Chapter 2

Danger from the Past

Three duels later, they were both sporting wounds, and gasping for breath. Canderous had to admit what while Juhani was Jedi - the woman was still Cathar, and Cathar were more than a match for a Mandalorian in a good fight. Something else he noticed was that their fighting had been reckless. Jedi went for precision, but Juhani was quick and aggressive. She was fighting herself as much as sparring with him. He also noticed his own movements getting sloppy, though he couldn't place what was clouding his brain.

Juhani saluted him with the sword. "Shall we rest for now?"

Canderous nodded and handed the sword back to her.

They walked up the boarding ramp together, heading for the cargo bay and the medkits. Canderous took one out and tossed it to Juhani.

"Good fighting out there," he said. "Perhaps you still have your fangs and claws after all."

She scowled at him. "I wonder if you were this infuriating to Revan when she sent your kind back where they belonged."

"She?" Canderous laughed. "Revan was no woman, Juhani. I saw Revan as his party boarded Mandalore's flagship! Barely older than a boy, but an astonishing fighter. It was like staring at the specter of Death itself, a purple lightsaber cutting down all that would oppose him…"

"And of Revan's eventual fate?"

Canderous huffed in contempt. "The Jedi can whine and cry about how Revan fell to what they call 'Darkness,' but that was because they would rather hide in their Enclaves than face us. Revan knew we were a threat and responded accordingly. That Jedi was a military genius. Feints, counterattacks, traps…brutal in the execution, and subtle in their planning. Fought us to a standstill, and then pushed back. We still gave the Republic a good fight."

"Believe what you like," she said curtly. "But the truth may be different."

Juhani put the medpack at her feet, and Canderous scowled. Why was she refusing? He saw the Cathar woman stand with her feet shoulder-width and mutter something in a language he could not identify, possibly a Jedi mantra.

The scratches and stabs he had inflicted during their practices started to fade like they never were. She was gritting her teeth somewhat. The process didn't appear all that comfortable, but when it was over, her wounds were knitted and rapidly fading.

"My ability to heal others is not as well-developed," she explained. "I was trained as a Jedi Guardian, my abilities honed for combat."

Canderous raised an eyebrow. He knew Jedi could fight, but didn't think their kind would specifically train some as warriors. He picked up the medkit. "Interesting." He took off his shirt. Already some of the wounds were starting to knit. "Good to know my implants are functioning. They should repair these soon enough, but I'll use the medkit to speed things up a bit. Carth gets nosy."

She nodded and watched as he worked. "Do you need an extra hand?"

"No, miss, I'll be fine. You know, I could accuse you of being here for the show," he taunted.

"Not likely. You are…" She struggled with the words. "You are too wrong to be attractive."

"Ah, yes. Back to that again. I suppose I would be the wrong species."

Juhani smiled wickedly. "More like the wrong sex."

This actually made him laugh. "Ah, then. Perhaps I shouldn't ask about you and Kairi sharing a room, then. Might break that crazy pilot's heart."

Juhani shook her head. "I am curious as to why she has accepted us both. I will not lie. I hate Mandalorians. I hate all they are, and all they stand for. I hate that they burned the plains and the city-trees. I hate that my people are scattered and few because of yours."

"Then rejoice in the fact that Revan left fewer of us alive than we left of yours," Canderous said. "And the fact that the Cathar cost us - dearly. Still, I don't hold a grudge against you, or the Republic, or even Revan. So put down yours, the Hawk's too small for it."

She paced the deckplates. "I still wonder why the Council allowed you to come along on this mission. I will not question their judgment, however. So far, it has been better than my own."

"A fellow named Vandar – small, very shrewd – approached each one of us. I'm not sure what he said to the others, but he asked me how many credits it would take to buy my share of the Hawk. I told him to space himself, naturally."

"So you aren't just in this because of your claim to the ship?"

"Not in it for credits period. That was my mistake with Davik. Kairi had also approached me, see. She told me what we're doing. We're trying to find Malak's hidden base. If luck...or your 'Force' is with us, we'll be throwing the crushgaunt right at his feet – literally. That's worth more than all the credits on Muunilinst!"

"And how did you..." She almost used the word "befriend," but a Jedi like Kairi actually welcoming a Mandalorian barbarian's company? The idea was absurd. "How did you and Kairi form a partnership?"

