On the ride from Bilbringi to Bastion, Jade Skywalker had listened to Wharn enumerate on the differences he'd noticed between the Jedi training centers on Ossus versus the Imperial capital. The mental roster he's gathered was dauntingly long and detailed, and Jade had found herself wondering when he'd had time to figure it all out. The message she got beneath it all was what Wharn really did prefer the atmosphere on Bastion and was glad to be going back. Jade supposed that made sense, given the similarities between Chiss and Imperial cultures, but it wasn't an opinion she shared. Bastion was too cold, too gray, too strict.

But at least she got to see her aunt. She'd heard Jaina Solo Fel was a martinet teacher of young Jedi (Wharn had, in fact, listed it as something in Bastion's favor) but the old woman had never seemed hard to Jade. She was, in fact, as generous devoted a relative as anyone could ask for. Jade wished her relationship with her father could be this easy.

The evening after their arrival, Jade joined her aunt and cousin in the Solo family condominium in Ravelin. Davek was still with the fleet and Uncle Jagged was apparently on Coruscant talking politics, which gave the three of them space to spare.

Talk started causal at first, but when three Jedi were in the same living room it naturally tended toward Jedi business. At one point Jaina asked her son, "Have you heard from anyone in the Navy about the pirates you helped them capture?"

"Nothing yet. Did anything come your way?"

"It did, actually. I guess they want to direct all communications through the academy."

"How formal and Imperial of them. What was it?"

Jaina got up and grabbed a datapad from her room. She tossed it onto Arlen's sofa and dropped back into her seat. "There's not much there. They said that despite their best interrogations none of the pirates know who they were reselling the stolen ships to."

Jade snorted. "That sounds unlikely."

"Especially when they're selling the ship and cargo together," Arlen said as he skimmed the notes. "At least we have some description of the ship the buyer used. That's something." He dropped the pad in his lap. "Do you think this is worth investigating further?"

Jaina raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking for permission to do what you want?"

"You have to admit it's pretty suspicious when the one guy who's running the operation and presumably knows who the buyer is blows his brains out rather than go to jail."

"He probably figured the buyer would find him in jail and shut him up, but in a more painful way." Jaina's gaze rolled onto Jade. "Sorry. Not a pleasant talk, is it?"

"It's okay," she said. She'd been right there with Arlen and watched the guy turn his blaster on himself. It was a sad, grim image that had been burned to her brain but she couldn't run away from bad things, not if she was to be a Jedi. She asked her cousin, "What more do you think you can do?"

"I was thinking of spinning over to Raltiir and seeing the guy who sent us on this chase in the first place. Chance has to be curious about where his stolen property went."

"Do you think that will help?" asked Jaina.

"I think he'd like to see this." Arlen tapped the datapad. "You know Chance. He's got connections in all corners of galactic commerce that those Navy security agents couldn't even dream of."

"Legitimate or otherwise, I presume."

"More or less, yes." Arlen glanced at Jade. "No offense, but I don't think you should come with me on this trip."

"I want to know what was going on there as much as you do," she said. "But… I guess you're right. I can't really tag along as your kid sister if you and Chance to talk up crime bosses, can I?"

"Son, please don't go chatting up crime bosses unless you have to," Jaina said.

"I have a feeling that'll be up to chance," Arlen grinned and got off the sofa. "I think it's start of business hours where he is. I'm going to see if I can patch in a call."

"Don't let me stop you," Jaina called as he ducked out of the living room. She turned her attention to Jade, who in turn shifted in her chair to look out the window at the lit-up Ravelin skyline. "He's right, you know. You should stay here for a while."

"I know," Jade sighed. "It's just that I hear that all the time from my dad."

"He's trying to help you. You're his daughter."

"I'm a Jedi too, or trying to be."

"Ben knows that. But he's lost your mother. He lost his mother. He doesn't want to lose you too."

"I know, I know." She looked back at Jaina. "I'm sorry. It's just… When you were an apprentice, was it like this? Did you really want to be a Jedi, to do what Jedi did and learn what Jedi learn, then have everyone tell you to slow down a play it safe?"

