Happy Independence Day, everyone! :)

Hunter watched curiously as the Jedi Master hobbled to the Marauder's doorway, which was still closed. "General," he said hesitantly. "You want us to come with you?"

"Come with me, you may, but touch, you may not."

"Touch – what?" asked Wrecker.

"Anything that on the shelves, there is."

Tech hurried into the narrow hall just then, eyes glued to his datapad. "It appears that chocolate is a preparation of cacao pods or seeds – most often, the seeds are roasted and ground before being mixed with sweeteners and butter. If my information is correct, this is the most basic preparation, but it is very popular among most humanoids."

"Wait. Chocolate's nothing but a food?" Crosshair asked in disbelief.

"Apparently so," said Tech, also sounding confused.

Whack!

All the commandos jumped as Yoda's gimer stick smacked Tech's datapad down, away from his eyes. "Such definitions, inadequate, they are. Away, put that device. Tell you nothing of value, it will. Fix your sad lack of knowledge, I WILL."

Tech's mouth opened slightly in surprise, but he clipped his datapad to his belt without verbally protesting.

Hunter rubbed at the back of his head and then put on his helmet. It had been a full minute since they'd landed, but the five of them were still crowded into the narrow corridor.

Yoda cleared his throat loudly and observed, "Opened, the door still has not."

"The . . ." Hunter hesitated. "The button's above you, General."

Yoda's eyes narrowed in consideration. Then the button sank into the wall on its own. Hunter blinked as the boarding ramp extended with a hiss and settled on the tiny landing platform.

Yoda hobbled down the ramp at a perilous velocity and only managed to bring himself to a halt right before he'd have walked into the narrow door with the frosted-glass windows.

Hunter came to a more controlled stop behind him and looked warily around at the platform, which was surrounded by an invisible forcefield – all except for where their ship's ramp extended down to it. "General, what is this place?"

"The sign, observe," said Yoda. "In front of your nose, it is."

Chella Chuchi's Chocolates, quoted Hunter to himself, taking a moment to notice the curly gilt lettering. Well, that told him the name of the store, but not much else. He still didn't understand why Yoda needed a commando escort, or whether this visit to the store was a mere whim on the Jedi's part. . .

Yoda raised his gimer stick high over his head with both hands and slammed it against the pale pink metal of the door. When it did not immediately open, the grandmaster leaned his stick against the wall and then proceeded to beat a brisk tattoo on the metal door with both fists.

Hunter wondered if Yoda was trying to batter down the door with brute strength, which was something the general didn't actually seem to have. "General Yoda?"

"Busy, I am!"

"We've got plenty of explosives," Hunter offered.

The short little general stopped attacking the door and resumed his quiet posture, hands folded on the head of his gimer stick. "Hm. Explosives . . . serve our purpose, they will not. In the Force, you must trust."

A confused silence fell.

Ten seconds later, Crosshair shifted. "The name Chuchi sounds familiar."

"Yeah!" said Wrecker. "I was just thinking that. Isn't she that blue Senator?"

"Wrecker," complained Tech. "There are multiple female Senators with blue or blue-tinted skin. Miss Riyo Chuchi is a Pantoran."

"I thought she was a Senator," said Wrecker, pretending confusion – he knew perfectly well what a Pantoran was.

Yoda chortled.

A tiny slit opened in the center of the door, and a light voice said, "Master Yoda?"

"Miss Chuchi! A pleasure to hear your voice, it is."

"Thank you. You have friends with you?"

"Four clones . . . yes," said Yoda. "Know what chocolate is, they do not."

Tech lifted a finger. "Technically, we do know."

Yoda narrowed his eyes to mere slits and turned towards him. "Know what chocolate is, Tech, you do not."

"But . . ." Tech trailed off helplessly. "Was my information incorrect?"

Yoda pressed a small, three-fingered hand against his forehead and gave a loud, galaxy-weary sigh, which Hunter thought was completely unjustified.

