The trip down to the surface of Onderon was to be hot and cramped, but, thankfully, brief.

Qui-Gon had chosen security over visibility and stowed away at the very back of his chosen C-9979 landing craft. He had been pleased to find a small corner between pieces of machinery near the engines hot enough to mask his heat signature – or so he hoped. On ships such as these, the entire propulsion system was automated, and maintenance checks were rare. If the Force was with him, as he sensed it would be, then none would come his way for the duration of the flight.

Although Qui-Gon's visibility was next to none, he was far from blind as to where they were going, nor to how fast. As the landing craft took off, its engines rumbling to life to carry it down to the surface below, he lapsed into meditation, sinking deeper and deeper into his unconscious self without completely losing grips on the present moment.

Before long, he was able to send his thoughts racing on ahead of him, probing for information about where they were going and what the plan of attack was.

In his mind's eye, he could see the planet Onderon clearly, with Dxun hovering just beyond it, drawing nearer and nearer until there came the slight shudder of the landing craft breaking atmosphere. The Force thrummed and sang through all the life that dwelt upon planet and planetoid-moon alike, from the frailest blade of grass to the wisest of the scholars at the University.

For a moment, after the cold, near lifelessness of the Trade Federation ships and landing craft, Qui-Gon was overcome by an intense sense of relief that felt almost like a long-awaited homecoming. As any Jedi knew, where there was life, there was the Force, and where there was the Force, there was balance and peace.

But despite that, he could not to ignore that hovering like a fog around all beings nearby, sentient and non-sentient alike, were intense, primal feelings of fear.

He shook it away after a moment, looking past the emotions and focusing on physicalities. Distantly, he sensed the capital, Iziz, and the half-dozen smaller cities scattered throughout the canyons and jungles nearby. That was their final destination, he was sure of it – after all, it was only logical that forces from the lead Trade Federation vessel would go to the most strategically important areas.

But the landing craft Qui-Gon was stowed upon was beginning began to veer away from its original vector now, heading instead towards a smaller group of settlements at the southernmost point of the continent, while others flew on ahead, arcing along parallel or opposite vectors to get around... something.

But what?

Qui-Gon searched deeper, taking the risk of partially releasing his grip on his surroundings to zero in on the faint flickering of the droid pilots' communications. Before long, in scratchy, half-decoded chatter, the answer came to him: to the north were force fields broad and strong enough to shelter the entire Izian region from days of orbital bombardment; the guns on a C-9979 and the tanks within wouldn't even scratch them.

The capital city's defence against the variety of savage beasts that roamed the nearby jungles had just become its saving grace; an optimal landing sequence there would be impossible.

There was a moment of sudden lightness as the artificial gravity was cut in favor of relying solely on the natural pull of the planet itself. Taking this as a sign another drop site had been found and that the landing sequence was about to begin, Qui-Gon came back to reality and extricated himself from his hiding place.

Taking care to stay as close to the engines as possible for protection from the internal scanners, he crept toward the center of the landing craft, dodging patrols here and there as he felt the disturbances caused by their approach.

Obi-Wan had yet to learn how to sense droids properly, but Qui-Gon had long since mastered the subtleties behind it. The principle relied more on prediction than using the Force to find someone in the truest sense – droids functioned almost solely through algorithms, with led to a tendency to malfunction if they deviated too far from their given tasks. They had little ability to act creatively, if any at all. If one were to reach into the white spaces empty of the Force and zero in on a vortex of energy that spiralled in the same patterns over and over again, locating a droid and what its logic circuits were programming into its next moves was a simple matter.

Once certain he was in no danger of been seen, Qui-Gon reached into the Force again, this time for Obi-Wan. Worry clouded his mind for a moment when nothing came to him that he could trace back to a source, but he soon shook it away.

His prerogative was getting off the landing craft and making it to the safety of the jungle unseen. Then, and only then, would he allow himself to focus on finding his apprentice.

Keeping to the shadows and ducking behind cargo where he could, Qui-Gon crept silently to the front of the C-9979. When a patrol began to draw too close, he darted around the multi-troop transport stationed closest to the landing craft's inner hull and flattened himself into an indentation in the vehicle's cold metal side.

Suddenly, there was a heavy thud that nearly made Qui-Gon lose his footing, followed by the rumbling of settling mechanisms. Qui-Gon squinted and waited for his eyes to adjust as the giant cargo bay doors opened, letting the brilliant sunlight of midmorning stream in.

The soft blend of colors of the jungle and bright icy green-blue of the sky made for a lovely sight, but Qui-Gon still had a problem. The antigrav on the multi-troop transport he was clinging to had suddenly activated, and the engines were already humming to life.

He was cornered now between the ranges of effectiveness of two plans: making a run for it once the doors opened, or hanging back and waiting till the C-9979 was empty to slip away. He had timed himself poorly, and now he was right in the middle of things with either option presenting a strong possibility of detection.

