Gotalad Gaanayl

FtF I FtF

Doran let out a ragged gasp, greedily sucking oxygen into his lungs and shivering at the same time. The light burned his eyes even though they were squeezed shut, and the sounds all around were deafening. In short, he was extremely miserable and had no idea what was happening other than the fact that he could finally move. As his thoughts assembled in a somewhat sensible order, Doran remembered just why he was currently suffering.

Just as he was about to take stock of his current situation, a hand grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head up none-too-gently.

"Here he is," Chekar's helmeted voice filtered through Doran's dazed mind.

With the light bombarding his eyeballs gradually becoming a dull glare instead of a blinding blast, Doran saw the hazy outlines of several large individuals.

"You are certain he is a Jeedai?"

"As certain as the payment you've got in that case."

"Then give him to us."

"Ah, ah ah, payment first."

"You are brave to try and bargain with me, Mandalorian."

The sound of a thermal detonator charging chimed loudly in Doran's ears.

"Not trying to bargain. Just good business. You want the goods, pay for them. Otherwise I'll use this detonator and you'll only be giving pieces of a Jedi back to your boss."

The Yuuzhan Vong he was talking to muttered a string of words in Vongese and another individual approached with a very thick case.

"The bounty is all here," the carrier of the case said with a sneer.

"Be a good man and open it for me," Chekar matched arrogance for arrogance.

A click. After a second, the whining thermal detonator was deactivated. "This is all?"

"The standard bounty for a Jeedai," the leading Yuuzhan Vong confirmed.

"Just what the kriff do you expect me to do with New Republic credits? In case you're a little lost, this isn't New Republic space."

"The bounty was…"

"New Republic credits are no good out here. I need something more…real," Chekar cut off the Yuuzhan Vong impatiently. A click and whine, and the thermal detonator charged up again. "I want the equivalent in nova crystals, platinum, and precious gems, in a twenty-thirty-fifty percentage split accordingly. And before you say anything, this isn't bargaining. It's making sure I'm paid what I'm owed."

"Perhaps we will kill you and your partner and take the Jeedai ourselves."

Chekar chuckled darkly. "Do you think I'm afraid of death Vongese? I can easily take out a half-dozen of your men, and you'll be the first to die. Or, you can frack off, collect my payment, and come back to trade for the Jedi without any loss of life. Your choice."

Doran mentally changed his opinion of Chekar from cowardly scumbag, to ballsy scumbag. He took Mandalorian-crazy to a whole new level. As his vision slowly returned, he could see that Chekar was staring down at least two squads of Yuuzhan Vong warriors in a relatively empty hangar, holding a plasma carbine out with one hand. Hiduka Spar was casually leaning against the landing strut of the ship they had come on, her fletchette weapon resting in her hands. Outside the mag-con field was a swirling array of space-rock, letting Doran know that their location was really close to an asteroid field of some kind.

As Doran took note of his surroundings, the Yuuzhan Vong leader scowled at Chekar. "If it were not for Gorak Lah's desire to have the Jeedai alive, I would kill you were you stand."

"All talk. You leaving? Or do I have to show you out?"

"You will regret this," the Yuuzhan Vong leader finally hissed out. "We will return with your payment. When the time comes, I will take great pleasure in bleeding you dry."

"The feeling's mutual buddy," Chekar returned. "You have my permission to go."

Doran once again upgraded his opinion of Chekar. He had gone to ballsy scumbag to borderline insane scumbag. Despite the Yuuzhan Vong's eyes seemingly wanting to glare the Mandalorian to death, he and the others boarded their ship and departed from the hangar.

"That should buy us two days at least," Chekar grumbled.

"You're crazy," Doran muttered. He glanced about the hangar. Apart from Chekar's shuttle, it was completely empty and looked nothing like the base of a secretive organization full of assassins. "Where are we?"

"The meeting site for bounty deliveries."

"That wasn't the plan!"

"What? You expect me to just waltz into the center of the Bane Consortium's HQ with you and your friends? These are professional assassins who've pretty much seen every trick in the book and even added a few chapters," Chekar scoffed.

"Any my friends?"

"Hiduka and I have already sent them ahead to be stored in long-term storage."

"Then how do I get into the Bane Consortium?"

"That's not really my concern."

"We had a deal."

"The deal was I take you and your friends to the Consortium base," Chekar said. "This hangar is a part of it. I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. I even brought you two day's time before the Vongese return. What you do now is up to you."

"And when the Vong return and you're not here? Aren't they going to take their anger out on the Bane Consortium or the Mandalorians?"

"Again, not my problem." Chekar started up the boarding ramp of his shuttle. "For both our sakes, Jedi, I hope we never meet again."

Hiduka started up after Chekar, stopped half way up the ramp, and turned to toss Doran a blaster pistol. "Ten shots. Make them count, ad."

Doran caught the weapon, still bewildered by the turn of events. "Thanks?"

Hiduka pulled free a knife from her belt and likewise tossed it to Doran. "For when you run out of ammo."

Doran caught that weapon as well.

Hiduka nodded once. "This is asteroid Cresh-Five. The door over there leads to the anti-grav platform. That will take you to the connecting spar that leads to the primary part of the base. Security is tight after the anti-grav platform. If they suspect an intruder, they'll vent the spar, detach it, and let this asteroid tumble away. The warehouse where your friends have been moved to is on asteroid Dorn-One, directly adjacent to this asteroid. Same security measures."

"Thank you," Doran said sincerely.

"It is the Way," Hiduka inclined her head and then boarded the shuttle.

A few seconds later, Doran was left standing alone in the vast hangar. He had only his underwear on, a blaster with ten shots, and a knife. And he was expected to somehow circumvent the security of a hidden organization of assassins in their HQ, rescue his friends, and get to the bottom of the contract out on his head.

"Right," Doran let out a breath that condensed in the cold hangar. "No pressure. You can do this."

FtF II FtF

"Not good! Not good! Not good!" Doran panted under his breath as alarms blared in his ears up and down the connecting spar. He threw the depleted blaster pistol aside and scrambled on his hands and knees through the metal duct that was currently preserving his life. Everything had been going fine. Until it hadn't. After an event-free trip up the anti-grav platform, Doran touched down on an upper landing and immediately came face to face with a confused squad of Bane Consortium peons.

