Discordance

by Inlerah

KotOR: In desperate attempt to thwart the triumphing Sith, special taskforce is sent out, but things go terribly wrong. Fate of the galaxy lies in hands of a powerful Jedi and her charge...or does it?

4. Prowling the Sublevels

Chapter IV: Prowling the Sublevels

"Yes, I understand. I will see it done best to my power."

With those words, Jedi Knight Navash Orai terminated the subspace holotransmission. The room he was in was one of the smaller communications and sensor chambers in the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine. The Enclave had a number of such redundant centres that would come online and could be used as a coordination headquarters in times of crisis. As it was, many occupants of the Enclave used these rooms, which were only accessible to higher ranking Jedi Masters and Knights, to browse the Academy's vast library network and make secure intergalactic calls in private.

The dim illumination died down into darkness as Knight Navash left the room, the door automatically locking and sealing the area behind him. As he headed towards the stairs that led to the Enclave ground level, he paused as to not run into another Jedi that was just around the corner. A Padawan, judging by his robes and Force signature.

The Padawan looked up startled as he almost ran into waiting Navash, at least collecting himself enough to manage a surprised greeting.

"Ah, there you are, Knight Orai."

"May I help you, Padawan?"

The young Padawan nodded quickly, eager to deliver his message.

"Yes, Master Zhar is awaiting you in the north gardens."

Navash paused to study the boy's face.

"Nothing urgent, I hope?"

"I wouldn't know, Knight. I...I don't think so," he offered helpfully.

Navash nodded to himself slowly, and then to the Padawan, dismissing him. Making his way through the cool hallways of the Enclave, he allowed his thoughts to linger on the soothing atmosphere that permeated the Enclave, smoothly masking the darkness hovering just outside its walls. Its peaceful feel, the entire planet's serene aura was so refreshingly different from the hectic environment of the Coruscant Jedi Temple. It was still tranquil when compared to Senatorial District, or the Galactic Senate itself, but nowhere near the soothing calm that permeated this Enclave.

Lately, especially since the news of Revan's death, the political climate had been growing sharper on Coruscant, much more tense and subtle in its secret corrosion. The various fractions and political camps within the Senate seemed to bicker on daily basis almost as much as they did against the oncoming threat of the Sith, with most of expectations falling on the Order to thwart this new darkness.

The Order, which was, unsurprisingly, reluctant to settle into overly decisive course of action, the ripples of Revan's schism still felt along the Jedi Temples and Enclaves. Darth Revan's schism, Navash mentally corrected himself as he ascended the stairs to ground level, for it was not prudent to think of him and Malak as Jedi anymore. No, they were so far from Light that he doubted redemption would ever be possible, if it weren't so incredibly improbable. And quite impossible now for Darth Revan.

This line of thought brought back memories of his former teacher, who was even now waiting for his presence, and how he would always emphasize that redemption and fall are two paths only a step apart. The train of thought that inevitably lead to other, more disturbing philosophical exercises. At least they always did so in the past.

Dark thoughts, dark thoughts indeed, and nothing he wanted his former Master to catch a glimpse of.

Control. Peace. Serenity.

With this kind of voidness, Navash emerged into the moderately overcast afternoon, blinking about the tranquil inner sanctum. His steps echoed dully on the neatly sweeped pathways, winding through the courtyard and into the outer gardens, past scarce Jedi and settlers strolling about the park, and finally back into the Enclave walls, almost on the other side of the grounds. North gardens were even more devoid of people, occasional Jedi sitting on a bench near the path or deeper into the dry greenery, lost in deep thought.

Navash spotted Master Zhar near one of the great inner ground trees, pacing about the small alcove slowly. One of his random glances around met Navash's gaze, and held it momentarily, before his face stretched into a warm smile. Nothing too emotional, merely a gesture of politeness and some unspoken past, something Navash grew accustomed to long time ago.

"Master Zhar," he spoke emotionlessly, his steps quickening to meet him. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes, I did. You found our facilities to be adequately private?"

"Yes, yes, thank you."

A moment of silence and silent appraisals, before Zhar spoke again, his tone neutral.

"I thought we would discuss the real reason why you are here."

Navash snapped his head into a sharp stare, smallest glimpse of surprise flashing over his collected expression.

"The real reason?" he said slowly, as if buying time to formulate something in his thoughts.

Zhar gave a small knowing smile, indicating the bench at the side of the walkway, nicely covered by the shade of a large tree.

Silence continued for a few more moments, until Zhar broke it with a seemingly casual remark.

"How is Master Rawi back on Coruscant?"

