Disclaimer: Knights of the Old Republic is not my creation.

Jace Kilraen thrashed in bed, moaning, then cried out.

"It's all right," said Carth Onasi, from his seat at the small table across the room. "You're safe now." Jace sat up, blinking, and winced; Carth carried a chair to the bedside and sat in it. "Good to see you up, instead of thrashing around in your sleep. You must have been having one hell of a nightmare. I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up." Carth leaned forward. "We are on Taris, an urbanized world in the Outer Rim. I'm Commander Carth Onasi, from the Endar Spire. I was with you in the escape pod, do you remember?"

Jace turned to Carth. "Carth-from the communicator, I remember. I'm Sergeant Jace Kilraen, Republic Army. How did we get here?"

Carth made a small noise in his throat. "You were injured pretty badly in the crash, but I was able to drag you away from the pod, and you've been slipping in and out of consciousness for a day or two."

Jace sat back. "I guess I owe you my life, thank you."

Carth stood and grimaced. "No need to thank me. I don't leave shipmates behind, and I'm going to need help to find Bastila and get off this world."

Jace swung his legs off the bed. "Bastila, she was on the Spire too, right?" He tried to stand, lost his balance and fell back onto the bed.

"That smack to the head did more damage than I thought," said Carth, "you appear to have some memory loss. Bastila's a Jedi. She was the leader of the mission we were on: a few ships, a handful of Jedi, and a detachment of Army troopers-that's you, I guess."

Jace stood up-as far up as he could, anyway. He was barely 1.7 meters tall; his eyes were right at Carth's shoulder. "So, we're off the ship, and we have a place to hide; what's our next move?"

Carth spent the rest of the morning filling Jace in on the situation-Bastila's importance to the war, the escape pods in the Undercity. The Sith had quarantined the entire planet while they hunted for Bastila. Jace was somewhat concerned. "That's a tall order: locate Bastila on a locked-down planet, then find a way to escape, all without tipping the Sith off that we are Republic fugitives."

"It won't be easy," said Carth, "but I have escape and evasion training as a Republic pilot, and before I joined up, I was an investigator for the Telos Security Force. And if you want to know what is happening on a busy world, ask around a spaceport bar. There will be someone there who hates the Sith, or does not know the value of what they are telling us. On top of which, we're going to need credits-for supplies, equipment, and probably bribes. I've got a little cash and my blaster, plus the emergency rations, medical supplies, and tool kit from the pod. I'm sorry, but the rifle you had in the pod was destroyed in the crash."

Jace nodded and ducked into the refresher and mussed his dark brown hair, which was just barely short enough to be regulation. "Doesn't look too military, that's good. Carth, you'd better let your beard grow while we're here. Nothing more we can do to change our appearances now; let's get started."

A few shops and a scrape with a Sith patrol later, Jace and Carth were in an Upper City cantina, near a spaceport and hospital on the one side and a Sith base newly taken from the Republic on the other. Carth tapped Jace on the shoulder. "Are you any good at pazaak?"

"Pazaak? That's a card game, right?" Jace's brow furrowed, but his eyes twinkled.

The cantina's game tables were across the way from the music stage. Carth was a competent player, but Jace proved to be outstanding. He was an adept bluffer, baiting his opponents into standing low and leaving themselves vulnerable to being outscored. Jace learned that there was arena fighting, too, and decided to enter. He utterly flattened the local fighters, Carth placed bets using their pazaak earnings, and they added the winnings to Jace's prize money. The Hutt running the arena was quite ruthless; when a Mandalorian former dueling champion challenged Jace to a death match, it quickly became clear he had no choice. But Jace won, walking away with over a thousand credits and the Mandalorian's blaster. In between duels and card games, they chatted with people, trying to find someone they could pump for information. Jace used his real name, while Carth introduced himself as 'Onat Cartin,' as he had a reputation dating back to the Mandalorian Wars. The crowd got thicker as the afternoon turned to evening. Carth picked out a booth in the main bar area, located so that he could keep an eye on the main entrance while Jace watched the crowd further in. They bought food and a couple pints of the local brew, then sat down.

