The Threads that Twine

"Assumptions are dangerous things to make, and like all dangerous things to make - bombs, for instance, or strawberry shortcake - if you make even the tiniest mistake you can find yourself in terrible trouble. Making assumptions simply means believing things are a certain way with little or no evidence that shows you are correct, and you can see at once how this can lead to terrible trouble."

- Lemony Snicket, The Austere Academy

Office of CEO Luddmilla Lucara, Shenio Mining Industries Headquarters, located at the Senet river, 32 klicks outside of Eyat city, Gaftikar, Outer Rim, 21 BBY (26 days after the first bombing & 17 months after the Battle of Geonosis)

Lucara stared at the footage on her office's flatscreen and fought the urge to be sick. She was no stranger to aggression and hostilities and prided herself on the ruthless nature that had made her a branch director and CEO for Shenio Mining. She'd thought she'd seen it all, but this? This was beyond her experience.

The realization shouldn't have been all that surprising. After all, like most civilized beings her aggressive tendencies were limited to the clean and impersonal environs of a boardroom. Her ruthlessness was employed in hostile takeovers and hard negotiations where she needed no other weapons more deadly than her intellect and knowledge of statistics and data.

So what she was seeing now was…

The floating HNE cam droid turned about and tracked the progress of a paramedic and trooper as they ran with a stretcher suspended between them towards the line of rescue workers. The figure lying on the stretcher was hardly recognizable as anything humanoid. The body was covered from head to toe in some heavy layers of cloth. The only way Lucara could even begin to think of the shape as remotely Human was by the arm that was flopping pathetically from the stretcher. Or at least she thought it might be an arm. The appendage was so badly burned and was missing all of the fingers – if there ever had been fingers.

Lucara looked away from the screen and shut down the high-resolution imagery, unable to bear the images any longer, despite the fact that she had pestered the HNE news people into giving her their raw and uncensored footage of the Drezd'any Street catastrophe.

She just hadn't been able to believe the initial reports. She had been sure, so very sure, that the entire thing had been nothing but a pretense; some minor incident blown out of proportion by that insipient clone commander so that he could deprive her and her company of their security detail. After all, things like…like that…like burning houses and people didn't happen on civilized worlds. Alright, so Gaftikar was about as far from shining and civilized Coruscant as a Hutt was from a Twi'lek dancing girl, but still….But still.

This should not have happened.

Lucara drew a shaky hand across her mouth, then quickly walked over to the minibar that was part of her office's furnishing and took out a bottle of water from the small conservator. Taking long, eager swigs of the water, she hoped to wash away the bile that had been gathering in her mouth.

Once the bottle was empty, she actually did feel just a touch better. More like herself and that meant she was regaining control. And that was good. She needed to be in control of herself so as to be in control of this situation.

Fist thing first, she thought as she went back towards her desk, her high heels clattering against the marbled surface of her floor. Damage assessment.

Lucara slid her tall frame smoothly into her padded chair and called up her private work terminal, which rose out of the polished surface of her homogoni wood desk with a near silent swisssh.

She began tapping almost immediately, her nails clacking against the keyboard as she called up numbers on the area damaged, the estimated loss of goods and materials and the probably cost of rebuilding. It wasn't good. Drezd'any Street had been in the heart of the shopping district and a lot of the bigger stores had gone up in the firestorm caused by the bomb. And there was structural damage on buildings in an estimated five hundred meter radius around the epicenter of the explosion. Repairs and insurance would no doubt drain a good bit of what was left of the planet's treasury and then there was the future cost of reinitiating the trade business.

If…no, when Shenio Mining was given Planetary Administrative rights over Gaftikar, then they would have to shoulder much of these costs. It was a nuisance, but it would be a perfect means of demonstrating to the Senate that Shenio Mining in its capacity as temporary Administrator had done more for Gaftikar's infrastructure than the civilian government. Sharing out such a large sum of creds just might convince the Senate to turn a temporary martial arrangement into a permanent contract. And rebuilding the city just might pacify the rebellious elements among the population.

Lucara made a note to contact the company's Public Relations office and have them come up with a few clever slogans. It was about time that those fools earned their ridiculously overstated paychecks.

As an afterthought, Lucara also called up the official numbers of casualties. She scanned the list quickly, her pale eyes taking in little but occupational listings. There'd been quite a few of the miners caught in the blast. Well, that wasn't too much of a tragedy. Shenio preferred working with droids anyways, but there were the psychological factors to consider.

Lucara tapped her long-nailed fingers against the long lines of her homogoni desk, considering how best to tackle this situation. It was clear that things had gotten out of hand and now it was up to her to clean up the mess. And do so in a manner that would be most profitable to the company.

She stabbed at a button on her intercom that would activate her private link with her secretary droid's built-in comlink. "CZ-5, I want you to compile a list of all dead or wounded from yesterday's attack and send condolence messages out to their families. And add an offer for financial support to the messages going out to the families with relatives still in the hospitals." That, she knew, would not be an offer many Gaftikari would be able to refuse. Most of the families here, Human and Marits, had been suffering financially even before the Battle of Gaftikar and burn injuries were notorious for requiring expensive medications and long-term treatments. Even with the best bacta treatments available on the market, a lot of these burn victims would need months of hospitalization and physical therapy. The medical bills would wind up bankrupting most of the affected families. Her offer for financial assistance would appear like a gift from the heavens and have the added benefit of indebting quite a number of local families to the company.

