The Cuun'yaim swooped down below the layers of thick, grey clouds, banking lazily southward over the snow-covered city of Doaba Guerfel as it approached the Nomad Mountains of Corellia. The amber glow of the Firefly-class mid-bulk transport's main drive shone eerily through the early morning haze permeating the sky, painting the sleek skyscrapers at the city's edge a garish orange. The towering edifices stood in stark contrast to the more modest-sized buildings at the city's center, which—comprised of classical columns, arches, and domes—remained untouched by the light.

Coniferous trees covered the jagged mountainsides like an evergreen carpet, their needled branches bowed under the weight of heavy snow. Somewhere down there, within a network of caves, hid Corellia's most wanted criminal organization. Somewhere down there awaited the five hundred thousand-credit reward sought by the Cuun'yaim's crew.

Buruk turned slightly in the pilot's seat to his partner, seated at the copilot's station beside him, where she leaned over the console, her gold eyes darting over the readings. "What have you got for me?" he asked.

"Can't pick out any life form readings besides the usual wildlife," Lynli reported without looking up. "The rock's just too thick for the signal to pass through."

"Well they're down there somewhere," Buruk muttered, manipulating the control yoke to circle the ship around for another pass. "Can you find the cave openings for me?"

"Plenty," she replied dryly, twitching her lekku in annoyance. "Only a few hundred randomly spaced around the mountain range… and that's after eliminating the ones too tiny for a Drall to squeeze through."

"Lot of escape routes," the Mandalorian observed unperturbed. "Have to put our contractor to work sealing most of them before we move in." He referred to Qate Jularc, the Zabrak demolitions expert and fellow Mando'ad they'd hired on Iridonia to help them track down the Drall terrorists by way of their explosives. "Log the coordinates to our datapads and I'll set her down so we can get to work."

"Aye Cap'n."

###

Ganhuff's hands shook and his heart raced as he paced back and forth in his quarters. Fifty-two hours, twenty-seven minutes, he thought to himself. That was how long it had been since his last dose of glitterstim and his body ached to receive a fresh hit. He tried to fight it, breathing slowly through his nostrils and forcing his hands to lay still at his sides. The effort caused sweat to bead on his brow, running into his eyes and making them sting. He didn't care.

All he wanted was that sweet fix but at the same time, he wanted to prolong his hated sobriety. An accomplished gambler—he'd won the very ship they flew on, by Providence!—and here he was, stuck in a game he could only lose. Sometimes he thought it would be easier simply to beat his brains against the bulkhead and be done with it. At least then, he wouldn't have to worry about the bounty on his own head.

Fifty-two hours, twenty-eight minutes. Was his chrono actually slowing down to torture him longer? His head hurt, it made it hard to think. He needed to think clearly if he was going to beat this, but to think clearly he needed to make the pain go away, which required him to give in, negating his entire purpose. Oh how the universe and whatever power ruled over it mocked Doctor Ganhuff Riscan!

Fifty-two hours, twenty-nine minutes.

Maalku, the Gand Findsman, had offered on numerous occasions to restrain the doctor during his bouts of withdrawal. Each time Ganhuff refused. Without his own willful effort, there was little point. He had to be the one to beat his addiction.

Fifty-two hours, thirty minutes.

But in the end, it was all futile anyway. Ganhuff practically flew to the cupboard inset in the wall, throwing the doors wide as his quivering hands darted in to grab the small black vial that contained the cause of and solution to all of his problems. Unscrewing the cap, he extracted the thin thread of glitterstim. The crystal strand flared a brilliant blue when it entered the light, activating its potent narcotic effects.

"What are you doing?" a voice demanded from the doorway.

He spun like a child caught in some heinous act, wide eyes accentuating the dark circles beneath them, to find Qate. The Zabrak woman stood with her fists on her hips, glaring at him with deep blue eyes, bluer than the drug burning in his hand. "You're a glitbiter?" she said accusingly.

He could see the disgust on her face and it mirrored what he felt in his heart. He was a surgeon, and a damn good one too, but all anyone could see of him was the addiction. She stood another moment or two, just staring at him with that look that said he was garbage, something she'd scrape off the bottom of her boot if she managed to hold down her gorge. Then she turned and stalked off toward the cargo hold without another word.

Shame filled Ganhuff as he stared at the glowing blue thread he held between thumb and forefinger with half-dead eyes, a shame so strong he genuinely toyed with the idea of a long walk out the airlock without a suit. Why didn't Buruk just turn him in for the bounty already?

