A/N: This chapter is going to be a little different than the previous two. Firstly, our heroes will actually be doing something more productive than sitting around trading witty remarks and getting to know each other, so maybe that's a plus. It certainly makes the stakes higher, if nothing else. And secondly, Mission and Zaalbar are making their debut.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Also, I apologize for the horribly punny title, which isn't mine either.

Taris – Mission Impossible

Mission wasn't exaggerating when she warned me that the rancor in the Undercity sewers was going to be tough to handle. In fact, I was pretty sure I could rightfully accuse her of understating exactly how impossible it was going to be to get all of us past the thing alive. Maybe if Zaalbar was a couple tons bigger, and Carth was Darth Malak, and Mission and I were both armed to the teeth with thermal detonators and rocket launchers, maybe then we'd have a fighting chance. But this? This looked an awful lot like suicide.

I glanced over at my companions and wasn't surprised to see Carth looking grim. No doubt he'd sized up the monster and come to the same conclusion I had. Zaalbar was as unreadable as always, but Mission actually looked oddly confident. She met my gaze squarely, the only question in her eyes a simple "so how do you want to handle this?"

I would have thought she was crazy, except that her blue fingered death-grip on the blaster I'd given her belied her pretense of calm.

That was perhaps even more worrisome than the girl not having a healthy respect for the danger we were in. If she was terrified and still willing to rush headlong into mortal peril, that spoke volumes about the amount of trust she was willing to put in others to keep her alive. I guess I couldn't blame her, since Zaalbar had always pulled through for her, and Carth and I had categorically decimated all the rakghouls and gamorreans we'd run across down here, but someone had to break it to her that we weren't infallible simply because we were more experienced with this kind of thing.

Don't get me wrong; I was touched that Mission was so willing to leave her life in my hands. I just wasn't sure I wanted that responsibility—that kind of blind trust. Not from anyone, let alone a fourteen-year-old girl.

But what could I do? It was either go on or give up, and for some unfathomable reason, they were all looking to me to decide.

"Are we sure we want to go through with this?" I finally asked, looking at each member of my entourage in turn.

Mission and Carth both nodded at the same time, and Zaalbar rumbled a reminder that he'd sworn a life-debt to me, which he wasn't about to break.

"I know, but there's a difference between honoring your life-debt and throwing your life away," I said in Shyriiwook.

"What, don't you have a plan?" Mission cut in, shooting me a worried look. Did she have to use Basic? Now Carth was looking uneasy too. And in a situation like this, a loss of confidence could be fatal.

"Not a plan that will guarantee everyone's safety, no," I said honestly, switching back to Basic for Carth's benefit. "Some of us are going to have to distract the rancor while the others make a break for that door at the far end, and the ones who do the distracting will probably have to stay behind and leave the sewers the way we came. It's either that or we all start lobbing grenades and hope we can do enough damage to incapacitate it for a moment so that we can all make a break for it together."

I didn't mention the third option, which was of course for one of us to deliberately get caught so that the rest of us could sneak past while the rancor was busy eating. I didn't know why the morbid thought had even occurred to me. Nobody was dying today, even if it gave us the best shot at success. Not on my orders.

I quashed my guilt down before any trace of it could register on my face.

If this mission had taught me anything, it was that I was glad I wasn't a commanding officer. Hopefully it would be a long, long time—if ever—before I learned what it was like to look someone in the eye and tell them to go out and give their life for the sake of victory. There were some things in life it was better not to know.

"So what do you think?" I asked my troupe, glad that they had no idea what thoughts were running through my head.

"Well, I'm not too wild about splitting up, but I like our chances better with Plan A," Carth said.

"Yeah, me too," Mission chimed in, sounding relieved. Zaalbar didn't object, so I took that as tacit agreement.

And in truth, I was relieved too. Their consensus made me feel less like I'd been saddled with a whole heap of responsibility I didn't deserve.

"All right, Plan A it is," I agreed. "So who wants to play decoy?"