Then the pink door opened, and a Pantoran woman stood in front of them. Her lavender dress perfectly matched her neatly tied-back hair, and over it, she wore a white garment with frilled sleeves and ties. The gold markings on her face were exactly the same as Senator Chuchi's.

Hunter and Crosshair exchanged looks.

Chella Chuchi folded her hands gracefully and bowed to Yoda. "Please come in."

Yoda gave her a solemn bow of his own before hobbling in.

The commandos hovered outside the door. Hunter was considering returning to the ship and waiting for the general to finish his purchases. He couldn't help but remember that Yoda had described the second half of his mission as 'raiding' his favorite store.

Then Miss Chuchi, who was still standing in the doorway, gave Hunter an uncertain smile. "And you are . . ."

He removed his helmet abruptly. "Hunter, ma'am," he said. "And these are Tech and Wrecker and Crosshair."

"It's lovely to have met you," she said with a more genuine smile. "Do come in."

They entered, one after the other, and lined up uncertainly against the hallway wall.

The Pantoran woman shut the door and locked it, glanced at the stiffly-positioned commandos, and rolled her eyes slightly. "You won't find any enemies to fight here," she said. "At least, not today."

Hunter tilted his head questioningly.

"It's Primeday," she explained. "Everyone knows I do only scheduled pickup orders on Primedays, so no one bothers stealing. Too much of a hassle."

She picked up a tall stack of white boxes from a nearby table and headed down the hallway, talking over her shoulder as she went. "Taungsdays, on the other hand – those are difficult. I make chocolate fondue on Taungsday, and goodness! It always feels as though every villain and lowlife in the entire sector crowds around outside. They can't break through the shield, of course, but it's still a nuisance."

Miss Chuchi vanished through another door, and Hunter belatedly realized that Yoda had long since disappeared.

"What are we doing here?" Crosshair asked into the sudden silence.

"We are . . ." Tech fidgeted with his goggles and looked thoughtful. "Waiting. . . for the general?"

"Yeah, Tech." Crosshair folded his arms. "Thanks for letting us know."

"Well, you asked," Tech snarked back. He pulled out his datapad and started researching something.

Hunter drew his knife and toyed with it for a silent minute. Then, tiring of that, he tossed it into the air and caught it by the tip. One rotation forward, one backward; two forward, two backward; three forward, three –

Ping. Crosshair's toothpick bounced off his knife mid-spin.

Hunter sheathed his knife and eyed him pointedly.

Crosshair, looking disappointed that his target had disappeared, put his arsenal of toothpicks back on his belt.

"Oh, Sergeant?" Miss Chuchi reappeared at the end of the hall. "Master Yoda will be a few minutes. You and your men are welcome to wait in my storeroom."

". . . Thank you," said Hunter, following her. "Where exactly is the general?"

"He is reviewing this month's potential contact list," she called back.

The commandos entered the room. A sweet, unfamiliar scent caught Hunter's attention. Chella Chuchi opened the door across the room, letting in a cloud of delicious-smelling steam, and disappeared for a moment.

Wrecker breathed deeply and sighed. "Wow. That smells good."

"Presumably, it is chocolate," said Tech. "I was under the impression that chocolate was a solid, but the steam would indicate otherwise. Hmm . . . I did read about a drink known as hot chocolate."

Before anyone could reply, Miss Chuchi came in again and bustled to a large table filled with various packaging supplies. She selected a sheet of transparent, crinkly material, wrapped it around a white box, and sealed it with a quick twist of wire.

Hunter gazed around the rest of the room and realized that the front of the store had been deceptively small. This room was big enough to fit three of their bunkrooms.

"Hey," said Wrecker suddenly. "Miss Chuchi – what kind of weapon is that?"

Hunter followed his gaze. A gun of an odd design was standing against the wall, barrel pointed toward the ceiling.

"A scattergun," she replied, narrowing her eyes as she considered the length of the plastic she'd just cut. "Non-lethal, and not particularly damaging, but excellent for crowd control."

