Qui-Gon was sure Xanatos was ready. He had spent years with the boy, watching him become a man. His mastery of the lightsaber was unsurpassed in his class. His ability to focus on the Force matched his Master's. He passed the preliminary tests with a near-perfect score. Qui-Gon was ready to welcome him as a Jedi Knight. It was a proud moment.

But Yoda was not so sure. Yoda said there would be one last test.

The holographic picture of Yoda rose before Qui-Gon. The transmission was clear. His heavy-lidded eyes blinked slowly, making him appear bored, but his long ears twitched. Qui-Gon had come to recognize the sign of the Master registering surprise.

"So Xanatos could be planning a great evil, you say," Yoda said. "That you have discovered this is good, Qui-Gon. Yet time to react, it is not."

"Bit I suspect he might be planning to take over Bandomeer," Qui-Gon protested. "This planet has no resources to fight. It must be prevented before it happens."

"But safety id your concern, is it not? Demand that you move slowly, that does. Proof of a plan you do not have," Yoda pointed out. "Read the files, you could not."

"I can read him. Xanatos."

"Ah, so certain, are you? Certain you always were about him."

Qui-Gon fell silent. In his quiet way, the Master had rebuked him. Yes, he had been certain about Xanatos. He had defended him against every gentle warning Yoda had given.

"You have pushed aside your past for too long, Qui-Gon," Yoda said, after a pause. "Running from it, you are. Yet you can run a little longer before you turn and fight."

"If you say, Master." Qui-Gon tried to hide his impatience. He struggled to consider Yoda's wisdom. It was never wise to dismiss his advice.

"Use Xanatos' tactics against him, you must," Yoda offered. "He plays with you. Play along for now, you will. Give him room to make a mistake. Slip he will. The trick is to wait for it."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "I see a path now." He began to sign off, but Yoda held up his hand.

"One last thin I have," he said. "A question, it is. Why do you leave Obi-Wan in the dark, Qui-Gon? He knows not of this, I think. Yet he is on the same trail you are on, in a different place."

"That's true," Qui-Gon admitted. "But there is no need for him to know yet. It places him at risk. I'm keeping him out of danger."

"The apprentice accepts the danger when the Master accepts the apprentice," Yoda replied.

"You forget," Qui-Gon said coolly. "I did not accept Obi-Wan. He is not my apprentice. We are on a planet together. There is a difference."

Yoda nodded slowly. "Trust is the difference. Easier you think, to change the past than the future."

Qui-Gon felt irritated. "That's illogical," he said. "You can't change the past."

"Not logical, yes," Yoda agreed. "Then why do you think it?" Still nodding, Yoda ended the communication.

Qui-Gon stood at the window, looking east over Bandor. As usual, Yoda had made him question himself. Why had he rebuffed Obi-Wan's efforts to help? And what if he'd placed the boy in more danger by not warning him about Xanatos?

He had been wrong. Although it sometimes took him too long to come to that conclusion, once he did, he acted swiftly.

He activated his comlink and sent a message to Obi-Wan. Usually, the boy answered immediately. After ten minutes had passed, Obi-Wan grew worried. He sent a message to Si Treemba. No answer. He closed his eyes, gathering the Force. He felt it then, something dark, a void. Obi-Wan was in danger.

Someone pounded on his door. He crossed to it, already knowing it would be bad news.

Clat'Ha stood in the hallway. Her sleek read hair was awry, and her green eyes were full of worry.

"Si Treemba just contacted me with news," she said. "Obi-Wan has disappeared."

With his eyes closed, he heard the sound of the sea. Or was it the pounding in his temples?

Cautiously, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He was in a long, narrow room with a low ceiling. Rows and rows of sleeping platforms surrounded him. Bedding was rolled up at the foot of each wide platform. He was alone. His lightsaber was gone, as was his comlink.

His ribs and shoulder were bandaged. Something was around his neck. Obi-Wan ran his fingers around it. It was a collar. It felt smooth, with no obvious clasp to remove it. It hummed underneath his fingertips. Maybe it was some sore of healing device.

When he raised his head, a sharp pain made him release his breath in a hiss. Obi-wan breathed slowly, calming his mind as he'd been taught. He accepted the pain. He welcomed it as a friend, advising him that his body had been injured. He thanked it for alerting him to this. And he focused his will on healing.

After only a moment or two, the pain lessened slightly, enough for him to stand. There was a narrow window high above him. He balanced on a sleeping platform and stood tiptoe to see out of it.

Despair filled him. A great gray sea stretched before him for kilometers. There was no sign of land. No ships. Only this huge platform, with tall towers rising from the sea.

He knew where he was at once — the Great Sea of Bandomeer, which covered half the planet. He must be on some sort of deepsea mining platform. The deepsea mines were only whispered about. They were rough, dangerous places that many miners did not survive.

"So you're awake."

Obi-Wan turned, startled. A tall, mournful creature stood in the doorway. His skin was dark, but appeared to be peeling in white patches. Two white circles surrounded his eyes. He had extraordinarily long, rubbery arms that dangled past his knees.

"How are you feeling? I was worried," he asked, but before Obi-Wan could respond, he chuckled. "I lie! Not so!"

"Who are you?" Obi-Wan asked. He felt dizzy, and he commanded his mind to clear. He stepped down carefully from the platform.

"The name is Guerra, not that you need to know it so. I'm a Phindian. We're a mixed lot, here. Which reminds me, Human boy, Move."

Guerra's arm shot out suddenly. It reached across two sleeping platforms and fastened on Obi-Wan's wrist. "I don't have all day. The guards will be here with electro-jabbers for both of us if I don't get you outfitted."

"Outfitted for what?"

"Outfitted for what? A vacation on Syngia moon!" Guerra chortled. "Not so, I lie! Mining, of course."