"It's your call," Carth said at once. And once again, Mission and Zaalbar followed his lead. Three pairs of eyes locked onto mine, simply waiting.

Blast. I'd been hoping I wouldn't have to be the one to say it, but... there was only one arrangement that really made sense. My original plan had been to split the group in half, but the more I'd thought about it, the less confident I'd become that two of us—any two of us— would be able to handle whatever we found in the base. For all we knew, there could be fifty, even a hundred Vulkars in there. And whoever was going back was going to have a clear run, so…

"Mission, Zaalbar, and I should be the ones to infiltrate the Vulkar base," I said at last. "I need Mission's security skills and Zaalbar's intimidation factor, in case we need to scare information out of anyone. Carth can keep the rancor busy and then meet us back at the Bek base when we're finished."

I addressed all of them in third-person, but I was looking at Carth the whole time. Despite what he'd said about it being my call, I wasn't sure he'd really let me order him to sit this one out. Taking the co-pilot's seat so that he could keep a closer eye on me was one thing, but handing me the ignition codes and hopping out of the ship entirely? That required a lot more trust, and I wasn't at all confident we'd reached that point.

I waited for Carth to object—to tell me that this whole mission was his idea, and if anyone should be sidelined playing decoy, it should be the uppity little rookie, not him.

But he surprised me.

"Okay," he said. "How do you want to do this?"

"Well," I said, recovering as quickly as I could, "have we still got that synthesized odor that's supposed to attract the rancor?"

"Yeah, right here," Mission said, holding up the vial.

Carth took it from her.

"I think I know what you have in mind," he said to me, just a hint of a wry grin flitting across his face.

"Are you sure you want to—"

"I'm sure," he said before I could even finish, all seriousness again. "I'm not giving up on Bastila just because the going's getting a little rough. I'm seeing this through."

In my book, baiting a rancor the size of a house was a far cry from 'a little' rough, but I reminded myself once again that Carth wasn't as new at this whole fighting-for-your-life thing as I was. And if he thought things weren't all that bad, I was going to be grateful they weren't worse.

"All right, then here's how we're going to do it," I said, letting out a huff of breath. "Zaalbar, Mission, and I will quietly make our way over to the far corner at this end of the room, and when I give you the signal, break open the vial. Then, with any luck, all hell will break loose and the rancor will come charging at you. Take these grenades—" I unbuckled my pack and started shoveling them at him until he had at least enough to blow up the entire room "—and blast the flaming thing to smithereens."

He smirked, staring down at his armful of explosives.

"Subtle."

"It's a rancor. It wouldn't know subtle if it clobbered it in the face."

"I don't think you're quite grasping the meaning of the word 'subtle' here."

I gave him one of my signature eye-rolls, since elbowing or hitting him under the present circumstances might mean a fiery death for all four of us.

"Shutting up now," he said, giving me an eye-roll of his own. I couldn't remember him doing that before, and wondered if he'd actually picked it up from me.

"So… not to interrupt or anything, but what do we do?" Mission asked. I turned, and saw that the fear she'd been keeping under wraps had finally crept into her wide brown eyes. "You know, when it attacks Carth?"

"We run, so that he doesn't have to stick around throwing grenades any longer than necessary. And he won't, will he?" I said more forcefully, looking Carth straight in the eye. "No playing hero."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "I've never been the type."

I would have had to be a blind orkellian cave slug to believe that line, seeing as he'd already proven he was exactly that type a dozen times over since the day he'd rescued me on the Spire. But in this case, the lie was only meant as reassurance. I hoped.

I let my narrowed eyes tell him exactly how much trouble he'd be in if he went back on his word, and proceeded with the briefing.

"Good. Now let's see… Mission, Zaalbar, you're going to want to keep your weapons handy for when we reach the base, but I don't want you to shoot at the rancor unless someone's about to get eaten. Our best hope is that it won't ever notice we're here, but our second best is that it'll forget all about us once Carth breaks that vial, and shooting is only going to draw its attention. Got it?"

They nodded mutely.

