~ Prologue ~

"I don't understand you."

Jedi Master Sev'on Uthiel rolled over lazily, propping his head up on one hand.

"You don't understand what about me?" he asked, lifting a hand to trace the long silver birthmark that ran down the side of his love's neck. Catching a lock of her white hair, he wound it around one finger and tugged her closer for a lingering kiss.

"You see me in a way few others do," Awen responded, smiling up at him. "Even the others of your kind--the other Jedi--they look upon me and see M'alerya."

"I see Awen Rhastiona, a beautiful woman with a deep and caring soul. One that I have loved for many years." Releasing the lock of hair, Sev'on drew a finger down Awen's cheek. "You know I'm going to be accepting a position in the Temple soon. You could--you could come to live with me. It is not unheard of."

"I am M'alerya," Awen stated simply.

"So?"

"Have you ever seen a Jedi who was M'alerya?" Lifting one delicate hand, Awen cupped Sev'on's cheek as he shook his head. "Nor will you ever. It is our heritage, Sev'on. The chemistry that makes us M'alerya--that makes our bodies work the way they do . . . it makes it so that we can never use the abilities that you have, even though we possess them."

"You mean . . ." Sev'on paused for a moment, casting his mind back. "I--I have never been as close to any other of your people as I am to you. I always thought that you were simply Force sensitive, and hadn't been identified."

"All are like me, Sev'on." Smiling a little sadly, Awen rolled onto her back, eyes staring blankly upwards. "It is why we have developed the way we have, love. The same genetic make up that makes us alive to what you call the living Force--it cuts us off from it so that we can only touch it in moments of . . of pleasure."

"Which would explain why your race is so sexually active," Sev'on said musingly.

"It is an addictive feeling," Awen said with a sigh. "All are trained from a young age to embrace the feeling, because it makes us what we are. So they constantly flit from partner to partner, seeking that moment when their bodies allow them use of the ability they have. It becomes a search--a mission. It is like a drug to our people."

"Is this what your father was studying?" Sev'on asked, settling back into Awen's side and snaking an arm about her. "You told me that he is a great doctor of your people."

"Great, but not well respected. He was urging for research that would find an alternate method to releasing this power within us. It did not please many, this idea."

"Why not?" Sev'on asked, surprised. "To be able to harness the power without being slaves to a body's physical release . . ."

"You still do not understand my people, Sev'on." Shifting to her side, Awen stared up into his eyes, her own silver eyes bright. "They have devoted so much of their time to sex, that it is all they have left. It is our industry, our trade--our livelihood. Tourists come from across the galaxy to visit the planet as if it were some kind of pleasure den. M'alerya are known the universe over as being what they are--"

"Sex." Shaking his head, Sev'on closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Awen's. "Let me take you away from this planet, Awen. Another year and I will be nothing more than a teacher in the Temple. I could offer you a home--I could offer your freedom."

"You know that I can not!" Turning her back to Sev'on, Awen balled her fist into the blanket, holding back tears. "There are reasons, Sev'on. Please--do not ask me again."

True to his calling, Sev'on did not ask again. Curling protectively around Awen's trembling body, he wrapped her in every possible assurance of love. "I will be here for you," he whispered, hand stroking against hers as he held her. "I will find a way."

Trembling in his arms, Awen's fingers brushed against her abdomen. She may be a prisoner on this planet, but by all that was holy--her daughter would not be.

~*~

~ Part One ~

Rhawen Sevuthiel tangled a lock of her pale white hair around one finger, wishing for the thousandth time that dye--any kind of dye--would take to her hair. Her hair marked her like nothing else did--if only she could have black or brown hair, her silver eyes and dark skin would be of little consequence.

But she had white hair and eyelashes, a startling contrast to the dark, mocha skin. Along with the haunting silver eyes and the long, thin silver birthmark that wound it's way from the bottom of her ear to the hollow of her throat, her hair marked her for what she was.

Marked her as M'alerya.

Heaving a sigh, Rhawen released the lock of hair, pulling it back to weave it into a tight braid down her back. Checking her uniform in the mirror, Rhawen spun on one heel and headed towards the door, bracing herself for what she knew was to come.

It never changed. It didn't matter that she had graduated top in her class at Officer's Academy. It didn't matter that her track record was perfect, never having lost a sim or contest in the years since she had started competing. It didn't matter that she was quite possibly the leading strategic mind of the decade, along with the best pilot.

