Tanaken Complex, New Anar City, New Anar Island

__________________________________________________________________

Matek was the first to address the guards.

"About time somebody showed up!" he growled at them in a manner that managed somehow to be both authoritative, yet submissive at the same time. "This alien comes sneaking into Director Pohl's office with nah trouble--- and where's any of you Tanaken, ay? What if himself had been in here after all? Drak dung lot of good I would have been able to do to stop it if it had the Director with some alien knife to his throat."

Obi-Wan immediately backed up the Hunter's ploy by sneering at him like a criminal caught red-handed, yet not the least bit concerned about it. "I *told* this big oaf I'm merely here to see the Tanaken Director about creating a busines deal with my employer. But this snarkoyt-brained idiot doesn't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'profit'!" He graced the lead guard with an oily smile, "However... *you* look like a smart man. Hmm.. you look a *lot* smarter. More evolved than this mere Unakan, heh?" he flattered the man casualy, using a touch of the Force. "Know how to accept a good trading?"

[[ Master, I'm going to pose as a Trade assistant in order to get out of here.]] Obi-Wan sent to Qui-Gon.

++ If you think that is best, Padawan, ++ His master returned. ++ Aven and I are heading your way. ++

"A good trading?" The leader's eyes began to cloud over as Kenobi's Jedi Brand mind whammy started to fog his brain. "What kind of profit..." the guard slurred.

"It would have to be enough to fund him for the rest of his and his children's life," a deep voice interrupted from the doorway. Immediately, the guards tensed as one, the leader blinking rapidly.

"Sir!"

"Don't fret yourself, Noag. You'll strain a braincell."

The leader gulped, then glared at his prisoner, annoyed at having been caught in such an akward position in front of his superior.

Obi-Wan ignored the guard's ire, his attention focused on the newcomer. Tall and slender, with blonde hair considerably peppered with white, the man moved confidently into the room. Obi-Wan noted the satiny clothes of black and gold; highlighted by a small, scarlet neck sash woven of silky wool, and embroidered with the Tanaken House seal. He had the air of a man used to getting his way, rarely suffering defeats. Arrogant, yes, but with a sharp mind behind those pale-yellowish eyes, studying him like a specimen on a slide.

"You're from the Galactic Republic." The Tanaken grunted.

"I'm from my employer," Obi-Wan corrected him, "come to do trade." The Tanaken merely snorted.

"*You* are an intruder. Naht only of this Complex, but also of my world. Aliens are naht permitted in Anaran space; haven't been for a long time. I could have you shot, and naht one would care who you worked for."

Refusing to be rattled, Kenobi sought a weakness. If this was who he thought it was, then he should be susceptible to bribery.

[[ Master, Pohl is here. I'm going to try 'cutting a deal'. ]] Obi-Wan just loved that particular phrase that Nicholas had taught him on the way to Anara! He hoped he got more chances to use it later on.

++ Cut a deal? What exactly does that mean? ++

[[ Getting your way! ]]
"Does being 'uninvited' prevent one from doing a trading?"

"Aah.. your promise of profits to Noag. You never did clarify it to him."

"What need of that idiot now that *you* are here," Obi-Wan harrumphed, remembering Qui-Gon's warning that the Anarans looked down on displays of meekness. He would have to walk a fine line between appearing weak and not showing respect. "You *are* the honored Director of this House, are you not?"

"I am Pohl Anvers, the Director of the New Anar Tanaken." Pohl moved over to his desk and gracefully sat down in the chair. The yellowed eyes settled on him again. "And *you* would be?"

"Just call me 'Ben'. It is my employer who is important," Kenobi sneered at the guards who were still holding their short rifle barrels in his direction. "Can we talk trade without having guns pointed at me?"

"Naht yet," Pohl smirked unpleasantly at this unforseen supplicant. He didn't particularly like aliens. Especially young, cocky aliens. Not since that one had somehow conned him into giving up his greatest experiment; Jinn or something. Swiveling to look at the Hunter, Pohl offered the barest of nods, acknowledging a fellow Director's presence. The Unakan was as close to a true friend as he had--- even amongst the Tanaken. As Director, he had to retain authority amongst his House, while being subserviant enough to the whims of the Qwanaten; the Lowers he was expected to be superior to. But with Matek Aka, there had been a mutual feeling of almost kinship. They held a deep, mutual respect for each other's abilities that dissolved House barriers--- much to the past annoyance of his deceased father. "Matek, what were you doing here?"

Matek returned the earlier nod, his form of the gesture slightly lower and prolonged in deference to Pohl's higher status. The submission did not translate into his speech, however. Matek never was one for unnecessary bowing and scraping. "I desired to discuss with you my contract with the Tanaken. I'm discover I cannah spend quite so much time at your beck and call this season, Director. *Unakan* matters I must see to."

