Disclaimer: I do not have any legal rights to make a profit using these characters, except in my dreams...

Author's Note: Surprise, surprise. I have the next installment ready for your enjoyment. I've been writing up a storm recently, and as I passed the 6000 word mark again, I realized that I'm dealing with another enormous chapter. It seems like no matter how many times I cut these chapters in half, they keep getting bigger. Oh well.

Chapter 9: The Hunted

As with the maalraas before, Carver detected the zakkeg's approach through the Force long before his normal senses did. And, like the maalraas, the armored beast plowed into the small clearing with all the subtlety of an orbital bombardment. Carver took a few steps backward while studying the charging animal; its momentum alone would be enough to crush every bone in his body, and the large spines sprouting from its shell meant that side glances were possibly just as fatal as getting hit head on. Carver smiled; he had no room for error in this battle. He took another step and found his back against a small tree. Looking up, he saw a few branches that looked like they would support him. He looked back down in time to see the zakkeg open its massive jaws, ready to bite him in half. Seconds before they met, Carver launched himself up, perched on one of the thicker branches, then jumped to an adjacent tree. The branch he landed on was narrower than the first so he leaned his hand against the trunk for extra balance. Looking down, Carver was not at all surprised to see the zakkeg collide with the tree he had just been in, but he was caught a little off guard when the beast smashed through it.

So this is a zakkeg, Carver thought, a small frown appearing on his face. Hm; I thought it would be larger. He watched the armor-plated beast swing its head around trying to relocate him and his frown disappeared; even without the echo to motivate it, the zakkeg was a highly aggressive animal. And fast. It looked to be about twice as the size and weight of an adult boma, and yet it moved at about the same pace as one. Cavok said its hide was tough; I wonder...

Silas ignited his red saber and swung it in an arc over his head, cleaving a nearby branch. Instead of letting the long, nearly 30-centimeter-thick limb fall, Carver held it up with three left fingers and the Force. After a two-second pause, he brought his hand down, and the branch went flying towards the zakkeg. Upon impact with the zakkeg's spiky shell, the branch splintered as it ground itself against the armored hide; the force of the blow and the constant grinding managed to just barely push the beast a few centimeters to the side. Once his wooden weapon was little more than a pile of chips on the ground, Carver heard the beast growl in frustration and anger. Success! He managed to piss it off even further. He let out a chuckle when the zakkeg turned to face him and let out a threatening roar. Carver answered the beast's roar with a four-fingered blast of the Force.

The zakkeg hunkered down as the blast wave hit it. As the seconds ticked by, it only gave up a handful of centimeters, but on the whole, it was unaffected by the assault. When the shockwave subsided, it let out another roar.

Another smile tugged at the right side of Carver's mouth. This wasn't going to be so easy after all. Good. He hopped off his branch, holding his red saber out to the side, and let gravity pull him down and his blade through the tree limb. As he fell, he fired it at the zakkeg's head. He made a three-point landing just as the limb finished smashing itself against the beast's forehead. The zakkeg had had enough. Letting out one final loud growl, it charged Carver.

Instead of jumping into another tree, Carver stepped in and readied his blade. The zakkeg was within biting distance in a matter of seconds, but Carver managed to twist around the snapping jaws just before he lost his arm. His first strike was a heavy thrust at the zakkeg's shoulder, but to his surprise, his lightsaber refused to penetrate the armored hide. With surprising agility, the zakkeg turned to him and opened its jaws. Carver jumped back and swung at the predator's teeth, hoping to remove its more dangerous weapons. That attack was just as unsuccessful as the previous one. The scales around the mouth were even harder than the ones on its back, and its teeth were as strong as its spines. Carver's lips curled into a snarl. What sort of beast is this?