He glanced at his chrono. Fifty-two hours, thirty-three minutes; in another second the dose would burn itself out and be ruined, worthless. In the end, he was weak, and popped the still glowing crystals into his mouth, swallowing in one gulp.

###

When they landed, Aerek joined Buruk in the cargo hold, helping him put on his armor while Maalku sat cross-legged atop a stack of cargo containers, presumably meditating, and Lynli watched the man and child interact in fascination.

"Beskar'gam is very important to a Mando'ad," the Mandalorian explained to the boy as he slipped the armored vest over his head. When he settled the iron's familiar weight on his armorweave flightsuit's shoulders, he continued, "It's been a part of our identity for thousands of years, long before even Te Kandosii Mand'alor, and is one of the Six Actions we live our lives by."

"Bajur, beskar'gam," Aerek readily recited the first line of the Resol'nare.

"Jatne," Buruk replied, smiling down at him as the boy handed him his gauntlets.

When Qate stormed in through the aft hatch from the common area, they all turned their heads at her approach. The Zabrak fixed Buruk with a deadly stare and marched right up to him, poking a strong finger into his chest plate. "You never told me the doctor was a glitbiter," she accused.

"I didn't tell you a lot of things about my crew," he replied coolly.

"He's not coming out with us," she said. The look on her face left no room for debate. "I'm not going to work with him, not on a job this important."

"The Doc's come through for us plenty of times, even while he was spiced."

"Buruk, Roklan! Nu draar!"

For a minute Buruk worked his jaw, biting back any impulsive response. Eventually, he said, "All right. He stays aboard the ship." He turned to the boy and said, "Aer'ika, lock the doctor in his cabin, bal guard the door with a mirsh'tracy'ur."

"Elek," Aerek nodded and headed aft.

After watching him go, Qate turned back to Buruk, eying him closely, and asked, "You're teaching him our culture and language?"

"That's right," he answered, strapping on his pistol belt over the red Journeyman Protector sash he'd acquired on Concord Dawn.

"Have you given him the gai bal manda yet?" she pressed.

"… No," he admitted. "Not yet."

"What's that?" Lynli asked, curious.

"It's—" Qate began.

"It's nothing," Buruk cut her off. Turning back to the Zabrak, he said, "Get suited up. We've got some tunnels to collapse."

###

Kit-Sun brought a mug of fresh coffeine to Master Ulasac. Since the cantina bombing, they'd hit a dead end in the investigation and were forced to leave things in the able hands of Inspector Horn and the officers of CorSec, and Kit-Sun had felt the frustration flowing from the Twi'lek. He now knelt beside Horn's desk in the small office adjacent to the crowded precinct of One CorSec Plaza, eyes closed, meditating in hopes of regaining his center. The younger Jedi started to turn away, to offer someone else the hot cup in his hand, when the master said, "Yes, I'll have some, thanks."

Smiling sheepishly, Kit-Sun handed the mug down to the kneeling Jedi and said, "Inspector Horn has a team combing over the blast site and his officers are interviewing witnesses as we speak." After a moment's pause, he asked, "A credit for your wisdom, Master?"

Ulasac opened his eyes and smiled in return, showing pointed teeth, as he reached out to take the offering. "It would cost you a bit more than that, my friend," he chuckled, blowing steam from the mug's rim. Kit-Sun leaned against the desk while he waited for the master to continue. After savoring a long sip, Ulasac said, "It's a strange thing for a Jedi to feel powerless. I make no secret I was granted mastery for my skill with a blade; inaction does not do me any good, but this is their arena, not mine. I must trust them to do their job well."

"Fear not, Master," Kit-Sun said assuringly. "As distasteful as it is to resort to such measures, I'm sure the huge bounty CorSec has posted will go a long way in shortening the hunt."

"Bounty hunters…," Ulasac whispered, treating the words as though they left a foul taste in his mouth. "Practically criminals themselves."

"Yes Master," Kit-Sun agreed reflexively.

"Tell me, Kit-Sun, is it habit that makes you share my opinions so much?" the Twi'lek asked, eyeing the younger Jedi.

"No Master," he answered with a benign wave of the hand, grinning all the while.

"Don't try your mind tricks on me, boy," Ulasac growled with mock sternness. "… What were we talking about again?"

Kit-Sun sniggered and after a brief pause, they broke out laughing together.