"So, Jace, tell me about yourself," Carth said.

Jace blinked. "Out here, in public?"

Carth smiled. "Jace, I've run surveillance plenty of times. In a noisy place like this, there's no chance we'll be casually overheard; they'd need to set up bugs. The Sith wouldn't bother with that, they'd just grab us off the street." He took a swig from his mug. "I've heard some grim stories about the Dark Jedi interrogation techniques. They say the Force can do terrible things to a mind." Carth shook his head. "And if we want to avoid finding out for ourselves, we'll have to use every skill available to us. So, what do you bring to the table, and where the hell did you learn to fight like that?"

Jace shrugged. "Well, I'm a staff sergeant, eight years in. I'm Special Forces Division, elite infantry. My specialty is demolitions."

"What were you doing assigned to a Jedi's personal staff?" Carth asked, surprised.

"I don't know," Jace replied. "I got transferred to the cruiser just before it left Coruscant. They told me to stand watches as a gunner in the portside AD battery, and I'd get my mission orders in a few days." He shrugged. "I never got the briefing; I just woke up one morning, and the Sith are swarming the ship."

Carth laughed out of sheer frustration. "Well, that sounds familiar. Bastila and her people made a lot of requests when they came aboard… hell, they practically took over the ship. As XO, it was my job to deal with them. They needed living space-with windows-so all of the officers had to give up their staterooms and hot-bunk in the enlisted bunkrooms." He shook his head. "I still wonder what Bastila needed with an explosives expert."

Jace spread his hands. "Maybe nothing. I'm a sapper, yes, but I'm also a skilled rifleman and infiltrator. If Bastila's as important as you say, I could have been meant as part of a protective detail… I could have even been on the team as a translator."

"Yeah, I understand from your records that you speak a wide range of alien languages," Carth said. "Isn't that unusual for…"

"Hold that thought," Jace said suddenly. "There's a redhead at the bar, and she's eyeing me." He met Carth's eyes as the officer started to object. "She must have just gotten off-duty, she's still got her hair in a regulation style."

Carth blinked, then turned in his seat. There was no question-the woman was military. He turned back, grinned at Jace, and gave him a playful shove. Jace stood, and as he strolled over to the bar, his entire demeanor had changed. He walked differently; he'd lost the rapid pace, the precise one-meter stride. He leaned against the bar, threw a grin at the redhead, and offered to buy her a drink. She giggled and accepted.

The redhead turned out to be Sarna, an armorer's mate, first class, in the Sith Navy, currently assigned to the newly-captured military base. She wasn't a big fan of the Tarisian locals, but she was a huge fan of Tarisian ale. Jace introduced himself and 'Onat' as starship crew caught by the quarantine. He kept the ale flowing, taking Sarna to the dance floor every now and then. Jace ended up talking with her for over an hour. In that time he learned about Sarna's last tour hunting pirates near Hutt space, her job in the armory, her gripes with her superior, and her annoyance with the Sith troopers living off-base. Apparently, they frequently kept their armor in the impromptu barracks in the apartment block next to the base, instead of following regs and locking it up for the night.

At this news, Carth elbowed Jace, who stood. "I have to leave," he told Sarna, "I need to check and see if the spaceport authority has granted me a travel clearance." Sarna rose, tried to curtsy, then lost her balance and almost fell. Jace caught her and held her close.

"I'd really like to see you again," she said seductively. "Tell you what. Yun Genda, another junior officer, is throwing a party to blow off some steam tomorrow night. We live in a large apartment in the block I was telling you about. Why don't you come by, if you are still stuck on this rock?"

Jace assured her that he would love to. Sarna kissed him good-night, and turned to rub up against him. "You'd better come to the party," she giggled. "You'll be glad you did!"

Jace walked away from the cantina with a small smile playing across his features, the sort one might see on a senior schoolboy about to score at a juma-jump. Far less of a smile than one might expect from an agent who had just found a crack in an enemy defense.