Carver activated his silver blade and rammed it into the beast's snout while keeping the red saber pressed against its lip, if only to keep the zakkeg from getting closer to him. He was sure he was burning soft tissue inside the nostril, but nothing vital, and the now-flailing zakkeg was threatening to relieve him of his buried weapon. Carver withdrew the saber and jumped back several meters; he needed a new plan fast. The zakkeg charged him again, and Carver returned to his first plan for the moment: using the trees to stay out of reach. But this plan wasn't perfect; the zakkeg, although non-sentient, was far from a dumb beast. The moment he found a suitable branch to jump to, Carver had to quickly find and relocate to another branch before the zakkeg smashed through the trunk and brought the whole tree down. Though he was putting more distance between them with each jump, Carver found himself at a loss for an attack plan. The great Darth Malvolis, he thought, put on the defensive by an animal. Disgusting

After 30 more seconds of tree-hopping, Carver was done running. Instead of vaulting to the next tree, he stopped and turned to face the rampaging zakkeg below. He took a long breath and braced himself for impending impact, but seconds before the zakkeg crashed into the tree, Carver detected a presence in the Force. Something, or someone, else was approaching him…quickly; he had been too distracted to notice it before. The shock of the zakkeg breaking through the tree trunk was as violent as it was quick; Carver almost lost his footing. However, he managed to ride out the tree's fall to the ground, even control where it landed: directly behind the base of the zakkeg's skull. The impact itself didn't actually kill the beast, but it did hit with enough force to momentarily stun it and pin it. Carver's dark grin appeared after he rolled off the fallen tree; it had rolled backward slightly, and the top of the tree was now caught under a branch coming off a nearby tree. To his right, the zakkeg was coming out of its daze and starting to struggle to throw off the dead weight holding it in place. Carver made a pistol with his right hand and fired an arc of Force lightning into the zakkeg's eye. The beast let out a pained roar as the electricity scorched its iris and burned the optic nerve. Within moments, the eye was dead.

Carver looked on with crossed arms as the zakkeg redoubled its efforts to free itself. As the tree began yielding to the beast's thrashing, he crept deeper into its blind spot. With a loud crack, the tree finally broke in two and the zakkeg charged forward, bellowing with enough fury to rival Carver's.

"Now that is blind aggression," Carver said to himself. He activated his red lightsaber and prepared to strike when a small flash of light above caught his eye. Looking up he saw a red ball of light flying through the air towards his position, or rather towards the zakkeg. Plasma grenade! Carver reached out and caught the explosive sphere and guided it through the rest of its flight, bringing it down against the zakkeg's right shoulder. The explosion ignited everything in a two meter radius. As the zakkeg writhed in a new wave of pain, Carver stared into the distance, trying to find the person who had thrown the explosive, but it was too dark to see. Channeling the Force in his eyes, he could make out two Force signatures roughly 20 meters in the distance.

Before he could positively identify the signatures, new movement from the zakkeg diverted his attention. The beast had turned its back to him in its wild flailing. Carver smiled as his eyesight returned to normal; this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He deactivated his saber as he charged the zakkeg and reversed his grip on the hilt. He swung his arm over, ready to execute his attack when the zakkeg spun in his direction. On reflex, Carver jumped.

Alright; new plan. At the height of his jump, Carver held his saber with both hands, preparing to bury the blade into the zakkeg's head. But that plan, too, was scrubbed when, at the last second, the zakkeg took a couple of steps forward. Not wanting to impale himself on the spines covering the beast's shell, Carver slowed his descent with a directed Force blast; the wave had a secondary effect of extinguishing the surrounding fires. Carver touched down on the zakkeg's back and immediately grabbed one of the spines as the predator tried to throw him off. Carver hunkered down to lower his center of gravity and make it easier to stay in place. Fighting the erratic movements of the animal below him, Carver slowly made his way up the zakkeg's back. When he reached the neck, Carver gripped his lightsaber as tightly as possible. With his left hand, he grabbed the zakkeg's right ear and pulled sideways. The animal jerked his head around in the direction of the pain and, for a moment, looked Carver in the eye.

Time for you to die. Carver swung his right arm out and plunged his lightsaber down towards the zakkeg's eye. Half a second before impact, Carver activated the blade. The momentum of his swing combined with the force of the extending blade was more than enough to break through the armored scales and pierce the thinnest area of beast's skull. Carver's lightsaber was buried to the hilt, and he leapt off the animal's back, not wanting to be anywhere near its death throes. It took all of five seconds for the zakkeg to finally succumb to the injury and die. His deactivated lightsaber was about a meter away from where the beast stopped moving; with a quick gesture, the metal hilt flew into his hand.

