"I'm here to see Saquesh."

The Gammorean guard, new by the looks of it, glanced back at the door behind him. Though now it was less of a door, and more a squarish portal with a sparking, thunking, stuck-open door. Beyond it was an empty, if a little bloodspattered, room. "Uh... you got appointment?"

Trista smiled winningly, adding the Force to her words. "Yep, I've got an appointment."

"Uh... go on in." The guard shuffled to the side, and she passed through the sparking archway. Guards were even sparser inside, and Atton cleared his throat as they passed a large bloodstain against a wall. The entire place still stunk of blasterfire and blood, leeching into the metal and burning their noses in the cramped quarters.

"So... how are we doing this?" he whispered. Trista motioned for them to huddle.

"Talk our way through if we can, find the refugee girl. We'll get around to driving the Exchange out, one way or another."

HK tapped his gun, the sound of metal on metal echoing and causing a few Gamorreans to glance over. "Statement: That is my favorite part of this plan, master."

Visas shifted on her feet. "How far do you believe talking will get us?"

"Oh, not very far. Only to Saquesh. I expect us to have to kill him, and everyone else in here. I'm hoping the Gamorreans will run if we take out Saquesh and do enough damage."

Atton scoffed. "You ever met a Gamorrean in the Exchange?"

"I've met a couple on the battlefield, yes," Trista said. "And mostly, they don't stick around once their leadership goes down."

He blew a puff of air through his lips. "Hope you're right, sweets."

Trista responded with a curt nod and turned on her heel, heading deeper into the Exchange headquarters. The Handmaiden stepped up next to her and cleared her throat.

"I must admit... respectfully, I do not know how I feel about this plan. I am hesitant to call it a plan. It is more of a vague idea."

Trista kept her eyes forward. "Have you ever been in an actual battle, Handmaiden?"

"I – I have not."

"Consider this your first lesson. All the plans of the greatest generals, every battle you've studied – even the best-laid ones, where the difference between failure and success rests on a knife-edge." She looked over. "All of them were drawn after the battle ended. To over-plan a battle is to lose it. That was true even for Revan, and she made her plans based on second-by-second precognition, not just knowledge of strategy."

She nodded. "I... I think I understand. Each side draws their own plans, so a general must act according to their instinct, as well as their predictions."

"Precisely. Adapt to the enemy, preferably before they adapt to you."

They stopped in another hallway, and Trista looked at one of the Gamorreans. "Saquesh?" The Gamorrean grunted and motioned to the doors to their left with his ax. Trista nodded and slapped the mechanism. It creaked open on gears that needed oiling. "Thanks."

"Guess the screeching adds to the atmosphere," Atton said.

"Guess so." She jerked her head and strolled in, walking around the table at the room's center. At the next door she hesitated for a moment with a frown, trying to sort out her approach. Aggressive? Agreeable? Well, given how the denizens of Nar Shaddaa seemed to care for humans...

With that thought burning in her mind, she slammed her hand into the door and strode inward, taking the pale Quarren staring out at the refugees below by complete surprise. He spun in anger and raised a hand.

"Hello, I have an appointment," Trista interrupted. He frowned (or that's what she thought the tentacle movement meant) as he lowered his hand.

"I have no appointments scheduled today."

"Just booked it."

"When?"

"Right now." She crossed her arms. "I'm here to discuss the refugee situation."

"What 'situation?'" He motioned to the windows overlooking the refugee camp. "I see no problems worth discussing, do you? You are just another filthy human, like them." He sniffed pointedly as he motioned back to the viewports. "I thought this sector had gotten smellier."

"I hear bathing counteracts that," Trista said. "Look into it."

"Is that humor? Such a human indulgence—"

"Yes, yes, you're above such drudgery. I am here to discuss the refugee situation."

He sighed. "Yes, yes, as you said."

"And you are Saquesh, yes? Not some other slimeball Quarran?"