Doran assumed they had been confused, because what else would one's reaction be if a nearly-naked, almost fourteen-year old teen suddenly dropped down in front of you? The twelve had been about to step into the anti-grav tube when Doran appeared and sent their minds for a loop. Once the squad of peons got over their shock, however, they promptly went for their weapons. Doran shot first. And second. And third. And then had to run for his life as the rest of the squad let loose with repeater cannons, blaster carbines, and other weapons of rapid-death.

A tram system had been set up in the connecting spar, and Doran had run in its direction, relying on the Force multiple times to avoid death by a hairsbreadth. He expended another three rounds to dive for cover behind a bank of computers. Then another three to move to from that bank of computers to the tram car itself. The last shot had been to disable the door-controls, keeping the surviving peons from accessing the tram car. Knowing that the door wouldn't hold, Doran used the knife to pry loose a panel in the ceiling of the tram car, and then pulled himself out. A second later, the door blew open and the tram car crumpled under a barrage of blaster fire.

But now Doran could feel a popping in his ears as the connecting spar began to decompress. He hurried his actions, unsure as to how much of the spar was going to be jettisoned into space. The snap, crackle, and pop that echoed through the venting told Doran he was definitely running out of time. He quickly wrapped the Force around himself as he felt the temperature plummet dramatically. It occurred to him that being spaced was a very, very bad way to go.

Not that there was a good way to go.

Figuring that he had nothing to lose, he kicked out at the vent and dropped back onto the tram-track. He was immediately grateful that he did. The snap, crackle, popping noise he heard were the explosive bolts being jettisoned. A look over his shoulder revealed that the connecting spar was coming apart in pieces.

"Oh Sithspit," Doran yelled in fright. He put everything he had into his legs and sprinted down the tram-way. More popping sounds, but despite the fact that they were right next to him, they were very faint. He knew this meant he was about to lose what little atmosphere was left. He took in a deep breath and barreled forward.

Now very thankful that he had spent the past year running for his life and training Mando-style, Doran pushed himself to his very limits. The connecting spar began disintegrating all around him, artificial gravity failing. And then he had the frightening experience of a tiny space-rock barreling through the now unshielded passageway right in front of him. More micro-meteorites followed after, tearing through the passageway like a lightsaber through flimsiplast.

Doran had no time to think. He could only react. The Force was the only thing that was keeping him from dying from the exposure to space now, and he was fast running out of strength to maintain the protective barrier. The other side of the connecting spar was visible, a mag-con field rippling. His lungs burned with the need for fresh air, his heart pounding over time. As the floor beneath him began giving away, Doran kicked off, launching himself through what was left of the tram-way passage. The absence of gravity meant that his course would continue on target unless something else happened.

For once, the Force was with Doran. He sailed through the mag-con field and was dropped to the ground as the asteroid's gravity generators took hold of him. He took in a deep, gasping breath, laying flat on his back as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he was still alive.

And then he realized he wasn't alone. The room was full of droids and people, all of them aiming their guns at him.

Doran suddenly felt very exposed. "Errr….hi?"

"[Who are you?]" A helmeted Duros said in Huttese.

Several possible answered flashed through Doran's mind. Though he was pretty bad at lying, as long as it was partially the truth, he could get away with it. "I'm a Mando'ade Chekar brought over. The Vongese were being dikute and tried to renege on a contract. You must have gotten their ship on sensors as they pulled away, right? Those hu'tuun left someone behind in the hangar and he started killing people."

Doran figured that if he sprinkled enough words in Mando'a, he'd make a believable Mandalorian in underwear.

"[You're a Mandalorian?]" The helmeted Duros said skeptically. "[Where's your armor? Weapons? Clothes?]"

"The Vongese sprayed this acid substance that dissolved my armor and got on my clothes," Doran said, sweating as he veered further into 'absolute bantha dung' territory. "Then some dikut decided to jettison the hangar and I had to strip off everything else to run faster. I passed my verd'goten, you laandur dikut. Which is more than can be said about you."

"You do realize we have security cameras in the hangar and connecting spar, right?" The Duros finally said, this time in Basic. "Now do you want to try that again."

Doran blinked and smiled sheepishly. "To be fair, I am a Mandalorian. Well, kind of."

"And the fact that Chekar had you in carbonite?"

"He was trying to smuggle me onto the base?" Doran tried honesty this time around.

"Why?"

"It's really complicated."

"Uncomplicate it or we throw you back out into space."

"We wanted to know why your organization is targeting Mandalorians…and me."

"There's a contract on your head?" The Duros was incredulous once more.

"The Vongese are responsible. At least that's what Chekar told me."

The Duros rubbed the front of his helmet as if he had a headache. "This is above our pay grade boys. Stand down."

"Are you sure," another helmeted Duros asked.

"It's going to be up to grandfather," the leader nodded once. "Kid, what's your name?"

"Doran. Doran Sarkin-Tainer," Doran said truthfully.

"The Jedi kid," another of the guards murmured in recognition.

"Way above our pay grade," the leader sighed. He gestured with his rifle. "You're not going to use any of your powers or give us any trouble, are you?"

"Wasn't planning to." Again, Doran was honest. When it came to it, he realized that he and his friends didn't exactly have any plans once they had reached Bane Consortium base. Had they really expected to take down an organization of hired killers?

"This way," the lead Duros motioned.

Doran obediently went along. "Where are we going?"

"The boss."

"The b…" Doran's word was cut off when the lead Duros hit him with a stun bolt.

FtF III FtF

Doran definitely knew that he was setting records. Just not the sort he wanted to set. How many times was he going to wake up inside the Bane Consortium base feeling like a heard of Reeks had just trampled him? The plus side, he surmised, was that he was able to wake up at all. The downside was that he was still in just his underwear, now tied to a chair, with a gag in his mouth. And there was a creepy-looking old Duros looking at him from the shadows of whatever room they were in, red-orange eyes glowing.

The Duros was wearing a trenchcoat over a life-support suit that Vader probably would have given his right hand for. The steady, mechanical breathing of the Duros' suit was the only sound that Doran could hear until the man spoke.

"You Jedi. No matter how many years pass, you never change," the Duros said in a whispery rasp. "I knew all I had to do was spread the word, and you would deliver yourself to me."

Doran wanted to reply, but the gag in his mouth kept him from doing so.

"No need to say anything. I have more than enough experience hunting your kind to know how things can change with but a single word," the old Duros stood, his skin a blue-grey tone that denoted his age. "I am Cad Bane, the leader of the Bane Consortium. And you are Jedi Doran Sarkin-Tainer, the Jedi who, as of late, has been giving the Yuuzhan Vong such trouble in Mandalorian space. Father is Kel Tainer. Mother is Tyria Sarkin Tainer, also a Jedi, currently on Vorzyd Four helping to evacuate the planet."