A sad smile creased Jaina's face. "When I was your age the Yuuzhan Vong invaded. We had to be Jedi whether we were ready or not."

Jade flushed, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I just… forget that sometimes."

"It's good that you do. I lost my brother young. Your dad lost his mother. Your generation got what ours never did. Peace. You can't understand what that means to us, Jade. Nobody can if they didn't grow up like we did."

"You're right. Of course you're right. It's just… A couple days ago I saw a guy turn his own head to burnt slag and I don't know why. This doesn't feel like peace, Aunt Jaina."

The old woman blinked, shifted in her seat, and blinked again, like she was seeing Jade for the first time. "You're right," she said at last. "Listen, if you're okay with staying on Bastion for a while, I can give you some one-on-one training. I can try and teach you things you haven't learned yet on Ossus. Would you like that?"

What Jade really wanted was to go with Arlen and solve this mystery, but she knew a good offer when she heard it. "That would be good, thank. But what about Jodram? What about Wharn?"

"They'll probably stay here. But to be honest, I think I'd like a little break from them."

Jaina frowned. "Are they bothering you?"

"Not intentionally. It's more like…. You know, they're not very much alike."

"I've noticed."

"Mostly they get along, but I think the more they're together the more they try to get on each other's nerves. It's like this intentional feedback loop where they try to annoy each other more and more." Jade sighed. "Boys are weird."

"Jade, you're talking to someone who grew up with two little brothers, then raised a pair of sons." Jaina sunk in her chair with a wistful smile. "Believe me, I can tell you stories."

"Are they… Arlen stories?"

Jaina glanced down the hallway, then turned back to Jade with a conspiratorial grin. "Where would you like to start?"

-{}-

Despite being born as heir to the Tendrando Corporation and raised by parents who were, frankly put, filthy rich, Lando Calrissian Junior wasn't generally one to flaunt his wealth. Chance's penthouse in Galactic City was well-appointed and roomy without being ostentatious. His personal space yacht was also modestly-sized and hid its unique modifications well. Most unknowing observers would mistake Chance for a small-time business owner or freelancer instead of what he really was. In all this, Arlen understood, Chance was very much unlike his father, who'd gone out of his way to dress is dapper capes and shimmersilk shirts even when all he had were the credits in his pockets.

Jedi weren't big on showy displays of wealth either, so Arlen was glad for that. He was, therefore, somewhat nonplussed when he arrived at Chance's place on Coruscant and was quickly shoved into the dressing room by his friend's servant droid and told to throw on the expensive business suit hanging in front of him.

Arlen knew better than to protest, so he threw the thing on. It fit perfectly, and that much wasn't a surprise; Chance never skimped on details. The servant droid then directed Arlen to a waiting airspeeder, and the moment Arlen sat down he was whisked away by the machine's autopilot to one of the highest spires in Galactic City.

When he got out, Arlen finally started to understand what all this was about. He'd never been to the Iridian Spires before, but he'd heard Chance call it the most exclusive drinking establishment on Coruscant, which probably made it the most exclusive one in the galaxy. Chance was prone to bouts of exaggeration, but from the old human host's silently judgmental expression, Arlen gathered that showing up in anything less than the expensive suit he'd squeezed himself into would have gotten him bodily thrown off the premises.

Standing straight and trying his best to sound posh, Arlen said, "Good afternoon. My name is Arlen Fel. I believe I'm on your guest list."

He'd had no guarantee the Spires kept a guest list, but the host seemed to have one in his head. He nodded, very politely, and said, "I believe you'll find Master Calrissian at the main bar. Would you like us to take your jacket, sir?"

"I'm quite fine, thank you." Arlen tugged it closed. He'd hooked his lightsaber onto his belt just in case and wasn't keen on showing the thing off.

"Very well, Master Fel. If you have any questions or requests, please don't hesitate to talk to one of the staff."