The minute they re-entered the apartment, Carth smacked Jace in the back of his head. "You are thinking of sleeping with the enemy!"

Jace turned to face him. "Of course I am-she's cute." He chuckled. "Everyone at the party will be drinking-everyone but us. We'll be able to search the apartment for documents, ID cards, maybe even some of that improperly stored armor she blabbed about."

"All right," frowned Carth. "I'll grant you the drunk Sith, the privacy, and the armor or papers being available. But how the hell are we going to get the stuff out of the apartment?"

Jace smiled smugly. "We are going to bring them a gift to thank them for inviting us. We have enough winnings from the duel ring to buy a keg or two of Tarisian ale-we will drain them partway and modify them on the workbench. We can create hidden compartments in the bottom."

Carth was astonished-he shot Jace a suspicious look. "You sound like a smuggler, but there is nothing in your record about it."

Jace looked nostalgic. "A long time ago, in a sector far, far away, I was a juvenile delinquent. This was back on Deralia, my homeworld, when I was seventeen. The Deralian Planetary Militia-that's like your TSF, I think-they caught me running spice. I was given a choice: five years in the Tammuz Sector Guard or ten in prison. I took the enlistment, and did well-they promoted me to corporal. The Mandalorian Wars were in full swing by the time my hitch was up, so I took a transfer reenlistment to the regular Republic Army. The Army has been good to me-a second chance is what I needed most."

Carth nodded appreciatively. "Guess you know what you are doing, but we should make sure that we are the only ones awake at the end of the night. Remember Zelka Forn, the doctor who was helping injured Republic soldiers? Let's see if we can convince him to give us some mild sedative, and a couple doses of counter-agent."

Now it was Jace's turn to be impressed. "Sounds good, let's get to work."

The next day was spent acquiring the ale, modifying the kegs, and securing a suitable dose of sedatives from Dr. Forn, who, as it turned out, was only too happy to oblige. The two fugitives made their way to the apartment block with the kegs on a repulsorlift dolly. When they arrived the party was in full swing. Sarna met them at the door and introduced them around the common room-the sight of two fresh kegs of Tarisian ale was met with a hearty cheer.

Jace and Sarna spent about an hour dancing. Jace danced well at first, then worse and worse, on purpose, to appear drunk. He was able to deftly pour three glasses of ale into various trash cans and potted plants while Sarna matched him drink for drink-only she was actually downing full glasses of drugged ale. People began leaving the party around midnight, but several hard drinkers were hit by the sedative and passed out on the spot. Eventually, only Sarna, Jace, Yun, and Carth were left awake. Yun was succumbing to the sedative; Sarna thought he was much too drunk and wondered aloud if the party should wind down.

Carth met Jace's eyes and winked. "I'll get Yun to bed; you two have fun." He pulled one of the Sith trooper's arms over his shoulder and began half carrying him towards the stairway. Sarna shot a concerned look at Jace.

"Relax," Jace murmured, "Onat is good people. He will just make sure Yun gets to sleep okay, then he'll give us all some privacy."

Reassured, Sarna grinned wickedly and grabbed a full bottle of ale. She hooked a finger in Jace's collar and led him to her bedroom, which shared a wall with the common room where the party had been held. Carth watched Jace as he was led into the bedroom-as he turned the corner, Jace flashed Carth a thumbs-up.

Carth chuckled and shook his head. "Okay, Jace, you keep her good and distracted, now." He carried Yun Genda up to the second-floor bedroom, dumped the unconscious soldier on the bed, and began quickly and quietly searching the room.

Half an hour later, Carth came back down the stairs with a bundle in his arms. "Have fun?" he smirked.

"I wish," replied Jace. "She got her dress off, sat down on the bed, and passed out cold. I tucked her in; she's snoring away in there. How did you do?"

Carth popped the hidden panel off one of the kegs and loaded the bundle into it. "Score one for the good guys!" he said, in a low voice, "one set of male Sith armor." He held up a small plasteel case. "Along with a Sith sniper rifle and ammo." He hid the gun case in the second keg. Jace loaded the modified kegs back on the dolly, then paused, looking back towards Sarna's room.