She was M'alerya. She was female. Therefore, she was Sex.

Even though she really wasn't.

Rhawen had left her planet, rejected the culture of her people--and even now, ten years later and lightyears away, she was haunted by them. No one in the Republic army would believe that she had rejected her heritage when she left the planet at the age of fifteen, and no one could understand that she wanted little to be reminded of it. All anyone ever saw was a M'alerya women, and they all assumed that Rhawen would be grateful to be offered a willing subject to unleash her sexual needs on.

No one seemed to believe that she had none.

Even the officers--the supposed enlightened ones of the army--not even they could look past her hair and eyes and face--not even they would respect her as the soldier she was, as the soldier she could be. Those below her ignored or mocked her orders, those above her passed her over and conveniently forgot about her when it came time for special assignments and promotions.

And so it had been since she made Colonel. The advancement itself had surprised her until she realized it had been a political move--enabling the Army to shove her off into the farthest outpost in the Galaxy, responsible for a base of green recruits and a deserted space port.

There she had stayed for five years, watching the Republic lose battle after battle to the Empire, watching the officers promoted in her place make foolish blunders that she could have prevented ten times over.

And then she had gotten the transfer notice--and for a few days she had allowed herself to hope that things were looking up. That finally she was being seen for her talents instead as some kind of walking sextoy dressed in uniform.

All hopes had dissolved when she stepped on board the ship to find who was commanding. The Jedi General--the one scorned and mocked throughout the entire Army as the biggest joke since--well, since Rhawen herself. Common sentiment held that Jedi were peacekeepers, and therefore this General would be incapable of commanding war.

Not wanting to waste skilled commanders to a futile mission, the Army had made it very clear that anyone assigned to the Jedi's ship was definitely not someone who should think themselves in very high standing with their superiors. Only the fools and the outcasts would be manning the Jedi ship--and everyone on board knew it.

Including Rhawen. Three days on the ship and she was ready to cast in her resignation. Respect had gone down if anything, even on this ship of outcasts . . .

. . . and she was /supposed/ to be the second in command.

Shoving insecurities down, Rhawen opened her cabin door, composing her features carefully as she strode down the hall way. Silver eyes were fixed straight ahead, ignoring the appraising and suggestive glances thrown at her by men and women alike. She had grown used to the reactions by now--but it didn't change how much she hated it.

Almost to the bridge a large hand snagged her, pressing her against the wall roughly. "Where do you think you're going?" a sneering sergeant demanded, voice rough as he leaned into Rhawen. "Don't think you've fooled any of us into thinking you're anything but a whore."

"As your commanding officer, I am giving you one warning," Rhawen replied coldly, eyes flashing. "Let go of my arm, Sergeant, or I will make you regret it."

"You're M'alerya," the sergeant replied with a snarl. "You're here to be someone's whore, but some of us are wondering just who it is. Spreading your legs for the General, are you?"

"I will be reporting your misconduct," Rhawen snapped, hand coming up to shove the sergeant away. "I suggest you do not repeat this performance."

Fingers locked around her neck with sudden brutalness. "I don't take orders from whores," the large man spat.

"Then perhaps you will take them from your General," a cool voice said, and the fingers loosened suddenly. Rhawen closed her eyes in shame as General Kenobi appeared before her, fingers brushing against the rising bruises on her throat.

"I came to see if there was a reason you were late for our first shift," the General said, his crisp voice at horrible odds with his soft fingers. "I can see that you had sufficient reason."

"I am sorry, General," Rhawen said, sliding away from the hands. "I won't let it happen again."

"Rhawen." Opening her eyes, Rhawen forced herself to meet the General's frank gaze. "Perhaps we should ask for a transfer for you. I fear for your safety on this ship--and to speak bluntly, I need someone who can control the troops."

"Typical," Rhawen spat before she could completely control herself. "Are you going to ask who I'm here to whore for next? Is it completely impossible to see that I may very well have talent?"

"Colonel Sevuthiel, I know very well that you have a good sim record and exceptional scores on all intelligence tests." Shaking his head, Kenobi gestured that Rhawen should walk with him. "The fact is, this is going to be a dangerous mission, and I need to know that the crew will respond to any orders from my commanders." The eyes sought hers again. "Colonel, I am a Jedi. I understand the . . . physical responses . . . that most humanoids feel in the presence of a M'alerya. I know that there is nothing you can do to turn off the physical chemistry that makes up your body. However, you could be--and quite possibly are--the smartest mind in the Republic army . . . and it doesn't mean anything if no one will listen to you."