Canderous shrugged. "If you wish the truth, I was their only way off Taris. She trusted me – probably against Carth's and Bastila's wishes. We battled my boss, stole his ship, and you now walk the deck plates."

"So, why not take the ship for yourself and just leave everyone else to rot?"

He glared at her, shocked and very offended. "What do you take me for? You say you hate my kind? You don't know enough about Mandalorians to do it properly. I've gone to battle with both Kairi and Carth – though I think that Republic man's two-thirds suicidal. I even knew Mission and her Wookiee in passing down in the Lower City. All of them look me in the eye and say what they think. They fight well, and they fight clean. They've earned some respect."

"I see," she said sharply. "All that has happened to you, and you seem to have learned so little. Is combat all you live for?"

"Are Jedi always this jhetattan arrogant? Unless you name a better objective, I'll stick to my current one."

"Very well," Juhani said. "I will be in my quarters should you wish for aid…or another duel."

She left, and her steps were so silent, he could barely hear her walking towards the common room. He had expected Juhani to start in with some puffery about how fighting was wrong, how the Dark Side this or that, or how he needed to find their concept of "peace." He had a string of sarcastic comebacks for them too.

Did he want to be lectured? Teja gra, he was a warrior, not a masochist. Canderous went back to patching his wounds.

As they trudged through the streets, kicking up dust, Mission was deep in thought. She kept going over the last time she saw Griff, Lena's words, and the Czerka rep's grudging reluctance to even acknowledge Griff's existence.

Griff had his problems – gambling, drinking, stupid "get rich quick" plans, spending what credits he did get on whatever nice pairs of legs and lekku were willing to have a roll with him. There was even that time where he was dumb enough to kidnap the local Constable's kids. Griff should have counted his blessings that Gadon or the Constable didn't blast him on sight.

He did rack up enormous debt he couldn't pay. There was even a rumor that the Exchange was after him. Given that, the string of burned ex-girlfriends, and the gangs, it made sense for him to skip planet. Still, why wouldn't he have taken her along?

Did he really plan on coming back for her?

Maybe Lena was right, after all? Mission shuddered at the thought. Still, she hoped Griff was still alive. No one deserved to die alone in the middle of a desert.

Mission felt Kairi's arm around her shoulders, and moved a little closer. "You'll know what to say to Griff – when the time comes." There wasn't an "if" in her voice, and it certainly made Mission feel better.

She returned the gesture by resting her lekku on Kairi's shoulder. Right now, Mission had her doubts about Griff, but she didn't have a single one about Kairi.

They passed by the Hot Stars, a shabby building that tried to look better than the grubby place it was. The cantina occupied the first floor, and two floors worth of rooms were stacked above it. A sign advertising "Rooms for Rent" flickered in one of the windows and sickly-sounding recorded music warbled from cheap speakers. It smelled of smoke, sweat, and intoxicants. A Duros in Czerka uniform swore as he stormed out of the bar. Looking for someone to rant to, he fixed right on Kairi.

"The nerve of that woman, I swear. 'Helena' must be the term for pit rancor in your language. I am sorry you have to share a species with such a creature."

"Sir?" Kairi asked, confused by the man's anger. "Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?"

"What I need is an intoxicant, but not in that place. Simple enough to go home and drink there, I suppose."

He stormed off towards Czerka's employee barracks, and Mission watched him leave. Having spent the time she did on Taris, she picked up enough of an understanding of the Duros language to get the gist of what he was saying.

"Helena," Mission said, then looked up at Bastila. "Hey, that's your mom's name, right?"

"Really, Mission, we don't have time for this…though the behavior certainly seems apt."

"I still have to ask directions to the droid shop," Kairi said. "And a cantina's the best place to ask for them. It's on our way."

"C'mon," Mission insisted, all but pulling Bastila's arm and dragging her into the cantina.

It was between shifts for Czerka's employees, and the itinerant spacers were always looking to spend their credits on a drink or gamble it away. A scantily-dressed human prostitute sat in the lap of a Twi'lek man as he rolled gaming cubes and bet on the outcome. A scrawny Zabrak male had a shell game going with three worn Pazaak cards. Most of the tables were full of Czerka miners and office support, each group keeping clear distance from the other as they complained about thinner payrolls and declining mine output.