Obi-Wan always had accused him – albeit mockingly – of playing things by ear a little too much. Now, Qui-Gon was beginning to think his apprentice was right. But with the most favorable alternatives unavailable to him, he had no choice but to see this particular course of action through to the end.

The Force will be with me, Qui-Gon thought to himself. It was more of a prayer than an affirmation, but it was a comfort nonetheless as dug his fingers into tiny chinks in the transport's metal armor and lifted himself up onto the repulsorlifts' cooling fins for better footing.

Qui-Gon's transport was the fourth out of eleven to emerge from the cargo hold, but it was possible it would still be too late. As the whine of STAP repulsorcraft cut through the air above him, Qui-Gon berated himself for not having chosen a transport closer to the front of the line as his means of escape. The longer it took to get away, the more patrols could be sent out to scout ahead of their respective transports, and the more likely being spotted would become.

He shrank deeper against the flank of the transport when one STAP came dangerously close, and his gaze flicked incessantly from the surrounding troops to the jungle just ahead. It was just a little bit further...

Now!

Qui-Gon leapt from the transport and broke into a dead spring almost the second his feet hit the ground, quickly disappearing into the greenery.

For a moment he contemplated veering off to the side, which would put the greatest amount of distance between him and the transports. But soon he noticed a variety of large animals that had been grazing nearby had begun to converge on his position ahead of the hulking metal invaders. The way their panic bled into the Force was overwhelming, but their presence a blessing; the droids' scanners would not notice one more heat source among them.

But still, the transports continued to gain on him, slowed but a little by having to knock down the trees in their path. Diverging from the pack now would draw unwanted attention to himself, but he was running – quite literally – out of options.

But suddenly, a blaster bolt whizzed overhead and smashed into the hull of the nearest multi-troop transport.

Under Qui-Gon's stunned gaze, two more shots hit the transport, this time over the hatch. They had no effect on the craft, however – it did not slow, and only scorch marks attested to the fact anyone had ever tried to hit it in the first place.

Qui-Gon's gaze shot this way and that, searching for the shooter. As he ran, almost absentmindedly, a part of his mind set to working out what he had just seen. There had been a slight delay between shots, but this had resulted in lasers that were extremely powerful; Qui-Gon would guess their source was a bowcaster rifle.

The shots were neat and efficient, and none flew wide. This could either speak of a scope and targeting system, or a very talented marksman... or both.

But if that were the case, why wasn't the person (for the angles of the shots suggested they came from only one gun) shooting for the weak spots along the cooling fins to overload them, or to cut the links between the power couplings along the bottom? Was their aim off, or did they just not know where to fire?

Whatever the reason was, Qui-Gon knew he had spent long enough thinking this over when he had more important things to attend to. If he could just find the shooter – which was quickly becoming imperative as the transport gained on him – he would have all the answers he wanted...

There. Aloft on a precariously high branch in a tree up ahead, he could make out the shape of a sapient dressed in muted colors that blended almost seamlessly into the foliage. A moment later, light filtering in through the trees caught on the barrel of a blaster, and Qui-Gon knew he had found his sniper...

...who had just begun firing again. And this time, to Qui-Gon's dismay, the transport was taking notice.

The Force came to him unbidden, and distantly, he felt rather than watched the computers regulating the transport's turbolasers take aim and send them sliding up in their sockets. He felt a sharp jarring motion knocking at the insides of his skull as they locked into position, and a dull, roaring swell of energy sharpened by years of Jedi training echoed up through his ears when they began to charge.

But before Qui-Gon could move to warn them, then sniper ran out onto the branch for a clearer shot. Qui-Gon was close enough now to feel the desperation swelling up within them; the obvious cause for such a risky move. However, it proved to be their saving grace: the targeting computer must not have had time to compensate for the last-minute displacement of its quarry, and the shots went wide, taking out the branch instead of hitting the sniper head-on.

Qui-Gon skidded to a halt as the branch caved and the figure plummeted to the ground with a cry, shutting his eyes and reaching out with the Force.

He managed to soften the impact of the fall just enough to keep the sniper from breaking anything, but lacked the concentration to do much more. The multi-troop transport was dangerously close now, and if Qui-Gon didn't get moving, he would be seen. The Trade Viceroy or one of his officers had surely guessed he and Obi-Wan had stowed away with the invasion force and gone planetside, and being spotted would complicate matters significantly.

As Qui-Gon began running again, the sniper rose to her feet – for Qui-Gon could sense now that the figure hidden by ample robes and a scarf was a female – and busied herself with priming her bowcaster to fire again.

And fire she did, emptying round after round into the transport's hull, again to no effect. When her gun finally overheated and jammed, she could only look up at the approaching metal beast in horror so profound it gave Qui-Gon a headache.

"Go! Get out of here!" he yelled, but the words didn't carry over the now very proximate thrum of the transport's repulsorlift. He tried waving a hand to the side and down, motioning for her to jump out of the way, but again, the gesture was lost on the sniper, who stood staring up at the tank like a fathier in the headlights.