"Yes, Madame Lucara," came CZ-5's metallic voice over the intercom. Despite Serv-O-Droid's best attempts to make their CZ-series sound as Human as possible, the droid manufacturers just never had been able to rid their product of that distinct artificial quality that lurked just beneath their generated voices. "Will there be anything else?" CZ-5 asked her dutifully.

"Yes," she said and pulled a face. "Send another fiv – no sixteen communiqués to the garrison, one every five minutes, with a demand that our security detail be returned to us immediately. Add a copy of the complaint form we sent to Chancellor Palpatine's office." That should show that incipient clone commander that she meant business.

"Right away, Madame," came CZ-5's serene reply. "And I am pleased to tell you that I have dispatched the relevant datafiles to the board of directors regarding Issue M/D-."

"Any response?" she asked, trying to tamp down on any feelings of anticipation. It was bad form to show such blatant eagerness even when there was no one to see and only her secretary droid to hear.

"Final conclusion is pending," CZ-5 rattled off. "Continue as discussed. Plausible deniability necessary."

Lucara sniffed at that last bit. Plausible deniability. As if she would forget something like that. Really, at times she had to wonder at the types of fools on the board of directors. Didn't they understand that she had been doing this for over seventeen years? She knew very well how to make the best out of any situation and keep the company well out of anything that might even smell of suspicion.

"Thank you, CZ-5," she told the droid politely. "There will be no answer."

"Understood, Madame Director," came the almost immediate reply. "I will then see to those communiqués and messages of condolence."

"See that you do," Lucara told the droid and switched off the comlink.

Once more alone in her shining and luxurious office, some of the coolness she'd displayed in her talk with CZ-5 began to slip away from her. Lucara's eyes glanced over at the blank flatscreen, as if fearing those horrendous images would suddenly spring out at her again.

She didn't want to think about that. What had happened at Drezd'any Street was unfortunate, but it was in the past. She needed to turn her attention to more immediate concerns. Such as that incompetent clone commander the Republic had placed in charge of the planet's security. Really, the effrontery of that clone to simply order off her entire contingent of clone troopers! And he hadn't returned them yet either!

It was simply inexcusable. There was nothing left for those clones to do in Eyat and she needed them back here. Security droids were all fine and well, but flesh and blood units could think like flesh and blood assailants. Besides, protecting the Republic's citizens and the Republic's most vital assets was what the clone army had been made for and she and Shenio Mining certainly counted as both.

No, the continued absence of her security detail could simply not be tolerated. The Gaftikari had proven themselves to be utterly unable to understand the importance Shenio had for their planet and until they did, she needed the proper equipment to protect her company. And those clones were part of that equipment.

Lucara tapped her fingers against her wooden desk once more, her nails making rapid click-clicking sounds. The more she thought about it, the more it became obvious that the clone commander in charge of the operation was simply not up to the task set before him. Perhaps it was because he was too inexperienced to understand where his priorities should lie, or maybe it was because he was defective in some manner. Either way, she would make it her personal mission to let the Chancellor know that she required some other clone unit to take over command of the garrison once martial law was declared over the planet. Yes, a change in the chain of command was definitely in order.

And then there was that Jedi.

Lucara's wide mouth distorted into a grimace as she recalled the garish appearance of the girl. The indignity of it all, to send a mere child to Gaftikar. And a child that was rapidly developing into more of a nuisance than she'd initially calculated.

Turning to her terminal once more, Lucara entered a few commands on the keyboard, then let her pale eyes drift over the text that scrolled down her screen. She let out a frustrated hiss of air as she saw the files the girl-Jedi had been accessing lately. She'd somehow gotten that fat fool Gor'Dan to cooperate and now she was merrily breezing through case files and Intel nodes that only a week ago Gor'Dan had insisted were classified. Not that that had stopped Lucara from accessing them in a different manner, but it was the principle of the thing. Why should the girl receive free access, when she, a CEO of a multi-billion-credit company was not?

And what exactly was the girl looking for?

Lucara read through the files her spy program had flagged for her, but she could detect neither a pattern nor a purpose behind the enquiries. What did it matter that three years back a drunk teenager had set fire to a few garbage cans? And why was she bothering with a list of missing pets?

Lucara narrowed her eyes at the list of seemingly random files. Was the girl simply fishing; hoping to find answers by best guess and good fortune?

Her mouth formed a small moue of distaste. Well, what else could you expect from a child? Certainly not reasonable thinking. No wonder the girl-Jedi wasn't coming to the conclusions the evidence was so obviously leading to.

Another thing she would have to see to. The Jedi Order had to assign a more experienced Jedi to Gaftikar, preferably one with experience in dealing with the Separatist. Certainly a Jedi actually fighting with the GAR against the CIS would realize a connection between the attacks on Gaftikar and the Separatists.

But how to achieve that goal?