"Mere fortuitous circumstances, your arrival, then?" Pohl asked, referring to the break in.

"A case of good hunting." The Hunter grinned predatorily. "Sometimes it works out that way."

"Hmm..," Pohl swiveled to address the small, silent figure standing behind Matek. Completely covered in an Unakan cloak, the face was kept hidden by the deep cowl. At first, he had taken him for a Unakan youth in Matek's employ, but his friend had yet to introduce him. That would make the being less than a House servant, then. Only animals were less than House servants and those hired from the lower Houses. Matek, himself, was only given more consideration amongst the Higher borns because of his Directorial status within his own House. A Ruenam child? Or could it be...? It had been almost a full turn since the last capture of one... the species was getting harder to locate and subdue---- or so the Hunters claimed.

"Care to explain why intruders are wearing Unakan garments?" Pohl asked, initiating his own style of information 'hunting'.

Matek shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "Ruenam thieves. Or some of my own, willing to trade. Not everyone cares about who they trade with, Tanaken, even with the oddest folk." He deliberately ignored the unspoken request for more detail.

Pohl's mouth quirked into a smile, enjoying their verbal game. "True, *Unaken*." Only this one is 'odder' than perhaps even they were aware of." His voice turned to steel as he turned sharply towards Obi-Wan. "You will hand over your weapon, Jedi--- aye, I recognize your kind," he grinned ferally at Kenobi's startled expression. "I'm hardly likely to forget such an encounter--- and you will go peacefully with my guards to a holding place while I decide what to do with you. And, please, *donah* cause me further exasperation. I hold no real love for you and yours as it is."

Obi-Wan----who was beginning to wonder when they would get back to him----made as if to say something, but he didn't dare make a move with so many beings pressed close around him. For one thing, he wasn't totally *certain* of whose side Matek would take if he tried to fight his way into the hall. And then there was de Brabant's safety to consider. Avoiding multiple firepower was not something he was sure the altered Kievet could do. Ayar, yes; but Nicholas? Much as he abhorred the idea of handing over his lightsaber to the Anarans, it would be better to wait until he could team up with his master again. Darn!

[[ Master, I reget to inform you my bluff has been called. ]] Sullenly, he handed over the metallic cylinder into the scientist's eager hand before allowing himself to be escorted out of the room.

++ I sincerely hope this Earth slang phase you've entered is short lived, Padawan. Again--- in Basic Galactic, please ++

[[ Pohl figured out I'm a Jedi. I'm been arrested again, and separated from Nick. ]]

++ Aah... you're 'cover's been blown'. Why didn't you just say so? ++

Pohl took a moment to securing the alien device onto his own belt. Later, he would take it down to the Mechanics Room level of the building. It would be interesting to see what Head Mechanic Serg Mas could make of the unique weapon. Finished, he turned his full attention on the shortest of his two remaining 'visitors' who had started to follow the alien out before stopping uncertaintly near the door. "Now that the others are gone, Matek...who might your associate be, hmm?"

"This?" Matek tilted his head to seemingly 'notice' the still figure standling alone between himself and the desk. "This is just a Scout I recently purchased."

"Scout?", Pohl's eyebrow raised slightly as he studied his friend and part-time employee, " I thought the Unakan were having.. trouble.. locating fresh stock? And its size is hardly the norm." He pointed a stylus at the cloaked figure, slowly arching the writing point upwards until it nearly vertical. "What did you do, Matek? Stretch it on a rack so it could see better over the prairie grasses during a Rapar hunt? And who did you purchase it from." He looked keenly at the quiet form, beginning to rise from his seat and move from his desk.

"That was a trading between myself and the trader." The Unakan told him, tone noticeably cooler towards the Scientist than it had been. Gesturing with his hand, Matek clicked his tongue three times in succession. "Scout--- come."

Nick hurried to obey the command, but was stopped by a strong grip on his back as one of Pohl's long arms reached out to snag his clothing.

"*Just* a moment, Matek." Pohl drew his prize closer as he stepped around his desk.

"Director, I'd appreciate your taking your hands off my property," Matek warned him.

"You did not have it before, therefore it was purchased while under *Tanaken* employ. I am within my rights as employer to inspect my employee's wares, Matek." His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the Unakan, noticing the weapon the other's hand was hovering over. Matek scowled, fingers toying with a knife hilt, but made no further complaint. Under Anaran Law, the property of an employee *was* technically his employer's. Pohl had just never demanded the privelege before. Matek cursed at this wind change in circumstances. Of course, *he* had never 'owned' a Scout before. And considering Pohl's fascination with them... he should never allowed the blasted creature to talk him into bringing brought along. Should have followed his instincts like he usually did.