"If that is how you feel, perhaps it is best that I transfer off of this ship," Rhawen responded, eyes focused ahead.

"It is not that simple," Obi-Wan responded grimly. "You don't need to play games, Colonel. I know that I am not well thought of. You are quite possibly the only person with any real talent who was sent to my ship--no one else here has half of the knowledge or experience that you do. Before I can send you away I will need to find a new second in command."

"And there is the fact that they probably won't accept me anywhere else," Rhawen sighed, fingers clenching into fists.

"Nothing will be solved today," Obi-Wan said as they approached the main door to the bridge. "Let's just get through the first shift. It's possible that people will come to respect you for your talent."

The looks she garnered from the other personal on the bridge told Rhawen that the possibility of being accepted was very slim.

~*~

Alarms going off woke Rhawen half way into her sleep cycle. Trying to blink grogginess from her eyes she rolled out of her bunk, groping for her boots as she ordered the cabin lights up to half illumination.

She was just sweeping out the door when her comm unit buzzed. "Rhawen," she said curtly, shaking her hair out of her face as she strode towards the bridge.

"I need you on deck," Obi-Wan's voice came. "We're under attack."

"Any ident on the attacker?" Rhawen asked, her mind already leaping into action.

"Not yet. Get here now. Kenobi out."

Speeding her steps, Rhawen reached the bridge in a few moments. No one paid attention to her arrival, most of the crew busy at their own stations. Rhawen proceeded directly to where the General was hunched over a horizontal screen, viewing the surrounding area.

"Five of them," he said, sensing her presence behind them. "They've got us pretty well boxed in."

Rhawen bent over next to him, eyes roaming over the display. Without hesitation she pointed to a small gap between the two ships slightly below their own. "Here. They made a mistake--the one to the left is in the wrong direction for attack if we go out underneath." Checking the stats up in the corner of the screen, she nodded once. "They've got outdated models, take's 'em half a klick if they wanna flip. They'll have to drop and dive around to get us, and we could jump to hyperspace before they'll have a chance."

"Won't someone else get us first?" Obi-Wan asked, brows furrowed. "What's to stop one of the other ships from nailing us."

"This one," Rhawen responded, finger landing on the ship to the bottom left of their own position. "If we drop, which we can do in this ship, then we can reverse flip behind them. We'll be under their own cover for long enough to drop again, and no one will have a clean shot."

"Do it," Kenobi said, rising and turning to the pilot and co-pilot. "Colonel has control of the bridge, everyone follow her orders," he barked out, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. The pilot and co-pilot emptied their seats, and Kenobi slid into the co-pilot's chair. "Take it, Colonel. We won't have much time before they begin the attack."

"Missile incoming," one of the women yelled from the other side of the bridge, punching a button with her finger. A second alarm sounded, the one warning to brace for impact. "We've got ten seconds before impact."

"Shields," Kenobi roared, bracing himself against his chair.

"At maximum," someone else responded. Rhawen grasped the arms of her chair, preparing herself for the impact.

The entire ship rocked as the missile crashed into their shields. Feeling her head snap back, Rhawen lurched her entire body forward in a desperate attempt to save herself from a concussion.

"Dive now, Colonel," Kenobi snapped, hands coming up to the secondary controls. "I'll back you up."

Grasping the controls, Rhawen flipped a few switches and drew the intercom microphone to her lips. "Brace for drop," she announced throughout the ship, hands tighteneing on the bars. Another flip of a switch, and the ship was on manual.

Struggling against the sudden tension in the steering controls, Rhawen punched another button, feeling the ship lurch as it sank suddenly through space. Another flip and they had turned, wedging themselves under one of the enemy ships.

Before Rhawen could execute the second maneuver, she heard a muffled curse, a howl of pain and the distinctive sound of blaster fire.

Before she could turn to examine the problem, the blaster was at her temple. "Return the ship to auto pilot, or the next shot I take at the General will go straight through his head."

Finger shaking, Rhawen flipped the switch.

"Place your hands on your head."

Obeying slowly, Rhawen glanced to the right. Kenobi was down, eyes half shut as he fought against the agony of three horrific blaster wounds, each in a place that would cause him the most pain. Despite everything, his green eyes were clear as he met hers, comfort and reassurance flowing out of them.