Doran's eyes widened as holo-images of his parents appeared. A video of his mom at a spaceport directing groups of refugees to their ships played. The image clear and taken very close up. He wanted to protest, but again the gag blocked his words.

"Do not worry. The client did not request information on any familial ties," Cad Bane said evenly. "And the Bane Consortium does not give 'freebies'. I am merely showing you this so you can dispense with any subterfuge you may have planned."

Doran sagged in his chair, his heart and mind racing. This definitely wasn't how he envisioned the mission going.

"You are here to find out information of your own, yes? As I said, however, everything has a price."

Doran looked at the Duros and tried his best to reign in his emotions. It was then he realized that he couldn't feel the Force. Panicked, he looked around.

"Ysalamir," Cade slowly motioned with a hand to an animal in a cage. "A costly expenditure given that the Yuuzhan Vong have recently taken control of Myrkr. But a necessary one in my line of work. The price the Yuuzhan Vong will pay for you is more than worth it."

Cad Bane activated something on his gauntlet and a new set of images emerged. A slew of news reports regarding the war scrolled through the air. "I am a businessman at heart, Jedi. Cost-Risk analysis, profit margins, they are the things that separate a mediocre hunter from a great one. And I've seen the current trends. I will be ninety years old in a few years, but I have doubts whether I will be around to see that day. The Yuuzhan Vong reject technology, reject any life that isn't like theirs. When they are done conquering the galaxy, they will have no use for organizations like my own. As a businessman, I have to ask myself. Which choice do I make that will allow the credits to continue to flow? Which choice will let my legacy live on long after I am gone?"

Cad approached Doran, his expression unreadable. "Do you understand the current situation, my young friend?"

Doran nodded, not sure what Cad was playing at.

"Therein lies the problem. The Bane Consortium was hired to do a job. We always carry out our contracts. If I were to turn you in, we'd be paid, the Yuuzhan Vong will leave a satisfied client, and you'd probably be dead in a few days. Nothing personal. It's business, pure and simple. On the other hand, if we were not in the mood to follow through with the contract, let our emotions rule, then the Bane Consortium will lose all legitimacy. We are an apolitical organization. Should care not whether the Yuuzhan Vong or New Republic win this war. And as a Jedi, I'm sure you can appreciate the irony of this. If we suppress those emotions, like you Jedi train yourselves to do, you'll be dead. If we act opposite of your Jedi teachings, our names our ruined and we'd be the ones paying for it. Is your life really worth all that trouble in the long run?"

Cad removed Doran's gag and the restraints and then walked stiffly to a nearby bank of computers. Doran used that time to massage his jaw and stretch.

"I might be biased, but I happen to value my life a lot."

Cad didn't respond, choosing instead to gaze at the monitors in silence.

"If you know the Yuuzhan Vong are bad for business, why do you do business with them?"

"The Bane Consortium is a loose organization of assassins and bounty hunters," Cad Bane said, his raspy voice almost mechanical due to his life-support suit. "We are not warriors or soldiers. Nor do we pretend to be. We are a service for hire. The Yuuzhan Vong hired us. Simple as that. If the Jedi Order is interested in utilizing our services, as long as they pay our fee, we'll accept any contract from them as well."

"You're just trying to stay alive," Doran said softly in realization. It brought him back to a conversation he had had with his mother when the fighting had first broken out and she and Kell had made the decision to take him to Gargon. During that time he had asked her why people would betray their own galaxy and side with the Yuuzhan Vong at all.

"Do you want the short answer or the long one?"

"Long, of course."

"Doran, something you have to understand about this galaxy is that chaos is its natural state. Us living beings are born from that and have an innate fear of returning to it. Some people will do anything to avoid that. It doesn't matter how stupid their decision might seem to you, how short-sighted, or illogical. For them, the only thing that matters is trying to make it through to the next day. If by betraying their homeworld, their friends and family, means that they can live one day more, they'll take that chance."

"That sounds like the dark side."

"How is wanting to live 'dark'? Of course, some people will try to justify their actions in terms of other things. Credits, power, 'saving as many as they can.' Anything to avoid admitting that they were ultimately afraid of the power of the Yuuzhan Vong. One of the reasons why I'm taking you to Gargon is for that exact reason. I want you to live. Your father wants you to live. No matter how this war shapes out, we both want to give you the best chance of survival possible. You've heard enough Force-philosophies to know that the Jedi don't have all the answers. We're not saying that the lessons at Gargon will make you invincible. But what they will do is give you a leg up on the trillions of others in the galaxy."

"And what does this have to do with people betraying their homeworlds for the Vong?"

"Everything. You'll learn in time what it means to have the ability to survive the coming storm, and what it means to lack that ability. You'll truly understand the lengths people will go to to stay alive when feeling trapped. And most importantly, you'll be in a position to show those people a way out of that trap. In learning how to be a Mandalorian, you'll become an even greater Jedi."

"Aren't we all?" Cad Bane said to Doran's whispered comment.

"Side with the Mandalorians," Doran said as soon as the thought came to him.

"What?" Cad Bane slowly turned.

"The Mandalorians, Boba Fett. You have the ability to find my mom in this galaxy, so I know you have to be aware of what he's doing. I'm not saying become Mandalorian or anything, but ally with them. Your people aren't soldiers or warriors, I get that. But Mandalore has no shortage of those. What they do have a shortage of is intelligence, and I mean that in the military sense by the way. They're plenty smart."

"I understood what you meant," Cad said wryly.

"The Mandalorians are currently trapped in their part of the galaxy, the Yuuzhan Vong trusting them about as much as they trust the Yuuzhan Vong. Sooner or later they're going to need supplies, information, things they can't get in Mandalorian space. Your Consortium is spread throughout the galaxy and can get them those things."

"You are telling me that you want myself and that test-tube spawn of Jango's to team up?"

"No, just helping you keep your options open," Doran said, shaking his head. "Teaming up with Mandalore would be good for business, wouldn't it? Some of their people already work for you."

Cad took in another loud breath, his eyes developing a sharpness that hadn't been present earlier. "It would be good for business. If Fett's playing the long-game, there's no reason why we can't too. But…"

"But?"