Arlen nodded and slipped through the door. As expected, the Iridian Spires was soaked in an atmosphere of not just money, but class. The displays of wealth weren't crass; you had to be of a certain kind of breeding to recognize the rare Empress Teta marble used for the floor-tiles or know the art-pieces suspended from the ceiling were originals from the Mon Cal water-artist Govekmar. Any peasant would have appreciated the view, though: a wrap-around three-hundred-and-sixty degree transparisteel window was all that separated them from the cloud-streaked highest layers of Galactic City, now starting to gleam in late-afternoon light. Arlen walked confidently toward the oval-shaped bar-counter in the center of the room, which at this hour was only one-third occupied.

He knew Chance by the back of his curly head, so he sneaked up from behind to tap the man on the shoulder. Calrissian gave no mark of surprise as he looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Ah, Arlen, you made it after all!"

"Sorry if I'm late. I had to find the right suit."

"Not at all, you're just in time. Take a seat." Chance snapped his fingers and pointed at the bartender. "For my friend here- a Bidalian sunrise with a shot of Rycanthian whiskey."

"You're starting me off strong," Arlen said.

"Nobody makes 'em better than the Spires. This one's my treat." Chance patted Arlen on the shoulder as he dropped onto the stool.

"Does that mean I have to pay for the rest?"

"Yes, unless you let me pick your drinks."

"You're a cruel patron."

"Please, I'm as benevolent as they come." Chance leaned back in his seat so Arlen could get a good look at the man he'd been seated next to. It was another human, maybe a little older than Chance. His head was shaved clean and his shoulders looked broad beneath a suit with an elegant Kuati design.

"Retor of Kuhvult," Chance said, "Please meet my good friend, Arlen Fel."

Retor raised a brow. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you a Jedi Knight?"

"I am indeed," Arlen shrugged, as though he couldn't help it. He'd been hoping to avoid advertising his Jedi status in this place but it was too late now. The most he could do was return the favor. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the newest member of the Kuat Drive Yards board of Governors?"

"You're not wrong at all, Master Jedi."

"I'm impressed," Chance said with a look of honest surprise. "Since when did you keep up with corporate news, Arlen?"

"Well, it's not like I sit around and meditate all day." Arlen turned his attention back to Retor. If Chance had whisked him away to have cocktails with this man there must have been a damn good reason. "So have you known Mister Calrissian long or is he just trying to suck up to you now?"
"Not at all. He's been sucking up to me for years." Retor's smile was easy and unpretentious; surprising, Arlen thought, for a member the Kuati aristocracy. Maybe the venerable old shipbuilding conglomerate was letting a new breed take over.

"All right, all right." Chance waved both hands. "Retor can't stay for long, but I wanted to make sure the three of us had a chance to talk."

Straight to it, good. Arlen asked, "What do we have to talk about?"

"You see, I've already been telling Retor about my problem with space pirates on the Hydian."

"Losing three whole ships is no small matter," the Kuati said. "That would have been enough to sink a smaller company."

"Now Retor, as you may have heard, there was a little dust-up in Bilbringi recently where those pirates were foiled and captured by some especially capable Jedi Knights."

"So it was you, then," said Retor. "I was wondering."

"I had a lot of help," Arlen said truthfully. "I think some of those ships they were trying to steal were KDY products."

"That's right, but that's not why I wanted to talk about this," said Chance. "Do you have the list?"

"I do, in fact." Arlen took a small portable datapad out of his suit jacket. He'd almost forgotten to take it in the rush here. "We got this from the Imperial Naval security team that's been looking into the personal accounts of the pirates we captured."

"Is it legal for me to see this?" Retor asked like it was a minor issue.

"Technically… let's just say yes. Before I left, the Jedi Order on Bastion received an official request for assistance in investigating this matter. Which gives me some official weight to throw around."

"It helps to have family in high places," Retor took the datapad, then added, "Not that I'm one to talk. So what exactly do you want me to see?"