In the back of the lounge, Bastila spied a middle-aged human woman. The years had not been kind to her, making her look overly pale and thin, her brown hair now a dull gray. Her long fingers played with a glass of ale, bloodshot blue-gray eyes searching the room.

"She looks just like you, Bastila…well, how you'd look with about twenty years of hard living," Mission said. "That your mom?"

"I'm…I haven't seen my mother in years, Mission, and I'm not certain I care to see her now."

"That's what I thought. Hey, go on ahead. I'm not crazy about my brother at the moment, but it still doesn't mean I'd leave if I had a chance to talk to him again. Besides, you heard what the lady told you. She's sick. I'll bet she really wants to see you."

Kairi put a hand on Bastila's shoulder. "Bastila, please, go over there."

Bastila dropped her voice. "I've not seen her since I was six, and I have no desire to start now. Remember what I told you about attachments? Contact will only make things worse."

Kairi smiled sadly. "At least you have a chance to speak to her again. According to my file, my family is dead. And I would pay dearly for a chance to speak to them, or even to remember them." With those words, she patted Bastila's shoulder and vanished into the crowd.

Mission decided she'd had enough of Bastila's feet shuffling and walked up there herself, tapping the older woman on the shoulder. "Excuse me…uh…Ms. Shan?"

The woman started, looking up at the Twi'lek girl. "Yes, what do you…? Oh, I'm sorry." She looked from Mission to Bastila. "Do…do I know you?"

"I am here, Mother," Bastila said curtly. "Or don't you recognize me?"

The older woman's face furrowed in confusion before turning into surprise, which quickly turned bitter. "What you do expect, when I've not so much as had a picture of you since you left? Do you even realize how long I've been trying to find you?"

"You knew that communication would be impossible once I joined the Order," Bastila's tone could have frozen the desert. Mission was glad Kairi wasn't here. One didn't have to be an empath to get nailed by the tension between the two. "Now, what is this about? Where is Father?"

Helena couldn't fake the paling of her cheeks, or the stunned blinking. Mission knew that much about humans. "Then…then you've not heard. I should have known."

"What's happened to him? Are you going to tell me or not?"

"He is dead, Bastila. That's one of the reasons I was trying to find you."

"Dead? Father?" Bastila stammered. She shook her head and fired back at her mother. "What happened? What did you get him into that killed him?"

Helena looked up at Mission. "Well, now. Hasn't this been a lovely reunion? Already flinging insults at me, already accusing me…Tell me, you're one of her friends, I'd suppose. Do you treat your mother this way?"

Mission shrugged. "Never knew my parents. Sorry."

Bastila sighed in frustration. "I was told you were ill. Is it the truth, or simply melodrama for my benefit?"

"Such sweet words," Helena threw back. "I hadn't realized Jedi could be so spiteful." She shook her head and sighed. "All right, I'll tell you everything before we start arguing again. You want me to tell you that I brought him here on an expedition and lured him to his death, right? You weren't old enough to understand. Your father loved his treasure hunting, but I was to blame for everything. What else is new?" Helena crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "So, yes. Your father came here to hunt for krayt dragon pearls. He took a party into the desert, and he perished. One of the guides saw it all."

"I…see," Bastila said heavily. "So what do you want from me? Credits?"

"Don't be insulting. I want you to use those senses of yours if you can. I'd like you to find and bring back his holocron."

"Why? So you can sell it?" Bastila asked.

"Is it too much to ask that I have something to remember your father by?" She threw up her hands. Of course it is, isn't it? You can't be bothered."

"We're on a mission from the Jedi Council, not on a treasure hunt, Mother. I doubt we'll have the time."

"Ms. Shan," Mission asked. She wished Kairi were here. Kairi always seemed to know what to say or not say in situations like this. "You are really sick, aren't you?"

"It doesn't seem to have anything to do with what she was asking," Bastila said. "Are you actually ill, mother?"

"It would make no difference to you, I'm sure. Just find your father's holocron and you won't have to worry about me ever again."

"And that's the response I would expect," Bastila said. "Very well, we'll look if we've a chance. I can't promise more than that."

"The krayt cave is in the Eastern Dune Sea, past the Sand People enclave. I would check along that route. Do please hurry."