"The Yuuzhan Vong already have certain expectations. Yours isn't the only contract from them we've accepted. If we break all of them, they'll know something is up. We'll also be losing a whole lot of credits."

"How close is the nearest Yuuzhan Vong garrison?" Doran asked.

"On a planet not far from this asteroid belt." Cad Bane brought up a holo-image of the region. "They can have an assault cruiser here to blow us to bits in under thirty minutes."

"And how many people do you have here?"

"At any given time? Less than fifty," Cad answered. "Like I said, we aren't soldiers. The ones here are either between contracts or in supporting roles."

Doran nodded, studying the map. He pointed to the data on the Yuuzhan Vong garrison. "Are these numbers accurate?"

"A single assault cruiser, two picket-ships, a squadron of fighters, and a hundred warriors," Cad confirmed. "I chose this system precisely because it lacks any sort of tactical significance. They cannot afford to keep an overly large force in the area. But at the same time, we have two freighters and a handful of custom-fighters. No match for their ships. Why do you ask?"

"If the Consortium was going to move or break those contracts, they'd need to deal with that base first, right?"

"That goes without saying."

"The Consortium doesn't take sides in the war," Doran said carefully. "But hypothetically if someone draws away those ships, would your people be willing to take on the garrison?"

Cad Bane's expression was neutral. "Hypothetically, such a thing would be possible. But we would only risk our lives if it were part of a contract."

"Do you have a hypercom system I can use to make a call?" Doran asked.

"Who would you be calling?"

"You mentioned earlier that you'd take on jobs from any group willing to pay. If someone is willing to pay more for a job that goes against a previous contract, does their contract override the earlier one?"

Cad Bane inclined his head. "That is how the concept of 'the highest bidder' works."

"Can I make that call to ransom myself?" Doran asked. "I'd like to call my dad."

"Your father? Not your mother?"

"Jedi are broke," Doran said wryly. "Dad has access to the Special Forces slush fund."

"Ah. In that case," Cad motioned to another computer. "Call away. It is my personal, secure line."

Doran inputted a series of numbers he knew by heart and activated the communication's relay. The call was sent out through the vast void of space, and Doran waited for his dad to pick up. A few seconds later, the holo-platform flickered on.

"Hi dad!" Doran said perkily.

"Doran?" Kell Tainer raised an eyebrow at his son's shirtless, pantless condition. "You okay?"

"I am. But I'm currently being held prisoner by the Bane Consortium and they're going to turn me over to the Vong in a day or two. Can you pay more than…" Doran paused and looked over to Cad. "How much are the Vong paying for me?"

"Five million credits or the equivalent there of."

"Five million credits for my release?" Doran said.

Kell's other eyebrow ascended at the news. "Doran?"

"And can you scrounge up the funds to pay the Bane Consortium to launch an attack on a nearby Vong garrison so they'll be free of Vong pressure and stop killing Mandalorians and others who oppose the Vong?"

"Ooookay. And how much do they want for that?"

Doran glanced at Cad again. "How much?"

"Amnesty for previous assassinations, a hundred-million credits," Cad said instantaneously.

"You heard that?"

"Yeah. I'd have to clear it with my superiors though. Especially the amnesty part. Anything else?"

"We're going to need a New Republic taskforce to help draw the Vong ships with the garrison away."

Kell rubbed at his temples. "You're really okay, Doran?"

"I am. Well, as long as you can pay Cad before he turns me over to the Vong."

"Six million will be wired before the end of the day," Kell said, his eyes darting in the direction Doran had looked each time Doran had questioned Cad. "I hope you will honor the time I need to get the funds together."

"I will," Cad said solemnly.

"Thank you. As for the Vong ships. I'm going to need coordinates of this garrison, as well as numbers."

"Errrr….about that," Doran breathed out. "You know those Mandalorians you and mom plopped me with this past year?"

"Yes…"

Doran again looked to Cad. "Can you patch in a second line to Mandalore? I think we're going to need Boba Fett for this too. Oh, and maybe a third line to Clan Rook's base. I'm going to have to defrost Dinua for that though."

"Things are becoming really interesting," Cad Bane said, tilting his head in acknowledgment.

"Doran, what are you up to?"

Doran smiled weakly. "I have an idea."

FtF IV FtF

Doran was waiting with heavy jackets as he watched his friends thaw out from the carbonite. All of them were disoriented, though Willow was the first to recover thanks to the Force. She was also the most relaxed out of the group in their moment of post-thaw confusion because she could sense Doran's own emotions as well as his nearby presence.

"We're not dead?" Willow blinked, rubbing at her eyes.

"The plan worked perfectly," Doran draped a jacket around her.

"It did?" Dinua sounded extremely skeptical as she accepted the jacket Doran held out for her.

"Yup," Doran put another jacket around Tracyn and then tossed the last jacket to Jintar. "I told you it'd work."

"How?" Jintar said in disbelief. "That hut'uun Chekar really didn't betray us?"

"Nope. He kept his word," Doran said. "We're in the heart of the Bane Consortium, and they've agreed to stop killing Mandos. Oh, and I no longer have Consortium people chasing me down."

"I'm dead and imagining things," Dinua deadpanned.

"Weren't you the one all for the plan?" Willow asked the older teen.

"I was taking a page out of the Di'kut's book and hoping that the most ridiculous of plans would actually work," Dinua continued dryly. "There's no way it should have worked so we really are dead or on hallucinogenic drugs."

"What really happened?" Jintar arched an eyebrow at Doran.

"The plan fell apart right away. Chekar didn't really betray us, but he wasn't too helpful either. They were waiting for me when I entered the base and were going to turn me over to the Vong. Fortunately I was ransomed back to my folks. But because of that, the Vong are going to come and kill us all," Doran said, matching Dinua's tone.

Tracyn blinked owlishly. "Now I really don't know which version of events to believe. Do I believe the unbelievably happy one or the gloom and doom one?"

"Can we have another version of events?" Willow asked Doran.

Now it was Doran's turn to be taken aback. "How many different ways do you want me to describe reality?"

"Yeah, but you weren't lying for either of those stories, so how can they both be true?" Willow pouted. She drew one of Doran's hands into both her own and pulled it until it rested against her chest. "Come on, Doran. For me?"

Dinua blinked at that. Then, to Doran's surprise, walked over to him and took his other hand. Even Jintar and Tracyn seemed stunned by the unexpected action, while Willow looked at Dinua in shock. But just as Doran's stunned eyes met her brown, Dinua squeezed none-too-gently and his confusion melted away into pain.