"All right. Well, in that case, let's get moving," I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say, barring a horrible attempt at an inspirational speech. "I'll lead the way, but stick close."

"'Kay," Mission said softly, forming up behind me. Zaalbar followed, and carefully, very carefully, we tiptoed out into the open. The rancor didn't turn, or show any sign of hearing us at all—until we passed the massive pile of half-eaten corpses and Zaalbar gave a soft, involuntary moan of distaste. Or maybe sadness. I was inclined to think it was due to the smell of rotting flesh, which was no doubt even more potent for him than for us, but I didn't have much of a chance to figure it out.

The rancor had detected us, as evidenced by its sudden roar, and its earth-shaking footsteps were rapidly coming our way.

Blast, blast, blast!

"Carth!" I yelled, taking off at a sprint and dragging Mission with me. "Now!"

The massive creature was charging straight at us, its claws outstretched and its skull-crushing jaws wide open. Like I'd said, the antithesis of subtlety—not that I ought to have been worrying about that right then. We reached the wall and I shoved Mission up against it, looking up just in time to see the monster bearing down on us.

Force, don't let us have come all this way just to die…

Zaalbar roared, a vain challenge at best, and I forced myself to resist the overwhelming urge to grab Mission's blaster and start pumping bolts into the beast's face. The skin was too thick. I knew that. But the rancor was close enough now that I could see the drool dripping from its teeth as it prepared to lunge… and the look in its beady eyes when a flying grenade exploded less than a meter from its skull. The creature's monstrous head whipped around, and it made a beeline for the man who had just become my favorite person in the universe.

I decided right then and there that I would never give him a hard time about his jacket again.

"Come on!" Mission hissed in my ear. This time she did the dragging, and the three of us ran for the far door like it was the gateway to Rukil's promised land. I desperately hoped it wasn't, because otherwise I'd just sentenced a whole village to their deaths, but something told me my panicked brain was just taking the metaphor too far.

The sound of exploding grenades made the whole chamber ring with deafening echoes, but I didn't mind. As long as they kept coming, it meant Carth was still alive.

Mission and I reached the door first, and as soon as she let go of me, I turned back around to see how my fellow soldier was faring. I couldn't see him, but as I watched, another grenade came flying out of the hallway we'd come from, exploding on the rancor's shoulder and eliciting another roar. The monster clawed its way as far as it could into the tiny doorway where Carth had retreated, but hopefully it couldn't reach him.

"We made it, Carth! Now get out of here!" I bellowed, hoping he could hear me over the sound of the rancor's incessant growling and roaring. We hadn't agreed on a signal for this part, which was beginning to look like a major hitch in the plan.

"Here," Mission said, seizing my pack and rummaging around until she found what she was looking for. It wasn't a grenade, as I'd expected, but a mine.

My blood froze. She wouldn't.

"What are you—?" was all I had time to splutter before she took off running. "MISSION! Mission, come back!"

Zaalbar roared, and we both started after her, but it was just then that the door we'd been standing outside cycled open, revealing a welcoming party of Black Vulkars with blasters. No doubt they'd heard all the racket we were making.

Now I knew what Carth meant when he said the rancor was only a minor problem. This was getting ridiculous.

A blaster bolt skimmed my head close enough to singe my hair, and I flicked on my energy shield before someone else got a luckier shot. Then I whipped out my vibrosword and charged the closest Vulkar. I didn't ask Zaalbar to help me, but he did anyway, and I knew better than to try to change his mind. Wookiees took their life-debts seriously, and as I ducked blaster bolts and cut down gang members, all I could do was hope desperately that his loyalty to me didn't get his best friend killed.

She would be appalled if she knew how worried I was about her. I could just see her indignant pout as she insisted she could take care of herself just fine.

But I also kept flashing back to the way she'd gripped that blaster for dear life, and the flash of fear in her eyes when she asked about her part in the plan.

None of us were immortal. It was an unfortunate truth, and one I was continually reminded of by every enemy who fell to Zaalbar's bowcaster or my blade.

