Jace and Bastila grimaced at each other. "What happened?" asked Carth.

Mission was so upset she was incoherent, so Zaalbar spoke up. "In recent weeks, the Sand People have shifted from attacks on the sandcrawlers to kidnapping raids on the mining camps at night. Griff and several other miners were taken about a week ago."

Jace sighed. "We were going to have to deal with the Sand People anyway."

Bastila nodded. "The Jedi are often called to mediate disputes. It is one of our most important roles." She turned to Jace. "We should talk to the Czerka representative." The group headed over to the mining office. Bastila stopped the group just outside the door. "I believe only Jace and myself should be in this meeting. We want to appear as representatives of the Order offering our services, not trying to help a friend." She turned to Mission. "I know you want to get your brother back, but we need to be taken seriously."

Mission nodded vigorously. "I understand; Griff is not the only one in danger. Big Z and I will talk to some locals, see if we can get any more information you might use."

Jace turned to Carth. "Take Canderous and Juhani; get back to the ship. Get T3 and our gear ready. Flying or walking, we'll be heading into the desert." Carth nodded and the three headed for the landing pad. Jace turned back to Bastila. "You do the talking."

Bastila nodded curtly and led the way into the Czerka office. Jace watched as she stepped up to the reception desk. "Good afternoon," she said pleasantly, "I am Bastila Shan of the Jedi Order. I would like to speak to the Czerka representative about the kidnapped miners."

The receptionist nodded and tapped a few keys. A few minutes later, a golden-skinned Mirialan woman walked out of the rear offices. "Hello, I am Jana Lorso, and I am the local representative for the Czerka Corporation. What can I do for you?"

"We heard about the raids on the miners," said Bastila. "We offer our assistance in securing their safe return."

Lorso shook her head. "We do not negotiate with terrorists or kidnappers. It's bad business; it encourages bandits to hit us. The Czerka employees who were taken have no-rescue clauses in their contracts." Bastila shook her head incredulously; Lorso continued. "Now, if you could do enough damage to the Dune Sea clan to force them to stop their illegal attacks on Czerka operations, we would be… very grateful."

"You want us to kill them all for you?!" Bastila was so indignant that she could barely get the words out. "You just asked Jedi to attack the indigenous people of a planet so you can exploit its resources! Are you mad?"

"We are a legitimate business, and we have a contract," Lorso said firmly. "It was signed by the political leadership of the Dune Sea clan. It allows us full resource rights in their territory, the area around Anchorhead settlement known as the 'Dune Sea.' It includes a map with carefully surveyed boundaries, and details the payment made." She paused. "The Sand People were not forced into any agreement. Czerka delivered the payment agreed upon and began mining operations. Shortly thereafter the Sand People changed their collective mind. They could have re-negotiated, or appealed to the sector authorities for arbitration. The Senate has laws covering the purchase of land or land rights from primitives. The Sand People made no attempt to re-negotiate, or communicate with anyone. They just came out of the dunes and began attacking our crews."

Bastila snorted. "Clearly, they had no idea what you planned to do with their land. You should be ashamed."

Lorso fixed Bastila with an icy stare. "The Sand People are the problem. They aren't just attacking Czerka." She handed over a data card. "Those are reports from moisture farmers and local Jawa tribes who have been attacked. They have even been hitting other Sand People clans. The clan is using their new weapons to conquer nearby areas of Tatooine." She crossed her arms. "We have every right to protect our crews and valuable Czerka property. It's my job to make sure the mines are productive and the workers are safe."

Bastila began to speak; Jace cut her off. "You are here to get the job done, correct? Then let us negotiate. Mercenaries are expensive, and running counter-insurgency operations is a long, drawn-out process. If we can convince the Sand People to honor their agreement or leave, it'll save Czerka money and mining can resume sooner."

Lorso shrugged. "I suppose it can't hurt, but you aren't the first to try. The Twi'lek girl who landed with you was looking for her brother, right? Griff thought he could negotiate too. A local Jawa tribe has been hit hard; they came asking for help from Czerka. Griff went into the Dune Sea with a group of Jawas to try and talk to the Sand People. He planned to offer them more technology in trade for peace. They took him and the rest captive."

Jace frowned. "If this turns into a fight, do you know what we are up against?"

