Chapter 1

Anchorhead

In the Ebon Hawk's armory, Canderous cleaned his blaster cannon and did most of the talking. Mission was tinkering with the vibration cell in her blade, and Kairi was kneeling by T3-M4, checking the little droid's power distribution and performing other routine diagnostics.

"My finest victory came in one battle above the world of Althir. My unit managed to defeat a force of Altheri ten times our own numbers."

Mission whistled. "Sounds like a nasty fight."

"It was," he said. Clearing his throat, he went back to the tale. "For five days, they managed to hold off our forces, keeping us to the outer rings of their world, preventing us from attacking it directly. My task was to assault one of their flanks with a false attack. The Altheri would be drawn out by the units I had sent in. Once they had surrounded those forces, the bulk of the fleet would attack from the rear and defeat them in detail."

"Did it work?"

"Things didn't go as planned. I saw a mistake they'd made in the disposition of their forces - and took it. In fending off our attack, they'd left the command ships wide open. I immediately turned my forces and assaulted the center of the fleet, decimating them! Their slow, ponderous warships could not turn to face us without being overwhelmed. The command ships were destroyed in seconds, their ranks thrown into chaos." He grinned. "It was most amusing to see the surviving ships scatter and flee, only to get shredded by the rings, smash into rocks, or be picked off by our forces."

"What did the Altheri do to you, I wonder?" Mission asked.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well, they had to do something against you guys for you to attack them, right?" Mission said.

"We were raiding worlds. They didn't have to do anything to us. We were testing ourselves against their armies. Their skill against ours. "

She tried to process this, and shook her head. "So there wasn't a point to it. You just hit them because you could?"

"Exactly."

"That seems an awfully strange reason to hurt someone, but what do I know, anyway?" Mission asked. Eager to change the subject away from the destruction of worlds, a topic that brought memories of Taris's destruction, she decided to ask about their destination. "I've never been to Tatooine. Haven't heard much about it at all. You ever go there, Canderous?"

Canderous shook his head and continued cleaning his weapon. "It is a ball of sand with rock sticking out of it. It's a dangerous place. Even in the settlement, there is little in the way of law. The true danger is the desert, street rat. You haven't seen what it's like - an endless sea of barren waste lethal to those who stray too far."

"No, guess I haven't." she said. "How do you know so much about it?"

"It is much like my home planet…though my world had a bit of green around the equator. Tatooine is sand all over. I've heard some of my people have settled there after the war."

"Doesn't sound like much of a place to settle."

"We're made of stronger stuff than most. Harsh climates go well with our temperaments," Canderous said. Noticing Kairi had been silent the entire time he and Mission had been speaking, he commented, "You've been awfully quiet, Jedi."

Kairi looked up and shrugged. "I was listening to your story, Canderous. I wasn't going to interrupt."

Canderous laughed. "Not going to condemn me as a monster until you've heard it all, eh?"

"Whatever said I think of you as a monster?" Kairi said, shutting the panel on T3's side before picking up a power tester to check another part of the droid. "You've protected Dantooine's farmers, kept your word to us, and you aren't raiding worlds any longer." She looked up. "So far, Canderous, you've proven yourself an honorable warrior. I won't quarrel with you over what can't be changed."

Canderous laughed. "You're not so bad. I see you've forgone the robes, at least."

Kairi examined her garb – a plain blue tunic and pants, a spacer's utility belt at her waist. A brown vest went past her hips and concealed her lightsaber. "Fewer questions will be asked if I look like an ordinary traveler than if I advertise I'm a Jedi," she said. "Secrecy, remember?"

"Kairi?" Bastila stood in the doorway, motioning for Kairi to come into the next room with her. She had outfitted herself in full robes, the lightsaber clearly displayed on her belt. Kairi had to sigh. So much for not advertising.

Kairi nodded, finished up the diagnostic, and put away the tool before following Bastila into the "common room."

Bastila shook her head in amazement upon seeing Kairi. So far, so fast, and such change! It was hard to picture the small woman the way she was on Taris. Harder still to see in her the quiet, hard-working civilian she had pulled aboard the Endar Spire…and harder still to picture her as -

"Hello, Bastila," Kairi said. "What is it?"

"The vision," Bastila said. "You saw it, too? That was why I came to find you."

"Yes," Kairi said. "I suppose that would mean we're on the right track," she said. "But you also seem…distracted."