"Listen, human, I—"

"We all accept our places in society. I'm filthy, you're slimy."

The tentacles waved, the agitation needing no translation. HK nudged her, and she shook her head.

"Yes, I am Saquesh, the Overseer of this sector, voice of the Exchange... and you would do well to show some respect, human."

"Eh, we'll see. Now regarding the refugees, I have several questions. First, seriously, what's your problem with humans?"

A few of Saquesh's Gamorrean guards snorted uproariously for a moment. Saquesh's tentacles waved, this time with some amusement, the blue lights flickering off his pale, slimy pastel orange skin.

"You misunderstand me, I do not loathe humans because they are humans. I loathe them because they are weak." His eyes glanced over the others, and he motioned back to the holding area.

"Weak?"

"And pathetic. They outnumber us and yet, not a single one raises a hand to defend themselves — and when they do, this is the best they can muster." Trista raised her brows and looked back at Atton, who also looked shocked as he glanced back at her. Did Saquesh... not know who they were? What she was? "You are as weak and pathetic as they are, and you will remember your place."

"Then why put this pressure on them? What do you gain from this?"

"Weak, and stupid." Saquesh shook his head. "The worst of combinations."

"Sadly, yes, humans lack telepathy or mind-reading as forms of communications," Trista said, a bit of irritation coloring her words. She shoved it back into her chest, down into her stomach, away from her emotions. "So why are you pressuring them?"

"We all have our reasons... demands. There is a potential for profit here like no where else on Nar Shaddaa."

"Mm, why is that? They can't be too profitable."

Saquesh laughed, a sinister hissing and clicking chuckle. "Not all profits come from the slave trade."

That was enough confirmation for her. They must be in the right place to find Zez-Kai Ell, and the Exchange must know it. Why had he not done something yet — even just caring for the refugees?

That didn't bode well.

"Is there anything else, or are you done stinking up my office?"

Trista sniffed, raising her chin. "You have a refugee girl you stole from her mother, named Adana. Where is she?"

"What of her?" Saquesh shrugged. "We will sell her as payment for a debt."

"What debt? Rent for a storage container in this shithole?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you know what the price of rent is on Nar Shaddaa?"

"Not worth a life."

The tendrils swum in amusement. "And what do you plan to do about it?"

Trista smiled and, almost unconsciously, pushed her robe back as she set her hands on her hips.

"I'm glad you asked," she said, her tone sweet, "because I'm open to an arrangement, Saquesh."

"I'll... humor you. Go on."

"You'll lay off the refugees — in fact, you'll abandon this sector entirely, and give them free rein of this area. You will not prey on them anymore. You will allow them to come and go freely, and you will no longer extort them."

Saquesh stared at her for a moment, before bursting into a strange sort of chitter that she assumed was laughter. The Gamorreans joined him a moment later and she held her pose, never changing her expression, though it took some effort. Atton coughed next to her.

"This is your brilliant plan, sweets?"

"Yeah," she whispered through gritted teeth, "it's called 'giving you time to get into position.'"

"Oh..." Atton took a step back. "Oh, yeah."

The laughter finally died out, and she waited. Saquesh straightened and regained control of himself.

"But seriously," he said. "What will you do about it?"

Her smile didn't waiver. "I'm sorry, did you mishear me? I said you will leave this sector, and never harass the refugees again. Or any humans. Period."

"Yes, yes, we've established that you do not know what you are doing."

"You see, Saquesh." Trista took a few steps forward, right into arm's reach of the musty, fishy alien. She let her right hand fall, bumping her lightsaber into her palm, but he didn't notice. "I'm not finished. If you don't comply, I kill you. That's the deal. You're not even the real goal, Saquesh, you're a stepping stone. So you either back off the refugees, or you die."

Saquesh blinked, seemingly realizing for the first time that she was entirely serious.