Pohl let his expression soften as he switched from the harsh speech of Anaran, to a more syllabant tongue, "E wi, sha kiente. Et aprawan et?"

One hand reaching into the hood to rest upon a slender cord. He followed the trail a couple of inches upwards to where it attached onto a thin leather band where the neck should be, soft fur feathering out over the supple collar. Pohl felt his heart skip a beat. Definitely *not* a Ruenam. He plunged his finger tips into the silken filaments until they pressed onto skin. Felt the body under the cloak start to shiver. Pohl merely tightened his hold by placing a restraining arm around the small torso, his other hand beginning to slowly finger massage the hidden fur just under where the chin would be. "Nya tas es Shypavet? Nya avenen tly es wi?" Pohl whispered soothingly to it. A light purring sound, but not the verbal response he was waiting for. When after several seconds had passed without any further sounds from the captive, Pohl demanded, "How is it you donah know your own voicings, Kievet? I commanded you to speak, as one in rightful authority over this Land. And yet, you donah obey me. A grave insult. At least offer apologies for your rudeness."

Matek grimaced. "Pohl..?" he began.

"Leave the room."

Pohl, sensed his friend's hesitancy. "I said, *Leave*!" he commanded harshly, not even even acknowledging the Unakan's stiff bow as he walked out.

"Well, now, my dear little one," Pohl said pleasantly to himself. "We're alone. Oh, aye, I recognize you, my own creature. Nah K'tlyan would refuse to give the name of the valley of their making---- unless, of course, it didn't *have* a valley in the first place. Or never learned the Etwan tongue--- and what Mieket would fail to teach that to his kien, hmm? Little one, though your purr is sweet and your fur soft, they are not quite of the caliber of a *true* K'tlyan." He chuckled, "And, too, you are a mite too tall to be full-blooded." Pohl smiled possessively. "Still nothing to say? Come, you were too smart a crit to have forgotten the Anaran I taught you. Or perhaps you have.... those foul aliens *did* hold you from your rightful place for a rather long time." The scientist switched to Galactic Basic. "Better, little one? Don't be shy... we have so much to catch up on. A complete physical first, aye? Hmm.. I remember you didnah care for those! But so necessary, I'm afraid. I'll have to call Arva and have her reschedule her other appointments. And this.."----he tugged at the hood til it slid backwards revealing the brown head of hair--- "this needs come off.."

Trembling slightly under the cloak, Nick fought to think above his suddenly contradictory impulses. Mentally he felt both unexplainabely terrified and wanted to hide somewhere--- anywhere!. With this were liberal doses of anger and mortification at his inability to defend himself from such simple things as a hug and a caress. Yet, he was being physically paralyzed with pleasure. Nick couldn't seem to stop either the uncontrolled humming noise that his throat was making, nor the warm feelings that having that area of his neck was producing over him. Part of him was content to let the sensations continue; part to *bite* the bastard who would violate his personal space in such a way! The Anaran obviously knew more about his new form than *he* did and had no compunction against using the knowledge to his advantage. As his borrowed body reveled in the one, Nick concentrated on his more outraged feelings, prefering to feel anger over.. well, over *that*--- Jedi philosophical warnings of the Dark Side, and Ayar's request that he 'still himself' be damned! If this creep didn't let go of him in the next couple of seconds, he *would* bite him! Deep within, Nick felt something stir as if from a deep slumber. Something dark and hungry and awfully familiar. He mentally quailed as it struggled to gain full awareness, instantly regretting his defiance of Ayar's advice. {{ Oh, no, no, no, no!! }}

Patience at an end, Pohl twisted his captive around. Ayar was exactly as he had pictured the adult would be.... except for the eyes." Pohl frowned. {{ "Funny... I don't recall Ayar having so much yellow glittering in his eyes.}} The half-Kievet snarled and viciously sank his teeth into arm. Only the tough material from his clothing kept the incisors from breaking the skin, but it didn't stop it from hurting like hell! Taken off guard, it took Pohl a full second to respond by raising free arm to deliver a blow to the head. His reaction was anticipated, however, and he barely had time to change the blow's angle in order to ward off an attack on his throat.

"Ayar! Stop this at once!"

What remained of the purple in his attacker's irises shifted to gold as well. Then he was free as the smaller, but stronger than expected body flung him several feet away. Pohl stumbled backwards against a wall, what he thought was 'Ayar', eyeing him menacingly. The doctor was suddenly reminded of a hunting trip when a wounded Rapar had caught he and Matek off guard. Looking into that predatory gaze, he felt the odd simularity between the two occurences. Then the maleovantly smirking mouth agreed to answer him at last.

"Ayar," came the overly deep growl, "doesn't live here anymore."

==============================================

End of Episode Two: Part Four