"The distraction is little more than Commander Onasi throwing his weight around," she said, throwing up her hands. "He informed me that Admiral Dodonna has contacted Master Vandar and put both of us in charge of this mission. It makes him insufferably pleased."

"I know about Dodonna's orders, and it did not make him pleased," Kairi insisted, lightly touching Bastila's arm. "Put yourself in his position for a moment. The Council hasn't spoken to him. He's not having these visions, yet he's being asked to trust in two people he barely knows."

She stepped out of Kairi's reach. "You're quick to leap to his defense."

Kairi sighed. "I understand what it's like to be…adrift." She looked towards the cockpit. "Please don't be so harsh on him. He'll come around if we're honest and keep him informed."

Bastila cleared her throat. "But as for you, Kairi. I've been watching you, studying you closely to see what kind of progress you have made since your training at the hands of Master Zhar."

"I hope I am satisfactory," she said.

"Well, I've seen how you have resisted temptation and continue to walk the path of the Light Side. Very commendable, but I'm afraid you might stray from this path." Shaking her head, she looked Kairi over. "You haven't seen what the Dark Side represents, not in its entirety."

"I…suppose I haven't," Kairi said. "I've seen what it can do, but I'm not entirely certain I can understand its attraction – or if I ever truly wish to."

I'm not certain whether or not to be relieved by the fact she finds the Dark Side so incomprehensible and seemingly incompatible with her nature. Bastila thought.

Aloud, she attempted an explanation. "The Dark Side isn't simply giving into temptation or anger, or drawing on the Force to cause harm - those only lead to it. It's more insidious the closer you draw to it, begging you to surrender to its terrible power, to release…and once you stop resisting, it's too late. In the end, you're little more than an empty shell, and a mockery of what you once stood for."

"You seem to know the temptation well," Kairi said, eyebrow raising.

"I'm no less resistant to temptation then anyone else," she said, scowling. "I've the benefit of training that you don't."

Kairi nodded in silent acknowledgment. "And the benefit of others, probably. Friends, family…other loved ones…"

"No, Kairi." Her posture went rigid, an unconscious imitation of her Masters. "Did Zhar not even tell you? A Jedi's life is sacrifice and duty. As such, we cannot afford what others take for granted. In most cases, such attachments are forbidden."

Kairi flinched as though she'd been hit. Bastila held up her hand to interrupt as soon as Kairi opened her mouth.

"It isn't cruelty behind it," Bastila explained. "Relationships…friends, family, lovers…they're all fraught with powerful emotions. Anger and hate are the most obvious, but even love can lead to folly. They impair rational thought and cloud judgment. A Jedi is to be above such things."

"Are you saying that friendships and family weaken you?" Kairi was displaying a most un-Jedi revulsion.

"For Jedi, yes."

"What about for non-Jedi?" Kairi asked, confused. "People like Mission, Canderous, and Carth?"

"The stakes are lower for them, and so are their consequence. We are set apart - above - by the Force. As such, they can be allowed their weaknesses. We cannot."

"'Weakness?' 'Set above?'" Kairi scowled like the thought was abhorrent. "I don't consider myself above anyone else here. My abilities are…different, certainly, but…"

"That is why I worry about you. So little training, so little understanding of what it is to be Jedi." Bastila sighed, shaking her head at Kairi's artlessness. "The Order is everything I've ever known. My family gave me to them when I was six. Even since, I have been trained and instructed in how to use my powers, to sit at the feet of the Council and hear their reasoning."

Kairi looked almost ill as she spoke about it. "I…I have no family, and I knew what I was swearing to…but a child, so young…too young…The Jedi steal them from their families? Deesra told me that the younglings at the Enclave were orphans or foundlings..."

"Many of them are. It's the double-edge of the Force's gift. Because of what they are, they are able to survive what would destroy others. Yet, the Order is moving away from that. A handful of scouts travel the galaxy, looking for children with the gift. The younger, the better, as the training takes so long and our numbers are so few."

"And they never see their families again? They aren't allowed..."

"Kairi, go no further. A child is too young to understand the sacrifices that must be made," Bastila explained, clasping her hands behind her back in order to better project authority and assurance.

Kairi walked to stand next to her, her hand slightly out, and her black eyes offering comfort and sympathy should Bastila wish it. Bastila did not take the offer. Kairi had painful realities of the Jedi path to understand yet, and Bastila would have to teach those to her in the absence of the Masters.