"And either way, I lose no sleep tonight. Because all your death means is one less slimy, Hutt-fucking wannabe gangster with an over-inflated sense of his own importance in this dispassionate galaxy." She stepped forward and tilted her head. "Am I clear now, Saquesh?"

Saquesh was quiet for a moment, almost as if he thought, for a second, that this rail-thin human female without any armor or visible armament might attempt something; that after so long pressuring the refugees, maybe his gamble had paid off in a manner he wasn't prepared for.

Then he straightened again, eyes narrowing, and his hand fell to his blaster.

"It is amazing your species has survived this long."

"I could say the same." Trista smiled again and brought up her arm, activating her lightsaber as she thrust her hand forward. Saquesh looked down, shocked for a moment at the blade that ran him through before he'd reacted, and she brought it up and out his shoulder. He was dead before he fell.

The Gamorreans reacted a half second slower than HK, who opened fire as soon as the lightsaber cued him. The Handmaiden cleared the room in a single slide, jamming her electrostaff into one of the Gamorreans' stomachs and sending him careening back into the wall. Atton fired at the other. Visas left Trista's side as her own lightsaber hissed to life, and she hefted and threw it overhand into one of them. It returned just in time to block a rifle shot.

Trista threw her own toward the two by the doors, sending it boomeranging through their arms as they charged with their axes raised. Neither made it another step further, as HK turned and drilled both between the eyes.

"Everyone good?"

"Fine," Visas said, deactivating her lightsaber. The Handmaiden and Atton simply joined her again.

"Good. Atton, see if you can get any files off Saquesh's system."

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Because the rest of us are going to watch your ass."

He smirked, but there was something else in his expression too. She didn't dare put a name to it, and looked away. "Well, if it's you watching, I can't be too upset."

Trista rolled her eyes and pushed him toward the computer. "Get to work, flyboy." She turned back to the others. "Watch the doors, this won't take too long."

"On it," the Handmaiden said, casting a distrustful eye at Visas as she headed back for the doors. Visas glanced at Trista, then followed.

"You making those two work together for a reason?"

"Yeah, it's called 'peace on the ship tonight.'" She joined him at the terminal. "I might even let them be alone together someday."

"Oh, that'll be the day."

"If I can do any more miracles, it will be."

Atton typed a few more commands into the computer and put her datapad in. "Just gonna download everything. Uh... nice work with squid-face, there."

"It was a lot easier knowing we had to kill him anyway."

"Fair. But, uh, also, y'know... that was a good look. The threatening part."

Trista raised a brow. "You being honest or facetious?"

"What, I can't give you a compliment?"

"So, honest."

"Yeah, it was hot." He flushed and cleared his throat. "I mean, it was, y'know, it was good. Effective."

Trista opened her mouth before what he'd said processed, closed her mouth again, and managed some sort of "huh" before she turned and headed for the door, ignoring Atton swearing under his breath at himself behind her.

He rejoined them a few minutes later and handed her the datapad without a word. She tucked it into one of her pockets.

"Ok, uh, let's find this girl and head out."

As they returned to the hallway, several Gammorrean guards trotted from around the corner. Trista shook her head and dropped her lightsaber out of her sleeve, igniting it, the silvery blue beam glowing off the hall's metal walls.

"We just killed your boss, big guys. If you want the same treatment, keep coming."

One of them glanced at the others and grunted something, still eying her lightsaber. They backed away.

"Query: Can I shoot out their legs, Master?"

"No." She frowned. "Well, maybe. Wound a couple so the message is obvious."

HK opened fire, causing several blaster wounds as they disappeared around the corner.

"You know, that's a good way to tell the Exchange you're a lightsaber-carrying Jedi again," Atton said. "Cause that's where they're going after this."

"Serves our purposes." Trista deactivated the weapon and slid it back into her sleeve. "I want them to come after me, remember?"

Atton groaned. "Remind us to talk about this once we're off-world."

"Sure. Come on."

They cleared half the base, working toward the northern side of the sector. Finally, at one door, the guard refused to leave and charged them, even in the face of two lightsabers.