As much as Lucara was loath to admit it, but the girl had been right about one thing: the Republic's resources were stretched thin and Jedi assistance was no longer as freely available as it once had been. Not even to someone as important as her. So the question was, how to procure a rare resource one wanted and get rid of the relatable rare, but far less welcome resource one already had?

Easy. Simply discredit the latter; make it appear too unreliable or instable to safely work with any longer.

Lucara smiled; a smile that was thin and full of spite and triumph. She closed down the log of police records and accessed a new search program, this one having access to the HoloNet and far more advanced slicing capabilities. She would find everything there was to know about this Padawan Roweena Arhen and by the time Lucara was done with the silly twit, the Order wouldn't dare to use her for investigating the weather on Coruscant.

And it just so happened that Lucara knew a group of senators who would be more than willing to help her take down any Jedi.

Military Tactical Command Centre, Eyat Command Base, five klicks outside of Eyat city, Gaftikar, Outer Rim, 21 BBY (26 days after the first bombing & 17 months after the Battle of Geonosis)

Gaff stared at the holomap in disbelief, his eyes moving rapidly from side to side in a bid to take in all of the information.

"This…" he seemed to be struggling for words.

"It's pretty extensive," Ro said wearily from where she was slumped on one of the swivel chairs. Arms folded over the back of the chair and legs tucked beneath her, Ro felt like she was ready for a nap. She really hadn't gotten enough sleep lately. "The tunnels don't just extend throughout the city, but well past it as well. There are even a few that go all the way to the next township and to the mines. That's kilometers worth of area to search. No wonder this rat has gotten around without being seen by anyone. He doesn't need to leave the tunnels unless he wants to."

She gestured at the holomap, feeling slightly disgusted. The projector displayed a holographic, three-dimensional map of Eyat and the surrounding terrain. Beneath the slowly rotating image was a complex network of crisscrossing lines, highlighted in orange: the hidden tunnels of Eyat and the means by which both the GFH and the killer had been moving about unseen.

"We've checked," Ro went on, meaning her and Wren, "and all of the targets that were bombed are close to or directly accessible via the tunnels."

Wren made a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. He was standing at the other side of the projector, arms crossed over his chest plate and his brows lowered in a thundering scowl that rivaled Master Windu's. He'd let out some interesting curses when he'd seen the extent of the tunnel network and where exactly some of those access points were positioned. Ro'd been duly impressed. She'd heard smugglers with less imagination when it came to spitting out some choice curses.

Gaff's eyes remained fixed on the blue and orange holomap, his countenance slightly shocked. He drew one gloved hand over his face; his eyes closing briefly, as if he were attempting to swipe his mind clear in order to assimilate this piece of astounding news. He looked immensely tired to Ro; his eyes bloodshot and though he was clean shaven as always, their was something haggard to his appearance. She had to wonder if Gaff had slept at all since yesterday.

"And you got Kezner to cooperate?" he asked, utterly astonished. Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned unexpectedly towards Wren, his face hardening into unaccustomedly harsh lines of anger. Seeing the change and feeling the rapid shift in his emotions, Ro straightened from her slumped position in alarm.

Gaff was edging towards downright fury.

"And you knew about this all along?" He demanded of the sergeant, his voice raised almost to a shout. "Do you have any idea in what kind of danger you placed F Company by withholding this Intel? The GFH makes it a habit of ambushing our patrols and you just stand by and let it happen, while holding the one piece of Intel that could have told us how to put a stop to them?"

Gaff's was loud, though he wasn't quite shouting just yet. But there was no denying the anger in his words and stance and Ro noticed with worry the unhealthy flush of color creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

Wren, obviously as surprised by this outburst as everyone else in the MTCC, had first drawn back a little in an instinctive reaction to put some space between himself and the furious commander. But now Ro could feel his own temper flaring in response at the accusations and the sergeant went on the offensive.

"Don't get all high and mighty with me, Commander," he said, putting enough venom into the title to make it sound like an insult. "The last time I provided you with valuable Intel you went running to the kriffing red-shirts like a good lapdog. And what the fek did that get us? A frakking pat on the head and the effing GFH got enough time to clear out to take the silverware with them. You don't know kriff about how to run a clandestine operation!"

"But you do?" Gaff asked with obvious scorn. "You're a trooper, Sergeant, albeit one with delusions of grandeur. You might have more experience in the field than I do, but that does not make you an ARC."

Ro felt a flare of…something, shoot through Wren at those words. More rage, but also…apprehension? Or could it be, even fear?

With a snarl, Wren stepped towards Gaff, bringing him into striking distance. "And neither do five months of training with an ARC captain with a stick so far up his arse a med droid couldn't remove it. You're nothing more than an over glorified shiny, Commander, who's more likely to get experienced troops killed out in the field."

Gaff drew in a sharp breath at this bit of tactlessness and his formerly flushed face went deathly pale.

'Kay, Ro thought with mounting trepidation. This is getting way out of hand.

"Boys," she called out.

"How dare you speak that way to your commanding officer?" Gaff said, his voice low and almost a growl.

"You're no fekking CO, Gaff," Wren growled right back. "At least, not mine. You're nothing but the kriffing noob I have to baby sit."

