Plains Outside New Anar City

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The day was nearly over by the time Obi-Wan Kenobi saw the riders approach. He smiled in greeting as Qui-Gon, Dr. Anders, and Matek drew up, with a riderless, brown quad in tow.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Kenobi teasingly chided his master before casting a wary look on the two Anarans who were in the process of dismounting. Or, at least, *Matek* was dismounting. Pohl had all but flown off his black quad in his hurry to descend on the unconscious 'Ayar' and the now all-too-wide-awake Kievet, who---up to the approach of the quads---had been curled up with Nick. Wide-eyed, it looked about uncertainly, as if seeking a non-existant escape route, yet clearly reluctant to abandon its companion. Obi-Wan was quick to intercept, blocking the Doctor's path to the pair.

"He is resting," he told Pohl, eyes adamant.

"I bet *he* is." Pohl returned, looking ready to bodily move the Jedi out of the way. Only his knowledge that the slim humanoid was more powerful than he outwardly seemed kept him from the attempt. That, and he sensed that the Jedi Master was tensing to spring to his apprentice's aid. Compromising, he spoke harshly to the trembling Kievet crouching behind Kenobi's boots, speaking fluently in its 'common' language.

" E Pohl Anders. K'tlyan, tas." (Singer, talk to me.)

The K'tlyan's eyes widened at this, hardening a little even as the fear shone through.

"Weshavna, yan en Unayarek" (Leave me alone, close friend of the Destroyer.) The reply was given in a likewise scathing tone, though articulated much more hesitantly.

Pohl almost smiled at the epithet---the strongest slur in the Kievet language, and something the ultra polite males had difficulty voicing even now. It was obviously fighting its own instinct to flee in the face of a such a predator, probably wishing to its God that it still had its sling or its Companion Rket with which to defend itself. A request for a name was ignored---which didn't surprise the Tanaken any----K'tlyan tended to be closed mouthed about giving their names to known enemies. Oh, he had been definitively cast as one in league with---if not the very Child of---Destruction. Fortunately, they were not at all shy about their place of birth, proclaiming it openly via the colored stone ring that each used to hold their neck scarves in place. Pity this one had had its clothing taken from it so a quick glance didn't yield him any information---the articles had probably been removed to be sold separately to some Qwanaten who collected such oddities---so he simply asked where it came from. The answer made him wince despite himself. He shook off the bad memory and asked about the sleeping form next to it, listening carefully. A questioning look from the Jedi made him smile to himself. For all their mysterious powers and airs, the offworlders needed *him* to interpret for them. It felt good to feel superior to these so called 'best of the Republic' interlopers.

"What was that about?" Qui-Gon asked.

Pohl snorted disdainfully at both the Jedi's question and the Kievet's answer. "This is a K'tlyan from what used to be Purple Clan. It says Ayar is 'walking in the place of the spirit' and that his spirit is ripped in two. That we should let it take Ayar home for its 're-weaving' before it unravels too much." He always found Kievet superstition to be rather amusingly primitive.

"*Used* to be?" Qui-Gon asked. "Does the clan not exist anymore?"

"The Kievet village in Flah valley was..disbanded."

The Jedi looked ready ask for clarification, but Pohl waved it off---revealing the details now would not be prudent, likely the Jedi would leave him in disgust---and he didn't want them to disappear with his property. "Later. Right now we need to get to the train. Nightfall in the prairie can be dangerous, as Matek will attest. Whereas they are naught as numerous as when I was young, there are *still* wild Rapar who hunt out here.

Matek broke his silence to back up his employer's advice. "They usually wonah attack such a large group as ours, but the Kievet will look rather temptingly like helpless young. It's naught wise to court their attention unnecessarily. Once they decide to attack you...well, only a Veh-Rek is more tenacious."

"Veh-Rek?" Jinn inquired, noticing that the Kievet had become even more nervous at the word, sniffing anxously at the air while it kept one eye on the scientist.

"Aye, it's a Kievet word," Pohl smiled nastily. "The V'rek are the mountain version of the Rapars, only bigger and with a distressing tendancy to hunt in packs as our little furry friend could attest. I will never forget my first...introduction...to them."