He walked over to the dead zakkeg and placed his hand on its forehead. It was a good fight. In a single swift move, he severed the ear and tucked it in his belt. As he started back the way he came, a pair of figures dropping from the tree. Carver instantly recognized the two women and smiled. The red-haired Huntress in her black mesh jacket and white-haired Brianna wearing the silver underlay of her Echani armor stood in front of him. Fire and ice, Silas thought, remembering Bao-Dur's comment back on Nar Shaddaa. "What are you two doing out here?" he asked them, his smile disappearing.

"We..we heard you," answered Brianna.

Silas furrowed his eyebrows. "You what?"

"We heard you," Brianna repeated, "in our minds."

"Did I wake you?" asked Silas.

"No," replied the two women. Mira continued, "I was in the garage working on my lightsaber with Bao-Dur when I heard you."

"And I was showing Davrel how to get out of a headlock," said Brianna.

"This late?" asked Silas.

Mira shook her head. "I don't know about her, but I'm still on Nar Shaddaa time." Brianna seconded Mira's statement with a nod.

A smile tugged at Silas' mouth. "What exactly did you hear?"

"You were summoning us," answered Brianna. "We were worried you might be in trouble."

Mira smirked. "I wasn't so worried, but I didn't want her running off into the jungle by herself."

Brianna shot her a look. "As I recall, you were the one who said he could be hurt and we needed to move faster."

"It felt weird," said Mira. "All I could think about was getting to you as quickly as possible."

"That was true for me as well," said Brianna.

"What about Kreia?"

"She chose to remain on the Ebon Hawk," said Brianna, sounding relieved and annoyed at the same time.

"She said she doubted she could 'keep up with those but a fraction of her age'," said Mira with a smirk.

"Somehow I doubt she would have had difficulty," replied Brianna.

"It is her choice," said Silas, wanting to end their train of thought; now was not the time for this discussion. "As for the rest of us, I suggest you two get some sleep. There is little telling how long we will be here. Might as well synch to their time." Both women nodded in agreement.

"Are you coming with us to the Hawk?" asked Brianna.

"I am afraid not," answered Silas. "I have a bet with a Mandalorian that I have yet to win."

"May I come with you?"

Silas gave her a warm smile. "Why not." He gestured for Brianna to follow him. "I assume you can find your way back to the ship, Mira."

"Yeah. It's just a straight line that way," Mira replied, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. "You know which way you're going?"

Silas looked at Brianna, then back at Mira. "More or less."

Mira returned the wry grin. "Well then, have a good night." She turned and started walking.

Brianna and Silas started walking as well. "You do know the direction we need to go?" she asked him.

"Or course," he replied. "South."


A deep, bone-chilling wail echoed through the pitch black jungle. The source of this cry was a lone, young adult Onderonian male lying facedown in the trap of two of the most intelligent and ruthless hunters in the area. And they were toying with their newest victim.

"You think his buddies heard him that time?" Jaq asked Kelborn, wearing a dark grin.

"Maybe," said his Mandalorian ally, "but I doubt it. He still hasn't told us how far away his camp is."

"Well then," replied Jaq, reaching forward, "I guess I'll just have to make him scream," Jaq grabbed the hilt of his red double-blade, which appeared to be standing on the back of the Onderonian's right thigh, "louder!"and twisted.

The soldier let out another feral scream as the white-hot lightsaber blade running through his leg brushed against sensitive muscles and nerves, scorching them. He knew he was going to die here. His outstretched arms were broken, his right arm in two places, and some of his fingers were crushed; he couldn't even push himself onto his knees, much less defend himself. But even if he could, a strange pressure in his lower back told him he'd better not flex his spine for the next few years. And movement from the waist down was also cut off with that lightsaber in his right leg. Even if he just barely shifted his left leg, he could feel it in his right one. The rest of his wounds: the cuts, the bruises, the broken nose; they were all mostly cosmetic, although even they hurt like hell. The proverbial icing on the cake occurred about a minute ago when, after one particularly blood-curdling scream, he realized tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Despite the amount of raw pleasure Jaq felt dusting off his old interrogation techniques, there was a small voice silently yelling for him to stop. It was the same voice that almost convinced him to jump ship on Nar Shaddaa, on Telos and Dantooine as well for that matter. It was always sending up red flags about Silas, Kreia, the mission they were on, and his own well-being. The voice was at its loudest when Silas massacred the Serrocco gang for no other reason than the thugs didn't like his terms. There had been no negotiations, no bargaining. Jaq had blinked and found Silas' blade buried in the leader's gut. Before he had time to process the situation, he was drawing his blasters and aiming for the nearest Serroccans; the rest of the battle was largely a blur. Once it was over, Jaq had felt a little unnerved by the whole thing, but his worries had been set aside when Silas had him examine the abandoned airspeeder he found, then forgotten completely when the refugees thanked them for their help.

