomoral had been kidnapped almost a month ago, causing an uproar not only on the planet itself but within the Senate as well. Theomoral was a prominent and powerful member of the Senate, and its ruler's backing of Supreme Chancellor Valorum was the strongest. Thus when the Royal Co-Consorts asked for help in locating their missing son a week ago, the Republic wasted no time in agreeing.

Qui-Gon and his Padawan learner Obi-Wan Kenobi were roused from their sleep in the middle of the night and given this urgent mission. They left Coruscant within the hour, packing light travel bags, without complaints. As Jedi, they were used to having no permanent home (even though they have quarters in the Temple) and to go wherever they were needed. The number of hours they spent in their quarters was minuscule compared to the number of flight hours they logged.

"Who could be so daring?" Qui-Gon muttered aloud. "To kidnap the Crown Prince from right under everyone's noses?"

"It would be a hard guess to make, Master." Obi-Wan spoke up beside him. "Indeed. There are many rival Houses and all eye the throne."

Qui-Gon's eyes grew distant as he turned his awareness to the Force, carefully feeling its currents and eddies. Tension coloured the Force, much of it emanating from the troubled world they were approaching. Theomoralans loved their Royal House. This latest danger facing their rulers were affecting the people as well. Other than that, Qui- Gon did not discern any other dangers.

Withdrawing, Qui-Gon pulled the hood of his dark Jedi robe over his head. "Come, Obi-Wan, let us get ready for our mission."

"Yes, master." Likewise, Obi-Wan concealed his face and clasped hands in the depths of his hooded robe and followed his Master from the cockpit. With luck, they would be able to resolve this crisis quickly and surely.

Yeah, right. And the Hutts are friends of the Jedi, Obi-Wan thought wryly. The Jedi never did things the easy way, especially his Master. Still, it made for an interesting life.

* * * The capital city of Theomoral consisted of both the best and worst kind of entertainment the planet had to offer under one roof, figuratively speaking. While the wealthy and aristocratic dined and lived in sumptuous luxury in the upper-class district, the poor and the peasant-class made merry in the seedy and garish section of the capital city. In a particularly rough neighbourhood, a boy about eight laid curled in a small ball inside a metal cage. He was dressed in dirty clothes of rich material, a sharp contrast to the rough-spun blanket covering the floor of the cage. He slept fitfully, one thumb inserted in his mouth. The door to the room swung open, admitting a slim willowy figure carrying a small tray of food.

Light glinted off a loose lock of red-gold hair peeking out beneath a scarf tied about her head before the door swung shut again. The figure padded silently across the room, unerringly picking her way through the darkness, towards the cage.

Putting the tray before the cage, the woman reached into the cage to gently shake the boy into consciousness.

Brandelam stirred, opening sleepy eyes. Recognising the pale delicate face of the only person who has been kind to him since he was brought to this awful place, he smiled brilliantly. "Firegold!" he cried happily, scrambling to sit upright.

The woman quickly put a warning finger to his lips. He obediently lowered his voice, though it was no less cheerful. "Boy, am I glad to see you!" The woman simply nodded and slid the small tray of food through a slot into the cage. Courteous as always, Brandelam thanked her for the meal and began eating voriferously. It had been a long while since lunch.

Between mouthfuls of food, he chatted to the woman, talking about anything under the sun. And there was a lot of things he could talk about. Being the Crown Prince and a prodigy, Brandelam was smart beyond his years. The woman never said a single word, simply sat by his cage, listening attentively to every word he said. In the short time Brandelam had known her, he had never heard her speak or seen her smile. He didn't know her name, so he called her Firegold because her hair was this vibrant vivid shade of crimson-gold, like the flower firegold that grew on the palace grounds.

His dinner was gone, but Firegold stayed. She produced a wet washcloth and cleaned him as thoroughly as she could, her movements hampered by the bars of the cage.

Brandelam never stopped talking, even as he sat still for the cleaning. In this hostile place, she was the only friend he got. The door suddenly banged open. Quicker than the eye could follow, Firegold was on her feet, whirling to face the intruder. The washcloth disappeared into the folds of her rough-spun skirt.

Despite his precocious nature, Brandelam shrank back from the unshaven human looming in the doorway. His kidnapper scowled at Firegold, one hand on his blaster. "You been talking to the kid again?" he growled.

Firegold, as was her wont, didn't say a thing. With a calm that was unusual in a peasant girl, she gathered up the small tray and left the room, brushing past Brandelam's guard.

