Disclaimer: Again, nothing is mine, except for the OC and made up plot line. Any info that I gathered beyond the films and learned from the EU was learned from Wookipedia.

[A/N: Okay, the first two chapters were flashbacks. To avoid confusion, I will label chapters in accordance to which year they occurred. 19BBY is the year the Jedi Purge and the Rise of the Galactic Empire occurred, so 15BBY is 4 years later. Kitell was about 17 in 19BBY, so she is about 20-21 in 15BBY, which is about the age a Padawan graduates to the level of Jedi—or so I read somewhere, regarding the age that Obi-Wan was when he shed the title of Padawan. There will be more flashbacks than just the first two, so I will move back and forward a lot. If any of this is confusing, just let me know. The occurrences of 15BBY are the present, or real time, aspects of the story.]

15 BBY

Lately I have been allowing my memories to get the best of me. I thought about Master Windu all the time these days, if only the anger of his death was a reminder that I needed to get a move on with my search for Jedi if I was going to try and build a troop of peacekeepers to lead a revolution against the Sith in charge of the tyrannical Galactic Empire that had been in reign for close to four years now.

I found myself on an overlooked planet. This seemed to happen to me a lot. I believed that the seediest planets may produce luck in my search. When I turned out to be wrong, I still didn't learn from my mistakes—I still looked on the shadiest of planets for people that I hoped against hope were still alive. So far, I hadn't even sensed them through the Force.

There was a cantina on Ord Mantell. There was a cantina (or several cantinas) on nearly every planet, but this one nearly surprised me. Ord Mantell was a giant scrap yard, a breeding ground and cesspool for scoundrels and betting men addicted to the underground and junky pod races that seldomly occurred. I had stopped at this planet because however cluttered it was, it proved to be a splendid hideout for renegades. And renegades were in my line of work.

And renegades always needed a drink, so I would start looking in the cantina.

The establishment looked as old as the planet. It was rusting and looked like it one scraped one's skin on a protruding nail or scrap of metal, they would die from infection. There were no doors, they had fallen in and had become an unofficial sort of welcoming mat. The cantina proved to be refugee from the light and heat of the outside. It was darker inside, much like a cave. The only lights came from the ones focused upon the stage where a terrible band was playing. The clink of glasses added to the hidden merriment. There were arguments heard over laughter. A plethora of alien races were crammed into this room.

People backed away from me when I walked in, tripping over themselves to get out of my way. Others muttered to each other,

"It's that Bounty Hunter. The one after the Jedi."

"Who's hired him?"His friend wanted to know.

"No one knows."

"I wonder if he's paid well."

"I heard he's killed over two dozen exiled Jedi since Order 66."

"I heard he's self-hired and is just doing the Empire a favor."Someone from across the cantina butted in on this conversation.

Everyone fell silent when I made my way up to the counter. I felt their eyes on me, full of fear or hatred. The hatred was mostly fuelled by paranoia of them worrying if I was after them.

A common misconception of my gender followed my notoriety—the clone armor I clad myself in propelled them to believe that I was a male, most likely a mercenary clone. I Hunted in Jet Trooper armor and weaponry that I stole from the 187th legion that my old Master commanded during the Clone Wars. A DC-17 hand blaster rested at my hip, thermal detonators on my belt, jet pack on my back that chose to malfunction from time to time because of all the time it saw in combat with its previous owner.

Though I possessed an ample amount of weapons and ammunition that I had bartered for on every other planet I've visited, I still fought with the lightsaber I forged nearly four years ago whenever I had to succumb to hand to hand combat. A rumor had been bred that it was a weapon I stole from a Jedi I slaughtered sometime during my Reign of Terror—this was not true, I had not come across a Jedi in the three years or so that I had been on the search for them. It was true, however, that I had killed individuals who had severely threatened my well being.

I had not followed the Jedi code since the rise of the Empire and started to slip up when it came to restraining myself of certain emotions. I know that I had not fallen to the Dark Side. I just saw no point in following the rules of an Order that was now long since finished. It had failed. And while I was on the run from any other Hunters or Imperial militant, I would do whatever it took to survive and make my way across the galaxy to reconnect with any surviving Jedi, even if that meant going against the Code.

A Mon Calamarian was working the bar and he gave me a terrified look with I approached him. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, using my body language to show him and the other patrons in the bar that I was more uncomfortable than they were, that I didn't mean them any harm in the slightest. I ordered my drink and he brought it back, almost spilling it because of his shaky hands.

"I'm looking for a Rodian named Jeel Repsah." I explained to him. My voice even came out sounding masculine with it being muffled through the speaker of the helmet."He's A.W.O.L from the Galactic Empire Navy. Have you seen him?" I collected other Bounties on the side as a means to acquire credits so I could afford to travel and keep myself fed, etc.

Repsah was known for jettisoning off an Imperial Star Destroyer with the experimental plans of a new TIE model that he was planning to sell to counterintelligence alliances, notably, a growing population who called themselves the Rebel Alliance.

The bartender shook his head while I finished my drink.

"Are you sure?" I was exasperated. I needed to collect this specific bounty. "I paid a lot of credits out my own pocket to come all the way across the galaxy for him. He's a wanted man."

"I got no reason to protect him, ma'am."

I gave him a searching look. I had learned to trust no one from the Empire and the double crossing that had come my way for no apparent reason.