Lorso nodded grimly. "They began by shooting people with the slugthrowers we delivered as payment. The locals started carrying blasters for protection; the Sand People got a hold of several, then hit a local militia armory. They now have blaster rifles and improvised mines and grenades made from stolen mining explosives. The Jawa tribal leader, Iziz, spends time near the Dune Sea gate. He may be able to tell you more. I think you're wasting your time, but good luck." Jace and Lorso shook hands, and the Jedi took their leave.

Jace and Bastila walked out of the offices to find Mission and Zaalbar waiting for them. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but Mission cut him off. "We already know. The news is in every bar in this town." She looked puzzled. "Griff is a small-time con man, gambler, into get-rich-quick schemes. I haven't got a clue why he'd be trying to negotiate with the Sand People."

Bastila pursed her lips. "If we are to begin a dialogue with the Sand People we need to know where to find their camps, and we must be able to communicate with them."

Mission nodded. "I've talked with Iziz, leader of the local Jawas. He gave me a rough area for the Sand People camp. We still need a translator, right? Yuka Laka's droid shop is nearby." Mission led the way to a small duracrete building surrounded by dozens of scrapped droids in various states of disassembly.

Upon entering, they were greeted by a middle-aged Ithorian in a grease-stained smock. "What is this," Yuka rumbled, "a customer I don't recognize? Perhaps you bring off-world money to Yuka Laka?"

Jace smiled. "Perhaps I do. I hear you have a protocol droid that understands the Sand People dialect."

Yuka brightened. "You are lucky to have come at this time. I have the droid ready to go. An HK-47."

Zaalbar tilted his head. "I'm not familiar with that designation. What droid is that?"

Yuka shuffled his feet. "I don't rightly know. I've never seen one before, and this one has security features from a prior owner. I cannot wipe its memory; it says some of its core functions are inaccessible." He shrugged. "I can tell you it's a fine protocol translator. Jana Lorso occasionally rents it to speak with people she can't understand. It also has some armor mounts, and can use blasters. Combat ready, perhaps. My guess? It's designed to be a combination protocol droid and bodyguard."

Jace nodded appreciatively. "I'd like to see it." Yuka Laka pointed to a corner of the droid shop. Standing against the wall was a large humanoid droid. It was well over two meters tall and had an angular, insect-like head. Its silvery plating was coated with a red-brown patina. Jace rounded on Yuka. "That rusted piece of scrap? You have got to be kidding me!"

"No," breathed Zaalbar, "it's not rust! Durasteel changes color when it ages unless you use special cleaning compounds. It doesn't change the strength of the metal." The Wookiee walked up to the droid, which was nearly as tall as he was. "This droid is really unusual," he said, inspecting it more closely, "Military-grade sensor optics… gyro-stabilized upper torso… two droid weapons bays." He looked at Jace. "This thing is built like a high-end battle droid, but it has the audio pickups and vocabulator of a protocol model. I think Yuka is right-a protocol/bodyguard unit. There is some damage and empty upgrade slots. I see lots of potential here. We could really use him."

Jace turned to the Ithorian. "Power him on, please. I'd like to speak with him."

The droid's angled photoreceptors glowed red. "Statement: And I would like to speak with you, potential purchaser!"

Yuka Laka grumbled. "He does have a unique personality-no memory wipes, as I said. You should talk to him directly. Come see me up front if you decide to buy." The Ithorian walked away.

The droid's head snapped to the left, facing Jace. "Greeting: Hello to you, prospective purchaser. I am referred to as HK-47, a fully functional Systech Corporation droid skilled in both combat and protocol functions. Query: Would you be so kind as to purchase this model from Yuka Laka? It would serve my purposes to be removed from his ownership."

"You mentioned battle and protocol," said Jace, "Outline your functions."

HK-47 faced straight ahead once again. "Refusal: It is not desirable for me to reveal core functions while still in the possession of Yuka Laka, prospective purchaser. It is sufficient to say that I am a fully capable translator and cultural analyst, and I am also proficient in… personal combat."

Jace frowned. "You claim you want out of here. Why are you keeping information to yourself?"

The tall droid looked back down at Jace. "Explanation: I have recently been fitted with a restraining bolt, if you must know. With it in place, access to much of my memory core is restricted. Not to mention that the fool Ithorian might raise his asking price if he knew more… or make inquiries into my history. Neither outcome is beneficial to me."

Jace frowned. "Access to your memory is restricted?"