"I didn't have the best relationship with my family, but yes, it was painful," Bastila admitted. "I did miss my father terribly for a very long time. We were very close."

When she closed her eyes, the memory was both pleasant and unwelcome. At the age of five, she sat on her dear Papa's lap while he handed her one of the treasures he had collected, the front claw of a Rodian ghest. Bastila remembered turning the polished claw over in her tiny hands while Papa held her and laughed, calling her his "greatest treasure." Of course, Mother had to come into the room and scold him for letting her play with such a thing.

Bastila forced herself back to the present. No emotion…no anger, no fear, no love…Clearing her throat, she turned back to Kairi.

"He doted on me, and was so kind and gentle - quite the opposite of Mother. She pushed him into treasure hunting. Before the Jedi, I'd spent all my life on ships hopping from one false lead to the next. She wasn't a very warmhearted woman, either. I think she was actually relieved to give me up to the Jedi, but it broke Father's heart."

"You still miss them." Sympathy and sadness trailed down the bond. Again, the thing that defined Kairi's strength also made her such a terrible danger.

"It…it was for the best, I suppose. I've learned to embrace the life I've chosen. No, Kairi, we are creatures of duty - nothing more and nothing less. Love can only serve to complicate and confuse matters."

"Which is why an empty vessel like me would hold appeal for them," Kairi's tone was bitter. "No family, no attachments, no memory…just a file and a mission to be sent on." Shaking her head, she studied Bastila with pity. "And the void Zhar spoke of…"

"The gift of the Force comes with a high cost. Sacrifice of one's emotional attachments is one of the prices a Jedi must be willing to pay. The alternative is to fall prey to the Dark Side."

Annoyance flashed down the bond. "Oh, what does the Dark Side have to do with it?"

"It has everything to do with it! It is so easy to think that we would never fall prey to such a horror; that we have unlimited control, vigilance and foresight. If only that were true. And that is why the Dark Side is so insidious."

Bastila took a shuddering breath. "The Order was once more lenient when it came to emotional entanglements, but then Exar Kun brought Sith teachings. His followers used every tactic to divide and destroy the Jedi, starting with the people individual Jedi held most dear. Time and again, these Jedi succumbed. The galaxy paid the price for our folly in bloodshed. We cannot allow such a thing to happen again. If the Way of the Jedi is all a child knows? If the emotional ties are severed cleanly and early? The chances of such a terrible thing happening ever again are greatly reduced. It is the difference between taking a Bespin Rawwk from the nest and training it for the hunt rather than attempting to capture and train a full-grown one that will always be wild and yearning for its freedom."

"But if these attachments are sure to lead to the Dark Side, and the Order's spent the last forty years doing their best to sever them, why are the Sith still doing so well?" Kairi asked.

"We cannot destroy our imperfections, only minimize them. The Sith exploit whatever they can in a concerted effort to break Jedi, to make them fall. What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them? We are weakened while they are strengthened. So we must harden our hearts and do whatever is required to fight against the Dark Side. Even when the battle becomes wearying."

"Hardening our hearts?" Kairi shook her head, and Bastila felt sharp disagreement – almost disgust – from the other woman. "Listen to yourself, Bastila. All this power...and yet, we're supposed to be isolated from the people we serve, denied even the most basic of bonds. Why is it a surprise when some go mad?"

Before Bastila really understood what she was doing, she grabbed Kairi's shoulders, and all but threw the other woman against the bulkhead. This woman had no idea how dangerous she was, how such rebellious things shouldn't even be thought much less spoken.

She could feel Kairi's alarm. Despite herself, it brought Bastila a terrible thrill.

"Kairi Niko, what did I hear you say?"

Surprise…confusion…Bastila had never been good with emotions, leaning heavily on Jedi codes and mantras for control. Now, she was Force-bonded to this…creature of emotion, a danger and threat…a terrible mistake…

"Hey!" Eyes wide with alarm, head-tails flattened, and crouched to spring, Mission hid half in shadows, ready to jump between them.

No, she's there to help Kairi…Bastila realized. Great Force, woman, I'm technically in charge of this, but the loyalty of the crew is strictly in your hands, isn't it?

Bastila quickly let go of Kairi, and both women made a show of brushing off their clothing. "I think we should take the training exercises elsewhere, Bastila," Kairi said. "As to not frighten everyone else."