"The Imperial investigators were able to look into the finances of the pirates they've captured and it's pretty interesting. Most of them had individual accounts at a handful of banks, some based on Raltiir or Brentaal but some were in Muunilist. The investigators were able to pull the government weight and get the records from the Muunilist banks quickly, but the ones from Raltiir and Brentaal just came in today."

"So what am I looking at?" Retor frowned. "All I see are a bunch of small payments routed through different companies."

"Exactly. There's no big cash dump. Most of those corporations don't even may payments to more than two or three people out of a couple dozen pirates. And have you heard of those companies?"

"None of them look familiar off the top of my head, but there's billions of listed corporations in the galaxy. I'm mostly familiar with the bigger ones."

"What I'm guessing is, these guys were paid piece-by-piece through a whole army of shell corporations. Whoever was buying the stolen merchandise from these guys must have been going really far to cover his tracks."

Chance said, "You've got more resources to track down these fake companies than anyone, including me."

"I can look into it. But you know I can't promise anything."

"Some extra eyes are all I ask. If you come through, I'll waive what you owe me from that sabacc last game."

"Well, that's an incentive." Retor glanced at the Jedi. "I don't suppose he lets you play with him."

Arlen shook his head. "He claims I have an unfair advantage."

"Sounds right. Don't let the nickname fool you. Chance only starts playing when he thinks he can win." Retor snorted and picked up the datapad. "Can I keep this?"

"Please do," Chance said. "And just so you know… This stays between us, understand?"

"Of course." Retor pushed his stool back from the bar-counter. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have professional business to attend to. We're looking to expand our facilities on Gyndine and their senator wants another bribe."

Arlen couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so he just said, "Good luck with that."

"It's good to meet you, Master Fel. I've always wanted to share a drink with a Jedi. Chance, I will see you later."

They waved him off and were suddenly alone at the bar. After a moment of silence, Chance pointed to the alcohol-shimmering glass in front of Arlen. "You didn't actually touch your Sunrise."

"Slipped my mind," Arlen said, picked up the glass, and swallowed a mouthful. Calling it strong would have been a horrendous understatement, and Chance tried poorly to hide his amusement.

"So, you go gambling with corporate executives now?" Arlen asked after the sting started to fade from his mouth.

"I am a corporate executive, remember?"

"Yes, but a board member for KDY is about as high as it gets. How did you start hanging out with him?"

"The same way I hang to with anyone. I draw them in using my natural charisma."

"You let him think he could beat you, right?"

Chance shrugged. "Like the man said, I play when I think I can win."

Arlen dared another, smaller sip of the Sunrise. It went down better, so he asked, "Is that our best shot, or do you have other leads you want to look into? I thought you mentioned more."

"We also have a dinner date. Hope you don't mind the busy schedule."

"A dinner date. Okay. With whom?"

Chance told him. Arlen looked down into his Sunrise and said, "I think I'm going to need one more drink. You're paying."

As always, Chance obliged him. Their speeder was waiting for them when they were done, and again they were on their way, slicing through the late traffic and low-hanging clouds the color of sunset.

"Okay," Arlen said as he settled in the passenger seat, "Run this by me again. Why are going to go see a Hutt crime lord?"

"He's not a crime lord. Don't even insinuate it, actually. He'll be very offended."

"What is he, then?"

"A normal legitimate business-owner, just like me. And seriously, don't imply otherwise. He'll go off on you for propagating negative stereotypes."

"So why are we going to have dinner with a legitimate Hutt business-owner?"

"Because Volgma got two ships stolen by these same pirates. I'm sure he's been looking into this on his own so I thought we could swap information."

Put that was it sounded reasonable. Arlen was started to regret that second Sunrise, though. "Well," he said, half to himself, "This should be different."

He wasn't sure what to expect, but Volgma's place still took him by surprise. He wasn't sure if they met at the Hutt's private quarters or some sub-level of his business office, but the entire place looked disarmingly sleek and professional. There was a noticeable lack of nefarious-looking hangers-on, barely-clad dancing girls, and obsequious servants. They were greeted by a female Devaronian in a plain black business suit who escorted them to what looked like a repurposed conference room with a table laden down with a full variety food.