Bastila turned around and left the room. Mission felt very sorry for the older woman, even if she was giving it back as hard as Bastila could throw it. Between Bastila flying off the handle at Kairi and her behavior towards her mother, Mission was confused…and concerned. Unfortunately, Zaalbar wouldn't be able to help with this. Human nature flew over his furry head. Kairi would excuse Bastila's actions too readily, and she didn't know Juhani well enough yet. She'd have to take this to Carth. He might know what to do.

She returned to the main room to see Kairi asking Bastila what happened in there, and Bastila giving her a dry rundown of her encounter with Helena. Mission bit her tongue when she saw how cool Bastila appeared.

"She certainly did upset you," Kari pointed out. "What happened?"

"I told you we never got along. Obviously, it has not changed," Bastila sighed heavily. "And now…now Father is dead. It leaves a hollow inside you can't imagine, even though it has been so long…"

"Bastila," Kairi insisted. "You've lost your father, and your mother is gravely ill. Maybe you just need to talk somewhere privately. The rest of the crew will understand. Keep your comlink on and we'll contact you if we need your help. "

"No, we have duties to accomplish and those come first. I…I'll see to her after that, Kairi."

"But you are going to look for the holocron, aren't you?" Mission asked. "C'mon. You find it, bring it to your mom, and maybe things'll work out."

"Part of me would rather her not have it at all. I don't like that part." Clearing her throat, she stood. "I don't wish to talk about this any further."

While performing maintenance on the ship's hull, Canderous saw a scrawny-looking Twi'lek walked up to him, speaking in Huttese.

"Canderous? Canderous of Ordo?"

"I'm he," he answered. "What do you want?"

He fished a datapad out of his dusty, worn-out vest. "Many here know of you, it would seem. Many thought you were dead. One has asked me to deliver a message to you…" He handed it over.

Canderous looked down at it, and fished a credit from his pocket. "I'll meet him at Junix's cantina at the time he asked," he answered neutrally.

The Twi'lek took the credit and slinked off into the shadows. He wasn't interested in touching this one. He was just a messenger, and he had already seen too many Mandalorians rampage in the streets. His best bet was to put as much distance between them as possible…

The droid shop was a dismal place. Badly lit, badly maintained, and bisected by a long, high counter. The proprietor was an Ithorian that took nips from a flask as he hunkered over a half-functional droid, clumsily attempting to wire servos together. It took him several minutes before he had even noticed the three women in his shop.

"What is this? A customer I don't recognize? Perhaps you bring off-world money to Yuka Laka?

"Our credits are our business," Bastila said. "But we heard something about your droids."

"All sales are final, and the merchandise has been tested in my shop. Whatever the owners do to the droid when it leaves my shop is not my responsibility.

Mission rolled her eyes. Kairi crossed her arms on the counter and leaned in. "Actually, we heard that you have a special droid."

"Oh, you mean HK-47? Yes, it is a very special droid. It appears to be a protocol model - very high quality construction. Seems to be a rare model or prototype. I suspect it's been modified extensively. I even found armor mounts on it. Combat ready, perhaps?"

"Handy for if protocol doesn't work," Mission joked.

"We're more interested in the protocol functions," Kairi said. "How many languages does it speak?"

"Two dozen that I've discovered.

Kairi sniffed with contempt. "That's all?" She switched to Ithorese without so much as a pause. "I speak more than that."

It seemed to throw Yuka Laka for a moment. Ithorese was notoriously hard for humans to learn. "Ah, but this droid claims to understand Sand People dialect. Can you do the same?

"Maybe" Kairi said.

"I honestly didn't think anyone would care for protocol droids here. Czerka has plenty of their own protocol models. I figured some dew farmer would buy it to protect their land. It doesn't need to know any more Sand Person dialect than 'stop or I'll blast your head off,' does it?"

"Okay," Kairi said. If I did want to use it to protect my ship, or hunt on the dunes, how well would it do there? Protocol models with armor mounts just mean they'll take more hits, not that they'll fire back."

"Oh, it handles weapons. See that hole in the wall behind you? That happened when I gave the kriffing thing a rifle. I was lucky to have the restraining bolt controller in my hand! He shrugged. The unit is a little uncooperative. They get that way if they go too long with no memory wipe."