It was clear to her that he still had the capability to fight--and was only restraining himself to avoid getting her shot.

"We'll be keeping you to assure the General's compliance," the voice from behind her said. Rhawen was hauled to her feet, wrist binders snapped onto her as she was wrenched cruelly around.

"Forget me," Rhawen hissed at Kenobi, trying to convince him with her eyes to move. Trying to get him to fight.

"The General doesn't want to see his whore killed," the mocking voice said behind her. "How romantic."

Fighting frustration, Rhawen acquiesced as she was pulled from the room. She could feel those green eyes following her the whole way.

~*~

~ Part 2 ~

Mutiny was concept that had long since become nothing more than a story told in history classes, but Rhawen suddenly found herself in the middle of one. She was tossed roughly into a cell, kicked once in the ribs by a harsh boot. Her requests for information were met only with sneers.

A few hours later Sergeant T'kin, one of the more outspoken members of the crew, came to her cell. "We want the weapons codes," he demanded harshly, boot sneaking out to prod at Rhawen. "This is your chance to give them to us without pain."

Rhawen stared straight ahead, eyes unblinking.

The foot that caught her in the ribs was unexpected enough to force out a low gasp, her teeth biting into her lower lip in an effort not to cry out. Turning to glare at T'kin, Rhawen spat on him.

The next kick struck her in the face, snapping her head around as his foot ground into her jaw with a sickening crunch. The pain slammed into her from all sides, her fingers digging into the ground until one of her nails split.

"Ask the General," Rhawen spat.

"I'd rather break a M'alerya then break a Jedi," T'kin responded with a cruel grin. "I'll give you a few moments to reconsider your answer. Every time you refuse to give me the codes, I break a bone. We can go until you run out of bones--then I'll start thinking of new ways to make you talk."

"Hope you're creative," Rhawen bit out, ignoring the biting pain in her jaw.

Before T'kin could respond there was a harsh cry in the hallway followed by rapid blasterfire and the pounding of feet. Letting off a final kick to Rhawen's ribs, T'kin stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The blasterfire continued for a few more minutes before an alarm went off, more footsteps pounding by Rhawen's cell. Scooting back so that her body was pressed tightly against the wall, Rhawen clung to consciousness and waited.

It didn't take long before T'kin was back in the room, face livid. One large hand tangled in Rhawen's hair, dragging her roughly to her feet. Rhawen grunted, vision blurring as the pain from her jaw came rushing back.

"What do you--" groaning as the hand jerked her head back, Rhawen fell silent.

"Come with me," T'kin growled, spinning Rhawen around and shoving her face against the wall. A few moments later a pair of cold binders snapped around her shaking wrists, another hand yanking back until her shoulders screamed.

She was dragged most of the way to the bridge, halting stumbling steps rewarded by rough pulls on her hair. Staying conscious was enough of a battle to distract her from anything else, and she used the pain to focus on. Fear, for the moment, was the farthest thing from her mind.

She was thrown to the floor in front of the main control consul, a kick in her ribs sending her scrambling to her feet, world blurry as she rocked back with pain.

"Enter the weapons codes," somebody snapped behind her. Shrugging her shoulders carefully, Rhawen tested the bonds on her wrist.

"Kind of hard with my wrists locked behind my back," she snarled, ignoring the lancing pain through her jaw as she moved it. "Why don't I just dictate them to you?"

Another kick sent her stumbling back to the floor, the world graying out for a few moments. She barely registered that someone was dragging her to her feet by her hair before her body was slammed into a nearby chair. "Don't play games, M'alerya. I know damn well that the keys are fingerprint sensitive. You'll enter them, or we'll cut your fingers off and then you can dictate."

"As I said, kind of hard with my wrists locked behind my back." Rhawen regretted her sarcasm when a large hand locked almost brutally around her throat.

"One squeeze, and you can say goodbye to your windpipe," a low voice behind her growled. Someone tugged roughly on the wrist binders before releasing them.

Rhawen stretched her arms carefully out to either side of her, wincing as abused muscles in her shoulders protested. Wiggling her fingers slightly, Rhawen rolled her eyes in the direction of the nearest person. "I'll enter the codes as soon as I know that the General is all right."

The hand squeezed around her throat slightly and Rhawen winced. Someone behind her snickered, and she caught the low mocking comment, "Looks like the whore still has a little loyalty."