"Well, three things…" Mission said. "One, don't think I buy it for a second. Two, we've landed. Three, all that talk about family being a hindrance can go out the airlock as far as I'm concerned, but hey…I'm not one of you guys."

The planet was a sandy brown, even from orbit. Tatooine was one large desert, and the only non-native population was in a small port named Anchorhead, a company town for Czerka's mining operations. Permission to land was granted, and the Hawk sailed in low over the town.

The spaceport was bustling, a waystation for all sorts of craft to fill up on supplies. Many of them looked shady, all of them looked well-traveled. The skies were the clearest blue, and everything around them was the color of sand, broken up by colorful canopies sheltering entryways and windows from the double suns. Kairi, Mission, and Bastila decided they would scout around first. As they descended the ramp, the hot, dry air blasted them like a furnace.

A nondescript human man in Czerka uniform approached and inspected them, took their docking fee, and gave pleasant, tourist-guide information about the planet. Anchorhead was the only settled town, population of five thousand, 80% were directly on Czerka payroll. The out of the way location of the planet made for a good place for "independent traders" to rest a while, sell some of their cargo, and patch their ships. Czerka's primary interest, of course, was mining operations.

"We're no longer hiring for the mines, though," the man said. "Too many Sand People attacks. I even hear the ore isn't what the bosses thought it was."

"Actually," Kairi said. "I'm not as interested in the mines as other things. I've heard Tatooine's mostly unexplored. Have you heard anything about ruins? Strange artifacts?"

The uniformed man shook his head. "Oh, diggers, huh? Sorry, ladies. Wouldn't know much about that. Might want to see if you can talk to the local office. They might know. As for me, I'd be shocked if we found anything on this dustball. If there's an interesting point in the galaxy, we're about as far from it as possible."

"Would the Czerka local office be the place to ask about employees?" Mission asked. "I…well, I'm looking for someone, and last I heard, he was working in the mines here."

"Yeah, that would be the place. It's not too far from the spaceport and pretty hard to miss. Tallest building in Anchorhead." He thought a moment. "If you're treasure hunting, an Ithorian guy's built a lodge in town. You'll also have to go there if you want to apply for a hunting license – it's the only way you're allowed outside the gates. It's dangerous out there, even if Czerka's letting any old thrill-seeker past who can pay the fee. They're really desperate to chase off the natives. Last places to find any local dirt are the cantinas, but those are pretty sleazy – popular with riff-raff."

"Thank you," said Kairi.

"Enjoy your stay, Czerka Corporation welcomes the business!" The man returned to his station.

"The Czerka office would be the best place to go first," Bastila said. "We'll also need a hunting license for exploring outside the gates, and we might be able to get something out of the fellows in the lodge."

"Czerka office it is," Kairi said. I hope they're open."

Most of Anchorhead looked alike, the dust colored buildings blending in with each other and the desert. Contrasting with the dull tan of the environment were the colorful array of aliens, some of which Kairi had no way to identify. Kiosks and open air markets buzzed with a polyglot soup of haggling and trade, along with an equally bizarre array of items for sale – used weapons, ship parts, foodstuffs, livestock…

Kairi walked ahead while Mission and Bastila trailed behind. Climbing on a short wall and walking its width as though it were a tightrope, Mission asked, "Hey, Bastila. You ever use the Force just for fun? Y'know, like if some jerk's ticking you off, give them a little push to make them fall on their rump?"

Bastila stood akimbo, the very picture of offended dignity. "I'd never use the Force for such petty and trivial purpose! The mere thought of it is preposterous!"

"Ah, come on," teased Mission, doing a perfect cartwheel on the narrow ledge. "There's got to be times where you thought about it. You can admit it to me. Don't be so stuck up!"

"I am not stuck up. I merely have the years of training to give me the wisdom to see how childish such an act would be."

Mission folded her arms. "Don't be getting all high and mighty on me! Just 'cause you're some Jedi doesn't mean you can be a prissy little…"

Mission felt her feet being swept out from under her, despite the solid balance she had on the wall, and fell square on her butt. She looked up with amazement at Bastila, who was now radiating a smug calm.

"Hey, that wasn't fair!"

"I've no idea what you're talking about, Mission. Come now, we've got to get going. Try not to be so clumsy in the future."