Volgma, at least, looked very much the Hutt. He was a big one too, almost ten meters from head to wiggling green-brown tail, which meant he must have been old. He reclined on a broad repulsor-sled at the head of the table, and when he spread his stubby army to welcome them he said in deep slurred Basic, "Greetings, Master Calrissian. It's been too long."

That took Arlen by surprise. Most Hutts understood Basic fine and could even speak it, but they usually refused to because they thought it was beneath their dignity. Basic was the language of legitimate business, though, so it looked like Volgma had adapted.

"Greetings to you too, Master Volgma," Chance gave a little bow. "Meet a dear friend of mine, Arlen Fel."

"Ah, a Jedi." Volgma rumbled. "Please, have a seat. It has been a long time I met a Jedi."

As he dropped in front of a plate of something hot and still moving, Arlen asked, "How long was that?"

"Oh… over a hundred years, perhaps. There was a… scarcity of Jedi for a time. Now eat, please. I think you'll enjoy the peechka gormulk. I imported that straight from Nal Hutta and had my chef prepare them."

Arlen eyed the squirming plate. "That's, ah… very generous of you, Volgma." he glanced at Chance for help but his friend just gave him a look that said, Go on, get it over with.

So he got it over with. The Bidalian Sunrises, at least, had provided a little bit of liquid courage. To delay the second forkful he asked the Hutt, "So tell me, have you made much progress finding the guys who stole your ships?"

"I heard it was you, Master Jedi, who found them."

"News gets around."

"I've always had the greatest respect for the Jedi, you know. The only ones who resent them are evil-doers and criminals, and that resentment is based on fear."

Arlen took the unsubtle message, and then took more gormulk. As he struggled to get it down, Chance said, "The investigation's sort of run into a wall. We took them all alive except their captain and nobody else seems to know who they were stealing ships for. Their payments all seem to have come through shell companies."

"Yes, the Imperials have already informed me of that much." Volgma's tail twitched. "They wouldn't provide me with a list of those companies. I'm not sure why."

"They wouldn't give me that info either, Volgma. Don't take it personally. Thankfully, we have it anyway."

The Hutt's eyes widened. "And you'll provide it? At what cost?"

"No cost. The guys behind this stole from us both, Volgma. I thought we could work together to find out who he really is."

"Hmmm…. Your offer is wise and generous. Of course I'll take you up on it. Master Jedi, will you also be helping?"

"That's why I'm here."

"Excellent. I'm sure you can offer skills I cannot. Now please, eat. It's the least I can do for the help."

Looking down at his plate and trying not to be suck, Arlen said, "Of course. Give my compliments to the chef."

A few hours passed, and when they finally went back to Chance's speeder Arlen was amazed not to be suffering severe indigestion.

"Gormulk is actually not that bad," Chance told him, "Once you get used to it."

"Have it a lot, do you?"

"Only when I meet with Volgma, which isn't so often."

"You don't play sabacc with him, then?"

"Afraid not. Our relationship's always been professional. At least, until now."

"I have to admit, he does seem on the level."

"Best anyone can tell, he has been since before our parents were born. The galaxy's full of wonders, isn't it?"

"I guess so." As they stepped out onto the landing platform, cold wind whipped through the night. Arlen turned his back to it, so he faced his friend head-on. "Chance? Question."

"Shoot."

"What did we accomplish tonight? We didn't actually learn anything new."

"No, but we set things in motion. We shared information and strengthened connections that will be vital for the future of our project."

"We ate and drank a lot."

"That's how business works, Arlen. Food and flattery."

"Didn't realize that."

"Well, that's why I'm really rich and you took monastic vows."

"Jedi aren't monastic. Well, not usually."

"Then why are you the one always sleeping on my couch?"

Before Arlen came up with a good riposte, Chance hopped into his speeder, chuckling. All the Jedi could do was follow.