"Yes, Doran, why don't you tell us what really happened?"

For someone a head shorter than him, Dinua could squeeze his hand extremely hard. Any thoughts that had formed when Willow had taken his hand instantly evaporated from the shooting pain. In fact, he had reflexively yanked his hand free from Willow's grip to try and pry Dinua's hands off from around his own.

"Right," Doran swallowed heavily. "I'll talk. I'll talk."

Dinua smiled smugly, loosened her grip, and then shot a superior look at Willow. "I'm waiting."

A resigned Doran promptly spilled the very unglamorous version of events, from Chekar's actions and words against the Yuuzhan Vong team, to his conversation with Cad Bane and Boba Fett. At the end of it, his friends all stared at him.

"That…sounds so crazy, it has to be true," Jintar said, finally able to close his hanging jaw and speak.

"You've convinced an organization of assassins and bounty-hunters to actually work with the New Republic?" Willow said, eyes shining with amazement.

"To be fair, I think the large amount of credits helped." Doran said modestly. "All I did was point out the obvious."

"So what's our role in all this?" Tracyn asked.

"Errr…yeah…that. We'llbeonthefrontlines," Doran said in a rush.

"Come again?" Tracyn blinked.

"For the Bane Consortium to agree to this, they kind of wanted us to put our own necks on the line. They'll only take the field if we're on the ground with them."

"Against over a hundred Yuuzhan Vong warriors?" Willow said in shock.

"Sucks for them, doesn't it? A few hundred more and it'd be a fair fight," Jintar chuckled, flexing one arm.

"Ignore him. That's just his Mandalorian brain speaking," Doran said in a low voice to Willow. "They do things like that."

"Oh, okay," Willow nodded sagely.

"How many members of the Consortium are going to be on the ground with us?"

"That…" Doran bit his lower lip for a moment. "About a dozen."

Silence followed his answer.

"About a dozen? More or less?" Dinua asked.

"Less?" Doran answered with a weak smile. "Cad Bane's people aren't soldiers, aren't equipped to go up against a Vong army. He's sending most of his group into hiding just in case this doesn't work out."

"Then who's staying?"

"I'm not actually sure about that. All Cad said that he was bringing some old timers in for 'one last hurrah'."

"'One last hurrah?'"

"Well, his words were more or less, 'they should have one last bounty left in them'."

"You know," Jintar rubbed the back of his head. "I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that the people we'll be going into battle with expect to die."

"To be fair, Cad is almost ninety years old. Any friends he knows are probably around his age," Doran defended the Duros bounty hunter.

"They intend to go down fighting. It's a noble death," Dinua said in admiration. "If only we could all be so fortunate."

Doran leaned back over to Willow. "Ignore her. That's just her Mandalorian brain speaking. They believe in things like that."

"Got it."

"So what's the plan on the surface?" Tracyn asked, redirecting everyone's focus. "I mean, what type of terrain are we looking at? Are we facing elite warriors or peon-level flunkies?"

"Cad is getting the latest intel about the area," Doran said. "But we'll more than likely be facing peon-level flunkies. This base is in an out-of-the-way, non-strategic system, and the Vong can't afford to have too many of their people out of the fight."

"I can have my people join in the ground attack then," Tracyn said. "Just get me to a hypercom station. I can guarantee they'll be much more reliable than any for-hire merc or hunter. We can hit the place from orbit and then my people can drop-pod into the battlefield and perform a clean-up sweep. When we get clear, we can hit the site with a proton bomb just to be sure we've got everyone."

Willow leaned over to Doran. "Is this more Mando-brain-ness?"

"No, this is strictly Tracyn being leader of the Kyr'tsad," Doran returned in faux-whisper. "Not every teenage Mandalorian can call down an orbital strike complete with death-squad follow-up."

"Gotcha."

Tracyn's eyebrows twitched. "I'm standing right here you know."

"We're trying to keep this attack as low key as possible," Doran said in response to Tracyn's offer. "Your people are too high profile. If this goes wrong, the Kyr'tsad won't be able to claim ignorance."

"Then how are you getting the Protectorate to fight the Vong?"

"Very carefully," Doran said with maddening obtuseness.

The door to the warehouse hissed open, and the non-Doran members of the group all tensed as three heavily armed bounty hunters walked in.

"It's okay," Doran said reassuringly. "Unless the Vong outbid the New Republic, we're safe."

"That isn't reassuring at all." Willow retorted, taking a half-step behind Doran.

The leader of the three, the helmeted Duros from earlier, nodded to the group of teens. "Good, you're all de-carbonited. All of the boss's old friends have arrived. They wanted to meet the, and I quote, 'crazy idiot of a Jedi who thought this bantha-turd idea of a plan up'."

"Nice knowing you, Doran," Jintar said wryly.

"Har, har," Doran returned sarcastically. Then, to the Duros. "Are your boss's friends part of the Bane Consortium?"

"Affiliated," the Duros answered. "Come on. If there's anything more dangerous than a grumpy old person, it's a group of grumpy old people used to blasting their problems."

"Do you have any clothes or armor we can change into?" Tracyn asked.

The bounty hunter cocked his head at the pint-sized Mandalorian. "Does this place look like a department store to you? You're lucky we had those spare jackets lying about."

The trio of hunters led the group of teens out of the warehouse and down the connecting spar towards the main asteroid.

"So, who are these old friends of your boss?" Willow asked.

"People he ran with back during the Clone Wars, I think. When the boss started this organization he made sure we adhered to several guidelines. One of them was the territory in which we're allowed to take contracts. If we took contracts outside that territory, the Consortium wouldn't back us if we encountered bounty hunters from other organizations."

"Have you met any of them?"

"No."

The non-Doran teens of the group were relatively unimpressed with what they saw when they reached the main asteroid. For all its intrigue and reputation, the HQ of the Bane Consortium was little more than a repurposed, abandoned mining platform. Metal plating showed signs of rust, and mining machinery had been left where the miners had abandoned them. The main plaza had been converted into a large, cantina-like area, with a fully stocked bar and tables all around. There was even a stage for live performances, though it and the plaza were completely empty.

"I'm feeling slightly disappointed," Jintar said, eyeing the decades-old grease stains marring just about everything.

"What did you expect?" Snorted the Duros bounty hunter. "The boss is a miser. Didn't see the point in investing in something that people wouldn't care about anyways. It took me the better part of three years just to get him to shell out enough money for the cantina."