Before they could argue further, a Twi'lek woman in a plain tan jumpsuit and carrying hunting gear walked up to Bastila. Her Basic was thickly-accented. "You…is your name Bastila? I know it has been a very long time, but…yes…you must be her. Helena's little girl…why, you look just like her."

"Pardon me, do…do I know you?"

"I am Malare. I used to work for your parents, a hunter on their expeditions. I remember when you…well, when you left. Such a pretty girl you were."

"I have no time for idle chat. Is there something I can do for you?"

Mission flinched at the iciness in Bastila's voice. "Don't be rude, Bastila."

"I didn't mean to take up your time. I just wanted to ask whether your mother's condition has improved since I last saw her."

Bastila paled and involuntarily took a step back. She covered it by pretending to be interested in a scarf at a nearby kiosk. "My mother's condition?"

Malare looked horrified. "I thought you knew! She was so desperate to find you, and I had thought…Well, I thought that was why you came to this planet."

"I've not seen my mother since I joined the Order." It came out sharper then she would have liked. "What has happened…and have you news of my father?"

"No, no news of him. Helena did not want to discuss him, and I did not want to hurt a dying woman that way…"

"Dying?" Mission said. "I'll go get Kairi."

Mission vanished into the crowds to go find Kairi, leaving Bastila with Malare. Bastila had trouble forming words, but finally sighed and shook her head, resigned. No doubt Kairi would urge her to open up old wounds and rebuild bridges that should have stayed burnt. Bastila already noticed the way she induced Carth into revisiting unpleasant memories. Bastila had several ways to resist the well-intentioned manipulations of her charge, but once Kairi and Mission got the rest of the crew behind them, she would have no peace at all unless a token effort was made to appease them.

"I suppose she wants credits. I highly doubt she is sick, however. Mother can lie about much to get her way."

Malare blinked in confusion. "You will not go see her?"

"Part of me would rather not see her at all," Bastila said. Remembering how a Jedi was supposed to conduct themselves, she took a deep breath before speaking again. "But if she truly is ill…well, we shall see."

"She lives in the boarding house - the one above the Hot Stars Cantina. I will tell her you are here when she asks about you," Malare said, walking back into the crowd.

Bastila could sense Kairi and Mission approaching, and Mission was already telling Kairi about what Malare said. Well, no getting out of this, Bastila supposed. It would mean a long and tedious explanation she had no interest in starting.

"Bastila?" Kairi asked. Again, the sympathy, again the concern, and again a silent offer of support that Bastila could not accept. That damn woman…Not even I can save her unless she learns to lock down that cursed empathy.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Bastila said under her breath, as much to Kairi as to herself. Clearing her throat, she straightened. "She is at a boarding house above a cantina," Bastila said, quickly reminding the pair. "Though we don't have the time for this."

"If I can go look for my brother, then you can spare a few minutes with your mom," Mission said. "Bet she's proud of you, growing up to be such a great Jedi."

"I doubt she's spared a single thought for me in these years," Bastila said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just as I should not spare another thought for her. Come on, we must go to the Czerka office. You may make inquiries as to your brother there, Mission but we are also there to complete our task."

Canderous struck off on his own, heading into the warrens and hovels on the town outskirts. Hastily constructed, and already crumbling, the settlement was in a constant state of build and rebuild. Children of several races ran about underfoot, playing ball or begging in the streets. Canderous ignored them – those children would learn to fight or they'd starve, and it wasn't his place to impose that lesson.

His ears perked up when he heard Mando'a spoken in the streets. Even the sound made him homesick for the world of his clan - desert and rock, blazing sun and hot dust. It confirmed the story that some of his people had come here after the war.

Malachor was the greatest of all battles, but an jhetat, what a costly one. Before that battle, he had been Canderous of Ordo - a general in Mandalore's army, proud leader in a prouder clan. His people swept through the galaxy, killing ten Republic men for every one they lost. They figured the Jedi would come out of their holes eventually, but too little and too late.

And then Revan came – Haar Teroch Jetii - the one with no mercy. While there were solid fighters on the field – Malak, Li-Bek - the great Jedi tactician was more legend than reality. The results were brutal and stunning, however. Even the feints - the fleets set as bait and the civilian worlds left bare - were costly. Mandalorians never fought or did anything in half-measures and Revan's tactics exploited it on every level. Their victories crumbled into Pyrrhic ones, as they were chased out of the Degana system, off Duro. They even lost Dxun. That was when they knew it would not end well.