###

It took an hour traipsing through the mountains while Qate set up for the big bang. Snow clung to her kama and Buruk's cloak as they snapped in the screaming wind hundreds of kilometers above sea level. While the Mandalorians' sealed armor kept them warm, Maalku and Lynli had bundled up in heavy coats and thermal stockings for her lekku; sometimes it just paid to be a mammal.

Rather than collapse the multitude of openings themselves, and thereby risk a total cave-in, Qate opted for a few strategically located charges that would trigger a series of avalanches in the right places and bury the Dralls' possible escape routes beneath hundreds of tons of snow.

"This is my favorite part," the Zabrak said, and Buruk could just picture the smirk under the grey buy'ce she wore. They stood just within the mouth of a cave within her designated "safe zone" and she turned an arming key on her detonator. Looking around at the others, she said, "Those without helmets may want to cover their ears."

With that, she stabbed her index finger down on the firing button and a massive thunderclap echoed through the mountain range. The tunnel began to vibrate, rumbling so loud Buruk could feel it in his bones. Anyone out on the mountain would be in for a world of hurt.

Turning down the tunnel, Buruk hefted his blaster rifle and said, "Okay, I'll go first. Lynli, you and Maalku stay behind me. Qate, watch our tails."

"Hold on, how come we have to stay between you two?" Lynli demanded.

"Because we've got armor, di'kut," Qate chided. "You want to catch a stray blaster bolt in that soft, delicate skin?"

"Wouldn't be my first time," the Lynli replied defiantly.

"Ahem!" Buruk cleared his throat. "Ladies, please, we have a job to do." Without another word, he shouldered his rifle and started forward. This is going to be a lovely trip, he thought.

Glaring one last time at Qate, Lynli turned and followed, gripping her blaster pistol tightly, while Maalku shuffled along behind her with his shockprod staff. They made their way along the tunnel, creeping toward whatever lair the Drall Patriots had dug for themselves. Dralls were natural burrowers so it only made sense for them to choose a cave for their hideout.

The deeper they went underground, the warmer it felt, until finally Buruk had to switch off his suit's heating unit. They had to be getting close; someone was artificially raising the cave's temperature. He entered a large chamber with a simple wooden table in the center surrounded by several ramshackle chairs and crates presumably utilized in the same fashion. Fusion lanterns filled the room with a soft amber glow that reminded him of the Cuun'yaim's main drive, reflecting off the slick walls.

Two other tunnels branched off from the room. Buruk signaled with his hands and Qate tapped Maalku on the shoulder, indicating for him to follow her down the tunnel to the right. Buruk and Lynli made their way into the left. Probably best to keep these two separated, he thought.

They came upon what must have been the command center, totally wrecked beyond all repair. Dozens of smashed computers and their component parts lay scattered about the floor, filing cabinets sat overturned, their empty drawers hanging open, and several tall metal trashcans sat at the room's center, filled to the brim with molten slag that was all that remained of their hard drives and data disks, every possible piece of information on their entire terror campaign. "I can still feel heat coming off them," Lynli said, holding her hand a few centimeters from one of the blackened cylinders. "They couldn't have gotten far."

"Must have bugged out as soon as they heard the avalanche," Buruk replied, sweeping his rifle across the chamber. He tried to report their findings to Qate over his helmet comm but got nothing but static; they were too far underground.

Suddenly a blaster bolt whined through the air, spanging off the cave wall next to Buruk's helmet. He snapped his head in the direction of incoming fire and dropped to his knee, sighting down the barrel of his rifle. A small furry Drall with a holdout blaster crouched at the mouth of another tunnel. Buruk fired off a shot, his weapon set to stun, grazing the little creature. It dropped the blaster from suddenly limp fingers as its right side went numb and turned to run, hobbling down the tunnel.

Lynli dashed up and grabbed the Drall by the scruff of its neck, avoiding a set of sharp claws aimed clumsily at her face. Lifting the little half-stunned creature bodily into the air, she slammed him against the rocky cave wall and demanded, "Where are the others?"

"Far away from here," he hissed weakly in her face. "You'll never find them. You can't stop us."

"That's a load of osik," Buruk said. "Only one place they can be right now. Trying to dig their way out. Cuff him and leave him here."

###

If he'd thought hiking across the mountains laying explosives had been time-consuming work, clearing the tunnels and caves within had been downright grueling. It took hours but eventually they had rounded up twenty angry Dralls, trussed them up, and herded them out into the bright midday sun and onto the Cuun'yaim.