The last Vulkar's dying groan was just tapering off when another explosion left my ears ringing. This one had sounded closer, not muffled like the last several blasts.

Mission.

My heart, which had been racing like a maniac up until this point, nearly stopped.

Zaalbar and I both spun around, and in the longest second of my life, I had plenty of time to wonder which of us felt more dread: the Wookiee who had been like family to Mission for years, or the human who knew full well that she was to blame if the teenage Twi'lek died.

Fortunately, we didn't have to find out which of us would feel more grief.

"Yeah! Take that!" Mission's sing-song voice called out as the rancor roared and stumbled toward her, favoring the foot that had evidently triggered her mine while it was busy failing to eat Carth. But she wasn't stupid, and she didn't wait around for it to recover and tear her head off. She sprinted back across the room to us, and another well-aimed grenade from Carth—who was now clearly visible in the doorway— was all it took to finally bring the monster down.

The echoes from its final roar slowly died, and the four of us just stood there, blinking at the thing as if it would come back to life at any moment.

"Looks like Carth got my message all right," Mission said at last, still sounding a little dazed.

"I think half of Taris did," I said weakly, still too filled with relief to chew her out for being so reckless. Besides, I was kind of proud of her for thinking on her feet like that, and having the guts to prime an explosive device right next to a rancor that could have used her for a toothpick. After a moment of deliberation, I decided a little praise was in order. After all, there was no telling whether I would have done something even more stupid if I'd thought Carth was about to become rancor chow—a possibility she'd single-handedly prevented.

"I have to admit that was pretty resourceful. Nice work, Mish," I said, the nickname falling into place of its own accord. I clapped her on the back.

"Mish?" she repeated, her head whipping around so fast that her lekku flew out like pinwheels and nearly smacked me.

"Hey, it's better than 'kid,' right?" Carth pointed out, finally joining us. He was covered in dust and grit that had probably once been part of a wall, but other than that, he appeared to be fine.

"No, it's not that," Mission said quickly. "It's just… that's what Griff used to call me."

Oh.

The high from defeating the rancor dissipated fast.

"I can call you something else," I started to say, but she waved away my apology.

"Don't worry about it. I've kind of missed it, to be honest. Big Z isn't big on nicknames."

Carth and I exchanged a glance, but neither of us commented on the glaringly obvious inconsistency in that statement. No doubt Zaalbar just put up with her pet names the same way he put up with her attempts to make him practice proper hygiene.

I filed away a mental note not to call him "Big Z" and let it slide.

After all, we had bigger things to worry about. The rancor had only been round one. Now we had a base full of Vulkars to take on, and after that, a swoop race to win—not to mention a blockade to break. And that wasn't even counting the war.

"Well," I said, clapping my hands with false enthusiasm. "Enough chit-chat. The sooner we find the swoop accelerator, the sooner this Force-forsaken rancor pit is only a happy memory."

"You know, I'm almost sorry for teaching you that kind of mentality," Mr. Let's-Get-Back-To-The-Task-At-Hand said with a grimace.

"You could have let the rancor live, and then you'd be halfway back to the apartment by now," I pointed out, my grin probably bordering on the smug.

"Sheesh, do you two ever give it a rest?" Mission asked, glancing from me to Carth and back again.

"Not really," I said.

"It's her fault," Carth mouthed at Mission, apparently under the mistaken impression that I wouldn't notice.

"Come on, Big Z," Mission said, watching with almost parental disdain as I gave Carth a hearty smack. "If we go pick another fight inside, they'll have to follow."

She was right, of course. And truthfully, I was content to let her take the lead for a while. It gave me the opportunity—if only for a moment— to sit back and revel in the simple fact that all of us had made it out alive. Now that the shock was over, it was kind of exhilarating, in a twisted sort of way—the rush of cheating death. Of having no one to rely on but each other, and finding that we were a better team than we'd thought.

In that moment, I felt like we could have taken on Darth Malak himself and won.

To be continued…