"What is it?" asked Carth. He poked Jace in the shoulder. "We need to go, before these nice folks wake up."

The two men made their way back to their hideout apartment. As soon as the door was shut, Jace turned to Carth. "They will kill her, won't they?"

Carth rolled his eyes. "Jace, we're at war, and she's the enemy. Save your sympathy. I told you what they did to Telos!"

Jace stepped into Carth. "Malak and Saul Karath bombed Telos. Sarna, Yun, they are just grunts like us. You must have thought about following Revan, too."

Carth made a face. "I did not! I wanted nothing but to go home to my wife and son, and the Sith came out of the sky and took them from me."

"Things are never that simple," Jace insisted. "I talked with Sarna for hours. She wasn't bad people, just… misled."

"If you say so," grunted Carth. "Now, we better get some rest. We hit the Lower City tomorrow."

Sarna woke with a pounding headache. At first, she thought that the bright lights were from the hangover. Then, she realized that armored Sith troopers were swarming over the apartment. They wore blue armbands and carried only pistols-Shore Patrol.

One walked up to her. "Armorer's mate, you and everyone here are under arrest for minor breach of military decorum, drunkenness while off-duty. Half the Upper City called in complaints on your little gathering."

Sarna, Yun Genda, and the other Sith troopers were cuffed and led into a waiting shuttle, which took off, headed to the Sith flagship Leviathan. They ended up in the cell block. Sarna, the highest ranking Sith at the party, stood trial for the group. With Yun and the rest in attendance, sentence was pronounced: a week of mucker duty. They'd be cleaning latrines, grease traps in the kitchen, and any other disgusting task the head of the Leviathan's maintenance department could think of, sleeping in a brig cell at night. They were led off to their first work detail five minutes later.

As Sarna and Yun knelt on a plasteel floor and scrubbed by hand, Yun looked up at Sarna and grinned. "It was one great party, though?" he asked.

Sarna smiled. "Worth it all the way."

The guard at the Lower City elevator seemed much more interested in keeping Lower City dwellers out of the Upper City than checking anyone headed down. The bored trooper did not ask Jace for ID, the armor was enough, and he accepted the explanation of "Onat" as a local guide without question. The Lower City was a maze of dark alleys and apartment blocks, swarming with a particularly nasty swoop gang calling themselves the Black Vulkars. Carth and Jace got into several firefights before finding another cantina. On their way in the door, they saw a bounty hunter named Calo Nord gun down three Vulkars for annoying him. Carth made a mental note to keep an eye out: Bastila had a bounty on her head, and Calo might be looking for her too. Inside, at the bar, Jace noticed a teen Twi'lek girl mouth off to two Rodians. He was reaching for his vibrosword to keep them from killing her when a Wookiee intervened, scaring the two thugs off.

The blue-skinned girl noticed his reaction and smiled. "Say," she said, "I don't recognize you; you must be new down here. I guess that makes me and Big Z here your official welcoming committee." She waved the two over.

Jace smiled ruefully. "You didn't need protecting at all."

The girl stood and placed a hand on her chest. "I do." The hand pointed at the Wookiee. "He does." She dropped her hand onto the Wookiee's shoulder. "We don't. I'm Mission Vao, by the way, and my friend here is Zaalbar."

Jace introduced himself. Carth was once again "Onat," and the pair were travelers trapped by the quarantine.

Mission was not fooled. "You two walk like soldiers, but you are not Sith. I don't like being lied to, but you probably have a reason." She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. "Let's start over."