Navash's answer was in equally casual tone.

"Quite well, I imagine. I haven't really spoken with him since the irregular conferences of the Great Council began. He is a busy man, Master."

"He is still working with the Senate Jedi relations group?"

"Yes. He is heading it now, since Master Tun's unfortunate demise," he paused, as if deciding what to say next and how. "He has taken me under his wing since the Sith insurrection began. I have learned much about diplomacy under Master Rawi, in his consular group."

Zhar acknowledged this with a slow nod and soft exhale, looking around the garden in seeming absence.

"It is challenging work, in the Senate. Much more than I expected. Not that such things would involve me emotionally," Navash added quickly at the realization of enthusiasm present in his own voice.

"No, naturally," Zhar's response was casual as he studied his former student's face.

He shifted his position so he was half-facing Navash, clasping his hands together before him pensively.

"Rawi Lataran is a good…colleague of mine," the breaking pause in his speech did not escape Navash. "He is very dedicated to the Order's cause, and a rational sentient. But he has a small problem in distancing himself from the secular affairs of the Republic politics."

"I politely disagree, Master. Some degree of involvement is necessary, especially in such troubling times. I'm sure Master Rawi wants only the best for the Order."

"I'm sure he does. Because the best for the Order does not always mean the best for the Republic, and the latter often means the worst for both."

Navash's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Would that mean that you have concerns about his ideological direction, Master?"

"I always have concerns for the Order, Navash," Zhar gave him a steady look. "As recent events show, it is rarely unfounded."

"Yes," Navash glanced at a passing Jedi briefly. "The Dark Side lurks in us all, always."

"And no one is beyond its reach," Zhar supplemented pointedly. "It is easy to slowly slip into it when one does not keep this simple notion always in mind."

Another unsettling silence followed, until Navash finally broke it with a loud exhale.

"Master, I know you believe I am here on Master Rawi's behest, but I am here on official task for the Coruscant Council. I only act as an intermediary."

"And if you were here on Master Rawi's behest, would that not be a duty, seeing as how you are under his command and guidance at present?"

Navash was embarrassed slightly, despite the lighthearted tone of his former Master's voice.

"Yes, you are correct of course," he said abashed. "Forgive my hasty assumptions, Master Zhar. But may I ask plainly; what would you have of me?"

Zhar shifted his position so he was leaning slightly back in the bench, his back straightened and his arms crossed.

"Tell me, Navash, is Master Rawi still in such good relations with the Republic security?"

Navash did not miss the subtone; he was well aware where Zhar was aiming.

"Yes, well he must be, Master. The consular group has to maintain good relations with the Senate governing body, as well as the security agencies that extend from this body, if we are to mediate properly. RID and RIS are only a fraction of this multilaterality between the Order and the Republic."

Zhar nodded with an off-handed grunt, his attention seemingly in the cloudy distance.

"Yes, Republic Intelligence Department is a necessary part of the Republic political machinery. But I hope you realize that they will all look for what is best for the Republic, always. The Senators may have the political and military network necessary to rule such a great celestial confederacy, but they lack the wisdom of Jedi, especially in these troubled times."

Navash smiled sheepishly.

"Master, I'm afraid I am not the right person to be having this discussion with. I only came here to coordinate the Academy efforts with the Coruscant Temple and assure the steady progress of the Academy students."

"The reason I am telling you this, is because I know of the Senate's urges to action, and am well aware of the pressure the High Council is under. And we both know what the consequences of premature and unthought of action can be," he finished pointedly, eliciting a slow nod from Navash.

"Yes, I see what you mean. But still, we cannot abandon the Republic in this dire circumstance, even more so as the threat of the Sith is as great, if not greater for us too."

Zhar paused to look at Navash carefully.

"Of course not. Yet, we must also be careful to not allow the political instrife of the Republic to pull the Order from its neutral status. For the reasons of which you should be well aware of by now."

Navash already opened his mouth to say something, but Zhar interjected quickly, a hint of firmness detectable in his voice.

"You will find no dissenters from the High Council policy here, Knight Navash. We must stand strong against the face of this adversity, and any dividing currents."

Navash smiled politely, nevertheless not meeting Zhar's eyes.

"I am glad, Master Zhar. I expected to find none."

Despite the relatively nice weather, one couldn't help but feel the pleasant afternoon was spoiled with a sense of sublime bitterness. Navash frowned with a sudden thought entering his mind.

"Master Zhar, were you not working closely with the current RID Chief of Operations, when you were still back on Coruscant? Feri Cahir, yes, that's his name?"