"Okay, thank you for your time. Just put the drink on my tab."

"Bounty Hunters don't pay here."

They're under the impression that I'm like Fett and Greedo, I thought, then aloud, "Yeah?"

He nodded, proving what he meant.

"Thanks." I smiled at him, but that was something he did not see through my helmet.

I turned to leave and the noise of the cantina started up again, along with the rickety band. What caught my eye before I even made it out of the door was a group of Rodians huddled together, silent and watching me. I turned on my heel and walked up to them instead of leaving the establishment.

"Any of you seen Jeel Repsah?"

Four shook their head; one smirked and snorted.

I glared at the latter, however, all he saw was his own reflection in my visor. "Where is he? I know you know."

He shrugged, still smirking.

"Tell me. Now."

He looked very taken aback at the sharpness and hateful tone in my voice. His hand went to his blaster hanging from its holster on his belt. I smacked it out of his grasp and it slid silently across the floor and under the counter, into the dusty and littered shadows beyond. I drew my blue saber at the same instant, twisting my wrist full circle before pointing it at his throat.

"He's at the repair garage! Past the stilt swamp!" He breathed, panicked. I felt severe remorse that it took me to threaten his life for him to become honest with me.

"And if I don't find him?"

He shook his head again. I sensed that he knew the answer, but I also foresaw him not telling me willingly.

I drew my saber back and holstered it once more, and drew my pistol all in the same moment, as though I were a born gunslinger and shot him in his left shoulder. He screamed in agony and slumped to the floor. His blood was quickly soaking his hand and vest.

Everyone backed away and silence fell once again. Some people ran out the open door.

"Tell me!" I shouted, losing all positive temperament, "Tell me or you die right here!"

"The living spaces past the transport compound!"

I went to retrieve his gun and dropped it in his lap. "Have a nice life." I turned to leave again, and directed toward them, almost as an afterthought, "Anyone else have anything to say? A snicker of humor to share because you have some information, too?"

"Yeah! I got somethin' to say!" Someone called from the back. "Get lost, Bounty Hunter!"

People gasped. I'm sure the majority was excited and expecting another show ending in someone getting shot.

I bowed at that person, whoever they were, in a sardonic way and took my leave.

The temperature had gone up outside and it felt like the planet was on fire. Far off sounds of metal being crushed and mining processes being taken place were maddening, deafening. I was not going to be able to stand being on this planet any longer than I absolutely had to. I had been dropped off on a transport that would not return until Primeday—nearly twenty hours from now.

It was times like these that I wished I owned a ship. Not a large an extravagant one, just one to get around in that wouldn't get too beat up upon entering parsecs. I was in enough debt already and it didn't necessarily make it better to spend money I should be paying the Hutts to get on ships that just brought me on wild goose chases. A ship of my own would save me time (time I wasted on waiting for late or missed transports) and the money I didn't have.

I wanted to be off the planet by nightfall, but I didn't see that happening. Ord Mantell just seemed like the kind of place where everything shut down and was non-existent at night. I didn't know what to expect and was unsure if there were any unfriendly creatures that roamed then. I figured if I found transportation anywhere between then and the next two hours, i would shoot for getting out of this planetary system and go back to Coruscant to see if I could spy on anyone affiliated with the Empire, to see if any of them have heard any rumors of any Jedi whereabouts.

If I found Repsah, I was sure he would have information regarding any Jedi. If he had what it took to lift TIE prints from the inner circle of Imperial figureheads, he knew a whole lot more than experimental spacecraft projects.

I walked over to the living spaces and found a couple of Bothans talking with a Rodian who had what looked like a stabilizer under his arm that belonged to a landcruiser, or maybe a Swoop. I approached after his company dispersed.

"Mr. Repsah?"

"Yes?" He looked nervous, glancing around to see if there were enough people around to hear him if he had to holler for help.

"I'm assuming you know who I am."

"I do. And I am assuming that you are aware of my misgivings. I have stolen the TIE plans, but I have already pawned them off to the person I stole them for."

"I am not interested in that."I didn't mean to brush him off like that, I just felt like I was wasting time, which was quaint because back when I was a Padawan, I never worried about time. Now it was literally of the essence.

"You want to know what else I know."

"Yes."

He looked me over, shifted his object to under the other arm. "I know who you look for. And I also know why you carry a lightsaber." He studied my visor, as though he could see beyond it. Maybe he could. All I knew was that I had a good feeling about him. I let him continue, "I don't know what your purpose is, but I can help you. And I don't want your money. I'm about to go into a Swoop race tonight. That's what this is for." He indicated the stabilizer. "I hope to make money in the race. Anyway. You're in the wrong cantina. I hear the best one in the galaxy is in Mos Eisley on Tatooine."

"Tatooine?" I expressed skepticism.

He shook his head at my doubt.. "Trust me. I wouldn't send you across the galaxy if it wasn't the best. A lot of characters are regulars there. All I can tell you is this. There's a man named Ben that's there every evening. He's a wily one. Heard he used to be a General in the Clone War, possibly more than a general. Something more important."

"How is that helpful to me?" I meant to sound grateful, gratuitous to him trying to help me, but the name was not ringing any bells to me.

He held his free hand up, showing me he had one last thing to say to me. "Are you familiar with a man who used to be called The Negotiator?"