"And if the unit becomes more 'uncooperative' after purchase?" Bastila asked.

So, why haven't you wiped its memory?"

"I tried to when I got it, but I can't seem to access its core circuits. It was built for security - very durable. It also claims not to have any access to its memory, anyway. You can leave it alone if you find its mannerisms amusing. The droid may be eccentric, but it is stable – the rifle incident notwithstanding.

"Where did you acquire the droid? You don't seem to know much about it.

I haven't had it long. I acquired it from Czerka's warehouse. I have a friend there who traded me the droid to cover his gambling debts. He said no one would miss it."

"Gee, doesn't sound suspicious at all," Mission drawled. "Warehouse guys have a bad habit of paying off their debts with other people's property, y'know."

Kairi switched back to Basic. "Show me the HK-47."

Yuka Laka opened a door on his counter and let Kairi in. He gestured to a droid standing in the far corner of shop, going back to fixing a utility droid and taking nips from the flask.

The droid was humanoid in shape, made of durable red metal, slumped over and deactivated. Kairi walked over to it, examining it carefully. When she touched its "forearm" to examine a motor, it powered on with a whine. She jumped back in surprise as its gold photoreceptors snapped on and it jerked upright from its inactive slouch. His synthesized voice was crisp and cheerful in a way Kairi found vaguely sinister.

"Greetings: Hello, prospective purchaser! I am HK-47," He cocked his metal head, the gears whirring. "Query: Would you be so kind as to purchase this model from Yuka Laka? It would serve my purposes to be removed from his ownership."

"A droid who sells himself?" Kairi asked, folding her arms skeptically. "Why would I need to?"

"Disclosure: I am a versatile droid, fluent in verbal and cultural translation. I am also highly skilled in combat should your needs be more….practical."

Kairi felt dizzy for a moment, probably from the insane, oven-like temperatures inside the shop. Putting a hand against the wall to steady herself, she saw a brief image play on the inside of her eyelids – a droid like this one standing among the Tatooine dunes at night, the burning ruins of a camp surrounding it. As fast as it entered her mind, it was gone again.

Kairi shook her head to combat the dizzy feeling and looked up at the droid. "Rumor has it you speak a Sand People dialect."

"Statement: that is true, but no one has expressed interest in THAT part of my programming. It is only one of several…exotic functions. Observation: You are not a farmer or businessperson. You are armed, and comfortable being so. You seek to go hunting outside the gates of Anchorhead, yes? I can serve you well in that regard."

"You heard me? I thought you were inactive."

"Disclosure: I powered down my gross motor functions out of boredom. I have little desire to talk to the broken scrap heaps around this shop or that drunken fool of a merchant."

"Does he know you talk about him like this?"

"Statement: I wish only to be purchased away from this poorly-skilled oaf. I have no need to be subtle. Err…of course. I shall be quite pleasant to you if you purchase me away from this fate. Please?"

"All right, then. I'd like to hear more about your combat functions."

"Refusal: It is not desirable for me to reveal core functions while still in the possession of Yuka Laka, prospective purchaser."

"Why ration information now?"

"Explanation: I have been recently fitted with a restraining bolt, if you must know. With it in place, access to much of my memory core is restricted. Not to mention that the fool Ithorian might raise his asking price if he knew more... or make inquiries into my history. Neither outcome is beneficial to me."

Kairi folded her arms, and quoted something she had heard from Janice Nall as she was showing them around her Taris droid shop. "I've heard rumors that combat droids are predisposed to turn on their owners, and require those restraining bolts to make certain they don't."

"Objection! I am a law-abiding droid. Yes, indeed. Law abiding, that is me. Merely a protocol droid with a few...upgrades."

"Not the most convincing I see." Kairi could see the armor mounts now, and glanced over to the substantial, charred hole in the pourcrete. "Maybe it's best you stay with that bolt in place, then."

"Objection: My functions are wasted here, prospective purchaser!" He almost seemed to whine. "Would you sooner see me in the hands of some Czerka worker drone or moisture farmer?"

This droid was obviously not as stable as Yuka Laka wanted to claim. Droids also could not lie, so as far as HK-47 knew, he did speak the Sand Person dialect. There was also that creeping, itching feeling in her head when it came to him. The droid was important somehow.