His scowl deepening, the guard slammed shut the door and locked it. In quick strides, he caught up with Firegold and roughly yanked her to a stop. The tray and its empty receptacles fell to the floor with a loud clatter, ignored by the guard as he pushed her up against a wall. "You do more than just bring food to the brat, and I'll be forced to hurt you real bad." He leered at her, one hand groping for her behind. "Do you understand me, sweetie?"

Firegold was motionless, even calm. Her unflinching gaze remained peculiarly remote. Brandelam's guard shifted uneasily, hating the woman's unusual calmness.

He released her from his grip. "Go. I don't want to see you loitering around here."

Still eerily silent, Firegold picked up her fallen tray and receptacles and walked away.

~ TWO ~
The Crown Prince's bedchamber was large and filled with things one would associate with childhood. Obi-Wan bent and picked up a fallen stuffed toy, rubbing the soft fur before replacing it on the shelf. A young man in his early twenties, Obi-Wan could barely remember his childhood or his birth parents. Only a worn stuffed toy animal was vivid in his memories; it was the only thing he remembered bringing from his birth home. The Padawan wondered absently what happened to that stuffed toy animal.

"Rest assured, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon was saying to the Royal Co-Consorts. "We will find and bring your son safely back to you."

"Please, Master Jedi." Consort Jerida could barely hold back her tears. "Our hopes lay with you, Master Jinn." Her husband wrapped a comforting arm about her.

Consort Branam was fighting rather unsuccessfully to keep his poise serene. "Come, Jerida. Let us leave the Jedi to their investigation."

The Jedi bowed as the Royal Co-Consorts left their son's bedroom. Only when they were alone once more did they turn their attention to the bedroom. Qui-Gon looked around, hands clasped and hidden in the sleeves of his robe. Though it had been a month since the kidnapping, the Jedi Master could still sense the Crown Prince's terror permeating the room.

"Amazing," Obi-Wan muttered. "His emotional impressions are still present. To leave that long-lasting an impression..."

"The Crown Prince is either a Sender, or has Jedi potential." Qui-Gon finished. He paced slowly about the room, opening himself to the Force.

"I wonder how would the Co-Consorts react if the boy turns out to be Jedi potential," Obi-Wan muttered absently as he too lowered his shields to the Force.

//A question for another time, Padawan. Now concentrate on finding the boy.//

//Yes, master.//

They both 'saw' it at the same time - the black stab of terror and danger - tainting the broken harp strewed haphazardly on the floor.

Qui-Gon knelt and stretched a hand over the smashed pieces of the musical instrument, carefully feeling the impression still clinging to the battered wood.

Exchanging a glance, both Jedi settled down on the carpeted floor and centred their focuses on the broken pieces of wood and strings scattered on the floor. It was a cherished piece of musical instrument, a gift from someone dear to the Crown Prince, Qui-Gon could sense.

But the shades of love were nearly overwhelmed by the black taint of terror. Images began to flow into Qui-Gon's mind, images of a young boy engrossed in practising a simple court tune on his harp when a shadow felled across him.

Qui-Gon sharpened his focus, concentrating on that moment of danger. He willed the images to slow in his mind, watching each detail closely as the boy turned away from his harp to look up into the face of his would-be kidnapper, recognising the face, before blackness descended. Qui-Gon felt the surge of exaltation, quickly suppressed, in his Padawan.

//We got him, Master.// Obi-Wan said with deep satisfaction.

//Yes, we do.// Qui-Gon pulled himself out of his light trance and opened his eyes. He rose to his feet, pulling the edges of his cloak close. "Come, let us put an end to this."

The Royal Co-Consorts were waiting outside the Crown Prince's bedroom when they exited. "We are close, Your Majesties." Qui-Gon said in reply to their hopeful, questioning looks. "I would like to speak to one of your retainers. A man by the name Kilerim."

Branam's face darkened when he realised the implications behind Qui-Gon's request. "He will be arrested accordingly, Master Jedi."

Qui-Gon raised a hand, a premonition gripping him suddenly. "No, Your Majesty. I would prefer not to raise his guard. I sense there is more to this kidnapping than just a simple ransom demand."

"All right," Branam acquiesced reluctantly. He beckoned to a guard looming unobtrusively in the background. "This is Saberim, my loyal retainer. He will help you in your investigation. Find them, Master Jedi. Find my son and bring him home to us."