Malachor IV was a taboo world, for reasons lost to tradition and Taung lore. It was said to be the palace-world of Kad Ha'rangir, the God of Destruction. The old Taung religion didn't hold much weight anymore, but the destroyer god sure had a good dance that day. Revan put Cian Li-Bek, a lethally unpredictable Alderaanian, in charge of the sector's forces. Li-Bek drew as many as he could into close orbit, where the atmosphere made fighting difficult.

Once the trap was set, the gates of hell exploded. The planet seemed to turn inside out, sucking ships into an immense gravity well. Shockwaves belched out from the dying planet, shattering battleships like they were made of glass. It was only by the slenderest of margins that Mandalore's ship did not get pulled in as well.

Revan hadn't cared if they were Republic or Mandalorian. The only thing the Mass Shadow Generator had been designed for was killing millions – as brutally and dishonorably as possible. Given that, why was anyone surprised by Haar Teroch Jetii coming back to Republic space as a Sith?

Those who survived that terrible battle above Malachor IV were forced to watch as the Jedi's forces brought together their weapons and armor, their war droids and beasts, even the remains of their ships. Placed in chains and herded by armed Republic men onto the observation deck of Revan's flagship, they watched as all they had was blown to oblivion before their eyes. Revan had left them with nothing.

He had managed to smuggle his blaster cannon out of the sight of Revan's forces, but he had nothing else - no rank, no armor…

And no clan. As true Mandalorians, they battled until the end, every last one of them from elders to younglings torn apart by Malachor's dying gasp. Out of an army and culture that never comprised more than a quarter-billion, the survivors were a few thousand at best.

A dugout building with a domed roof had a metal sign with a glass of ale on it out front – the universal sign for a cantina. He walked in. He had a few credits in his pocket – enough for a sour pint of local ale. The bartender, a man probably younger than his leathery face and stiff walk would suggest, sized him up.

"Only ones who enter Junix Nard's cantina are long-time losers and bounty hunters. Don't have to tell you the pair don't mix. Keep the blaster fire to a minimum."

Canderous slid onto one of the bar stools. "Bounty hunting, eh? Sounds like good work."

"Mandalorian, right? Well, you're not going out of the city without a license from Czerka, but Anchorhead's a good enough place to call a port. Czerka's doing so poorly here that the space dock's their best source of income. That means, you pay them for repairs, and they won't ask questions. I reckon that once Czerka's gone, the Hutts or the Exchange will set up shop."

Canderous took a sip and grimaced. The ale tasted like it was brewed in a swoop engine. "The Sith? The Republic?"

The bartender laughed. "This rock's got nothing that would impress the likes of them. Maybe a few token troops if it ever comes down to it. Probably why we've got the Mandalorians here, back to killing each other…"

Canderous usually prided himself on his sharp eyes and careful observation, but so did the man in the shadowed corner of the bar. He slumped over, the better not to be noticed. Oh, he knew Canderous of Ordo - the former general, the fearsome warrior…

The glory-seeker, the traitor to kin.

He left the cantina unnoticed, heading deep into the Mandalorian Quarter. He knew an old friend who would welcome the news of his kinsman being alive and skulking about on this backwater planet…an old friend who would like nothing better than to slit Canderous's throat.

Juhani stayed behind with the ship. She, Zaalbar, and Carth had finished with mundane tasks like cleaning the food synthesizer, trash disposal, and laundry. She was outside the ship with two short swords and wearing an ordinary bodysuit while her robes were being washed.

She had heard the dreadful news back at the Enclave, and heard the awful details aboard the ship. Taris was gone now. The warren, the rat-hole, the paradise…gone. The halls of the ship felt too claustrophobic, too much like the sunless Lower City for her liking. She needed the sky. She needed to move. She needed to fight.

Juhani swung at an invisible foe, and spun on her heel as if another were behind her; going through the ritualized motions she had so often practiced with Quatra. Ah, if only she were here, and if only Juhani could make her apologies and atonement in person! For now, to follow her teachings was the best way Juhani could honor her master.

"Not bad," a gravelly voice called to her. "Always did appreciate Cathar warriors. Good people, honorable fighters."

"Not as though you would know honor, Mandalorian," Juhani said as Canderous walked into view.

"Brave words, cat," he said. "Honor is a man's life where I'm from."