"Boys!" Ro said again, louder this time.

"Have to, is right," Gaff shot back. "Or hasn't it ever occurred to you to wonder as to why the 35th would rather do without your expertise."

"At least I don't bow and scrape before every bit of brass and official insignia like a Hutt's slave girl about to…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gaff demanded.

"You know very well," Wren shot back, then rolled his eyes at Gaff's continuous blank expression. "Bad enough you're trying to kiss ass with the civvy politicos, but cuddling up to a Jedi…"

"You leave her out of this!"

"I'm not the one dreaming of taking a ride on the glow stick express…

"You dare…"

Both angry tirades dissolved abruptly into shocked hisses of pain as Ro came alongside Gaff and Wren – who were by now standing toe to toe, yelling into each others face – and took hold of an ear each. She gave each man's ear a hard twist, then yanked down hard on the appendages, causing the Humans attached to them to bend down to her level.

"Would you two, for the love of sweet crumblebuns, act your age and not your boot size?" she told them, utterly exasperated and more than a little put out by the turn in the conversation.

Both men stared at her, neither one daring to try and pull away from her, for fear of what she'd do to their ears, but there were definite winces of pain and squirming.

Ro took a deep breath, getting her temper back under control. She didn't need another physical confrontation, not when she'd just finished moping up the aftermath of the last one.

"On the other hand," she said slowly, her impish nature shining through her anger, even now, "better reverse that. Knowing what I do about clones, your boot size is probably the bigger number."

She shook them both a little by the ears, just to make sure that they were really listening to her. "You two are acting just like the Gaftikari. I mean, what is it with this planet? Has being a curmudgeon finally become catching?"

Gaff winced as he tried to shift himself into a half crouch, hoping to take more of the pressure off of his ear. "Padawan."

"Why can't you two realize that if we want to catch this rat we have to work together?" Ro went on, not at all aware of Gaff's attempt to get her attention. She glared at them both, her brows drawn down into a fearsome scowl. "I don't give a Psadan's patoot about what who knows or who didn't tell who about what. What I care about is catching a rat and for that I need help, so you two," and she gave them another shake by their ears, "grow a pair and stop squabbling like cranky two-year-olds in need of a nap. I mean, I feel like I have to start asking people for their ids to see if they're even old enough to be in this investigation."

"Ro," Wren said, more loudly than Gaff.

"I know," she said and sighed. "Not a single person on this base besides me and Kezner actually is over the legal age, because despite being strapping big boys you clones actually are like, what? Adolescents? And I know, that just opens a whole other can of worm suckers…"

"Ro!" Both men shouted at her simultaneously.

The sound made Ro jump and, distracted from her rant, she gazed quickly from Gaff to Wren. "What?" she asked, as vexed as a rock-lion.

Wren stared at her pointedly, while Gaff was shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"Ro, let go," Wren finally hissed at her.

"Huh?" she looked at where her fingers still gripped each man by the ear. "Oh, pifgah," she said in frustration and hastily let go of their ears. Both men quickly took a few steps away from her, putting themselves safely out of reach of her strong, nimble fingers.

"Sorry," she added, feeling sheepish. "I forgot."

"We noticed," Wren grumbled, rubbing at his ear.

"Yeah, well," she said, trying to work through her embarrassment. "Have I at least made my point?"

No answer from all parties involved.

Ro sighed. It looked like she wasn't done playing mother nuna just yet. Drawing herself up in her best imitation of regal Eda, Ro turned to face Wren full on, hands propped on hips. "'Kay, so here's the skinny, then. He," and she pointed at Gaff, who flinched away from the finger, covering his red and abused ear, "is your commanding officer. Like it or not, he's in charge and I don't care how hard a time you give him, you're just going to have to get over yourself and realize that he needs to know stuff. He's in charge of planning, so that you can run around and do whatever you like. So if you don't start sharing Intel, then your happy days are going to be over quicker than you can say 'shebang'."

Wren scowled at her, the scar at the right corner of his mouth turning the gesture into the promise of a threat. Ro didn't care; she knew she could deal with Wren if he did try something along those lines. She hoped he wouldn't, because she didn't feel like apologizing for hitting him again. Still, if he forced her to…

Something in her eyes must have convinced him that she wasn't fooling around, because after a prolonged and hostile staring contest, Wren gave a curt nod.

Well, that was one battle settled. For now. Something inside her though, told Ro that 'permament peace' wasn't in Wren's vocabulary.

Gaff was the next recipient of her hot glare and the commander stiffened noticeably as her attention fell on him; he was clearly fighting the urge to fall into parade rest.

"Ro, I…" he began.

"No," she said, cutting him off. "No apologizing. Gaff, you're the commander of this nerf and Wookiee show. Stop trying to spare everyone's feelings, because you can't and it's not your job. You're supposed to command, not do the job of a diplomat and that goes for when you're dealing with him," and she pointed one finger at the scowling Wren, "or the civvies. You gotta realize that sometimes polite and by the book isn't the way to go. If need be, you have to be willing to step on toes and break some bones. Your role is to save lives, not to cater to egos. And you have to start trusting your people to do as needed without your supervision, even when they are one-eyed, egg-sucking sons of slime-devils," she went on. "I don't know what Wren's damage is," and she ignored the indignant snort coming from the trooper, "but he's a smart cookie and so far you've left him lounging about. You're the commander and he's one of the tools you have available to you, so use him."