"All right, say I do purchase you. What is to say that you won't turn your 'exotic' functions on to my crew…or on me?"

"Statement: It is expressly forbidden for me to harm my master. It is the first protocol built into all droids, including myself. Disclosure: I may be autonomous, but lack resources. It is therefore impractical to turn on those who would keep me in working order."

"I'll have to haggle with Yuka Laka about price."

"Advisement: I have also noticed that he is a coward. He will be responsive to…aggressive bargaining."

"I'll take that under advisement, HK-47. Thank you."

"I don't need an escort," Canderous said. "Especially one of your kind…"

"Would you be referring to my face or my lightsaber?" Juhani asked. "Because I am equally fond of your kind." She stood to his side. "Even if you do not wish to divulge details or take a comlink, please tell us when you plan to return."

"I rescued these people from Taris already. I don't owe them a thing past that."

Juhani rolled her eyes. "If you persist in being foolish, I will not stand in you way."

He put his cannon in its sling. "Fine by me."

Canderous walked past Juhani and down the ramp. She was glad to be rid of him, and a good deal of her wished him good fortune in never coming back.

Yet…yet…something nagged at her. This was not a safe planet. Even if she despised what he was, he was still a member of the crew, and there with the Council's approval. Master Quatra always insisted that those who did not believe themselves in need of aid often turned out to be the ones who would eventually need it the most.

Sighing and putting her lightsaber on her belt, Juhani hit the ramp button and hoped she would be wrong.

Yuka Laka went over and took off the restraining bolt. Kairi could have sworn the droid smiled. "Thank you! Am I to accompany you now? Shall I kill something for you?"

"Did I hear that correctly?" Kairi ventured carefully. "'Kill something?""

"Answer: Indeed. I am most eager to engage in unadulterated violence. At your command, of course, Master. I will enter into your service now, and I am certain you will make adequate use of my functions. My gears are practically quivering with anticipation!"

Oh, damn…I hope those protocols work. Was purchasing this thing a mistake? Kairi made a check over the droid again. Well, at least she was the one in control of the droid, and not some Czerka middle manager with grandiose delusions.

Bastila looked askance at Yuka Laka, who merely shrugged and counted his newly-acquired credit vouchers. "It's yours now, spacers.

Kairi wondered if there might be a way to curb the droid's violent tendencies. She would have to take it back aboard the ship and work with T3-M4 to try and place strict limits on HK-47's ability to cause mayhem. For now, at least, she knew that the droid's bloodthirsty mania was under her control.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Bastila warned.

"So do I," she said warily. "But if this thing is our only chance of bringing a solution to the Sand Person trouble without being outnumbered several hundred to one, I'll take it. And we'll find trouble soon enough knowing our luck," Kairi said. "Come, HK, travel with me now."

Canderous walked back into Junix's Cantina and sat at the bar. Junix acknowledged him with a nod and set a pint of the sour tasting ale in front of him before making the rounds, filling up and carting away glasses before getting around to him.

It tasted even worse today than had yesterday. It certainly matched his mood. After downing it, his stomach felt sour and his head was starting to pound – definitely a bad batch. When Junix came back around, Canderous leaned in.

"Let's make this quick," Canderous said. "Someone here wants a fight?"

"Back room of the cantina…" Junix put a keycard on the table. "Just head on back, he's expecting you."

As soon as Canderous vanished to the back, Junix shoved his hands in his pockets, rubbing the vial he'd stashed there nervously.

The "back room" was a subbasement beneath the cantina, lit by glowrods and accessible by a narrow ramp way. The cantina was built on top of the last settlement of Anchorhead, meaning that there was an entire half-buried city right beneath the streets of the current one. He couldn't see anyone in the current room. Perhaps they were behind the doorway that was on the opposite end of the room. He was about to open it when he heard the whine of a blaster…two blasters.

"Hands off the cannon, Canderous," the creepy, nasal monotone gave it away. Slowly turning, he saw Calo Nord backed up by two armed Rodians.

"Calo," he said. "How did you escape Taris? By crawling under a rock?"

"Funny, considering you and that woman tried to kill me. I'll just be taking back the ship you stole, along with my usual fees."