Every day since then, however, that voice was getting easier and easier to ignore.

Jaq grabbed the young soldier's dark hair and pulled his head up. "Now, tell me," he began, "how many people are still alive at your camp?"

The soldier could only look at him with one eye; the left one was too bruised to open fully. "Ss-ssss-ssscrew…you," he managed to force out.

Jaq chuckled and shoved the solder's head back into the ground. "Sorry," he said, "but that's not a number." He swung his foot back, ready to kick the Onderonian in the side of his head.

"Wait!" Kelborn interjected, placing a hand against Jaq's chest to stop him. "If you hit him there, his jaw might lock up, and we won't be able to get anything out of him."

Jaq looked down at the soldier. "You hear that?" he asked. "You get a pass this round. I suggest you do the smart thing and start talking." The soldier's reply was a long, shallow groan.

"How about an easier question?" said Kelborn, kneeling down. "Who sent you?"

The soldier didn't bother looking up. "Go to hell, Mando," he said, voice slightly muffled by the dirt.

Kelborn smiled under his helmet and chuckled. "Kid," he said, "we're already there. So why don't you save us all some time and you same pain and just tell us what we want to know?"

The Onderonian tilted his head to look up at the Mandalorian with his good eye. "You think I'm stupid, bucket-head? Doesn't matter if I talk or not; you're gonna kill me either way, right?" Standing up, Kelborn couldn't come up with a response. "I thought so," said the soldier, breaking his gaze. "And anyway, I'd rather die than betray my comrades."

Jaq glanced at Kelborn. "Touching," he said, just loud enough for the Mandalorian to hear. "My turn again." Jaq knelt down and pulled the soldier's head up and looked straight at him. "I'm going to give you one more chance to talk voluntarily before I make you."

"I'd like to see you try," replied the Onderonian.

"Alright," said Jaq, shifting to sit more comfortably. His grip on the soldier's head tightened as he stared into the soldier's good eye. "What makes you think we'd kill you?"

The question caught the other two men by surprise. "What?" asked the Onderonian.

Jaq's smile looked almost warm. "So I roughed you up a bit," he said. His tone had changed as well. It was almost hypnotic. "That doesn't mean we want to kill you."

Kelborn watched with amused intrigue as the soldier squeezed his eye shut and gritted his teeth; he didn't quite know what his ally was doing, but he had an idea. He just hadn't seen a Jedi interrogation done quite like this before.

"Eyes open, kid," Jaq commanded. Within a heartbeat, the young soldier was looking straight at him, even his bad eye was half-open. "That's better. So, ready to talk yet?"

"I've got..nothing..to say..to you," said the Onderonian.

"You're acting like I'm your enemy here, kid," said Jaq in a smooth tone. "I'm not. If anything, I can actually help you."

"…What?"

Jaq gave him a half-grin. "Yeah. Just answer a few questions, and I promise we won't have to hurt you anymore."

The Onderonian shook his head, but his gaze was fixed on Jaq. "No. I'm not..gonna say…anything."

"Why not? Did someone say you couldn't? Who? Who said you couldn't tell us anything?"

The young soldier looked like he was trying to close his eyes but couldn't. "He..no…no…I can't…"

"Why not, kid?" Jaq pressed. "Who was it?"

"Ke..no!"

"Come on, kid; one name. That's all I want; just one name. What was it, kid? Tell me; tell me the name; just one name, kid; say it! Say his name!"

Ker…Kernn…no!"