* * * Firegold wove her way through the late afternoon crowd in the seedy taproom of the tavern, deftly avoiding the various lecherous hands reaching out to grope her person. Unlike the other barmaids in the taproom coyly flirting with the patrons, she did no such things. She never smiled, never say a word, simply doing her job as a barmaid.

The patrons knew well enough to leave her alone. The last time someone made unwanted advance towards Firegold had his nose broken with a sharp blow.

The bartender placed five mugs of alcohol on her empty tray. "Take this to the table over there."

Firegold nodded. Carrying the mugs of alcohol over to the said table, the entrance of a stranger caught her eyes. The stranger was trying hard not to betray his agitation, but his nervousness was plain to Firegold. Even as she served the patrons their drinks, she kept a covert eye on the stranger, watching as he headed straight for the stairs to the tavern's boarding rooms.

Her curiosity piqued, Firegold followed him. The stranger went straight to the room where the boy was being held imprisoned. Firegold knew something was brewing. Throughout the day, she had counted at least seven people making their way to the room.

Stealthily, she went to the door and pressed her ear against the surface, listening intently. "We have to leave," the stranger was saying agitatedly.

"We're not going anywhere until we've received further words from our employer," Brandelam's guard replied.

Other voices also spoke, backing their leader. "The Jedi are here." Dead silence fell.

"How close are they to finding us?" someone asked in a frightened voice.

"They already knew Kilerim spirited him from the palace. I don't think it'll be long before they find the rest of us."

"Shit," a new voice swore. "What the hell are we going to do?"

"Flee the planet and take the boy with us."

"Why don't we just dump the boy?" whined the frightened kidnapper. "It's the boy they want."

"And have our employer come after us as well?" snarled Brandelam's guard. "This is the Crown Prince you're talking about. He's worth a lot of money, not to say he's our best chance of leaving without a fight. Even the Jedi wouldn't dare to do anything to us since we got him. Gather up your things. We're leaving now!"

Satisfied that she had heard enough, Firegold abandoned her listening post as silently as she had came. It was time to do something. She couldn't leave that boy in the hands of these ruffians. Her only problem was how to rescue the boy without drawing attention to herself.

* * * It was a surprisingly easy interrogation. The minute Kilerim saw the stern Jedi Master approaching him with a forbidding look of determination, he knew the game was up. For how do one fool a Jedi? It didn't take Qui-Gon long to get the entire story from him. The only question unanswered was the identity of their employer. Kilerim confessed that he had no idea who their masked employer was.

"It won't be long to the tavern, Master Jedi," Saberim said.

Qui-Gon nodded, watching the forward window as the royal guard transport whizzed out of the palace grounds and down into the capital city nestled within the mountain valley.

"If I may say so, Master Jedi, I'm impressed with the speed of your investigation. Never have I seen a crime solved and the culprits brought to justice so quickly before. The Jedi indeed deserved their reputation."

"We do what we have to do, Saberim. There is nothing to it," Qui-Gon replied serenely. A sharp spike of fear suddenly rippled through the Force. Qui-Gon exchanged a terse look with Obi-Wan. It was definitely the Crown Prince and he was close by...and in danger. "Saberim, how fast can this transport go?"

Saberim was quick to realise the unspoken urgency in Qui-Gon's request. "Faster than our current speed." He turned and gave the order to the pilot to increase the transport's speed.

Obi-Wan forced himself to relax, though his hand strayed to his lightsaber clipped to his belt. "I hope we're in time, Master."

Qui-Gon didn't say a word. He was pretty much praying for the same thing.

* * * Brandelam watched wide-eyed as the figure dressed all in black, hooded and masked, ambushed the kidnappers in the narrow corridor outside the room. Moving too fast for the eye to see clearly, his rescuer knocked down the two kidnapper bringing up the rear and boldly snatched him from right under their noses.

Grabbing onto the slim shoulders for dear life, Brandelam squeezed his eyes shut when he saw the kidnappers firing in their direction as his rescuer fled up to the roof of the tavern building. Bursting onto the roof, his mysterious rescuer swiftly hid behind a ventilation shaft, still carefully cradling the Crown Prince. Brandelam stared up at the hooded masked visage, wondering if he was friend or foe. Then he saw the thin tress of red-gold hair escaping from beneath the black hood and he knew who had rescued him.

"Firegold!" Crowing joyfully, Brandelam threw his arms about her neck and hugged her tightly. "I knew you would do something!"

Firegold gently patted his head. The door leading to the roof burst open again as the kidnappers poured onto the rooftop.