They took a creaky, pulley-assisted lift up to another level and to a security door.

The Duros knocked on it with a gauntleted hand. "Boss, I got the kids with me."

There was a heavy clicking noise as a lock disengaged, and then the door rolled off to the side. From their position, the teens could see a pale blue light coming from a single holo-table, and a group of individuals all clustered around it.

"Come in," Cad Bane wheezed out.

The teens did as told. Looking around at the gathered individuals, they all immediately noticed that every one of them was a different species. There was even an individual in Mandalorian armor standing in the back of the room with his arms folded in front of his chest.

"Well? Which one of them came up with the plan?" An older woman's voice cackled.

"Well, two of them are Jedi, so it has to be one of them," a sibilant female voice added in amusement.

A man with a round, metal hat studied them without making a sound, while another man with tentacles for legs floated upwards to get a better look.

"I'm the one that came up with the plan," Doran volunteered.

"Jedi just seem to get younger and younger," the second female speaker sighed. "You're not even a Knight yet, are you?"

"No," Doran briefly used the Force to try and guess what this speaker was thinking, only to reflexively step back when he felt his Force-probe countered by a much stronger, experienced probe in turn.

"It's not polite to try and read a lady's mind," the bald, gray-skinned woman sighed. The glow from the holo-table illuminated dark, wedge-like tattoos on her head.

"You can use the Force," Doran said apprehensively.

"Relax. My days of tormenting the innocent have long passed," the woman said, sounding bored.

Cad Bane stepped up to the table. "Allow me to make some introductions. The Jedi who spoke is Doran Sarkin-Tainer. Those with him are friends he tried to smuggle onto this station."

"Let's hope this new plan works better than that one," a grizzled Zabrak woman snorted.

"Speak for yourself," a Frenk bounty hunter with a mechanical arm said. "I rather like this idea of going out in a blaze of glory. We've all lived too long anyways. I mean, look at us. We're a sorry sight."

"Hey, I'm here for the credits. Unlike you fossils, I still have a five or so decades in me at least," a pink-skinned Theelin retorted. "And I plan to live it out in style."

Cad Bane patiently waited for his 'friends' to fall silent. "Jedi Sarkin-Tainer, these are some of my acquaintances willing to accept the contract your government offered. The Frenk is Twazzi. The Kyuzo is Embo. The Zabrak at his side is Sugi. The Theelin at his other side is Latts Razzi. Derrown is the Parwan to my right. Inside the giant suit of armor is Seripas. And last, but certainly not least is our esteemed colleague Asajj Ventress."

Doran twitched at that. He was probably the only Jedi of his generation capable of recognizing that name. That was mostly due to the fact that his mother and he zoomed around the galaxy meeting Republic/Clone War-era Force-organizations and Force-users.

"You actually recognized my name?" Asajj's drawn-in eyebrows arched finely. The nearly seventy-year old Force user's lips then arched in a faint smile. "Don't believe all the stories you might have heard about me, kid. The storytellers probably left out all the fun details."

"Who is she?" Willow hissed in whisper.

"I'm kind of curious myself," Asajj added, obviously having heard Willow. "What have you heard about me?"

"Your master was Ky Narec," Doran began hesitantly.

Asajj's eyes widened a fraction. "How did you find that out? Didn't the Emperor purge the records?"

"He couldn't purge the oral tradition of Rattatak," Doran answered. At the same time, he was deliberately glossing over the fact that the same oral tradition painted her later on as a psycho-killer Sith acolyte. "My mother and I visited the world and learned about your story from the locals. Even explored the ruins of your citadel. The stories say that after Palpatine took over, you returned to the citadel to claim your master's lightsaber, and then disappeared, never to be seen again."

"Okay, I'm impressed," Asajj laughed, eyes sparkling as if she knew what he wasn't saying. She pulled out an old, but obviously very well-kept lightsaber. "Out of all the kid-Jedi in the galaxy, I meet one who's archaeologist. Don't worry kid, the Old Me has been buried for a long time."

"And that is all of my old contacts," Cad Bane said evenly.

"Wait," Tracyn cut in. She then pointed to the Mandalorian leaning against the back wall. "What about him?"

"He is from a generation of hunters that came after myself and the others." Cad Bane replied. "He is a fast gun for hire who heeds the calling wind. A soldier of fortune, Djarin, Din. I brought him in because we will need his skills."

"Cad's right. When it comes to marksmanship he's better than the best. But there's always someone fool enough to put him to the test," Sugi further embellished. "Unlike Fett, he sided against the Empire during its reign. And he could afford to. He was the man who had the fastest gun. Everyone in our profession knew his name, Din, Din Djarin."

"You're not Protectorate, are you?" Dinua said observantly. The man's clan-symbols was emblazoned on his shoulder pad, but she didn't recognize it.

"No," Din said succinctly. "I have a personal reason for wanting the Vongese eliminated."

"But you're still accepting the credits for the mission?" Tracyn questioned.

Din inclined his head a fraction. "It is the Way."

"It's a stupid way," Tracyn muttered, disgruntled. "You shouldn't require credits to uphold your beliefs."

"His wife would agree with you," the Theelin bounty hunter chortled, not at all acting her over five decades of age. "She was pissed that he decided to accept this mission. Apparently, telling your wife you're doing something stupid because it is 'the Way' doesn't mean she'll agree."

A small device on Din's gauntlet clicked and a panel retracted.

"We will need everyone to work together if we want to pull this off," Cad said with sternly. "That means no blasting each other."

The silvery dart that had loaded was unloaded and clicked back off into its storage container.

"Still so touchy," Latts muttered, edging further away from the Mandalorian.

Cad Bane sighed, a sound made more audible by his respirator. He then turned several knobs on the holo-table to bring up a 3D rendering of the Yuuzhan Vong base. The base itself looked like a small town, its coralline buildings scattered about at the end of a canyon and protected by sloping canyon walls. "This is the latest scan of the area by one of my organization's stealth-probes. As you can see, though the Yuuzhan Vong invested lightly in their base, its location makes it one that is easily defended. The canyon passage is the only logical way in or out of the base."

"[And you have something illogical in mind?]" Derrown said in his native tongue.

"The back side of the base rests abuts a steep drop into a lower ravine." The image rotated around so everyone could see. "I propose we use this as our means of entry."

"Or we could do a combination. Have a small group go through the back, and the rest of us waltz right through the front entrance," Sugi said calmly. "Not all of us have jetpacks or can float. And we're not as young as we once were. If we all get caught climbing up, we're screwed. At least a frontal assault allows us to fight back."