'Ker'? thought Kelborn. Who's 'Ker'? Ker...Kern...Kern! Colonel. Colonel...Tobin! "Tobin!" he announced.

Jaq looked back at Kelborn. "Colonel Tobin?" Kelborn nodded. Jaq looked back at the soldier. "Was that who it was, kid? Was it Colonel Tobin? Hm? Was it?" The soldier nodded once. "And how many more people are still at your camp?" The Onderonian hesitated, and Jaq squeezed his grip.

"Eight!" answered the soldier.

"There, see? That wasn't so hard." He reached out with his other hand and patted the young man on the cheek. "Now for my end of the deal." He grabbed the soldier's chin and twisted; there was a soft snap, and the Onderonian's body went limp.

"I thought you said you weren't going to hurt him," said Kelborn sarcastically, watching Jaq get back to his feet.

Jaq gave him a wry grin. "I didn't. Breaking someone's neck is painless…I think. I mean, no one's ever complained to me before."

"So, eight soldiers left," mused Kelborn. "I wonder how many of them are Sith."

"I saw a couple of dead Sith back at the landing site," said Jaq, "but most of them were Onderonian." He paused. "What I didn't see, though, were bars or stripes on any of the uniforms; that Onderonian sergeant and the Sith lieutenant are still alive."

"Well, that probably means they're all in one group and ripe for the picking."

"Not to mention probably expecting us."

"Meh! Onderonians on alert just means don't step on any sticks as you close in. Or better yet, step on one and listen to them scream like stuck mynocks."

Jaq couldn't help but chuckle at the joke.

"So, which way?" asked Kelborn.

Jaq focused the Force through his eyes and scanned the night jungle. He picked up a faint sign of life coming from the east; the Sith lieutenant had a small presence in the Force. He didn't have enough potential to develop any useful abilities, but he could be tracked. "That way," said Jaq, pointing.


"Sergeant," said the Sith lieutenant, running up to the senor Onderonian, "we've lost contact with another one of your men."

"Dammit," growled the sergeant. He looked over at the other soldiers gathered around the small campfire; a couple of them had noticed their conversation. "I told you I wanted one of your men to go with him," he told the lieutenant.

"Sergeant," replied the lieutenant, "we can't afford to lose one of my elite shock troops. Not now."

The sergeant hadn't failed to notice the emphasized "my" in his statement; his eye had twitched when he heard it, and a long stream of curses flew through his mind. "Lieutenant, with all due respect, we can't afford to segregate our troops if we hope to survive until we reach the archaeologists' landing site."

"Sergeant," said the Sith in a condescending tone, "our job is to keep the Mandalorians busy until the archaeologists finish, not lead the Mandalorians right to them!"

"Lieutenant," said the sergeant, almost bewildered, "you can't possibly be thinking what I think you're thinking."

"Orders are orders, sergeant, and our orders are clear."

"Either you're stupid, or you're really stupid."

"Sergeant!" said the Sith. "I am in charge here, and you will respect the chain of command."

The sergeant's gaze intensified. "This is your first time on Dxun, isn't it?" he asked, voice softening. He got up and gestured for the lieutenant to follow him. Once they were well away from the troops, he stopped and turned to the Sith. "Lieutenant, I must protest this plan of yours."

The Sith folded his arms. "Noted, sergeant. But I disagree. If we turn and attack now, we'll catch them off-guard. We will have the advantage."

"Are you insane? Counterattack?" The sergeant pointed back at the soldiers, half of whom were watching their exchange with interest, even if they couldn't hear it. "These men are too tired and too ill-equipped to launch any sort of attack. And I don't know about you, but I know my men well enough to know that, right now, they are more than a little nervous at the prospect of staring down a Mandalorian rifle. I suggest we keep moving and keep the Mandalorians from picking up our trail."

"The Mandalorians have already picked up our trail, sergeant. The death of your recon soldier proves that. If we attack them, we can fight them on our terms."

"We've been fighting on their terms ever since we arrived, lieutenant. The bombardment of our landing site proves that!"

The Sith stepped closer. "Sergeant, you are overstepping your bounds."

Although the Sith was over half a head taller than him, the sergeant wasn't intimidated. "Son, I've had more years of combat than you've had years of life. Don't think you know better than me."