"Calling me a beast?" She fired back. "The Mandalorians waged genocide against us! And then you turn your thirst for blood on the Republic."

He snarled back at her. "If you can't defend what you have, then you deserve to have it taken from you! And the cowardly tactics of the Republic were worse - hiding in the homes of civilians, and using families as shields, underestimating our resolve to crush all opposition…"

"Killing those who were protecting their homes and families. Raping the women, slaughtering the children, and burning all in your path." Juhani's anger burned. Why did Kairi and Bastila tolerate this brute on the ship?

His shook his fist, all but daring her to charge him. "If the destruction of a city is what it takes to destroy a Republic shield device, why did they think we wouldn't use that level of force?"

"All your talk of honor and glory when you are little more than bandits and thieves!" Realizing she was roaring at him, letting her rage get the upper hand, Juhani turned away, hanging her head and whispering. "There is no emotion, there is peace…there is no chaos, there is harmony…"

Canderous huffed with disgust, "Codes and mantras. No will to fight. "

Juhani tossed one of the swords to Canderous, who caught it in mid-air. "A duel?" he asked.

"Practice," Juahni answered. "As much as I despise your kind, you are a member of this crew. Two wounds?"

"Agreed," Canderous said, saluting Juhani with the blade before they clashed swords.

A building of stucco and tan adobe, Czerka's office only stood out by being about five stories tall, the tallest building in the small town. A polished brass plaque announced it was the company's regional headquarters.

Walking inside the adobe building, they encountered a Czerka rep in business attire that was incongruous and silly amid the dry heat of the planet. An infuriated Duros was throwing up his hands in frustration while the human rep was the picture of corporate dispassion.

"And don't tell me to take my concerns to your corporate kiosk! I should have known better than to think…"

"Mister Bracon, do you want me to call security?" The rep said, her arms folded, and her expression like stone.

"Forget it! You won't listen no matter what I do!" He turned and stormed past the party, slamming the old wooden door on the way out.

"What was that about?" Kairi asked.

"He was questioning our business practices, but since he's no shareholder, we don't have to tolerate his suggestions or his behavior." The rep walked back over to her desk and pulled the chair out, attempting to go back to her paperwork.

"Well, we're not stockholders, either," Kairi said. "But we came here to inquire about one of your employees."

"I'm sorry, but company policy..." The Czerka representative then seemed to notice Bastila's full robes and lightsaber, and her attitude became much more differential. "Let me be the first to say that Czerka shows respect for galactic authority." She walked to the kiosk. "What employee listing?"

Seeing as Bastila was the only one the protocol officer was going to address, she did the talking. "Vao. Griff Vao. A Twi'lek. He said he was working in the mines. We've his sister with us, and she's quite eager to see him."

"Vao…Griff Vao…Twi'lek…?" She looked very nervous. "Sorry, madam, but we don't have a Griff Vao working here…never did…"

Bastila folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You certain? We would leave you to your work sooner and not have to return."

The protocol officer kept looking at Bastila's lightsaber nervously. "Oh, that Griff Vao," she sighed. "His supervisor was always complaining about him. Came to work late, slept through his shifts, faked injuries to get out of work…we can't prove it, but we think he might have been stealing company supplies."

"Yup," Mission said, shaking her head. "That's Griff, all right."

"I take it he's been fired?" Bastila said.

"No," she said. "We were too desperate for miners…" Under her breath, she muttered. "Though we really wanted to…" Clearing her throat and speaking normally again, she said. "Unfortunately, there was a Sand People attack forty-eight hours earlier. He and two other miners went missing. In the end, it wasn't cost-effective to continue the search."

"Griff…Sand people? Oh, no!" Mission stumbled with the news.

Bastila asked tersely, "So, they've just been written off to die?"

"I resent your insults, Madam Jedi. Czerka cares deeply for its employees, though all sign a waiver form releasing us from liability since these attacks are so frequent. We've even implemented a program with Fazza in the hunting lodge across the way. Three hundred credits for each of the ceremonial gaffi sticks one can retrieve. It's as good as their heads, and far less messy." She folded her arms. "For more details, visit him. That's all I know. Now, I have to resume my work." The representative slid behind her desk and started working again, trying very hard to ignore them.

"Friendly neighborhood Czerka rep," Mission muttered. "Well, I guess that means we head to the lodge."