"That's a good sign," Trista said, examining the door. "All right, anyone see a keycard? Looks like we need one."

Atton, Visas, and the Handmaiden stared at one another for a moment, before Atton sighed and started searching his pockets.

"Yeah, I'm not seeing anything. Did you go through Saquesh's pockets?"

"Of course I went through Saquesh's pockets, he didn't have one either."

"Perhaps we missed it in his office?" Visas asked.

"Ugh." Trista sighed, pulling a spike out of her pocket. "I'm not walking back there. Atton, do you have a spanner?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"In case this doesn't work." Trista slid the tunneler into the card reader. "I'm going to pull the panel off and start cutting wires. I just have to remember whether this is a red-red or red-blue. Or red-green."

Atton groaned. "This is how we all die."

"I am sure it will not be that bad," the Handmaiden said. Atton rolled his eyes.

Trista glanced back. "Quiet, I'm working."

The panel chirped and beeped welcomingly, and the door slid open. Trista looked inside to an empty room.

"Oh, is this just another storage room?" She glanced back at Handmaiden and Visas, who both shook their heads and pointed to the side of the door behind the panel. "Oh." Trista started through. Atton stopped her and stepped through himself, then yelled and dove to the side as a chair leg swung out toward him.

"What the hell?" he snapped. "Hey! Watch where you're swinging that thing!"

Trista hurried in as a human girl, around fourteen years old, swung the metal leg of a chair back at him in response. She grabbed it, stopping it mid-swing. "Hey, what the hell?"

"Who are you?" the girl demanded, grabbing for another chair leg and brandishing it at them. "One of Saquesh's kath hounds?"

"What?" Trista asked. "Do you think Saquesh would hire a bunch of humans?"

She scowled. "Oh, is that what you are? Like humans don't sell out to the Exchange all the time."

"We're not with the Exchange, kid." Atton straightened his jacket. "Sithspit."

Trista sighed and held up her hands, releasing the chair leg. "Let's start over. Are you Adana?"

She squinted. "Yeah. What of it?"

"I talked to your mother yesterday. We're here to get you out."

"Oh, yeah? Well, what's the password?"

"What? What password?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. This is some trick to sell me faster, isn't it?" She hefted the chair leg. "I'm on to you—"

"Hey, hey, no, back up." Trista kept her hands up. "Okay, look. Your mom didn't give me any password or anything, but that's a fantastic idea, and I'm glad you have that system. She was very distraught when we spoke yesterday, and it must have slipped her mind. My name's Trista, this is Atton, and outside are a few more friends of mine. I've already taken care of Saquesh and most of his goons."

"Oh yeah? And why would you do that? There's got to be a hundred of them in here."

"Because a friend of mine let the sector suffer for way too long, and it's my responsibility to fix it."

Adana laughed. "What are you, a Jedi or something? My mom keeps thinking they're gonna come back and help everyone, but everybody laughs at her."

"I mean, I used to be." Trista pulled her lightsaber out of her sleeve and wiggled it. Adana stopped laughing and stared. "But I've been, uh, gone, for about ten years. I got kicked out."

She cocked her head. "Why'd they kick you out?"

"Because I did what I thought was right. And if you just trust me, I'll get you to your mom safe, okay?"

Adana studied her, then pointed at Atton. "Was he?"

"What?!" Atton asked. "Nope, not me. Never a day in my life."

"Just me," Trista said. "Do you trust me?"

She sighed. "Can't be worse than in here."

"Just... watch where you point that this time," Atton said. Adana waved the chair leg at him, and he skipped to the side. "Ugh, children."

"I'm fourteen, I'm not a child."

#

As soon as they came within a hundred feet of Hussef, Adana disappeared in a flurry of cloth and tears as her mother clung to her and sobbed, pausing only for the briefest of breathless thanks. It drew a scene that Trista was uncomfortable with, as Hussef approached and refugees watched from around storage containers.