"Who's paying you, Calo? Davik's dead…"

A bit of a smile under the white cowl. "Whoever said I working for Davik? In either case, you won't live long enough to know, will you?" Calo shrugged. "I could have had it all if you and that woman hadn't decided to get cute at the last minute. You were crazy to try and double cross me."

"What can I say? Her face is prettier than yours." By now, Canderous was feeling very sick, and it dawned on him…poison! That low-life bartender must have slipped it in the ale!

"It's not fatal…not for a big ape like you, Canderous. Besides, someone else wants to do the honors…"

Canderous shuddered, and his whole world went black.

Leaving the droid shop, they twisted through the narrow alleyways and crumbling stucco on their way back to the ship. Refuse bins were overflowing with all matter of cast offs from passing starships and Czerka waste. This place was worse than The Maze of Upper Taris! Kairi and HK-47 took the lead with Mission and Bastila trailing. Mission hasn't seen the hand that reached from the shadows and quickly gagged her, but Kairi sensed the girl's fear and halted, reaching for the saber on her belt.

The world narrowed. She could sense their murderous intent, greed, and smug satisfaction at having got the drop on them.

Two of them had Mission, one of them using her as a shield. Kairi turned when she sensed two more behind her. They were dressed in dark colored robes – three men and a woman - all human. Half-masks covered their faces, and the terrible hum of an energy blade broke the still air.

Dark Jedi.

"Well, HK," Kairi said, barely above a whisper. "I hope you weren't boasting about those combat functions."

Their leader, a tall man with the slim build of a duelist, held a double-bladed red lightsaber at Makashi ready, arm outstretched with the blade lit and perfectly straight. "Lord Malak was most displeased when he found you'd escaped Taris alive. He's promised a great reward to whoever destroys you."

HK-47's photoreceptors turned the color of the man's lightsaber for a moment as he dropped into a threatening stance. "Statement: My master will be most pleased to see you meatbags reduced to bloody piles of tissue!"

Weapons were drawn – Bastila and the leader with their double-bladed lightsabers, Kairi and two others with single-bladed sabers. The one holding Mission was an apprentice armed with a nasty-looking vibroblade.

Kairi shouted to HK-47. "Save Mission!"

"Acknowledged!"

Bastila took on two of them, her gold, double-edged saber giving her greater latitude to hold off multiple opponents. Kairi took on the leader one on one.

The apprentice backed up, hooking one arm around Mission's neck and using the other to hold the blade to her back. In this position, he was using the girl as a shield.

"Demand: You will release your hostage, or I will reduce you to a pile of broken parts!"

The silly organic did not listen. Instead, he disobeyed. He dared to laugh! The hand that held the knife thrust forward and the Twi'lek girl stiffened, her eyes going wide with shock and her face turning a distressing shade of pale azure.

Hostage situation just went critical. Meat-bag did not listen. Meat-bag would pay…

Kairi felt more than heard Mission's cry of pain, the blade sinking into her back. The pain hit Kairi as if she had been the one stabbed. She staggered back, and Makashi duelist tried to take advantage. She narrowly parried the attack coming for her and fell back.

A dark paralyzing fear crept into her mind along with the awareness of Mission's dire injuries. Most of the time, the blur of combat dulled the empathy, reduced it to simple kill or be killed. This time, the pain crept past the shielding Zhar tried to train in her. Her attacker was also pulling on the Dark Side's emotional spectrum - rage, anger, fear - trying to push it into her mind. It was a nastier cousin to the "standard" Jedi mind trick techniques.

She could feel it working. Her defense suffered. Soresu required focus and calm. She was able to counter the precise strikes of her opponent, but only barely. It took more effort, more work.

So this is what Bastila meant, Kairi thought bitterly. To become attached was to risk. And now these half-Sith were going to destroy her, Bastila, and Mission.

She remembered the graul. Not without a fight.

Jedi – even Dark ones – worked with surface emotion. When it came to the Mind Trick or emotional projection, they were much more limited than one would think. The conventional way to resist Force-induced horror was to empty one's mind of all emotions and let it pass.

Kairi had other ideas. Forcing herself to look up, she took the fear that her attacker was trying to jam into her mind and became a mirror, throwing it back at him.

The Dark Jedi hadn't been expecting it. He screamed and stumbled away, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the lightsaber, much less fight with it. He made a clumsy attack at a Shii-Cho slash that Kairi easily countered before dispatching him.