She took another deep breath, then stamped her foot on the ground. "And I'm not some bone for you two anoobas to fight over!"

Ro whirled again on Wren, jabbing his chest plate with her finger. The trooper looked slightly startled at being the object of her displeasure once more. "And if you ever talk like that about me or my personal life ever again, Cookie," she threatened, "I'll introduce both of my lightsabers to your favorite piece of equipment!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, threat practically sparking off of him. "Are you actually threatening me, cheeka?"

She gave him a flirtatious smile, then gently patted his cheek. He jerked his head slightly back from her hand, suspicion written clearly across his face at this sudden change in mood.

"Don't be silly, Cookie," she purred, injecting just a bit of husk into her voice. "A little thing like me threatening a big strong man like you." She smiled up at him as he grew ever more suspicious. Then, before he could move away again, she grabbed his ear a second time, gave it another twist and said, "I don't threaten, cookie. I promise."

Ro knew she was treading a dangerous path here. Now that she had gotten a firsthand taste of the dangerous temper that simmered just beneath the surface of his self-control, Ro's Force-senses were constantly alert to the quickly shifting intensity of Wren's anger. She understood that engaging him directly like this, challenging him physically and verbally, was the best way to gain his attention…and trigger another fury-powered attack like yesterday.

It was like flipping a credit chip and placing all your hopes on luck. It was a dangerous gamble and if it backfired, the tenuous peace that had settled between them might very well be shattered for good.

So Ro watched Wren's face intently, keeping herself open to the shifting emotions that lay beneath his anger. She saw his brown eyes darken to almost black as anger briefly flared into rage and she felt her heart sink a little. She'd miscalculated and pushed to far.

Then, much to her surprise, the anger simmered back down again and his lip curled into something of a smile.

"Fek," he said and there was no denying the admiration in his voice. "You've got some frakking nerves, cheeka."

She grinned back at him, so very pleased with both his reaction and his words. It was nice to find someone who didn't just consider her reckless and unbalanced.

There was a creak of someone shifting in a chair and suddenly Ro became uncomfortably aware of the emotional aura in the MTCC. Everyone was staring at them and Ro realized that by confronting Wren head on, she'd moved very close to him. She was actually standing on her tiptoes, one hand still clutching his earlobe and her torso pressed almost flush against his.

Bantha muffins, she thought as she felt a flash of something bitter and disappointed come from the direction of Gaff.

Hastily, Ro released her hold on Wren and stepped away from him. Glancing about, she saw the three techs, Sighter, Cyph and Crypt, quickly turn back to their consoles, averting their eyes from the scene.

Gaff was standing off to one side, his arms crossed over his armored chest, his eyes intense as they watched her and Wren. His expression was surprisingly cool and distant, but one hand was gripping his armored bicep hard and his emotions….well, suffice to say that Gaff did not control his emotions quite as well as his facial expression.

It wasn't jealousy exactly that he was radiating. Gaff seemed to understand that whatever friendship was developing between her and Wren, it wasn't nearly the same thing as what he was hoping for between her and him.

But there was no denying that he resented Wren's easy rapport with her and Ro could feel underlying currents of disappointment mingled with puzzlement that told her Gaff didn't understand how she could forgive Wren so easily for transgressions Gaff viewed as being inexcusable.

Force give me strength, she thought, feeling just a tad drained by this constant balancing act she was required to do to keep both Wren and Gaff happy. They were so different, so utterly incompatible with each other that she honestly had to wonder about how anyone could have expected them to work with each other, let alone effectively. From her point of view, it was a galactic miracle that one of them hadn't yet wound up dead and buried.

She gave Gaff a reassuring smile, wanting to let him know that she hadn't forgotten about him, that he was still a part of this team. If you could call a group made up of one highly skilled and talented but ill-tempered Wren and an equally but different skilled and inexperienced Gaff with her acting as a lynchpin a team.

She could think of quite a few people who'd call that type of personality mix a catastrophe waiting to happen.

"So?" she asked into the silence of the MTCC, forcing an overly cheerful note into the question. "Everything squared off? All tempers satisfied? Are we back on track and ready to rumble?"

She looked about her, switching her attention between Gaff and Wren and trying to stamp down on that kernel of desperation budding inside of her as the silence continued to stretch on.

Please, she pleaded silently with each of them. Please someone. Just a little give, that's all I ask. Please.

"What I'd like to know," Wren finally drawled, "is how we're going to keep our killer from using those tunnels?"

At that moment, Ro could have cheerfully thrown herself at Wren, hugging the stuffing out of the trooper, scowl and all.

The question distracted Gaff from his own feelings, his mind soaking up the problem and turning it over with an intensity that Ro could feel in her bones. Just like that, all the previous doubts and uncertainties fell away from the young commander. His posture noticeably relaxing, he stepped confidently up to the holomap and began pointing at several of the entrance points.