"Sergeant, when we get back…"

"We won't be getting back unless we keep going away from the Mandalorians, you arrogant idiot!"

"Sergeant, you are no longer part of this mission and you will keep your mouth shut from now on, or you will be shot. Is that clear?" The sergeant went silent, and the Sith turned to started towards the other soldiers. "Now, I'm going to start preparing our attack plan," he said, walking away. "You just sit quietly and…"

The sergeant pulled out his sidearm and fired. The Sith crumpled to the ground, injured but not dead. "I'm not going to let you throw away the lives of my men in some fool's charge." He fired again; the light behind the Sith's eyes faded. The sergeant looked up and saw the Onderonian soldiers holding the Sith soldiers at gunpoint. Two of the Sith soldiers managed to grab a rifle, but they had two pointed back at them. "Put 'em down," he told the group, waving his hand for emphasis. "Put 'em down, dammit!" Slowly the Onderonians lowered their weapons; the Sith soon followed suit. He stepped over one of the logs serving as a make-shift bench, sat down, stared at the campfire, and let out a long breath. "Enough people have died today."

"Sir, why did you shoot our lieutenant?" asked one of the Sith in a careful tone.

"Because, son," answered the sergeant, "he was planning on running you down the barrel of a Mandalorian blaster rifle; all of you. He just didn't want to accept that our mission was over."

"So what do we do now?" asked one of the Onderonians.

"Well, we know about where the other team landed; we should probably head in that direction."

"Sorry, ladies," came an unknown voice, "but you're not going anywhere."

All the men sitting around the fire were on their feet in a second and scanning their dimly lit surroundings. Judging by the loudness and clarity of the voice, the speaker was close…very close, but not Mandalorian. The next sound they heard was the snap-hiss of a lightsaber followed by quickly-silenced scream. One of the Sith slumped over, the red shaft of a lightsaber protruded from his stomach. Behind the dead man, a stealth field shimmered and dispelled, revealing a black-haired man in a gray robe. The man yanked his blade out of the Sith, and the body fell to the ground. An Onderonian soldier, one not struck with surprise, tried to raise his rifle only to be barraged by a steady stream of blaster fire coming from his left. Seconds later, a red-armored Mandalorian carrying a Heavy Repeater jumped down from the tree he was hiding in.

"Well, well, well," said the Mandalorian, sweeping his large blaster slowly back and forth, "look at what we have here. Jaq, what do you think?"

Jaq held his saber vertical and smiled. "I thought these were the soldiers we were looking for, but they don't look like much."

"Who's in charge here?" asked the Mandalorian.

"I am," answered the sergeant. He glanced over at the man holding the lightsaber, Jaq. He was looking back at him with both eyes, and his smile turned more sinister. "What do you want?"

"Well, originally," said Jaq, "we had planed on the two of us just wasting all of you, but we figured there was something more going on."

"So, we're considering exchanging answers for extended leases on life," said the Mandalorian. He pointed his rifle at the sergeant. "You answer our questions, and my friend here will let your men keep their heads."

The sergeant looked back over at Jaq; the smiling man's eyebrows jumped twice. "I have a question for you, if I may." The Mandalorian's silence was enough permission for him to continue. "Are there more of you?"

"Should we answer that?" Kelborn asked Jaq.

"Sure, why not," Jaq replied.

Kelborn turned back to the sergeant. "No," he said. "It's just us two. But don't get any funny ideas; between me and my friend here, you guys wouldn't last ten seconds."

"Alright," said the sergeant. "Deal." His eyebrows furrowed. "You two were behind that bombardment."

"This guy's smart," said Jaq.

"But, just you two?" asked the sergeant. "By yourselves? How?"

"We're not here to discuss our tactics," said Kelborn. "Why are you on Dxun?"

"Fine, then. Tobin sent us here as a distraction," answered the sergeant.

"For who?" asked Kelborn.

"Another team landed deeper in the jungle. Archaeologists, surveyors, Sith warriors."

"Lightsaber-carrying Sith are here, too?" asked Jaq.

"Yep," said the sergeant.

"Why?" Jaq asked.

"I can't tell you."

