"How ironic," Zan Arbor said. "Only a Jedi would understand. And yet only the Jedi can be my best subjects. The others… even those who had the Force, who were, as you call them, Force-sensitive… they did not know what they had. They could not control it. It is hard to measure something that will not be controlled. That was the flaw in my experiments."

Qui-Gon had a sudden notion that chilled him. Was Zan Arbor keeping him in a condition of weakness so that he would use the Force to heal himself?

He could do nothing in this chamber. He would never escape if he didn't get out, even for a short time.

Perhaps he could form some sort of bond with his captor.

"I will make a deal with you," he said.

"I hardly think you are in a position to offer deals," Jenne Zan Arbor said, amused.

"I think I am," Qui-Gon returned quietly. "I have something you want.

That puts me exactly in that position."

There was a pause. "What do you want?"

"I want to be let out of this chamber for two hours a day," Qui-Gon said. "If you do this, I will use the Force to heal myself. If you do not, I will not access it."

"You will die," she warned.

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied calmly. "As a Jedi, I am prepared for death.

It does not frighten me."

"I do not make deals!" Zan Arbor cried shrilly. "I am the leader here! I make the decisions!"

He did not answer. He closed his eyes. He was gambling that she would not refuse him. He sensed the fever in her, the compulsion to follow through on her experiments. She would give in.

"All right," she snapped. "But not two hours. One hour. That's all.

Do we have a deal?"