"Best way," he explained, "would be to flood the tunnels, rendering them inhospitable to foot travel. Sighter," he said, turning towards the trooper at the main control console. "Give me an estimate of the length and breath dimensions we're dealing with and volume required to plug the tunnels."

"Yes, sir," Sighter said, his fingers flying over the console before him. A few seconds later, a stream of numbers and calculations began to appear above the holographic representation of Eyat.

Gaff studied the scrolling numbers intently, his brow slightly creased in thought.

"Gas," he finally said. "Our best bet would be to flood the tunnels with teargas. The gas is light enough to spread easily and evenly; it won't simply gather along the ground, like mist. And there doesn't appear to be any large air vents in place that might disperse the gas either."

"Sealant foam would be better," Wren argued. "Anyone and his kriffing uncle can get their hands on a breather mask around here. The miners all have them. All you'd have to do is break into someone's fekking house, or one of the equipment sheds."

"And where do you suggest we find enough sealant foam to sufficiently secure approximately forty-three klicks worth of open space?" Gaff asked, an edge in his voice.

Wren frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, his stance belligerent. "I don't know?" he sneered. "How about from the giant effing mining company just down the road? They use sealant foam all the fekking long day to shore up their bloody shafts."

Gaff hissed in frustration. "Shenio Mining is a civilian-led company," he replied. "I can't simply storm in there and requisition what would likely be their entire stock of sealant foam. For one, I have no authority over them and for another, lack of sealant foam would likely endanger the lives of their workers."

Wren gave one of his trademark snorts of derision. "What workers?" he scoffed. "The only ones they send down those kriffing shaft are clankers. All the wets stay safely above ground."

"Nevertheless, I can't…"

"You won't is more like it," Wren interrupted. "Admit it Gaff, you're scared of that schutta harpy Lucara. That's why you've been avoiding her hail of comm calls."

"That has nothing to do with it, Sergeant. I have an operation to run and…"

"Bastasi!" Ro broke in, falling into Ansionian as she lost her patience with the continued bickering. "Do I have to make you two stand in a corner? With a lightsaber at your backs?" she added threateningly.

Someone in the back smothered a hasty snicker and she saw Gaff flush slightly in shame for his outburst.

Ro pinned Wren with a particularly pointed look. After all, he'd deliberately baited Gaff, but the trooper only gave her an unrepentant smirk in return. Force, that man loved to push people over the edge for his own amusement.

Ro took a deep breath, determined not to let herself be further antagonized by Wren. If he wanted to be entertained by her, then she'd take it out of him with pints of his own blood. "I agree with Gaff," she announced.

"You do?" Gaff asked her, surprised.

"The fek you do?" Wren said at the same time, outraged.

"Sure," she said and smiled sweetly at them both. "Sealant foam might work better for short stretches, but teargas will cover a larger area more quickly and its none lethal. Anyone caught below while we pump in the gas will be able to climb out instead of being smothered by a foam that hardens to the density of phrik in a matter of a second. I'd like to keep casualties down," she emphasized.

Ignoring the outraged and disbelieving look on Wren's face, Ro turned back to Gaff. "Can you organize that?" she asked him. "I don't think Gor'Dan has the supplies or the men to pull this off."

Gaff rapped his knuckles thoughtfully against the holoprojector, then nodded. "I can. The base certainly has the supplies. I'd still like to include the commissioner and the Eyat police force. They can run interference for us with the civilian government and the locals, in case of trouble."

"Stellar," she said, beaming at him in pleasure for his consideration. She might have criticized him earlier for his tendency to tread carefully about people, but there was no denying that Gaff had a hang for the diplomatic. He'd be a real asset in organizing any joint missions. Ro knew from bitter experience how difficult it was to pull those off with any manner of success.

Gaff glanced at her quickly for her praise, returning her smile with a smaller, though no less sincere one of his own.

"You'll need at least three men per entrance," Wren put in and jabbed a blunt finger into the holomap at various points throughout the city. "If you want to flush out any barves in there, you can't give them time to run out another hole. You gotta trap them, which means one coordinated, simultaneous attack. The gas needs to spread evenly."

Gaff threw Wren a look that was surprisingly jovial, all things considered. "I realize that, Sergeant," he told Wren calmly. "Believe it or not, I was taught how to coordinate a large scale frontal assault." Then, in a quieter voice he added, "Despite what you might think of me, Sergeant, I didn't spend the last ten years recalibrating my blaster."

Despite the scowl on Wren's face, Ro could detect a trace of amusement emanating from him at Gaff words. She looked from one to the other, bewildered by the exchange, sensing that the words had meant more than she'd picked up.

If I didn't know any better, she thought, I would swear that Gaff just cracked some kind of joke.

"Very well, Commander," Wren drawled. "Carry on."

"I will," Gaff replied, with a smile that showed more teeth than was necessary. "And so will you."

At Wren's puzzled frown, Gaff nodded towards Ro. "I will coordinate with Commissioner Gor'Dan and have the tunnels sealed," he said. "You will remain here with Ro and continue working on your analysis of the…" he hesitated, glancing at Ro, "the serial killer?"