"Introduction?" Qui-Gon prodded, hating to have to sound like someone who had missed the first half of a holovid show, constantly asking questions about the plot. Of course if the annoying man in front of him would just give straightforward details in the first place...

"That is the best way to describe it," Pohl nodded grimly, refusing to elaborate on the one time he had been totally outmanouvered by a mere animal---and a herbivore at that! For days afterwards he had debated whether it would have been better to have let the carnivores eat him rather than live with the blow to his pride. Only the fact that Matek had shared the ignominious experiance as well had kept him from the unsavory action. He had to make sure the Unaken didn't broadcast the whole affair to anyone else, and jeopardize his Family name. Of course, Matek had admitted---Turns later---that the same thought had occured to him about his own reputation being sullied. So the story had remained a secret between the two survivors and Aven, (who had inadvertintely learned about it through K'tay's drawings before Pohl had destroyed them), and likely every damn Kievet that twice-damned Singer had storied to! When the Hunters started their Science House-financed excursions into Kievet territory, Pohl had stipulated that any K'tlyan called 'Ke-Yair' be brought back to him, personally---*alive*---for double the price of any other male. After K'tay had escaped, he had quadrupled it, but so far the K'tlyan had always evaded them. Probably holed up in one of the five Clans they had yet to plunder. But they would. Nobody could hide forever.

"Shall we go? Perhaps the two Kievet can ride with Kenobi, as I am sure the Singer would not appreciate riding with me. While on route to Northern Yarku, we can discuss who will be its owner---K'tlyan,"---he gestured in the Jedi apprentice's direction---"wes avenati-ish Shypavet 'Kenobi' Wanwi." (Singer, you will go with the red-tailed Outsider. He will take care of you.) "There, it will obey you, Jedi Kenobi---as much as it would obey anyone."

Obi-Wan suppressed an annoyed groan as the Kievet strained its short frame to its utmost in an attempt to sniff his neck without actually touching him; warm breath blowing upwards at the Padawan's grim face. (A polite greeting, Pohl explained.) Obi-Wan said nothing. He wasn't the one who collected pathetic lifeforms! [[ Master? I think this is *your* department? ]]

++ None of that, Padawan, ++ Qui-Gon didn't even try to hide his amusement. ++ It will be a good lesson in listening to the Living Force. Besides, we need to learn as much as we can about the Kievet and their culture before we meet them on their own turf. ++

Obi-Wan frowned. "We are not going back to the city?" he asked his master, helping the Kievet up onto the spare quad---eyes locking with its dark ones for an instant----before gathering up the comatose Nick and joining it. Already he was feeling *some* kinship with the black and white being: it didn't like quads either. He sent calming thoughts to it---mentally picturing it holding onto his back while he held de Brabant firmly in front of him---about to ask Pohl to convey this idea so the Kievet would not fall off. To his surprise, he immediately felt a light tough on each shoulder, and then the Kievet was clinging to his back like a limpet. A strong sense of *trust* came to him. Was the creature telepathic? He tried to mentally talk with it, but received no reply in return---not even an unintelligible one.

++ Not telepathic, Padawan ++ Qui-Gon sent. ++ But I feel *he* is strong in empathy---especially to the Living Force. It will be interesting to learn if they all carry this trait. ++

Obi-Wan felt his respect for his rear passenger go up a notch. Some races had a natural affinity for breeding Force sensitives. Could the Kievet be such a species? His Master seemed to be hinting that that might be the case. If so, the news needed to be given to the Council as soon as possible so that a testing program for potential Jedi initiates could be started. Finding potential new members was always a cause for celebration amongst the Jedi, who were getting spread thinner and thinner lately with all of the recent unrest throughout the Republic. This mission was starting to look up!