"I agree. I can use a holographic disguise matrix to pass myself off as one of the Vong," Twazzi volunteered. "I'll plant explosives on those defensive turrets to clear the way."

"How many of those matrices do you have?" Cad asked Twazzi.

"Three, why?"

"Take two of the kids with you," Cad pointed to Doran's group. "The two tall ones. The others are too short to be Vong."

The Frenk bounty hunter eyed Jintar and Doran skeptically but nodded. "Sure. But I'm not babysitting them. They get themselves killed, it's not on me."

"Agreed," Cad stated.

"I'm glad we're asked for our opinion," Jintar said wryly.

"Considering all our ages put together probably don't even add up to Cad's age, I'm just happy they're not using us as cannon fodder," Doran said in turn.

"What about the rest of us?" Dinua asked, not exactly looking happy that Jintar and Doran would be handling the riskiest part of the mission.

"You'll be with Razzi and Ventress," Cad said. "Your group will climb up the ravine and assault rear of the base while the rest of us distract the main force."

"We'll make it a girl's night out," Asajj said, eyes glimmering in amusement.

"This will definitely be a story to tell about," Willow said to Doran, eyeing the legendary bounty hunters all around.

"That's the thing," Doran smiled weakly. "With situations like this, would anyone actually believe that story?"

FtF V FtF

Tyria Sarkin Tainer just smiled in amusement at her husband via holo-transmission. "See, he is your son after all."

"I never doubted that," Kell said wryly. "It looks like his time with the Mandos has paid off though. He still looked like a little kid the last time I saw him. Now he's, well, grown."

"Your superiors okayed the plan?" Tyria asked with a small, worried frown.

"Face got them onboard with it," Kell nodded. "Though it was a challenge of finding someone willing to entrust the lives of their people to the Mandalorians."

"Who'd you end up getting?"

"Face," Kell snorted. "We couldn't find anyone else. Technically we're at war with the Mandos, so working with them is treason. This is Wraith Squadron's last mission before we hook up with Booster and his ship."

"A single X-wing squadron?" Tyria's worry became more pronounced. "Kell, the numbers you showed me…"

"Don't worry. It's not just Wraith Squadron. We're just the spearpoint on this."

"Oh? Who else is willing to risk a treason charge?"

"No one," Kell blinked. "Doran's Mando girlfriend is loaning Wrath Squadron a full clan of reprobates just like us. We're giving them ships, painting them New Republic colors, and turning them into respectful members of society."

"Which one of Doran's girlfriends?"

"He has more than one?" Kell's thought processes cycled from disbelief to 'ataboy' to 'are you insane'.

"Two actually. One is in charge of a Mandalorian terrorist faction and the other is in charge of a disgraced clan." Tyria smiled as if knowing her husband's thoughts. "I met them both. Sweet girls both of them. Both older too."

Kell just held his head in mock shame. "The kid's what, thirteen, fourteen years old? How the heck does he already have two girlfriends?"

"You're focusing on that?" Tyria said in a warning voice.

"Only to lecture him about being responsible with his…you know what, never mind. He mentioned a name…Jeban or something like that. The dark-haired one."

"Ah, Dinua. She's Beviin's adopted daughter. She's the one with the disgraced clan."

"Right, anyway. I just got off the comm with her and we're expecting her people to arrive later today. It should be an interesting experience to say the least."

"From what Beviin's told me about them, they're a bit unconventional, even for Mandalorians."

"Aren't all Mandalorians unconventional?"

"Yeah, but when they call one of their own unconventional, it really means something."

"Good point."

"Kell, take care out there."

"You too, Tyria," Kell said solemnly. "Every day I'm hearing more and more reports about Jedi being captured by the Peace Brigade."

"I know."

Kell exhaled slowly. "You just look after yourself. Don't worry about my end of things. I'll keep the Vong on the hook so our son can go blow up stuff."

"Honey, Jedi don't blow up stuff. That's what you explosive-headed commandos do."

"What do you call the Death Star? Or the other super-weapons you Jedi have blown up?"

"Grandmaster Skywalker wasn't really a Jedi yet when he blew up the Death Star. The second one was blown up by Wedge. Commandos blew up the Death Star-laser-on-a-ship. As well as the World Devastators," Tyria listed.

"Okay, okay," Kell held up his hands in surrender and laughed. "Fine. Jedi don't blow stuff up. But what do you call it when you Jedi go into a place and clean house?"

"Considering we Jedi were originally an order of monks? Anger management." Tyria smiled a small smile. "How confident are you in his plan working?"

"Considering it relies on me trusting a disgraced Mandalorian clan, the Mandalorian Protectorate, and people fighting only because of the large amount of credits on the table, pretty confident," Kell said with false bravado. "Besides, impossible is my squad's specialty."

"I was worried you were going to say something like that," Tyria rolled her eyes. "Okay, I have to go back to helping to evacuate this world and I know your call time is running out. Stay alive."

"You too," Kell said giving her a two-fingered salute. It hadn't been all that long since he had last seen her in person, a couple of months, but he still missed her something fierce. It was moments like this where he wished he could use the Force to reach across the galaxy to the woman he loved.

Tyria's eyes shone with emotion as she pressed two fingers to her lips and then touched them to the camera. The call then ended, leaving Kell Tainer alone in the room. His shoulders slumped and he took in several breaths to regain control of himself.

A knock on the door. "You finished?"

"Yeah," Kell answered, stepping out of the booth. "Sorry."

"It's understandable," Estoric Sandskimmer patted Kell on the shoulder. "If it was my son's crazy plan, I'd be burning as much of my comm-time as possible."

"You have children?"

"Haven't found the right partner," Estoric shook his head.

Kell clapped Estoric on the shoulder in turn. "You're missing out."

"Hey, Kell."

Kell stopped at the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Are all Wraith Squadrons missions like this one?"

"Ad hoc, shoe-string budget, against impossible odds, and potentially suicidal? Yup," Kell smiled a broad smile, his true emotions once again buried beneath his 'man-child' behavior. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. So many things to blow up, so little time."

Estoric laughed and closed the booth behind him.

Kell's own expression changed ever so slightly as he regulated his emotions. One or another, he was going to make sure his son's plan succeed.