"Yeah," she said, not daring to say more in case she somehow interrupted the flow of events playing out around her. She couldn't quite yet believe what was happening. Was Gaff actually…?

Apparently Wren harbored some of the same reserves as she did. "Are you ordering me to stay behind with the Jedi? Without your supervision?"

Gaff looked off to the side for a moment, his lips compressing tightly before he gave a curt nod. "That is correct. You and Ro," and he glanced in her direction again, as if uncomfortable talking about her instead of with her, "obviously have more experience in analyzing this type of situation than I do. You've already made more progress working together these past three days than I and the police department have. You should continue to do so." He looked down at his boots quickly and Ro could feel him struggling with his desires and his sense of duty. Admitting all of this was so very difficult for him. She had to admire his honesty and fortitude.

"I know my strengths and it is time I employ them," he went on after a short pause. "I will do my task, then wait for further instructions from you." At which point he turned towards Ro, giving her a little half-bow.

Ro smiled back at him, touched by the gesture. "Don't worry, Gaff," she told him quietly. "We wont let you down. We already know more about this killer. Now all we gotta do is figure out who hired him."

"And where his nest is," Wren added, his tone betraying a hint of surliness. Apparently he'd realized that Gaff, by doing his duty instead of staying at Ro's side, was being the bigger man.

Ro gave him a look that she hoped would warn him from spoiling this moment.

Whether it did or not, she couldn't tell, but Wren held his peace for the rest of the conversation.

Gaff too glanced at the sergeant, but when nothing further was forthcoming, he reached into a pouch on his belt and extracted a small, handheld comlink. He handed the device over to Ro.

"In case you find anything," he told her. "The comlink is programmed with my personal frequency, as well as with an emergency override."

Ro fingered the little unit, then slanted a devilish smile at Gaff. "A present for a girl," she teased. "Does this mean we're going steady?"

His answering smile was light and her delight grew as he actually teased her back. "It means," he said, "that your astromech no longer has to hack into the garrison's comm signals."

"He'll be so relieved," she said with a slight roll of her eyes.

Gaff's smile widened just a little and she could see the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks, but Ro refused to feel bad about it. Everyone deserved a little fun and what was more fun than a harmless tease?

Just as long everyone knows it is harmless, she reminded herself.

Ro fiddled a little absentmindedly with the comlink and when she next looked up she was just in time to see Gaff disappearing through the MTCC's heavy sliding door.

Wren leaned forward over the holomap, his hands braced against the projector's frame. "We should get started," he said, his face serious now, with no trace of his earlier ill temper. "If this bishwag really is going nova, like you said, then we need to figure out his next move."

"Yeah," she said distractedly, not really listening. She glanced back down at the comlink, then tucked the little device into a pouch on her own utility belt. "Give me a sec, would ya?" she asked. "There's still something I need to do."

Ignoring Wren's discontented frown, Ro hurried after Gaff.

A residential block, Eyat city, Gaftikar, Outer Rim, 21 BBY (26 days after the first bombing & 17 months after the Battle of Geonosis)

"You must have misunderstood, Tessa," her cousin Lahney assured her. "I know things have been bad at the office and in general. The stress is just getting to you."

Lahney padded Tessa's hand where it rested on the scratched surfaced of the quasiwood table. "There's simply no way the Senate would actually go so far as to declare martial law on Gaftikar."

Tessa stared at her cousin's plump and sincere face, then quickly looked down at her half-empty cup of tea, feeling dismal.

After leaving the Assembly House, Tessa had come straight to Lahney's apartment, hoping to pour out all her troubles into her cousin's willing ear and maybe, in the act of telling, come to a decision as to what to do with the information she'd overheard in Cebz's office. And Lahney had been more than willing to listen. She'd always been one of those people who excelled at offering comfort and the moment Tessa had walked through her apartment's front door and Lahney had seen the shocked, slightly dazed look on her face, the woman had gone into comfort overdrive.

Before Tessa had been able to do more than take off her shoes, Lahney'd already brewed a kettle of tea, set out some sweets and opened the kitchen's curtains so that the maximum amount of sunlight could illuminate the homely space.

Her efforts had the desired effect. Tessa had started talking almost as soon as her bum connected with the chair. She'd poured out all of this morning's developments to her cousin; the unexpected comm call from Coruscant, Senator Amidala's request for Cebz to address the Senate on short notice, the fact that the Senate was going to hold a session to debate over whether or not Gaftikar would remain a civilian ruled, democratic planet. Tessa had also included her own conclusions about how this was possible, her fear that the Senate would actually declare a state of emergency on Gaftikar and initiate martial law, with clone troopers as their overseers and an offworlder as a Planetary Administrator.

Lahney had sat through it all, listening patiently without interrupting, only nodding her head every now and again, taking small sips from her own cup of tea.

It had felt good, very good, to unburden herself to Lahney and Tessa was truly grateful to her cousin. But if being a compassionate listener was Lahney's strength, then recognizing stark reality was her greatest weakness.

"Lahney," Tessa implored the other woman. "Think about what I just told you. I heard Senator Amidala – the Seantor Amidala – say in her own words that the Senate was going to hold a session to discuss Gaftikar's right to remain a civilian ruled planet. If they're discussing the issue, then that means they might decide to take away that right. They're even likely to do just that," Tessa said, trying to keep the stress out of her voice.