"Yes, I did," Zhar seemed even more distant. "That is why I must caution you to keep the tenets of the Order always firmly in your mind."

The fact that Zhar said he should be cautious, and not Master Rawi, who lead the consular group, spoke volumes.

"I," Navash paused, his tone coloured by uncertainty. "We don't really have much contact with lower officials, to be honest. I've only met Mr.Cahir once, since the Senate Jedi relations mostly work with department Head Managers."

"Any other, more Order-concerning news you are bringing with you?"

The sudden and off-topic question surprised Navash into momentary confusion, then he locked his mind into rigid lines of thought.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am, Master Zhar. But that," he paused, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. "Is a matter for the evening Council meeting."

Zhar nodded slowly.

"Yes. Among other things."

Then they enjoyed the tranquility of the gardens, each lost in habitually self-controlled thoughts.

XXX

"You know what to do, I want no deviation from my orders."

Vren nodded tightly, saluting. Stay fresh and keep your mouth shut. He couldn't help but notice how he and Carth were in general receiving more of this unambiguous instruction, at least when compared to Captain Frelok's own men. Most likely he didn't trust random soldiers he just picked up on the street that much. As well as he shouldn't, Vren mused, seeing as how they weren't even Sith, let alone under his command.

The apartment complex they were currently in, marching in silence toward some undisclosed door, was quite luxurious by the Lower City standards. Actually, it was quite luxurious even by Upper City standards. Clean polished metal walls and floor, no sign of grime and dirt anywhere, with the general air of that certain high class permeating the building and, indeed the entire district. Shipton Lane it was called, and mostly inhabited by the kind of people that could easily compete with Upper City nobility in the amount of wealth they possessed, but none of it acquired legally.

The crude dichotomy was plainly obvious in occasional passer-by in combat armour and weapons shamelessly strapped to his persona, eyeing them derisively, or a pair of armed and less-than-sophisticated looking thugs standing vigilantly in front of an apartment door.

The more things change, the more they stay the same, Vren mused silently as they passsed a pair of Twi'leks in tacky, yet expensive paramilitary clothing, one of them scarred heavily, conversing in an accent normally reserved for lowlife gang members and Lower City hustlers. The pair stopped when they noticed them, staring at them like they were rakghouls, their hands resting not far from their holstered blasters. Must not get much visits from the Sith down here, then.

But then again, someone who could stay in a place like this most likely had the monetary means of keeping Sith patrols out of their territory.

They walked on.

As much as he despised having to take orders from his sworn enemy, some morbid part of him delighted in the chance to lull this fool into a sense of false security. So much more delicious will then the look of surprise on his face be, when Vren's blade severs it from his body.

The troupe stopped in front of an apartment door, bringing Vren from his daydreaming. Captain turned to his men briefly, even as a pair of them set the magnetic lockbreaker on the door.

"Alright, you all have your orders, keep to them and nothing will go wrong. Keep the formation standard, I want the apartment secured immediately, and not like what happened back in the warehouse!" he scowled stormily. "Only fire at hostiles armed and threatening, nobody else!"

The troopers, including Carth and Vren, readied their rifles as the butterfly lockbreaker disabled the lock with a sharp whir and hiss, one of the troopers quickly removing it for another one to kick the door open.

The assembled Sith poured into the apartment hastily, flash of persons inside forming in dimmed warm light of the suite. Even as Vren and Carth passed through the thick doorway, shots were already fired. The apartment was huge, with cone-shaped foyeur melting into royally furnished common room, vista of endless swoop lanes and urban maze visible through the panoramic windows beyond. Some sentients were seated around the large armchairs in the main room, two of them immediately jumping to their feet and pulling blasters. They barely managed a few shots before they were cut down where they stood by the advancing Sith.

Troopers rushed through into the adjacent rooms, indiscriminately eliminating opposition as they came across it. Quick cries, interspersed by precise shots, blaster fire muffled by the thick walls and furniture. Clapping of boots on polished plasteel floor, then dulled by carpets, thuds of bodies in bursts of violence. Enforcers in mesh combat armour and wielding blaster weaponry rushed into the common room, protecting what was obviously the owner of the apartment; a dark human surrounded by female Twi'leks, all shocked and disoriented by the sudden disruption. The Sith took cover behind large pieces of furniture in momentary confrontation; a blaster bolt absorbed by a heavy armoire here, a line of scorched marks streaking through an armchair there.

More burned bodies of alien bodyguards fell under the relentless assault. Two more emerging from a side-room, straight into the path of blaster fire. The whole battle was over quickly, superior firepower and tactics riding on the element of surprise prevailing over the weaker opposition.