Crosshair glanced from the large gun to Miss Chuchi, who was a full head shorter than Tech. "You use that?"

"Frequently." She paused in her work to pat a strand of hair that had been hanging in her eyes back into place. "As I said, the ruffians haven't gotten through the shield yet, but when they spend too much time testing it's strength, it really does get annoying."

"Then why do you not relocate your store?" Tech asked curiously.

"Because this store is my cover job, as you might say." Miss Chuchi tilted her head from side to side, then readjusted the angle of a gold-and-pink ribbon. "Master Yoda told me that you are commandos?"

Tech nodded. "And you are related to Senator Chuchi."

"I am her second cousin," she answered, with a quick smile. "I collect a good deal of information that the Republic and the Jedi find useful. No one would think to suspect a candy maker."

Hunter thought about this for a moment. "What if you get found out, though?"

"Oh, that is all taken care of. Riyo asked Commander Fox to give me a special code, which I can use at any time of the day or night. This store is heavily protected. I can survive here long enough, even under heavy fire, for the Coruscant Guard to extract me."

With another smile, she hurried back into the other room. The door swung shut behind her.

"Hm," said Tech, and promptly began running scans on the store's security system.

"I still can't figure it out," said Hunter after a silent moment.

"What?" asked Wrecker.

"Whether General Yoda's here for information or for chocolate. . ." At this point, it could be either, or both. Hunter was beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that Fox had known exactly where Yoda was headed, and that Fox had been only too glad to have the commandos go with him instead of Fox himself.

Half an hour later, when Yoda had reappeared, Tech had given Miss Chuchi a couple of comments on the potential inefficiency of her energy generator backup system, Crosshair had elbowed him for offering unasked-for advice (something Hunter thought was pretty hypocritical, all things considered), and Chella had handed Wrecker a tall, precarious stack of boxes, the group gathered in the cockpit of the Marauder.

"Want us to head back to the Temple, General?" Hunter checked.

Yoda settled himself in one of the crash seats and gravely pulled the restraint harness down over his head. The part meant to go across one's waist ended up at the exact level of his neck, which . . . didn't look safe. That, combined with the fact that there were a good ten inches between the harness and the general, made Hunter give Tech his not-often-used 'you'd better pilot properly' look.

Tech rolled his eyes and complied, taking off with exaggerated caution.

"Carefully," said Yoda.

All four commandos turned to look at him.

"Carefully . . . what?" said Hunter.

"Return to the Temple, we will," said Yoda. "But check the landing platform for random Jedi, we should first, yes."

Tech raised a curious eyebrow.

Hunter really wished that he would turn back around and watch where he was flying. Or Crosshair. One of the pilots should be looking out the viewport.

Fortunately, they both went back to piloting an instant later, and Hunter relaxed.

The humming of the ship and the rush of surrounding traffic was all that could be heard for a long moment. Then, Tech shifted lanes at a reasonable speed.

"Boring, this is," announced Yoda, and slid out of the crash seat without bothering to lift the restraint harness first. "Perhaps faster, we would move, if pilot, I did."

Tech turned around again and gestured with one hand. "With all due respect, General, you would be physically unable to pilot this ship. You could not reach all the controls."

"Yeah," said Crosshair snidely. "Even Tech can reach them, but . . ."

"Hmph." Yoda wobbled over to them and jabbed Crosshair in the side with his gimer stick. "Show you young whippersnappers, I will. Come, come!"

Tech and Crosshair exchanged wary looks, then glanced at Hunter.

Before he could do more than feel dubious, Wrecker moved to the front. "I'll co-pilot for you, General!"

"A good idea, that is." Yoda jabbed Tech, then Crosshair. "Move now! Pilot the ship, Wrecker and I will."

"But . . ." Tech released the controls and got slowly to his feet.

"Careful, you are not being," criticized Yoda, climbing into the pilot's seat. "Use safety restraints, you should."

Crosshair raised a dark eyebrow at the general, who was very obviously not using the safety restraints, and got out of the co-pilot's chair. "Well, you're not."