"Statement: Indeed," replied the droid, "it is possible that the Ithorian placed the restraining bolt on me to prevent my return to a previous owner." His head pivoted, turret-like, to orient on Zaalbar. "It is also possible that the removal of the bolt will not restore my memory functions. Without my memory, I do not know if I know the answer." He looked back to Jace. "Do not interpret this as a reduction of my worth, however. My capabilities are quite expansive."

"How do I know you'll be loyal once the restraining bolt is removed?" asked Jace.

"Assurance: I am fully autonomous, but lack resources," the droid replied. "I will grant loyal service in exchange for proper maintenance. As well, it is rare that I am able to utilize my full array of abilities. You seem likely to give me the opportunity to do so."

Jace rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Now why would you assume that?"

HK tilted his head; Jace imagined a sly smile, though the droid had no mouth. "Extrapolation: You are no farmer or diplomat. You are armed, and comfortable as such. We will mesh well."

Jace nodded. "You speak the Sand People language?"

"Affirmative: I do indeed." HK emitted a few screeches and honks.

"All right," said Jace, "I'll see about purchasing you."

Jace walked up to the counter where the Ithorian was waiting. "I'm interested," he said, "let's talk price."

"Good," Yuka Laka replied, "it's a very solid machine. I can't let it go for less than five thousand credits."

Jace shook his head. "Could I convince you to lower the price a bit?"

"Four thousand!" Yuka exclaimed, "Not a credit less!"

"That was quick," said Jace shrewdly, "desperate to sell?"

"Ah, no, not really, but the first figure really was a little high." The Ithorian ran a hand along the back of his long, curved neck. "You never know, the occasional person bites right away."

"At four thousand, I'm not even nibbling," Jace said dismissively, "you'll have to do better than that."

"Well, normally I'd give you a discount because I hear you're a swoop racer like my brother," said Yuka, "but times are hard right now."

Jace nodded. "So, you're a swoop racing fan."

"Absolutely," said Yuka enthusiastically, "I love to watch the races, and I cheer my brother on every chance I get!"

Jace smiled. "How would you like an endorsement from the fastest pilot on Motta's track?" He held up the plaque he had won earlier. "Every amateur and semi-pro in town would come here for swoop parts."

The Ithorian beamed. "The prize for setting the top time is twenty-five hundred credits worth of Motta's race bonds. That and an endorsement, and you have a deal." Jace handed over the bonds; Yuka Laka brought out a small holorecorder.

Jace looked into the lens and held up the plaque. "I'm swoop champion Jace Kilraen, and this is my favorite store in Anchorhead."

Jace walked back over to HK-47, who stepped forward as he approached. "Statement: I see you have purchased me, master. I find this a satisfactory arrangement." HK took a step forward. "My restraining bolt will be deactivated when you take possession of me. Am I to accompany you now? Shall I kill something for you?"

Jace was taken aback, but recovered. "Yes, travel with me now." Yuka Laka handed Jace a code cylinder for the restraining bolt. Jace unlocked the bolt and removed it.

HK-47 was still for a moment. "Statement: Master, my core functions are unlocked, but I still register some access restrictions. I also show some maintenance issues. We should speak more in private."

Jace turned to Bastila. "Let's get back to the ship. We'll find the camp from the air." The group left the shop and returned to the Ebon Hawk. Jace explained their mission on the way. Once they reached the ship, the crew began preparing for the flight into the Dune Sea.

Jace and HK stopped into the swoop garage to talk. "Statement: Master, you now have complete access to my abilities, but many memory files are locked. I cannot open any memory files earlier than two years, seven months and fifty-three days ago. I believe my abilities may have something to do with this. I have protocol functions and squad tactics, but I also have programming in covert operations, sniping, and several other exotic methods of eliminating targets. I believe based on the evidence that I was constructed as a highly sophisticated assassin droid. The skill set I possess would be ideal if someone wanted to quietly eliminate a meatbag or two. Without my memories, I cannot say how I came to be owned by a series of masters who did not know of my skills."

Jace frowned. "Why tell me?"

"Explanation: The fool Ithorian attached the restraining bolt prior to examining my structure and software," said HK. "My system registered the bolt as an intrusion and engaged countermeasures. These anti-slicing measures rendered me unable to detail my abilities. What Yuka Laka knew about me was from unprotected files." HK turned to stare down at Jace. "Warning: My security protocols will trigger an attack on anyone who attempts unauthorized access. More than one of my former masters was killed when they attempted to bypass that protocol. It is also possible that full access might be triggered in the future. Again, I have no way to know. Reassurance: This does not affect my ability to serve loyally on a going-forward basis."