The transport was almost at his heels now; the distraction of the sniper had caused his pace to slow. There was barely time to grab the sniper and make a jump to safety, but it was out of the question to leave her to get mowed down.

Making his decision in the split second remaining, Qui-Gon leapt toward her, their eyes locking in the instants just preceding him grabbed her. But before he could even summon the Force to jump, his leg snagged on a vine covered in sharp spikes that dug painfully into his skin.

Qui-Gon flattened himself over the sniper as he felt himself falling, shielding her as best he could and hoping they would be far enough to the left or right to avoid the searing heat of the exhaust ports.

The antigrav field crackled over his skin almost like a static charge as the transport passed overhead, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. But before long, it had passed, and Qui-Gon found himself clambering off a young humanoid woman yowling what could only be curses at him.

Qui-Gon watched as she scrambled back for her weapon, her golden-brown eyes flashing, and quickly brought it to bear against him. But despite this, he sensed this stranger was just as curious about him as he was her, and for now that would stay her trigger finger. He folded his hands in front of him calmly, and began taking in details about her appearance, knowing she would eventually do the same for him.

Her robes were loose and plain, but colorful and well made. She wore an equally vibrant scarf around her head to tuck her hair back, though a few dark braids still escaped through the folds of cloth. Her skin was the color of warm caf with milk, and here and there symbols in red and black that Qui-Gon assumed were part of some sort of cultural custom twisted across it.

But what surprised him was that she couldn't have been older than sixteen. She was practically still a child, and yet she handled a bowcaster with such skill that using it had to be as good as part of her every day life.

Then, like flipping off a switch, the girl's moment of study parallel to his own ended. Her hostility returned, and she raised her bowcaster once more.

"Sy mena attari. Attari Basic'er – ora riven," Qui-Gon said, hoping his Common Onderonian wasn't too rusty as he told her he couldn't really understand her, and that if possible, Basic was better.

"Attari Basic'er?" the girl echoed, perplexed. Then, she shrugged. "I threaten you fine in Onde'er, or Zul'er – Basic, too. Bowcaster needs no translation."

"There's no need for–"

Qui-Gon broke off as his senses brought back the clicks of another gun preparing to fire, and the controlled, repetitive swirls in the Force that meant the Trade Federation's battle droids had caught up with him.

Time slowed around him as the telltale sounds of an approaching STAP hit his ears – a scout. The main force could not be troubled to stray from its given course, but surely a few droids from a patrol would be more than enough to take out a pair of troublesome sapients wandering the jungle.

Surely not!

Qui-Gon's lightsaber was in his hand in a second, and he leapt forward, the blade zipping through the air. He had reacted just in time to get in position to deflect the fire of the STAP's mounted laser cannons away from the young sniper, who was once again frozen, her gaze drifting from the frosty green glow of the lightsaber to the approaching scout.

One fluid shift of his lightsaber out to his right took out the first scout; another angled down made quick work of the second. Once the orderly swirls had faded away and the Force hummed around him only with the presences of living beings, he turned around to check on the girl.

She had staggered back a few steps and now stood leaning against a tree, murmuring something like a prayer under her breath. She had some talent with a bowcaster, but it was obvious she was out of her element – which was why Qui-Gon simply could not understand why she hadn't been more cautious going in.

"You almost got yourself killed, firing at that tank like that!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, his temper getting the better of him. "What are you, brainless?"

It was as though the girl hadn't heard him. "You saved me," she murmured, her eyes wide with awe.

"Yes, I did. Now go on, get out of here. It's not safe."

"No, no leaving. I am called Nesah," she said, placing a hand over her heart and offering him a bow. "I am servant to you, Lord Knight."

*Hey everyone! How are all of your days going?

Hope you liked the chapter and the new cover! I was waiting till I had an update ready for this story before I changed it, and I'll admit that took WAY too long to happen...

But anyway, this chapter I tried to get a little more into Qui-Gon's head and get a sense of what was going on in there. I couldn't go as in depth as I wanted because I had a lot to cram into this chapter, though, and certain elements ended up taking more pages than they were supposed to. But hey, it's all good, I can just evolve more on his thoughts on the situation next chapter.

But you didn't hear that from me ;)

This chapter also saw the introduction of Nesah, and I bet you can all guess whose place she's taking here. I never wanted to have a Jar Jar Binks-like character in the story, partly because I like to do comedic relief through clever comments or moments the characters find absurdly funny, rather than have one character whose main role is to create most of it. But Nesah is going to be fairly important in the next few chapters as well as later in the book, too, so hopefully she'll help provide a fresh perspective on lots of things we Star Wars connoisseurs take for granted about this universe.

Next on the updates list is TISS, which should be up sometime later next week. I have a lot of stuff due the week after, though, so fair warning, while I'll do my best, that might take a little longer than I'm hoping. But until then...

May the Force be with you,

Sharron