"Search the place!" shouted the leader. "I want the boy back!"

Brandelam cowered against Firegold, fear overtaking him again. He tightened his grip on Firegold's shoulders. She simply held him closer, while eyeing the neighbouring rooftop over his head. Then as though taken by the wind, Firegold leapt to her feet and raced for the edge of the roof.

Shouts behind her told her the kidnappers were giving chase, but she did not look back, her concentration centred on the wide gap that was humanly impossible to cross between the buildings.

From the royal guard transport, Obi-Wan watched stunned as the woman made the impossible leap between the buildings without the aid of the Force. She rolled to break her fall, rising back to her feet in a fluid motion, despite being hampered with an armful of Crown Prince. The fall had knocked her hood back, and her crimson-gold hair glinted brightly under the bright sun.

//Did you see that?// Obi-Wan didn't know whether to believe his eyes or not.

//Later, Obi-Wan.// Qui-Gon was intrigued as well, but there was pressing matter at hand. //The Crown Prince first.//

On the rooftop, Firegold instinctively ducked down as the royal guard transport suddenly screamed low above her. When she looked up again, she saw two men dressed in similar dark robes and cream-coloured tunics leapt down from the transport to confront the kidnappers still trapped on the other rooftop. Each carried a rod of blazing light.

"We've come to retrieve the Crown Prince," Qui-Gon spoke. "Lay down your weapons." He held his lightsaber in an easy grip, though he was alert for any signs of danger.

The kidnappers seemed at a loss of what to do, daunted by the appearance of not one but two Jedi. Not the leader though. He suddenly fired his blaster, aiming straight for Obi-Wan. It was the last mistake he would ever made.

Obi-Wan deftly deflected the blaster bolt back to the leader, killing him. "Who's next?" he asked calmly. With the loss of their leader, the rest of the kidnappers surrendered.

The Jedi shut down their lightsabers, stepping back to allow the royal guard led by Saberim to arrest the kidnappers. Qui-Gon caught sight of the mysterious masked woman standing on the neighbouring roof, still cradling the Crown Prince protectively in her arms.

Tapping the Force, Qui-Gon easily vaulted across the wide chasm in a single leap. Beside him, Obi-Wan did a somersault. The woman backed away from them, as the Jedi approached.

"Wait," Qui-Gon said. "We're not here to hurt you." Qui-Gon opened himself to the Force, sending calmness and safety towards the wary woman. He met a strange resistance, rebuffing his attempt. Then he felt Obi-Wan's focus joined his, and he redoubled his efforts to soothe the mysterious woman. "You're safe. The Crown Prince is safe. We're here to bring him home."

Qui-Gon spread his empty hands outward, a gesture of peace. "Let us help him."

"Trust him, Firegold." Brandelam urged. "Jedi never lie. And I really want to go home." Firegold studied the Crown Prince for a long moment, then nodded. Interesting how she seemed to trust the words of the Crown Prince, rather that of a Jedi, Qui-Gon noted absently.

Slowly, still wary, she approached the Jedi, removing the mask she wore. Obi-Wan blinked. Standing before them was a petite, fine-boned woman with a pale face and delicate features. Her tightly bound crimson-gold hair was a vivid contrast against the paleness of her skin. There was something ethereal about her, gentle and fragile, guileless and vulnerable like a child - until he looked into her luminous green eyes. They were cold and remote - the eyes of someone who had seen too many terrible things than it was possible. Whoever she was, this enigma wasn't as innocent as one was compelled to believe.

"Greetings, Your Highness." Qui-Gon greeted. "Your parents sent us to bring you home."

"Can my friend come too?" Brandelam asked hopefully. "Her name's Firegold. She's not my kidnapper. She took care of me."

Qui-Gon probed the woman standing silently with his mind. He was intrigued to find a presence so still and passive that it was almost non-existing. And her emotions! Either she has nerves of steel and iced water running through her veins, or she was genuinely limited in her range of emotions.

"Can she come?" Brandelam pleaded.

"Of course," Qui-Gon answered somewhat belatedly. He smiled at the woman. "Your parents will be eager to meet your protector."

* * * As the royal guard transport headed back for the palace perched on the mountain cliff, someone else emerged from the shadows from the building across the street. Gigantic in build and swathed in so many layers of clothes, the observer tracked the transport with his eyes until it had vanished in the distance. It was time to act, while she still remained in the open. A cruel smile curving his lips, he melted back into the shadows.

on to Part 2