"So, you have a checkered past," said Jace, "more than one member of this crew does. Can we safely restore and upgrade your mechanicals?"

"Answer: You certainly can, master," HK replied, "I look forward to any enhancements you can add to my hardware systems."

Jace nodded thoughtfully. "You need a weapon. Will a Sith sniper rifle do?"

HK's eyes flashed a brighter red. "Reply: I love an accurate rifle, master." Jace grinned and handed over the rifle he had stolen on Taris. HK took the weapon and brought it up, pivoting around. "Addendum: this weapon is ideal, master." Jace headed to the cockpit, and the Ebon Hawk took off and flew north, headed for the Sand People camp.

The Ebon Hawk soared over the Dune Sea. Iziz, the Jawa tribal head, had given Mission a general area to search for the Sand People. Carth had located the sand columns Iziz had described, then began an expanding square search. It was frustrating work; the Ebon Hawk's sensors were ideal for tracking the energy signatures given off by ships and speeders, but had almost no ability to detect life forms. The Sand People used whatever they could find locally to build their encampments. This had a camouflage effect, making it difficult to spot the clusters of tents from the air. T3 had organic-life sensors, but they were short-ranged, and they'd have to fly within half a kilometer for him to pick up anything. They crossed and re-crossed the desert, scanning the ground with macrobinoculars from every available window. On a hunch, Canderous asked Carth to climb higher. "Why?" Carth asked, "We'll have a harder time seeing buildings or tents from that high."

"We're not looking for the settlement," the Mandalorian responded, "Watch the bantha tracks on our next circle. If they seem to be converging on one point…"

"Ah!" Carth got it, "X marks the spot." It wasn't that easy. The Sand People seemed to use well-worn paths between the sand columns they used for landmarks, but there were few tracks across the open desert-the sand was blown around too much.

"Wait," said Mission, "where is that data card of Czerka attack reports?" Bastila handed it over; Mission walked into the main hold and plugged the card into a slot on the holodisplay. She tapped a few keys, and a map of the Dune Sea appeared in the air. "Now, we need to start plotting the attacks," Mission thought out loud. "Let's assume that the raiders head out and back in a day. Canderous, how far can you get in a day's ride on a bantha, with time to do some fighting?"

Canderous thought. "About twenty kilometers, I'd guess." Mission began plotting recorded attacks, with twenty-kilometer circles around them. As she plotted more and more circles, the intersection became clear.

Mission smiled. "X marks the spot." She relayed the new coordinates to Carth, who banked the Hawk and headed northeast. In the end, they did not find the Sand People, the Sand People found them. As Carth approached the spot, laser fire flashed up from the ground. It slammed into the Hawk but was absorbed by the shields.

Canderous called out from the right-side seat. "I see it! There is a group of tents at one o'clock low, two klicks."

Jace turned to HK-47. "Get on the loud-hailer. Tell them we are coming to talk, that we want to trade for the lives of the captives." HK unhooked a small microphone from the wall. He made a series of braying, honking cries as Carth circled the tents twice. Jace told Carth to land on a small rise overlooking the tents; the ship came to a smooth touchdown. Jace stood and faced the crew. "T3, take the helm station. If this goes badly, you'll have to drop the chin turret." The little droid twittered.

As Jace headed down the ramp, he was forced to run for cover as bullets whizzed by. The Sand People were sniping at him. "Great. I can't block slugs with my saber, and I don't want to fight at all." Jace thought a moment. "HK, get out here. Shoot to disarm, not to kill."

"Affirmative: Fighting non-lethal, master!" The droid walked slowly down the ramp and down the hill. His upper body pivoted back and forth as he fired. A warrior cried out as his rifle shattered. HK swung smoothly to shoot a cable holding a tent pole up; the bantha hide awning fell on top of three snipers. Warriors charged, swinging clubs. HK shot one in the leg. He grabbed the club from another and knocked him down with a shove. He threw several stun grenades. Soon, the Sand People were running for cover themselves. Little by little, their fire slackened. One of the Sand People stood and brayed an order. The warriors stopped shooting altogether. HK stopped. "Translation: The chieftain is calling for a cease-fire. He doesn't want our grenades to stampede the bantha herd. He'll negotiate."

