1: Taris

Something about this mission stunk, and it wasn't just the apartment. Carth had been suspicious when the Jedi took over - but all right, it didn't take much to get him suspicious. To be perfectly honest, some people even called him paranoid. But the Jedi had been awful close-lipped, even for Jedi, and practically took over the ship, making him more like an adviser than commander. They told him almost nothing about where they were going and what they were doing, brushing off his questions with vague statements like "We haven't determined", "Nothing specific in mind", "Not a concern", "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you" - which only made him angry. He hadn't gotten this position by "not worrying" about things that had to do with his own ship.

Then, despite the Jedi presence and all-but-complete command of the ship, they were still taken by surprise, and the whole ship and almost the entire crew lost in a overwhelming ambush. He had gotten off, barely, with a low-level grunt fresh out of recruitment - the one, incidentally, that the Jedi had specifically requested be transferred to the Endar Spire.
It could be just coincidence. It could be just coincidence that Senn Tarapmoranis could wield any weapon, ranged or melee, that he picked up like nobody's business. It could be just coincidence that, despite having a nasty attitude as obvious as his fake jaw, he could talk anyone into anything, whether it be their life story or more credits. It could be just coincidence that he was the one that found the gullible Sith chick, picked up the uniforms, blustered his way past the guards and found a way into the Under City.

Just coincidence? Not the h- likely.

"Onasi! You gotta sleep, do it on your own time."

Carth barely dodged the helmet lobbed at his head, and managed to repress a groan as his comrade-in-arms entered the dorm. "I wasn't sleeping, Tarapmoranis." How the kid could have thought he would be able to sleep in the heart of the Black Vulkar base was beyond him. Those thugs shot at anything that looked like it might be moving, or even thinking about moving sometime in the near future.

Tarapmoranis dropped onto his bunk and yanked open his pack, not even pausing to glower in Carth's direction. "Oh, don't tell me you're still p****d about that whole Gadon assassination thing from yesterday?"

Now that you mention it ... "Oh, of course not. It was a whole eighteen local hours ago, how could I possibly still be upset?"

"Shut it, Onasi. I don't see you doing anything to find this Jedi of yours."

"She isn't my anything, and has it occurred to you that maybe I don't help you out because I object to plans that involve excessive violence?"

"'Excessive violence'? What are you, my mother? We're at war, Onasi."

"I know what war is, Ensign - I've been a Republic officer my whole adult life, but being a soldier does not mean every solution involves hitting something with a stick until it does what you want!"

"Now there's an idea - do you think that Twirler brat might stop sniffling if I pounded her with the flat of my vibroblade?"

Carth took a moment to gauge how serious Tarapmoranis was. "There's no need to go beating up on a kid. I'll talk to her, all right?"

"Good. Keep her out of my hair while I get ready for this swoop race, so I can rescue what's-her-name. Basilisk?"

"Bastila," Carth said, after taking a moment to unclench his teeth.

"Right. Her." Tarapmoranis finally got what he wanted dug out of his pack, and took a swig from a small vial. He glanced at Carth, his expression unreadable but not totally hostile. "You met her, right?"

"Once or twice." Where are you going with this, Tarapmoranis?

"Is she hot?"

Later, Carth wondered if leaving the room before he introduced Tarapmoranis' head to the internal wiring was really the wiser option.