"That's a good thing you did for them," he said as he stopped. Trista nodded.

"I have even better news," she replied, and he nodded. "We've dealt with the Serroco and the Exchange. This entire part of the sector is yours."

Hussef stared at her for a moment, then blinked and laughed. "I'm sorry... both of them?"

Trista nodded. "Yeah, both of 'em. Saquesh, specifically, won't be bothering you anymore."

"I-I don't know what to say. I... we can't reward you. Almost none of us have any credits left. I—"

She held up her hand. "Don't worry about it. This should have been done a long time ago." He nodded, the shock on his face now mingling with gratefulness. "Just... if you see my friend, tell him I need to speak with him. His name is Zez-Kai Ell. Mine's Trista Morace. We're on one of the standalone docking pads up above."

"I will. I will! Is there anything else—"

"If the Exchange comes back around, just tell them my name. I want them to know who I am."

Hussef shook his head. "Don't know why. They'll come after you."

"That's what I want."

"You're a strange lass." He patted her shoulder. "Be careful out there. The galaxy needs more like you."

Trista nodded and turned away, almost directly into Adana's still-sobbing mother. She hugged her and, after a second of shock, she reciprocated.

"I'm sorry, I can't repay you," she sobbed. "I don't know what to give you. I have nothing to give you."

She shook her head as she gently pushed her back. "I don't want anything from you. I'm just glad Adana is back."

"No! There must be something." She pulled a simple gold ring off her finger and tried to push it into Trista's hand. "This is the last thing I have. Please, take it."

"No. No!" Trista closed her hand back around the ring. "I mean it, I don't need a reward. I'm just glad she's safe."

She insisted for a few moments, before Trista convinced her it was fine, and she grabbed her daughter and ushered her back toward their container. Adana waved before she disappeared.

Trista turned back, heading toward the door where her companions were still waiting. About halfway to them, someone cleared their throat next to her. She looked, almost shocked to find a blue Twi'lek in among the humans. He looked her over, and she stopped.

"You're a bit out of place," she observed, motioning to the lekku in what she hoped was a non-threatening gesture.

"As are you, Jedi." She blinked. "I must speak with you, privately."

"Is here private enough? They worry if I'm out of sight for too long."

He glanced around. "It is enough."

"You have done great kindness here in the refugee sector." Trista jumped as another voice spoke beside her, and an orangey Twi'lek stepped between her and her companions. Almost unconsciously, she made eye contact with Atton. He was still far, but she could almost sense his expression as he started toward them. "We feel we must pay you in return."

"Oh... okay..."

One of the Twi'leks followed her eyes and frowned. "Your companion, that one. We have seen him here before."

"Who, Atton?"

They nodded. "That was the name we knew him by."

"That one came to the smuggler's moon years into the Jedi Civil War, claiming it displaced him."

"Do not trust him. He is not a soldier."

"He is a killer, tried and true."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Hey, Tris." Atton sounded casual, but she knew him well enough to spot the tension in his voice as he stopped next to the orange Twi'lek. "These guys bothering you?"

The blue Twi'lek shook his head. "We were just leaving." Trista looked back at Atton, who squinted.

"You look familiar. Have I seen you before?"

"We have been here some time. Perhaps we have encountered one another before. Good day." The two exchanged a look and retreated. For a moment, almost, Atton looked nervous. Then he laughed.

"Well, uh, we're all ready when you are."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

They started back toward the others, and Atton cleared his throat. "So what was that about?"

"They... offered me some information for pushing back the gangs," she said.

"Useful information?"

Trista sighed and shrugged. "We'll see. Any little bit helps."

"Sure," Atton said with an echoing shrug. Something in it seemed disingenuous, as if he knew she was omitting information, but wasn't about to pry. "What next?"

Trista raised an eyebrow, glancing over with a wry smile as they reached the others. "How do you feel about pazaak?"