FtF VI FtF

Gorak Lah was cursing his fate as he stood on the bridge of his new flagship. It wasn't a Miid ro'ik, an imposing Matalok, a mammoth Uro-ik v'alh, or even a sleek Ro'ik chuun m'arh. To his great humiliation, his new flagship was 12-person Yorik-vec assault cruiser. If it hadn't been for those meddling children on Gargon, he would be on the frontlines earning glory and accolades. Instead, he had narrowly escaped with his life and the Warmaster had assigned him to this out of the way post to look after a group of criminals most of the galaxy didn't even care about. To make matters worse, the Jedi child that he had thought dead more than once was still alive. He had fired on the warship in his own fleet, confident that the Jedi child and his friends were trapped aboard.

Yet somehow they had survived. Most maddening yet was that he still wasn't certain of their identities. He had his suspicions. Had had his people keep track of all of the younger generation of Mandalorians on Gargon and noted the ones that went missing each time there was a 'Jedi' incident. Right before the Warmaster had transferred him, Gorak had received the final report. The same group of Mandalorian adolescents had gone missing, but had all returned without a single loss among them a week after the battle. And if the reports were correct, the Jedi his people had captured had even been rescued. He had been so furious he had taken his frustrations out on a nearby Shamed One and spaced the corpse. The Yun'o was definitely working against him. There could be no other explanation.

"Commander, Torval Lah has returned. He hails us."

Through the cognition hood, Gorak saw the Yorik-akaga picket ship approach their position in high orbit above the barren, garrisoned, planet. Gorak stroked the villip cluster and didn't wait for it to fully form the man's face. "Report."

"The team sent to retrieve the Jeedai have reported in. The bounty hunters requested payment in raw materials and valuable crystals, not credits, so they are currently procuring the necessary materials."

"Is that so," Gorak said expressionlessly. "And the report from the Yorik-stronha observing the mercenary base?"

"The Bane Consortium jettisoned one of their hangar bays shortly after our people left. Over the course of the rest of the day, eleven personal shuttles or transports arrived. They remained at the base for five hours and then departed in the order they had arrived."

"Destination?"

"Their vectors were all different," the sub-commander said. "And we did not have enough ships to track all of them. Those we did track were headed for the Mid-Rim. That was eight hours ago."

Gorak Lah did his best to hide his displeasure at the situation. Once again there were too many unknowns being injected into the situation. "Have you contacted the bounty hunters to ascertain the condition of their Jeedai prisoner?"

"I did, shortly after they casted away the hangar. They reassured me that nothing about our contract with them has changed and that the Jeedai remained alive and in their custody."

"What was their exact wording?" Gorak asked. He had overseen the Mandalorians long enough to know the finer details of how such contracts worked.

"Commander?"

"Their exact words?" Gorak pressed.

"After showing me a video of the Jeedai to prove he was still in their control, their leader said not to worry and that they would uphold the contract to the letter."

"Sub-commander," Gorak said, his heart sinking. "The contract we entered into with the Bane Consortium stated that they would apprehend or kill the Jeedai Mandalorian and that they would notify us as soon as the job was done. We would then pay them the requested fee for their services."

"Yes?"

Gorak would have had the man executed for sheer incompetence if it wasn't for the fact that Gorak couldn't afford to lose any of the people under his command. And, sadly enough, Torval was actually one of his more competent sub-commanders in the garrison. "Sub-commander. They captured the Jeedai. They notified us. We haven't made any payment. They fulfilled their contract on their end."

"It is not our fault that they rejected the credits." The sub-commander objected. "Our people had the right amount of credits."

"Again, 'we would pay the requested fee,'" Gorak said, his patience fraying. "We set the bounty amount believing that their credits would suffice. Though they requested a change in the form of payment, that is still within the terms of the contract."

The sub-commander's villip image froze as if a lightning bolt had struck the man. "Then the Jeedai…"

"Is no longer in their custody," Gorak breathed out words he didn't want to say. "Those that arrived were more than likely private bidders and they sold the Jeedai to the one that paid the most."

"Commander, let me take our fleet to their base and obliterate those…"

Gorak wanted to walk out the airlock in silent despair as his last chance to redeem himself vanished. "No. It is not worth alienating the cast-offs of this galaxy when the fault lies with us. They are still hunting other Jeedai and enemies of the Yun'o for us."

"Commander!" The warrior manning the villip choir suddenly spoke up. "Apologies for the interruption, but the Mandalorian leader is attempting to reach us."

"The Mandalorian leader?" Gorak was momentarily shaken from his doldrums at this unexpected news. After being relieved of command of the garrison in Mandalorian space, talking with the Mandalorian leader again was one of the last things he thought would happen. "Sub-commander Torval Lah, remain on stand-by."

"As you command." The sub-commander bowed his head and the villip went inert.

Gorak Lah then attached the biot that allowed the choir to accept the electronic impulses that came from holo-comm and hypercom transmissions. "This is Commander Gorak Lah. Why have you bothered me?"

"Commander," Boba Fett's helmeted features translated poorly onto the villip. "My forces are currently engaging a New Republic taskforce and require assistance. Yours was the nearest allied force in the region."

"Why are your people so far out? We are nowhere near Mandalorian Space. Nor are we near any systems of importance."

"Our contacts learned of a hunter working with the New Republic to secure the release of a captured Jedi. My forces were attempting to ambush the hunter's vessel before he reached New Republic space. We did not anticipate that a New Republic taskforce would already be in the area. It is, as you said, far from any area of importance. If you are going to assist, I would suggest you send people fast. Otherwise my forces will be forced to withdraw and the Jedi will reach more heavily patrolled areas of New Republic space."

Gorak Lah straightened. Maybe the Yun'o hadn't abandoned him after all. "Give me your coordinates, I will bring all of my ships to bear. We will not let this Jeedai get away."

"As you command," Boba Fett inclined his head and his image disappeared.

Gorak Lah felt his heart pound as he nodded to the others in the cockpit of his assault cruiser. "Assemble the fleet! All vessels will head into battle and engage the New Republic forces. Today is the day we slay our enemies! Today, the Jeedai who eluded me on Gargon will finally meet his fate!"

FtF Chapter End FtF

A\N: Two more chapters of this story left… I can get there…I can get there….it's like running a marathon and crawling and gasping that last stretch. So much to pack into those two chapters, I want to see this story off properly! I did a twice-over on this chapter, apologies if I missed a typo or two. Thanks to all who are still reading this story. And you're showing your age and/or taste in old TV shows if you got any of the non-SW references in the bounty hunter intro scene =P.