Lahney just shook her head, her brown eyes as serene as those of a tumble bunny unaware of the knife hovering over its neck. She even chuckled lightly at Tessa's words.

"Tessa, you are overreacting."

It was at times like these that Tessa could have happily strangled her cousin.

"Overreacting!" she exclaimed. "I know what I heard. I…"

"No," Lahney interrupted gently, "let me finish."

Tessa subsided, albeit grudgingly.

"What I meant to say is that you, like so many others, have grown to expect the worst of people, no matter what." Lahney heaved a big, dramatic sigh, which made her ample bosom quiver just a little. "Haven't you learned anything from the recent past? We assumed the worst of the Marits and banded against them and look what that got us? A siege war. We expected the worst of the Republic and so we sided with the Separatists and what did that get us? A resounding defeat and a shattered city. And the Marits? They came here with the highest expectations and now they have what they always wanted: majority representation."

Lahney looked at her cousin squarely with just a hint of mulishness in her expression. "And now you're doing it again. I believe that you heard what you heard. You're not the type of person to make something like this up, but Tessa," and the older woman covered her hand with her own. "You're assuming again."

"I'm not assuming anything," Tessa protested. "I know the law. If the Senate moves for a Vote of No Confidence in Cebz's government and the majority votes against her, then the Senate…"

"Tessa," Lahney cut her off again, more sharply than before. Tessa almost jumped at the tone. Lahney almost never got cross with anyone. She was a far too complacent person for that.

"I don't doubt your knowledge of the law," Lahney explained. "But you're assuming from the start that the Senate will vote against us. You're making this sound like its already been decided. You've worked with Cebz for a month now," she added, her voice a little more intense. "Do you have so little confidence in her abilities?"

"I-I…" she didn't know how to answer that. Tessa stared at her cousin's hand over hers, a little lost as to how she could answer that question. "Cebz…she's…well, she's not all that bad," she admitted finally. "She works like ten people, but Lahney," she continued, aware of a whine creeping into her voice, "she's not Human."

"Tessa," Lahney said warningly, raising her pale brown brows in emphasis.

"No, I don't mean it like that," Tessa quickly corrected, trying to backpedal. "What I meant is that she doesn't always understand how Humans, or humanoids in general, react or think. She thinks like a Marit, Lahney, perfectly logical and you have to admit, that's not how must people in the galaxy or the Senate operate."

Lahney sighed, giving Tessa's hand another half-hearted pat. "Yes, I do. But that still doesn't mean….Wilky!"

Tessa jumped at the sudden mention of the boy's name and turned around quickly to see Lahney's nineteen-year-old son appear in the kitchen entrance.

"Yeah, mom?" he asked, running his hand through his unruly and tangled hair. Like most of Gaftikar's youths – out of school, unemployed and dissatisfied – Wilky was clad in a jacket made of reptile skin in a rather clumsy and uncouth attempt at provoking the Marits. Tessa noticed that his belt and boots were made of the same material.

Lahney's usually placid face composed itself into a scowl. "I do wish you wouldn't wear that, Wilky. It's unbecoming."

Wilky rolled his eyes dramatically heavenwards, in that typical teenage expression of utter exasperation with one's clueless parent. "Sure, mom, whatever."

Lahney in turn gave one of those typical parental sighs, asking the great ether to give them the patience not to smite their children.

"Where are you going?" Lahney asked.

"Nowhere," Wilky answered with a shrug.

"Who are you seeing?"

"No one."

"When will you be back?"

"Whenever."

Another sigh and Tessa wondered if Wilky realized that if his mother had been a less even-tempered person, he wouldn't be leaving the apartment without scorch marks.

"I see. Well, whenever you're done with going nowhere and seeing no one, there'll be dinner in the oven."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," was the phlegmatic response and with a rustle of his scaly jacket, Wilky was out the door.

Lahney shook her head. "I just don't know what I'll do with that boy."

Almost as soon as he'd existed the apartment, Wilky had grabbed up his comlink and was compiling a text message to be sent to all of his friends. He was attaching extra heavy-duty warning signals to the message, impressing the urgency that this commo had to be sent on to the next person.

His mother could talk all she wanted about never assuming the worst of something, but Wilky knew better. If the poodoo could hit the exhaust fans, then it would and do so spectacularly, with maximum spillage hitting the little guys.

That's what had happened with the siege war and with the invasion of the Republic. And now that the Republic would have a second chance to invade his home again, Wilky knew it would take it and flatten them completely this time.

He hadn't heard everything that Tessa had said, but he'd heard enough. The Republic was coming and the lizard-queen couldn't do Sithspit about it. So it was time that Wilky and his friends did. And it just so happened that some of his friends had friends who knew people with access to some interesting self-made tech.

It was time the Humans of Gaftikar took back their planet.

Translation: Pifgah = an expletive used when one is frustrated (Ansionian), Bastasi =an expletive used to indicate one's loss of patience (Ansionian), Schutta = an insult reserved for women of poor repute (Twi'leki)