"Use them, he SHOULD." Yoda shot the sniper a narrow-eyed look. "Use them, I should. Use them, I will not. Foolish, in my old age, I am allowed to be, yes."

"General . . .?" said Hunter, beginning to wonder if he should comm Fox. "We're still headed to the Temple, right?"

"Worry, do not." Yoda hopped onto the control panel and examined the steering yoke, then grasped it in both hands. "Know the way, I do."

He rocked the ship from side to side, then chuckled delightedly. "A very good ship, this is."

Tech looked mollified, if only slightly.

"STRAP YOURSELVES IN NOW, YOU SHOULD!" Yoda screeched suddenly. "GIVE YOU FIVE SECONDS, I WILL!"

Hunter gestured Crosshair and Tech to the back seats, then moved to clutch the pilot's chair. If need be, he could dive forward and knock the general aside, wrest the ship back under control –

Yoda reached out and hit the engine booster, and the Marauder rocketed upward.

Wrecker let out a delighted whoop. Hunter could only wrap his arms around the headrest of the pilot's seat and stare as a rapidly oncoming airbus, honked repeatedly at them. Yoda, still clinging to the steering yoke with both hands, threw his entire weight back and to the right. The Marauder swerved up and over, missing the airbus by mere feet.

Hunter let out a relieved breath. "General –"

"SHHHH!" Yoda hauled back on the yoke with all his strength, and the ship rose up four levels in a matter of seconds. CONCENTRATE, I MUST!"

When they neared the Temple, Yoda cut speed abruptly and hopped back into the pilot's seat. From there, he could just reach the steering yoke, and Hunter was sure that he couldn't see out the viewport.

"Easy it is, from here to the Temple," said Yoda, closing his eyes. "Fly with the Force, I will."

Hunter had to make his arms unlock from around the headrest, he'd been gripping it so hard. When he turned, his heartrate picked up slightly again, because Tech was wearing his 'excited' smirk – the one he almost never wore. "Tech, no," he said.

Tech blinked and appeared to come out of a trance. "What?"

"Just – no."

"I wasn't thinking of anything," Tech said defensively, which meant he absolutely had been thinking of something, most likely related to speed and insane flying. "I didn't even say anything."

Crosshair unlatched his security restraints. "You didn't need to."

"That was great!" yelled Wrecker.

Hunter watched Landing Platform Thirty approach. This morning, it had looked dull and commonplace. Now, it was attractive – a friendly-looking landing platform. Never had the number thirty looked so sensible and . . .

"Commander Fox is there," he announced.

"Know this, I do," said Yoda, who still had his eyes shut. "Tech, wish to land, do you?"

Tech looked wary. "No. The commander will think I was the one flying."

"Know how fast we were going, he will not. Take over piloting, you may."

"No." Tech folded his arms. "I refuse to be blamed for your piloting."

Yoda snickered and started the landing sequence.

No one spoke.

The ship settled gently down on the platform. The ramp extended. Hunter, feeling a bit unsteady, walked down at as dignified a pace as he could maintain.

Commander Fox, who was resting his weight on one foot and had his helmet tucked under his right arm, tilted his head. "I see you survived, Sergeant."

Hunter felt a twinge of betrayal. ". . . You knew."

The commander patted him on the shoulder. "Let's just say, I've gone through more than my share of the general's piloting."

"And Chella Chuchi?"

"She's nice," said Fox absently.

Footsteps sounded on the ramp, and Hunter turned to see Yoda, accompanied by Wrecker, approach. Tech and Crosshair wandered along behind them, looking a bit nonplussed.

Hunter eyed the sheer number of flat boxes Wrecker carried, and then the tiny general who hobbled along beside him, once more the mild-mannered old Jedi. An odd suspicion entered his mind. "Commander, are you . . .?"

Fox pretended not to hear him. "The usual, Master Yoda?"