It had been quite a scene, marching them all in through the front doors of One CorSec Plaza at gunpoint. All eyes in the spacious lobby turned on them as Buruk approached the desk sergeant. "Can I help you?" the uniformed officer asked, raising an eyebrow as he cast a look over the crowd of furry little aliens.

"Tell whoever's in charge that we've got the Drall Patriots, the whole lot of them," he replied, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm.

"Inspector Horn will be with you shortly," the desk sergeant said. At his signal, a group of officers quickly appeared to escort the Dralls to be processed.

Presently, a uniformed man with dark hair and grey eyes stepped out of the door through which the terrorists had disappeared, followed by a man with long black hair and a red beard, and a green-skinned Twi'lek, both of whom wore long brown robes.

Jetiise! Buruk's mind screamed, and his body tensed up as his hand instinctively moved for one of his blasters. He forced it to keep moving, trying to cover the action up by crossing his arms over his armored chest; the motion looked very unnatural and not a little suspicious.

"I'm Inspector Rostek Horn," the CorSec officer introduced himself, offering his hand to shake. Buruk took it and Horn continued, "These men are Jedi Nurt Ulasac and Kit-Sun Wolfgana; they were assisting us in the investigation of the Dralls' terrorist activities."

"A pleasure," the Mandalorian replied curtly as they bowed respectfully. He recognized both names from the list he, Lynli, and Maalku had acquired in the Jedi archives, and the Twi'lek had been the one to chase them through the Temple on Coruscant.

While the human offered a friendly smile, he could feel the Twi'lek's gaze boring into him and he willed himself to remain calm. The six of staves and the seven of sabers makes positive thirteen. The eight of coins and Balance make negative three… His hands practically twitched for his guns. No doubt the Jedi recognized him too but no way could he risk a fight now; he wasn't prepared for a confrontation with one, let alone two of them. "About the reward…?" he asked aloud.

"Of course, I'm authorized to transfer the sum over to you now," Horn said. "Your credit chip please?"

Buruk handed it over and Horn loaded it into his datapad, tapped a few keys to scan it. "Bounty Hunter," the Twi'lek Jedi, Ulasac, said by way of gaining his attention. "That's a rather distinctive set of armor you wear. Mandalorian, is it not?"

"That's right," Buruk answered cautiously. "Pieced it together on Galidraan." It wasn't a lie, after all. He'd gathered parts from each of his fallen comrades' armor, ensuring as he did that each one was made of genuine beskar, until he'd collected a complete set, including a new helmet to replace the one that had been practically cleaved in half.

"That explains it, with what happened to the Mandalorians there."

Lynli put a restraining hand on Buruk's shoulder. "A tragedy, that," he replied simply, refusing to rise to the bait. "Nobody even stopped to bury the poor sods."

"It was indeed gruesome."

After a moment, Horn made a face, tapped a few more keys, then looked up from the datapad. "Buruk Kelborn, yes?"

"That's right."

"Sir, it says here your guild license has been revoked."

Buruk's eyes went wide. "What?" he exclaimed, the Jedi momentarily forgotten, and each of his companions echoed him, even the stoic Maalku.

"I'm afraid so, sir," Horn replied, turning the datapad over to show him. Sure enough, there was his guild profile, with the words "license revoked" displayed in big, bright red letters.

Buruk's shoulders slumped and he face burned. "I'm afraid this means CorSec can only deliver ten percent of the posted bounty," Horn continued. "I'm sorry, sir." With that, he made the credit transfer, handed the chip back to Buruk, and turned with the Jedi to walk away.

The Mandalorian turned to his comrades, weathering their glares. "How could you get your guild license revoked?" Lynli demanded.

"'Forgetting' to turn Riscan in to the Judicials on Coruscant is probably what did it," he pointed out. To Qate he said, "Sorry about this Qate. You'll get your cut and we'll take you back to Iridonia first thing."

"Oh no you won't," she said, shaking her head. "You owe me, Buruk. And until I get my two hundred thousand, you're not getting rid of me."

"Two hundred thousand?" he asked indignantly. "Last I did the math, thirty-five percent of five hundred thousand was only a hundred seventy five thousand!"

"Consider it interest and late fees," she sneered.

Buruk just sighed and rolled his eyes. Yeah, this was going to be a great trip all right.