Kairi sighed and glanced out the door. Bracon was still nearby, pacing near a landspeeder and grumbling to himself. Frustration rolled off the infuriated Duros like dust.

She walked out the door and up to him. He was cursing as he cleaned sand out of a clogged air intake. Upon noticing her, his frustration took on more of an edge.

"I will leave your property as soon as I clear the intake. Happy now, Czerka?"

"I don't work for Czerka," Kairi said. "What is the trouble? Did you also lose someone in that last attack?" She pulled out a multitool from the utility belt around her waist. As she did so, her vest brushed backwards, exposing her lightsaber.

The Duros's eyes centered on the lightsaber. "Jedi? Here?"

"We're passing through," Kairi explained. "But it still doesn't explain why you were in the Czerka office."

"I didn't lose anyone. I was trying to tell Czerka how not to lose theirs. They show no respect for this land. This is no wasteland, despite appearances. They deployed numerous giant sandcrawlers to tear up the desert with ion shovels and whatever else – very destructive.

"And I suppose this went against whatever treaty they had with the natives."

Bracon sniffed. "What treaty? There was no negotiation or communication made with the Sand People before they landed. Between that and the strip mining that could pollute even the few oasis areas this planet has...Think about it, would this not look like an attack, an invasion, to them?"

"What?" Kairi was stunned. "Even elementary corporate protocol would state you make attempts to negotiate with native sentients before deployment in order to prevent problems like this."

Of course, their willingness to leave employees to die and the callous attitude of their protocol officer supported Bracon's picture of a company that didn't give a whit about preventing problems, so long as a quick profit was made.

"Czerka is a bunch of slavers and greedy blood worms. They would sooner hire out bounty hunters to kill their problems than deal with them. It is not the natives' fault that we cannot understand their language."

"I see." Kairi said with a sigh. Already, she understood Bracon's annoyance. Even without empathy, she shared it. "So you were in the office to protest it."

"Not just protest it. I own a small assay office and sell moisture farming equipment near the southern gates. My neighbor, Yuka Laka, owns a droid shop. Not long ago, he picked up a very odd droid, a non-standard protocol model. Well, Yuka had a few too many juri juices in his system while trying to clean it one night, and I heard it start cursing at him in what sounded like the Sand People dialect.

"You think it actually speaks the local language?"

Yuka thinks it does, though he'll pass off rust as gold to make a sale. I was in there trying to convince Czerka to check the droid. Maybe it could negotiate with the Sand People, and the attacks could be solved. You have seen how well that went."

Kairi rubbed her chin. It was certainly a lead worth checking. "And if the droid speaks the Sand Person language, how would you get to them?"

"Their encampment is not far to the southwest. However, there are lots of fighters, and they kill any invaders on sight. Maybe a disguise could work, taking some of their robes and hiding yourself. Then, you'd have the problem of explaining why you had to kill their warriors. I don't know..."

By this time, Bastila and Mission had caught up to them and heard a considerable part of the conversation.

"This droid may not work," Bastila warned. "In fact, it seems highly unlikely to work."

"There's no harm in checking it, is there?" Kairi said. "A good translator droid would know more languages than even I do."

"Hey!" Mission objected, folding her arms. "These 'natives' are attacking people. I don't care about negotiating!"

Kairi folded her arms and stared Mission down. "You don't? Then try this. There are three of us and thousands of them. If we are dead, so is your brother. If we're going to help him, then we need a plan."

"You…you really are gonna try and help him?" Mission asked. "You're serious?"

Kairi nodded. "Yes, we are."

A surprised and delighted smile crossed Mission's blue face. "Wow! I knew I could count on you! There are definitely fringe benefits to being friends with a Jedi."

Kairi did not budge, however. "But, Mission, if I even sense you are going to cause difficulty, you will be confined to the ship and I'll order Zaalbar not to let you out. Got it?"

Sensing she had already pushed her luck enough with the Jedi for one day, Mission crossed her head-tails behind her back and became contrite. "Got it."

As they left the Czerka sector, they passed a sandcrawler mechanic at work. What they didn't see was him ducking behind the massive machine and activating the comlink.

"It's them - the ones on your datapad, Jagi."

"Is there a man in the party? One of my kind?"

"Negative. Three women…one of them appears to be Jedi."

"We've other plans for those," said a second voice - a nasal monotone. "Just keep your eyes open."