Part Eleven

Ashanti and Pak had kept track of Qui-Gon's location through the Force, not that Ashanti needed the extra assurance. She had already figured out that Marteene was behind all this. The why was what puzzled her.

He would not have gone through all the trouble to get her here so there had to be another reason behind the disappearance and death. Pak had no clue and could not offer any clues. His support was enough for Ashanti for now.

They returned to the Jedis quarters at the hotel and Ashanti rethought out her strategy. Qui-Gon was on the inside and with the right maneuvering could be of great help to her. She hated the idea of him there, but knew Marteene would do nothing to the boy, considering the wealth behind him. The wealth alone bought Qui-Gon's life for now. He was smart and able; he could handle himself with the help of the Force.

Ashanti wanted to know what the missing knight had found that had caused so much trouble. She knew the atmosphere had something to do with it, probably from a harmful point of view.

There was a missing element in this, though, and Ashanti couldn't quite put her finger on it. "Pak," she asked quietly as the being hovered around in boredom, "I need to get into the official records of the spas. How do I do that?"

"Records?" echoed Pak, not understanding.

"Yes, documentation on the guests, any incidents, accidents or unusual occurrences that have happened," explained Ashanti with an amazing degree of patience.

"Oh!" Pak understood. "That would be at Marteene's home. He keeps our administrative accounts for us."

Ashanti grimaced. "Bad choice, there, my friend. I wouldn't trust a Hutt as far as I could throw one."

Pak spoke dubiously. "That would not be far, given your stature, would it?" Ashanti chuckled. "No offense is meant, friend Ashanti."

"None taken, friend Pak, because you're right." A scene flashed into her mind, strong, directly guided by the Force, almost as if a dream. A street scene on one of the Outer Rim planets many years ago that Ashanti had visited. Destitute people walked in stupors, stealing, killing and committing other crimes for a taste of a deadly drug that had come beyond the normal trade routes. It had made mindless souls of many.

"Are there spas of less reputable regard, Pak, than the one I visited?" asked Ashanti.

Pak hesitated. "I have heard stories," it began.

"Perfect. Take me to one."

Pak was taken aback. "Are you crazy?" it asked, echoing a statement it had heard Qui-Gon say to her earlier.

Ashanti gave a roguish grin. "Not yet, but if things go right, I may be."

Pak was ill. All around him was the evidence of what its home did to the outsiders who visited them. The spa was filled to crushing standards with the mindless people who had no will anymore. A will taken away by the very atmosphere that gave Pak life.

Pak didn't think it wanted to be greeter any more. In fact, it was fairly certain it wanted nothing to do with this whole thing any more at all.

"My home has taken these peoples minds," Pak said brokenly to Ashanti.

The sprite-like Jedi surveyed the depressing scene before her with a callused eye. It was a scene she had viewed many times before on many different planets. The patheticness of the whole situation was more than she could stand, though. These people were taken in by a ruse, and when the ruse did the damage, they were hidden away from the public so that no one would ever know.

"Such is the price of science, Pak. Always check every variable. A good lesson to us all." Pak nodded sadly.

"What now, friend Ashanti?" asked Pak.

Ashanti removed the mask. "Time to join the dregs." She took a deep breath and moved into the crowd, dropping the mask inside her cloak's side inside pocket. The fumes of the lower atmosphere were more potent than the upper atmosphere and Ashanti fought the effects gallantly.

With the Force as her guide she stretched out her full sense of awareness, feeling for the other Force user she knew was here. She left Pak behind and delved deeper into the forest of mindless folk. As she grew more and more numb, both physically and mentally, her tail lost it's hold on her waist and she tripped as it slid down her legs. Her hands went through the 'floor' and she tumbled downward.

Pak didn't make it in time to stop her fall and she disappeared into the world beneath its make-shift feet.

Ashanti 'landed' on a soft cushion, forged by her mind, controlled by the Force. She struggled to maintain her grasp with the Force, knowing it was the only thing that would save her when she needed saving. It was the lifeline it had never been before. Before it had been the stability in her chaotic personality and life; now it served to maintain her sanity and her sense of being. The Force now preserved the very essence of Ashanti Vende.

Ashanti resolved to never blaspheme the Force ever again.

The Force brought to her mind the fact that she needed to rise. Ashanti gave herself over to the Force, allowing it to guide her as needed. She trusted in it completely, knowing it was the only sense she could now trust in this world of gases designed to make her senses inoperable.

Nothing made the Force inoperable.

The Force was all.

She walked. She trudged. She dodged other mindless beings led by whatever their minds willed. Eventually she tripped over something and landed on it. She looked down and brought the Force to bear on her vision, to clear it and understand what it was she was looking at.

"Master Lim." Her voice sounded disjointed, but that was okay. She doubted he understood her anyway.

His black eyes were blank and his gray skin was almost translucent. The Force pulsed within him and mingled with the Force within her. Together they rose.

"You found me," he whispered in thankfulness.

"No," she answered, her voice disjointed from the effects of the atmosphere, "the Force guided me to you."

She pulled him up and together they followed the powerful drive within them back to Pak.

Pak watch in amazement as Ashanti came out of the atmospheric mists, helping an alien male of humanoid stature. It hovered worriedly, not able to help Ashanti physically. The two off-worlders collapsed next to Pak and Ashanti groped inside her cloak for her breathing mask. Once it was secured upon her face and she began to breath clean air, her mind began to clear.

A thunderous headache pounded in her brain and she winced at the pain it caused. "Let's go, Pak. We have to get Master Lim out of here." She pulled Hal Lim to his feet again and they left through the exit. The transport hovered where they left it and Ashanti dumped Lim inside the clean atmosphere of the transport vehicle.

He immediately began to cough, his expelled breath the color of the environment outside as his lungs and body dispelled the noxious gases from his system. He groaned and fell into unconsciousness.

Ashanti collapsed herself inside the vehicle but maintained her grip on consciousness. She pulled off the mask, still gasping for air. "Is all well, friend Ashanti?" asked Pak, tone edged with nervous worry.

"We need to get him help."

"No," wheezed Hal Lim, stirring into wakefulness. "My padawan. . ."

Ashanti leaned back and twisted, looking at Hal Lim. She didn't not know this Jedi but knew that he deserved the truth. "Your padawan learner is dead, Master Lim. I am sorry. His body was returned to the Temple. My padawan and I were sent here to find out what happened to you."

"Where is your. . .?" Master Lim could not finish the sentence.

"Save your strength and draw in the Force. Here," she handed him food rations from her emergency stash, "eat. I'm going to need your help getting him."

"We go to Marteene the Hutt's home, friend Ashanti?" asked Pak resolutely.

Ashanti nodded weakly. "Yes, Pak, we're going to pay Marteene the Hutt a visit. I want my padawan back."