Gleeful at the thought of being able to utilize what he was designed for, a hidden panel on HK-47's shoulder slid back. His eyes went red as the hidden weapon sprang out and the purple beam found its mark. Too bad it was only a stun ray, even if the howl the target made was most satisfying. The power charge jolted to the Twi'lek hostage. HK-47 paid that no heed. Master had specified a target, and HK-47 would terminate target.

The Sith apprentice dropped his hostage as he fell backwards, whimpering deplorably as he held up a hand and tried to scoot away. HK-47 let out a tinny, satisfied chuckle as the second panel slid open. He wondered if his flamethrower still worked…

FOOSH! The apprentice's robes caught ablaze. The target writhed and screamed as he tried to roll around to put out the fire. Oh, it worked nicely! The human flopped like a stranded fish, unable to extinguish the blaze, while HK-47's olfactory sensors detected the stench of roasting flesh. The droid witnessed this with satisfaction, and picked up the flaming meat-bag, dumping him into a trash compactor full of fuel-soaked rags, spent fuel cells, and other flammable debris.

Slinging the injured party member over his shoulder, HK-47 made a quick exit from blast range. A plume of fire shot several meters in the air. The durasteel exterior was barely sufficient to contain the impressive pyrotechnics, making it look like a feather pillow beaten with a sledgehammer. HK-47 walked out of the cloud of flames, eyes still glowing red.

The former hostage Twi'lek, designation "Mission," had a frighteningly large bloodstain on her back, the bleeding stemmed somewhat by the knife still in place. HK-47 noted that she had second-degree burns on her arms and head-tails, and had lost consciousness. Yet, she was functional...barely. He placed Mission on the ground before scanning for other targets.

Two Dark Jedi were dead, and the other two were engaged in combat. The male with the single-bladed saber backed out of Bastila's reach. HK-47 assumed that he was retreating until he appeared to sail backwards through the air onto a pile of crates. He summoned purple energy in his hand. Bastila tried to attack, but he shot out with the gathered energy, a jolt of sick-looking purple lightening blasting from his fingers.

The female resumed her attack on Kairi, wielding the saber with one hand as she squeezed her fist in a choking motion. Kairi staggered back, attempting to resist the Force choke and keep up her lightsaber defense.

Of course, they ignored the droid - fatal error.

Two shoulder panels were down, and the dual weapons were trained on the Dark Jedi. HK-47 used both weapons on the one Force-choking Kairi, the attack turning her into a writhing, fast-cooking hunk of animal protein. Holding her out as far as he could, HK-47 then saw to her swift end by throwing her towards the remarkable pyre he had made out of the trash bin.

The remaining Dark Jedi, seeing he was cornered without support, tried to flee. HK-47 took several leaping steps to close the gap. He picked up the Dark Jedi by the throat, feeling a moment of satisfaction in watching his eyes bulge and his flesh take a bluish tinge.

"Warning: Attacking my master is grounds for termination, meat-bag!"

As the Dark Jedi flailed uselessly in the droid's grip, HK-47 shifted the pressure subtly, crushing the larynx, and terminating the final target. Bastila and Kairi were free of their assailants, but still looked pale and shaky.

Kairi ran to Mission's side. The bleeding was bad- and so were the burns. At least she was alive. Applying pressure to stop the blood flow, Kairi shakily tried to still her mind long enough to stabilize her using the Force.

"Apology: Master, I could not halt the Dark Jedi from harming your party member."

"I've almost got her stable," Kairi said. Mission's color looked a little less pale, but Kairi was turning ashen. "But she'll die without the medical supplies on the ship. Come on."

Quickly, Bastila searched the bodies that the assassin droid had spared immolation. The leader had a datapad. A monarch's ransom in credits had been promised by Darth Malak himself for the capture or termination of the Ebon Hawk's crew. Detailed descriptions appeared. Bastila expected her name and Carth's to be on the list – their actions for the Republic naturally would gain the wrong kind of Sith attention. What made her ill, however were the descriptions of the others – Canderous, Zaalbar…even Mission.

Kairi's entry was last…but it made Bastila's blood freeze. Quickly tucking it in her robes before anyone else saw it, she caught up with the rest of the party as they limped back to the Ebon Hawk.