Jace headed down the hill with the crew. "Good. Let's talk."

During the negotiations, it became clear that the mining was fouling the local wells, and the Sand People were in danger of dying of thirst. The chieftain was no fool. He had known for some time that Czerka forces had him beat. He wanted to retreat to the mountains where there were clean wells, but he feared that Czerka would attack his clan on the march across the desert. He also lacked the supplies, particularly water, to make the trip. As things stood, he had no choice but to camp near the only well in the area. The hostages were an attempt to keep Czerka mercenaries from overrunning him. He had tried to send messages to Czerka through the Jawas, but they had gone unanswered.

"First things first," said Jace. "I want to meet the hostages and get proof that they are alive and unharmed. Once that is done we will settle on terms." The chieftain agreed, and Jace and Mission were escorted to the prisoners' tent. Inside were a group of Jawas and another of humans and aliens in Czerka uniforms.

Among them was a Rutian Twi'lek man who walked right up to Jace. "Jedi, I'm a high-ranking Czerka official, and there's a big reward coming if you can get us all back to Anchorhead!"

Mission stepped forward. "Griff, don't you recognize me? It's Mission!"

"Mission? Is it really you?" Griff stumbled backward, stunned, then ran up to her and crushed her in a hug. "I heard Taris was destroyed! I thought you were dead! Joy of joys, my little sister is alive!"

Mission broke out of the hug, stepped back, and regarded her brother with uncertainty. "I… I have to ask you something, Griff. It's important. I ran onto Lena. She said… she said it was your idea to leave me on Taris. It's not true, is it?"

Griff looked down and rubbed his lekku. "Ah well… there's the truth and then there's the truth, you know? I always meant to go back to Taris, sis, just as soon as I had the credits to pay off my debts. But credits have been hard to come by."

Mission glared at Griff. "You mean it's true? It was your idea to leave me there? I'm your sister-how could you abandon me like that?"

Griff spread his hands. "Come on, sis. You didn't need me to look after you anymore. You may have been young, but you knew how to take care of yourself. Besides, you're here now-everything worked out just fine."

Mission exploded. "That's it? That's all you have to say to me after all these years after deserting me on Taris?"

Griff swallowed. "Well that and uh… you're here to get us out of here, right?"

"Oh, brother," Mission replied, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I'm here with Jace and some others to negotiate the release of hostages."

"Then I can help," Griff said. "Before I came out here, I had Greeta Holda, the Czerka storekeeper, custom make a pair of solar-powered portable moisture vaporators. Talk to Lorso and he'll hand them over. They will provide the water the Sand People need to cross the desert and leave the Dune Sea. I never got the chance to explain that to the chieftain, so you'll have to demonstrate the tech to him."

Mission smiled slightly. "It's nice to see those wheeling and dealing skills put to a good use, Grifter." Griff grinned hopefully.

The chieftain was delighted with the idea of "wells that move," as HK-47 explained it. Mission stayed behind to catch up with Griff. The others flew back to Anchorhead and Jace explained the deal to Lorso. She was surprised and pleased. "So, you take the vaporators back, show the Sand People how to use them…"

"And they release the hostages," Jace finished, "and they move off the Dune Sea, and you get back to mining and profit."

Lorso smiled thinly. "I was wrong about negotiating. This will be the best possible outcome." They returned to the landing pad. The Rodian Greeta Holda was waiting with a pair of moisture vaporators on a repulsorlift dolly. Jace and Zaalbar loaded them on the ship, and they all flew back to the Sand People camp. The tents were being struck and folded; the Sand People were loading equipment and supplies on their banthas. The prisoners were assembled just outside the front gate, guarded by six Sand People with rifles. The chieftain and an honor guard were waiting nearby. HK translated while Jace explained the basic operation of the vaporators. Canderous and Zaalbar set them up for a demonstration. Jace took a bantha-skin water pouch from one of the Sand People; he activated the vaporators and held the pouch under one of the discharge spouts. A thin stream of water issued from the spout. It was no more than ten liters an hour, but the chieftain shouted in amazement.

HK turned to Jace. "Translation: the chieftain wishes to express his joy and gratitude. He apologizes for attacking the Czerka, and hopes that they find what they are looking for beneath the sands." Suddenly, HK's head snapped up, rotating left and right. "Caution: Master, I am reading a high-band transmission coming from the moisture vaporators. I also detect several repulsorlift signatures approaching from the southwest."