"Too bad for her the General doesn't," was the mocking retort, the voice silenced suddenly by a muttered curse and the distinct sound of someone being slapped.

Hope squeezed it's way into Rhawen's heart. If the commotion she had heard before had been Kenobi escaping--then she had several options open to her.

Only she had to be sure first.

"I need to see the General. I want to know that he's alive." Vision danced out of focus as the rough hand shook her slightly, but Rhawen held her ground, biting through her lip in an effort to keep quiet.

"The General didn't share the same care for your well being that you apparently have for his," T'kin said from somewhere to the left of Rhawen. Very slowly Rhawen twisted her head, catching a glimpse of T'kin out of the corner of her eye.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, voice slightly breathless.

"The General jumped ship. Left you here to fend for yourself. Guess you weren't that good a whore."

For a moment--a fraction of a second really--Rhawen felt upset at the desertion by a Jedi. Then military instincts kicked in, and she blessed her commanding officer for doing the right thing and saving his own skin.

Now all she could do was pray that Kenobi had followed /all/ procedures after getting to an escape pod. If he had, then she had her chance to neutralize the danger on the ship.

Putting her faith in Kenobi, Rhawen dropped her hands and started entering the weapons codes.

The correct weapons codes.

If the General had followed emergency procedures, the first thing he would have done upon reaching the escape pod would have been to patch into the system with his access number and change all of the important codes on the ship.

Doing so would effectively spring a trap for anyone who entered the old codes. If all went according to plan, five minutes after Rhawen's finger touched the last of the numbers in the code, the most powerful sleeping gas known to the galaxy would flood every room and corridor on the ship. One whiff of the stuff would knock a humanoid out for 48 hours--and it would be everywhere.

The system would appear to be fully operational as soon as she entered the last digit. All she had to do was survive somehow for five minutes after she suddenly became useless.

Holding her breath, Rhawen depressed the last button in the code sequence. Green lights flashed on the weapon's consul, and a cheer erupted throughout the bridge. The hand around her throat squeezed viscously once before releasing her. With nothing propping her up, Rhawen slowly sank to the floor.

An arm snagged Rhawen around the waist and started dragging her roughly towards the door. Try as she might, Rhawen simply couldn't get her eyes to focus on what was going on around her. Her last thought as she slid slowly into darkness was the desperate hope that Kenobi really had changed the codes.

If he hadn't . . .

~*~

Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi was absolutely livid. Pacing the confines of the small waiting room outside the Republic Army Headquarters, it was all he could do not to start throwing things around with the force of his mind alone.

He had been left cooling his heels for six hours now while the leaders of the Republic Army discussed his report and his rights as the Commanding Officer of a ship under mutiny. The ship itself had been recovered a few hours before his arrival--somehow Rhawen must have triggered one of the alarm systems and sent the entire crew into sleep--but the Army continued to deny Obi-Wan access to the ship.

His protestations that one of the members on board was innocent of mutiny had been met with polite stares of condescending disbelief. He had been told several times already that in such cases, it was unlikely that /anyone/ would be innocent of harboring traitorous thoughts, and it would be best if he would just leave the army regulars to be dealt with by the army legal system.

So Obi-Wan had done what he'd been avoiding since the beginning. He'd pulled rank, and waved proof of the authority given him by the Republic Senate in their smug, obnoxious faces . . .

And had found himself in this damned waiting room again so they could sit around and discuss the finer points of protocol.

While Rhawen Sevuthiel floated on the damned ship, most likely injured, in a gas induced sleep.

It was enough to drive a Jedi to the dark side.

"General Kenobi."

Spinning towards the source of noise, Obi-Wan came face to face with a young, wide-eyed Lieutenant. The Lieutenant snapped to attention, her entire body rigid as she saluted him.

"At ease," Obi-Wan said immediately, hiding a smile at the young woman's awkwardness. She was obviously more than a little uncomfortable in his presence, and not for the first time he wondered at the stories that people were telling about the Jedi General. Whatever they were, they probably weren't very flattering.

"General, your petition to be let aboard the ship has been approved. The ship has been ventilated, and I am to escort you on board."

"Excellent," Obi-Wan said, giving the girl a small smile. She stiffened even more, spinning on her heel and walking quickly out the door. Falling into step behind her, Obi-Wan couldn't help but sense the overwhelming fear she exuded.

Whatever people were saying about him--he'd have to find out. And soon.