-----------------------o---------------------------

Nick was dreaming that he and Natalie were cuddled on his leather sofa back in the loft, watching her current favorite romantic video---something about a giant primate rescuing a fair princess from some shakespeare quoting dragon that knew karate. He knew it was a dream because there simply *weren't* any such things as giant primates, but the foresty/wildflower scent of Nat's new perfume was simply to wonderful to want to wake up to reality. Besides, Nat was wearing the silkiest fur coat he had ever felt---and that dragon was a pretty good actor.

Alas, all good things tended to be short-lived. Someone---probably LaCroix, the inhuman bastard!---was demanding he wake up by rather rudely calling his name repeatedly. Ancient busybody wasn't even getting it right, too. Could vampires go senile if the got old enough?. He really needed to board up that skylight in his roof one day. Maybe tie a cross on it and treat it with holy water to boot.

When Nick finally dragged his conscious up out of its cocoon, the first thing he realized was that he was moving. Or to be more precise: that he was *on* something that was moving---and at a fair clip. {{ If Schanke's driving my Caddy again I really will kill him. }} The second thing was that he was curled around something extemely soft and sweet smelling while lying on a somewhat pliable surface. Funny.... though he had often thought about it, putting a silk mattress and pillow in the Caddillac's trunk for those times he got caught out in the daylight would have generated too many questions. The third thing was that the luxiuriant bundle he was holding onto was breathing.

With a startled yelp, he rolled away from it---and promptly fell on a hard metal surface that moved in a rythmic motion under his back. A rythm he recognized as belonging to..

{{ A train? }}

He opened his eyes and found himself lying faceup on the floor of a metallic compartment. To his left was a wall with a vertical slot and two chairs currently folded up and held against the wall via straps. To his right was a raised platform---the bed he must have fallen off of.

Without warning, a face with twinkling turquoise-blue eyes framed by short white fur and an iridescent black tossle of hair stared down at him. Beneath the 'moustache' appeared a toothy grin.

"U'mpa e Ayar." It giggled. "M'pa'g pir R'ayar, Yiv d Naryer wesvan'g!" More giggles, like tinkling windchimes, followed by a string of intricate chirps and whistles blended together---like songbirds singing a melody.

Nick couldn't help but smile at the stranger's good mirth. Or was this a stranger? Hadn't they met before? It seemed faintly familiar, but his memories since being confronted by Pohl in his office were so...hazy. Almost as if they were someone else's dream that he had caught snatches of.

"He said you are a heavy sleeper, and that that trait could get you killed by the elements if you do it while up on a mountain," Matek's gruff voice sounded from behind him.

Twisting around a bit, Nick saw the Hunter sitting on a lone chair, placidly cleaning his gun.

"Where am I? Where are the others?", he demanded in an annoyed voice. Damn, but he felt *itchy*! What he wouldn't give for a hot shower. No...a lake---or a river! Cool water rushing around him to carry away whatever was irritating his skin...

Nick grimaced. Now where had *that* thought come from? Ever since mortals had devised water heaters, he had revelled in *hot* baths. Delicious *heat* against his cold, undead skin. Ah...but he wasn't undead anymore, was he? Nick sighed to himself. Ironic that he should regain his 'humanity' at the cost of being *human*.

"We're on a train that's about to enter Northern Yarcu," Matek informed him in a bored vioce. "The others are eating breakfast in the dining car. Since I already ate earlier, I was assigned to watch over you two."

Nick blinked, feeling his stomach growl rather insistently. "Breakfast?" he muttered hopefully, scratching absently at his right shoulder and abdomen where the itching was strongest. He suddenly felt ravenous! And not just for something to fill his stomach, either. There was a lack in him that he couldn't place. Not since his days as a young vampire dealing with the Hunger had he felt so strong a *need*. But what the heck did he *want*?

The owner of that smiling face so like his own (Nick realized belatedly), was beside him in a heartbeat, only now its expression bore the look of concern, eyes quietly asking permission for Nick knew not what. Or maybe part of him *did*, for he found himself nodding an affirmation. Seconds later he was sucking gently at a honeyed substance, mind eased by the soft singing of his comforter. Nick barely registered it when the compartment door opened and the two Jedi strode in, Qui-Gon looking somewhat bemused at the sight before him. His Padawan's reaction was more aggrieved.