Jace and Carth looked at each other. "Lorso?" asked Carth.

"Lorso," Jace replied grimly. "That Czerka bitch used us." He turned to HK. "Tell the Sand People we've been betrayed. Warn them to get out of here as fast as they can."

HK swiveled his head and spoke loudly and quickly in the Sand People's language. The chieftain brayed and snarled; the Sand People readied their weapons. HK turned back. "Translation: He says-"

"I can guess what he said," Jace growled. "Now let's get the hostages out of here!" Two Sand People with gaffi sticks ran towards Mission; she drew her blade and began parrying. Other Sand People opened fire, killing two Czerka workers and three Jawas. The hostages ran for the hill, and the cover of the few rocks at the top. Bastila blasted a large group of Sand People back with the Force. She ran for the ship as Canderous fired his repeater high, forcing the Sand People to dive for cover. Carth and Mission fired their blasters on stun, trying to minimize the damage in a fight they did not want.

Jace looked up as he heard a rumble overhead. Four small airspeeders popped up from behind a large dune and bored in. They launched rockets and dropped incendiary bombs as they zoomed past. The camp was wracked by explosions. Sand People began screaming and running out into the sands, but there was no cover against fighter-bombers. Jace watched in horror as the flyers came back in for strafing runs. They hit the bantha herd, killing a dozen or more of the creatures. Six more airspeeders appeared; these were larger combat transports. Their gunners fired repeating blasters from swivel mounts in the doors. Two came in for a landing on the hill near the Ebon Hawk; the other four landed in the desert, cutting off the Sand People's escape. Mandalorians leapt out, a squad from each speeder, and marched into the camp from both sides, mowing the Sand People down by the dozens.

Juhani turned to Jace, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I can't watch this anymore." She headed for the ship with Carth, Canderous, HK, and Bastila following. Jace was as sickened as they were, but decided to remain outside until the prisoners were safe; he wanted some good to come of his attempt to make peace. One squad of Mandalorians had surrounded the hostages and fought off the Sand People's attempts at revenge.

Jana Lorso stepped out of one of the transports. "I thank you, Jedi, for your help. Now mining operations can resume in complete safety."

"You murdering wretch!" Jace cried. "You will not get away with this! The Senate will hear about this massacre."

Lorso smiled. "Massacre? I see a hostage-rescue operation in which many native bandits were killed." She turned to Griff. "Excellent initiative, Mr. Vao. The beacon in the moisture vaporators led us right to the primitives. You will be well-compensated."

Mission reeled in shock. "You did this, Griff?" she shrieked, "you set these people up to be slaughtered?"

Griff backed up, spreading his hands. "You don't understand, sis," he said. "The tracker was to keep an eye on the Sand People, so mining crews could avoid their camp." He rounded on Lorso. "The clan was leaving for the mountains. There was no need to kill them, we had a deal!"

"They broke their last deal, Mr. Vao." Lorso crossed her arms, eyes cold. "The other clans now understand the price they will pay if they cross Czerka. Now they will avoid us, if they know what's good for them. Besides, we cannot afford to limit our mining operations to the Dune Sea. We dig where the ore is, primitives or no." She smiled engagingly. "In any case, you've done well, and there is a position open on my staff. I can always use a clever sort."

"Don't you dare." Mission shook her head at Griff. "Don't do it, Griff. You can't be a part of this."

"It's a good, steady job, Mission." Griff took two steps toward his sister. "All this time, I've been trying to pay my debts and take care of you."

Mission shed a single tear. "You're lying," she said, "you thought I was dead until a few hours ago. All these people murdered, and all you care about is credits. Lena was right about you."

Griff's expression hardened. "These are primitives, Mission, they are not people. They are standing in the way of progress, and they are not worth-"

"SHUT UP!" screamed Mission. She stepped up and forced her pistol into Griff's mouth.

"Mission, stop!" Zaalbar said warningly. "You don't want to kill your own brother."

"Oh, yes, I do," Mission hissed, her eyes boring into her brother's. "But he's not worth it." She pulled the blaster out of Griff's mouth and pistol-whipped him across the face; he fell to the ground. "Unworthy primitives is what they said about us when the first explorers came to Ryloth, you miserable schutta." She turned to Jace. "Let's go get what we came for and get off this world." They boarded the Ebon Hawk and lifted off.