~*~

"I assure you, General, no one has been removed from the ship."

"I find it difficult to believe that two of the sleeping crew made their way into an escape pod and jettisoned while the ship was floating in dead space." Obi-Wan strode once again down the line of sleeping bodies stretched out in the med bay, ignoring the army healers who scrambled out of his way. The head healer followed closely behind him, her demeanor cool.

"Then they must have gotten to escape pods before the gas was released," the healer snapped, cold blue eyes raking over Obi-Wan's face. "Probably two traitors who were afraid to be caught."

"One of them was a prisoner when I left. She was as much a victim of the mutiny as I was." Shaking his head Obi-Wan paused at the head table before the prone body of T'kin. "This was the mastermind behind it--he's the one who shot me."

"He will be questioned like the rest of them," the healer responded shortly, dismissing Obi-Wan. "The army is worried about the two traitors that escaped. They have been declared rouge and will be brought to trial as soon as they are found. The Republic does not care for mutiny."

"I do not like repeating myself," Obi-Wan ground out, his patience near an end. "One of the two people missing was a victim of the mutiny. My second in command. She is most likely injured, and she is almost certainly in danger."

"The M'alerya?" the healer sniffed. "I would not concern yourself with her if I were you, General. Her record shows repeated incidents where she went in direct opposition to commanding officers. She is probably the mastermind behind this entire operation. She will be found and brought to justice."

"I trust her," Obi-Wan said slowly. "She is not guilty of any wrong doing."

"I'd think about motives carefully were I you," the healer said primly, her eyes raking over Obi-Wan again. "I thought that Jedi were immune to the tricks of those such as the M'alerya whore. I would think you'd have a little more self-control."

Obi-Wan's fingernails dug into his palms as he slowly fought back anger, releasing it carefully into the Force. "I have a great deal more self-control than you realize," he said slowly. "I will be taking this up with the Republic Senate."

"As you wish," the healer mocked. "Now if you'd like to move along, I have things to do."

Holding back a snarl, Obi-Wan turned slowly and stalked away.

He had to find Rhawen before they did. Something wasn't right.

~*~

~ Part 3 ~

Rhawen woke slowly, the first sensation that of being strapped down. Craning her head slightly she saw that she was on what looked like a small medical table inside a cramped room. It looked vaguely familiar, and after a few moments she recognized it as the med room in the shuttle reserved for the C.O. on all Republic Ships.

Pausing briefly, Rhawen heard the familiar hum of engines running. So somehow, someone had gotten her on board the shuttle before the gas had been released, and launched them both.

The question being--who?

And more importantly--why.

Her entire body still ached, but a great deal of the pain had been eased. She could faintly feel some kind of bandage wrapped around her face, holding her jaw secure. Try though she might, however, the bindings keeping her strapped tightly to the table would not release.

"Hello?" she called carefully, the word coming out somewhat muffled due to the bandage around her head. Working her jaw slowly to loosen it, she tried again. "Hello?"

For a while nobody came--long enough for a long list of possibilities to run through Rhawen's head, each one progressively worse. She was hardly well liked by any of the crew, and being strapped to a table at one of their mercy was a terrifying prospect. Rhawen was almost worked into a fever-pitch when a tousled brunette head poked around the doorway, it's owner smiling brightly at her.

"Hi," he said, pacing forward as Rhawen regarded him warily. She recognized him as the ship's healer, a quiet young man named Jasen who usually steered clear of the soldiers. She hadn't seen him during the mutiny--but that didn't mean he hadn't been involved.

"Hi," Rhawen echoed, voice soft with disuse. "What's going on."

"I dragged you off of the ship," Jasen responded. "I knew what you'd done the minute you hit that last button. I don't know if you know this, but the minute the command to release the gas goes into the computer, it alerts the healer. That's me. So I decided to pick you up and get us both off of there."

"Forgive me if I don't understand your motives," Rhawen said slowly. "I'm not sure what is going on still though."

"Mutiny," Jasen replied, shrugging. "I knew about it while it was happening, but I steer clear of the soldiers, and they steer clear of me. There wasn't much I could do to help until it was all over. So I saved you."

"Thank you," Rhawen said softly. "Is there any way you could untie me? I have to report."

"Not yet. Your body is still trying to recover. I think it's best if you stay like this for now."

"But--"

"I'll be back in a while with food!" Before Rhawen could say another word, Jasen was out the door.

Something wasn't right here.

~*~