Jace and Carth spent the next hour or so talking to Mission and Zaalbar. The unlikely pair were friendly and helpful, and asked nothing in return for their information. They hated the Sith, and after a while, Carth felt comfortable telling them the truth. Mission referred them to Gadon Thek, leader of the Hidden Bek swoop gang. According to Mission, his connections would enable them to rescue Bastila-but he would not help them for free. The Republic soldiers thanked Mission and left the cantina. The Hidden Bek base and garage was just down the street. It took some persuasion before the guard would allow them to enter, but Jace and Carth were eventually brought to meet Gadon, who had been blinded in a crash some years before. Gadon had bad news-Bastila had been captured by the Vulkars. She was being put up as a prize in an upcoming swoop race. Jace and Carth would need to enter the race and win it. Gadon was willing to allow them to fly for the Beks if they broke into the Black Vulkar base and retrieved a stolen swoop accelerator module. The module was a prototype developed by the Beks and stolen by a Vulkar defector.

Carth was glum. "I am a starship pilot, not a fighter jock! I fly cruisers, frigates, and the occasional shuttle. I've never flown small, agile craft."

Jace was thoughtful. "I flew recon speeders for a while with the Guard, small bikes. I was flying low and slow, stealthy, not fast, but I can fly a swoop if I have to." He turned to Gadon. "The Beks are not slavers, so I assume that you will release Bastila if one of your other racers wins?"

Gadon's face fell. "I don't have a racer who can win. My best racers have either defected to the Vulkars or Brejik has had them killed. That is why I need the accelerator back. With it on your bike, you should be able to win regardless, as long as you don't crash. Older bikes won't be able to beat your time."

Jace relaxed, then frowned again. "So, how do we get the module back? There are two of us against a gang, and we don't know how to get in to the base."

Gadon leaned forward and steepled his fingers. "Mission Vao sent you to me, right? Don't let her age fool you, she is a skilled burglar. Zaalbar is a slicer and mechanic; he is no slouch either. The Vulkar base has an entrance in the Undercity. I don't know exactly where, but Mission does. Getting down to the Undercity will be a problem for you. Taris uses the Undercity as a sort of prison. Hundreds of people were banished down there after the civil war, decades ago. They and their descendants-the Outcasts-are banned from returning to the surface. There is a military checkpoint at the elevator, covered by sentry turrets. It is currently under Sith control."

Carth was not concerned. "We got past the Upper City guard just fine."

Gadon shook his head. "A disguise might get you past the upper checkpoint, but the Sith are looking for Republic fugitives in the Undercity." Gadon glanced at Carth and raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure the two of you don't know anything about any fugitives."

Carth turned exasperatedly to Jace. "Is there anyone who doesn't know about us?"

"Yes," laughed Gadon, "the Sith, the Upper City nobles, and the planetary authorities. We thieves and cutthroats are harder to fool, but we are no friends of the Sith or the Upper City." Gadon changed gears. "I have people who can produce false papers that will get you past the guard, but I want that Sith uniform in trade."

Jace looked at Carth, who nodded; Gadon continued. "Mission and Zaalbar spend a lot of time in the Undercity salvaging what the Upper City dumps; in fact, they're down there now. Ask around the village at the base of the elevator; the Outcasts will point you in the right direction." Gadon paused. "The Undercity is unsafe, even to people with fighting experience. The rakghouls are bad enough, but slavers prey on the Outcasts all the time. On top of that, there are now Sith patrols down there." Gadon met Jace's eyes. "Are you sure you don't want to just lie low? We can hide you until the Sith pack up and leave."

Jace was sure Carth wouldn't tell Gadon that Bastila was a Jedi, but how would he explain this? Carth set his jaw. "We have no choice. Commander Shan is a military intelligence specialist. I can't take the risk that she falls into enemy hands. If a Vulkar racer wins the swoop season opener, we will have to attack them during the award ceremony and break her out." Carth stood, Jace followed.

"We have to get going," said Jace. "Thank you for your help, Gadon."