"One box for Senator Chuchi, yes," said Yoda, using the Force to select the proper box and float it out of the stack. Another followed, and the two boxes stacked themselves up, hovering in mid-air. "One for young Vos, because he won the bet. . . See that he gets it, you will?"

"I'll do that," said Fox. "After he fills out his prison release paperwork, which he still refuses to do. He says he was arrested unjustly."

Yoda chortled. "The charge, this time, what was it?"

"Tampering with CG property," said Fox with a weary sigh. "He hotwired Jek's and Rhys' speeders and took off with 'em. By the time Thire found him, they'd been repainted with black and red flames."

Crosshair's face took on an expression of mild intrigue.

"His defense. . ." Fox squinted one eye shut, almost as though he couldn't handle repeating it. "His defense was that we lived monochromatic lives and that he was improving our standards of living."

Yoda shook his head. "If stay in prison, he wishes to, argue, I will not."

"Yeah." Fox blinked thoughtfully. "Yeah . . ."

Hunter wished this Vos character good luck, because Fox looked calculating, as though he were about to alter a few papers. . .

After a short pause, Yoda reached up again. "Two boxes, there are, for you and your men." He sighed sadly, watching as the two boxes in question floated over to join Fox's growing stack. "Always two, there are."

"That's your problem," said Fox uncaringly, plucking the stack of boxes out of thin air without even blinking. "You agreed to that when I promised to keep this platform free of Jedi. Besides, General Windu says you eat too much chocolate as it is."

"Know what is good for me, he does not," Yoda grumbled. "And now, Commander Fox, busy I am. About your own business, you may go."

Fox gave him an extremely casual salute, which alarmed Hunter slightly – he'd never seen Fox act so . . . bland – and left.

Yoda gestured briskly to the commandos. "Back to your ship, we shall go. Some of this chocolate, you must have."

"I admit I am rather curious," said Tech. "It appears to have a higher value than its description would lead me to believe."

"Underestimate the power of dark chocolate, you must not," said Yoda, in a mysterious and gravelly voice. "Forever, it will guide your path."

" . . . What?" said Wrecker.

"Misquoting, I am," said Yoda, hurrying into the cargo hold. "Fun, it can be."

He hopped onto the first crate he reached and patted the one next to him. "Open a box, we shall."

Wrecker obeyed. "Okay," he said, looking from the box to Yoda. "Now what?"

"Eat one, you shall."

Hunter was a bit wary at this point, but Fox seemed to think they were safe. He took one of the small bars.

He was still examining it when Wrecker said, "Oh . . . Yup. I think I understand now."

Crosshair and Tech eyed theirs skeptically, then looked at each other. At last, Tech took a cautious nibble. "Hmmm . . ." He paused. "Yes, I can see where this would become mildly addictive."

Without further ado, he put the rest of the candy into his mouth. Crosshair watched, as though suspicious that Tech would keel over. When nothing happened, he shrugged and ate his. He said nothing for a long moment. Then he and Tech looked at each other again and reached simultaneously for a second chocolate. Wrecker was on his third. Yoda was on his eighth.

Hunter finally ate his. It was almost overpowering, compared to the bland rations he was so used to, and there was an alarming amount of sweetener in it. He swallowed heavily and cleared his throat.

"A better idea, I have," said Yoda, pointing at a darker shade of chocolate. "This one, you should try. Less sweet, it is."

He was right. That one was much better, and Hunter found his liking for the candy rapidly growing. He stuck to dark chocolate after that. Wrecker liked the ones with nuts, though he had to fight Yoda a bit for those, as they were also the general's favorite. Tech said that he preferred the ones that contained caramel. Crosshair liked the chocolate-filled chocolates, which Hunter thought was just overdoing things.

Within minutes, the box was empty.

"Save the rest for later, we should," said Yoda. "A sugar high coming on, I feel. And pulled out the caf beans, I have not."

Hunter had eaten only three chocolates, but there was odd buzzing coursing through him. Despite this, he had enough sense left to look up in alarm at the words. Chella Chuchi had sold Yoda caf beans . . . ?