"There they go *again*."

Before his Master could comment on his apprentice's lack of appreciation for the variety of life, they were both unceramoniously shoved aside by a cursing Pohl, who roughly picked up the Kievet and flung him back on the bunk before kneeling to examine Nick's shoulder. The Tanaken Director utterly ignoring the Singer who had curled up into a trembling ball, as well as 'Ayar's' squirms of protest at the probing fingers.

It was Obi-Wan who came to their confused friend's rescue, pushing Pohl away with a a Force-amplified tug.

"Fires of Marak!" The Tanaken rounded on the Matek as the easiest of the targets for his ire. "I told you naught to let it feed him!"

Matek shrugged, unrepentant. "You said naught to let them bond. Those are two different things."

"Faagh!" Pohl spat, unwilling to admit his error. Once was bad enough----but that they should interact so twice! The worst was that he had no idea just *how* much damage had been done until it manifested itself.

He turned steely eyes on the Jedi. "You will promise me that they will be kept physically apart until this expedition is over."

Qui-Gon remained impassive and silent, though he felt intensely curious at this turn of events. Sending a quick mental probe to check the Kievet for injury, he was gratified to find that it was merely frightened and not hurt.

His impulsive student, however, was bristling as he stood protectively over Nick. "I didn't realize that the Anarans were such prudes even concerning their 'animals'," Obi-Wan retorted. "Considering that there seemed to be enough places of.." he blushed slightly "physical activity in New An..." stopping as he realized that the Tanaken was staring at him like he thought the young Jedi was an idiot. To Kenobi's non-surprise, the zoologist scornfully validated his assessment of the embarrassed Jedi.

"*What* are you blathering about?"

A quick glance towards his Master revealed that Qui-Gon was *not* going to help him with this one. In fact, Obi-Wan noted ruefully, he got the strong impression that his teacher was highly amused at his apprentice's discomfiture: the smug bantha was waiting for him with an air of polite expectancy.

++ *Bantha*, Padawan? ++

{{ Oh, Sith Hells take it! }} Obi-Wan thought to himself as he slammed his mental shields down in order to block out the other's mental chuckling. Whoever thought his Master was always a stoic pillar of no-nonsense unemotionalism had never been the man's Padawan!

"The Kievet having...uh...sex." Swallowing hard Kenobi mentally worked hard to keep his facial capilliaries from flaring out any more than they were now. As much as he enjoyed teasing his Master about some of their more *unusual* encounters with other cultures---(he definitely was *not* the naive, new Padawan he had been when he'd first left the rather insulated enviroment of the Jedi Temple!)---he *did* tend toward a bit of 'prudishness' himself.

Dr. Anders cocked a surprised eyebrow at his reply.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon smiled gently at his Padawan---who was trying mightly not to show how flustered he was---, "The esteemed Director explained to me earlier that such behavior is how males nurse and comfort their infants. Between two adult males, it is one giving medical aid to a severely injured or depleted brother. Their is no sexual connotation unless done with a female of their species."

"Oh." Obi-Wan slumped almost imperceptibly.

"It was an understandable mistake, Padawan. An assumption I may have well made myself if I had not been privy to the truth beforehand," Jinn openly confessed in order to soothe his student's pride. "Let it be a lesson to both of us never to make hasty judgements."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. "But, Ni..." he started, then rethought his words: to his knowledge, the Anarans still did not know that Ayar's body now held an 800-year old Earth being instead of the result of Dr. Anver's mucking about with Life forces. "...it hasn't been that long ago since our last meal, Master. Enough to feel some hunger---granted---but hardly enough to be 'starved'.

++ I seem to recall a young padawan who was nigh continuously complaining of such a state to his patient Master, ++ Qui-Gon dryly sent back. But for the Anarans' benefit he said aloud: "An excellent point, Padawan. Perhaps our 'Kievet expert' would like to explain that to us... as well as his reason for wanting Ayar and our new friend apart."

They both turned to gaze expectantly at Pohl.

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End of Episode 2: Part 9