The Republic soldiers spent the remainder of the day buying supplies at Upper City shops and upgrading their weapons and armor in the apartment. Carth chose a civilian copy of Republic armor which could be upgraded with aftermarket lining and plating. He holstered his blaster and another Jace had won in the duel ring. Jace had bought a flexible suit of Echani fiber armor and a double-bladed ritual brand to match-a curious but effective design which broke into two short swords and sheathed for easier carrying. He slung the stolen sniper rifle across his back. The next morning, they used the false documents to pass the Upper and Lower City checkpoints and took the elevator down to the Undercity. Asking around, they learned that Mission and Zaalbar had headed out of the Outcast village the prior afternoon and not returned.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the gate. Jace and Carth ran to the gate to find a panicked woman begging the guard to open the gate so her husband could get in-he was sprinting for the village with four pale-skinned creatures hot on his heels. They ran like apes, mostly on two legs and sometimes on four, but always very fast. Jace was able to convince the man to open the gate to let them out. He drew his double-blade on the way through the gate and took a fighting stance. Carth pulled his blasters and began firing. Two rakghouls fell. One ran toward the terrified Outcast, the other headed for Carth. Jace stepped in between the first rakghoul and its target, slashing and parrying. Carth sidestepped his rakghoul, pistol-whipped it, and shot it in the head as Jace finished the last one off. The man and woman thanked them and Jace and Carth headed into the shadows, searching for Mission and Zaalbar.

They didn't look for very long. Mission ran out of the dark, crying. "Please, you have to help me! No one else will help me; even the Beks won't help me! But I can't just leave him there-he's my friend! You'll help me, won't you?"

Jace grabbed Mission's shoulders. "Whoa, slow down, Mission. What's wrong?"

Mission stepped back, hugging her shoulders, and took a breath. "It's Zaalbar. He's been taken by Gamorrean slavers. We were salvaging along one of the city pilings-that's those huge columns, you see-when we saw a wrecked speeder. Big Z went up to it and they jumped him. He roared for me to run and I did. I thought he was coming with me, but he stood his ground. There were way too many for him too take-they brought him down with stun batons."

Jace and Carth exchanged glances. "We were actually down here looking for you," said Jace, "we need to get into the Vulkar base. We'll help you spring Zaalbar in exchange for your help."

Mission nodded. "It's a deal-as soon as we get Big Z back, I'll show you how to get in to the Vulkar base. The slavers make camp in the sewers, and the Vulkar entrance is there too."

"All right." Carth took a deep breath. "Jace, I may be the officer here, but I'm Navy. You're Army, and we're on the ground. We'll follow your lead."

Jace nodded. "Mission, you navigate, but I'll take point. Carth, walk drag; keep an eye on our six."

Suddenly, a snarling sound caused them all to turn around. Mission's raised voice had attracted more rakghouls. More than a dozen were scampering towards the group from behind the next piling, and there was movement in the shadows beyond that. Mission drew a vibroblade in one hand and a hold-out blaster in the other. She began shooting; Carth followed suit with a blaster in each hand. Jace fired once with the sniper rifle, but it cycled too slowly. He slung it, drew his Echani double-blade, and waited for the rakghouls to close the range. Carth was able to drop several before they got close. Mission got one, but her small blaster took several shots to kill even one of the pale, shiny-skinned creatures. Jace stepped forward to take on those that made it past the gunfire. He quickly had his hands full with three and watched helplessly as a fourth pounced on Mission. Her blaster was knocked flying-it bounced off the piling and fell down a sewer grate. Mission kicked the snarling monster off, scrambled to her feet, and began feinting and slashing with her blade. She fought with agility, not power, dodging and weaving. Carth holstered one blaster and used both hands to steady the other, trying to get a clear shot on the rakghoul attacking her.

The young Twi'lek noticed. "I've got this one, get the next wave!"

Carth looked back. Another half-dozen were rushing in from between the first piling and the town wall. Carth threw a grenade. Four rakghouls fell, and he got the other two with blaster fire. Mission kicked her rakghoul off balance, spun, and took its head off. She turned and neatly stabbed one of the three attacking Jace in the back. It dropped to the ground, stone dead. Jace spun his double-blade, taking an arm and a leg off one and whirling to stab the second.

The trio was catching their breath when Carth pointed. "Oh, hell!" he cried. A swarm of what had to be more than thirty rakghouls was thundering out of the darkness. They were still about three hundred meters away, but closing fast.