"That private you sent out earlier didn't want to say either," said Jaq. "But I managed to loosen his tongue…right before I snapped his neck."

The sergeant's eyes widened. "You killed Private Ghen? Why?"

"Our orders didn't mention anything about prisoners," said Kelborn, "and I doubt he would have been able to keep up with us. You're a sergeant, though; these men might survive with you."

"What are your orders?" said the sergeant.

"Investigate the ship that landed near the edge of our sensor perimeter," replied Kelborn, "assess the threat level of the infiltrators, and prevent all attempted assaults against the Mandalorian base camp."

"Those are pretty clear," said the sergeant. "Kind of like how ours were. Is there any way my men can walk out of this alive?"

"That depends on how well you answer the rest of our questions," answered Kelborn. "What is the mission of the other team? The one with the archaeologists."

"I don't know," the sergeant answered. "They didn't tell us."

Kelborn looked over at Jaq. The dark-haired man gave him a quick nod, signaling the Onderonian was being truthful. "Alright, what do you know about them?"

"The man in charge is a Sith Lord calling himself Lord Rzaz. He works for another Sith Lord; never met him. I only know Rzaz because General Vaklu introduced me to him shortly before we left. General Vaklu said our job was to keep you busy until the archaeologists were done doing whatever they were up here to do."

"I guess that's two out of three, Kelborn," said Jaq, eying the sergeant expectantly.

"I guess," concurred Kelborn. "What assurances do I have that you won't attack our base?" he asked the sergeant.

"One: we don't have enough equipment to even consider a sneak attack, much less a frontal assault," answered the sergeant, raising a finger. "Two: we're neither crazy nor suicidal." He raised another finger. "Three…well, one and two pretty much say it all."

"Huh," said Kelborn. "What do you say Jaq?"

"Well, I trust them not to do anything stupid," the gray-robed man replied, "so I guess we can rule out them attacking us." Jaq watched the sergeant visible deflate slightly. "But, I was kinda hoping he'd tell us more."

"I can't," countered the sergeant. "I've hold you everything I know!"

"Yeah, see that's the problem," said Jaq, beginning a slow walk around the perimeter of standing soldiers. "You just don't know enough for me to want to let you leave with all your men." His dark smile widened. "So…" With one quick movement, he buried his blade into the soldier standing in front of him and yanked it back out. As the Onderonian doubled over and fell to the ground, the other soldiers started reaching for their weapons.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," said Kelborn, aiming at the sergeant's head. "We're almost done; don't do anything stupid now."

"He just murdered another one of my men!" yelled the sergeant.

Kelborn looked over at his ally. "Jaq?"

Jaq shrugged. "Just that one, that'll be enough; I'm done."

"Alright, listen up," said Kelborn, looking back at the Onderonian. "You've got ten seconds to disappear from my sight. If I see any of you on Dxun again, I won't hesitate to mow you all down. Got it?" All the soldiers nodded. "Good. I'll start counting. 1…"

The sergeant grabbed his pistol, and signaled for his men to grab their fallen comrades.

"2…"

The infiltrators scrambled to collect their gear.

"3…I should warn you, I have excellent vision. 4…"

The remaining soldiers hoisted their dead mates over their shoulders...

"5…"

...and started into the jungle.

"6…7…8…"

They picked up their pace as Kelborn neared the end of his count.

"9…"

The soldiers disappeared into the shadows.

"10!" Kelborn fired a few warning shots into the trees to emphasize his point. Looking down at the remains of the campsite, he noted that they left a few of their rifles. He signaled Jaq to pick up a few of them while he got the rest. Before leaving the area, he tossed dirt over the campfire to extinguish the flames. "Firebugs," he said.

"Well, I had fun; you?" asked Jaq.

"More or less," replied the Mandalorian. "Not quite how I imagined it, but we got the job done. Come on, let's head back."

"Finally," Jaq said with a small grin. "I'm starting to regret not getting more sleep."

to be continued...

Author's End Note: In the next chapter, you'll see what happens when Carver's anger is set loose. If you thought Jaq's been flirting with the Dark Side, so to speak, be patient. I promise I will deliver. And one of Carver's allies is going to make a very bad mistake...