As the proverbial smoke cleared, Vren counted nine dead bodyguards altogether, and only one of the Sith was killed in the abrupt skirmish.

Vren noticed that all the bodyguards were Nikto and Aqualish, and sported rather similar ornamented armour. Hired gang members, or just mercenaries? If the man who was apparently the lord of the premises, seated in an opulent sofa amidst Twi'lek pleasure girls, was an ordinary gang leader, that could explain much. But then again, no swoop gang leader would be living in this district, like this, not to mention warrant the attention of the Sith in such a manner.

Which was, as Vren took in the still cooling corpses and Captain Frelok's nonchalant manner, another thing on the side of bizarre. Sith raids were common, but not in the syndicate apartments, and judging from the decor of this particular one, this man was no common enforcer. In either case, this wasn't an honest citizen's apartment, that much was certain.

Captain Frelok looked down at the twisted corpse of one of his men forlornly.

"Corporal Hicks. Killed by aliens, who would have thought it…"

"Those bastards!" one of the adjacent troopers added fervently, clutching at his weapon.

The Sith Captain's attention reverted back to the now apprehensive-looking individual in the back of the lavishly decorated room, surrounded by wide-eyed Twi'lek girls. A little more than slaves, and a little less than servants, as was plainly obvious by their clothing – the lack of it, that is.

"Well, where is it?" the Captain asked almost jovially as he approached.

The stylishly dressed man disentangled himself from the girls, glaring cold daggers at Frelok, a cluster of cold barrels aimed at him from behind Captain's stare.

"Where's what, Sith? I'm warning you, I'm not someone you want to get in trouble with."

The Captain rolled his eyes unconcernedly, giving a sigh of exasperation.

"Stop acting innocent and give it up already. I don't have all day, you know," at the other man's defiantly blank look, he pulled a blaster from his hip holster and casually shot him in the knee. "But, if you're going to play tough then it's fine by me."

The Twi'leks screamed in sudden fear as they reeled back, the man spewing curses as he squirmed on the floor. Carth had to physically restrain himself not to shoot the Sith officer in the back. Glancing about, he saw the other troopers seemed unaffected at the display before them, as if they were witnessing such events daily.

The Captain walked around the room, tipping over an occasional expensive vase or sculpture with a sort of sadistic satisfaction.

"The scanner log, Sandral, where is the scanner log?"

"I can have your job for this, you swine!" the dark man kept cursing as he shakily pulled himself up, supporting himself on the expensive-looking caffa table. "Nobody shoots me, and gets away with it!"

The Captain stared at him with a bored, and not in the least intimidated expression, a notion which spoke volumes by itself.

"It's nothing exciting, I can tell you that. It's actually very tedious, especially when I have to deal with idiots under my command, irreverent alien scum and uncooperative people like you."

He sauntered over to the glaring man, the Twi'leks jumping out of his way in panic. The man pulled himself up defiantly, one bejewelled hand still holding on to an extravagant lamppost. In burst of sudden violence, Frelok struck him across the face with his blaster, sending him on the couch with a sharp cry of pain. Pinning him down with his knee, he then forced the barrel of his pistol into the alarmed man's mouth.

"You know bloody well what I want, Sandral, and I won't ask you for it again!"

The black man's eyes widened in fear and he held up defensive hands as he mumbled something unitelligible. Captain got off him, but still had the blaster aimed at his head meaningfully. The crimelord pulled hismelf into a sitting position, glaring into distance with indignant anger.

"You're so going to regret this, Sith," he warned bitterly, but relented nonetheless. "It's in the safe behind the painting of the girl. The combination's 32569874."

Captain tore the indecent painting down, revealing the safe behind it.

"How predictable," he snorted as he entered the combination.

Inside the massive safety box was a solitary datapad, which he quickly grabbed and examined. After a few moments he stashed it into his belt, satisfied. All eyes were on him as he traversed the room once more. As he came back around to where his troopers were waiting, he motioned one of his men over, discretely handing him the datalog.

"You know where to take this. Rotok, escort him," he turned vaguely in Vren and Carth's direction. "And you two, go with them, in case there are more of his men spread out in the building."

Saluting, they did as told, and when they were on the doorstep they could hear the Captain's voice as he glanced back at the glaring Sandral and frightened Twi'leks, as if in an afterthought.

"Oh, kill them all," he ordered calmly.

The crimelord and his girls only had the chance to scream briefly as the volley of blaster fire mowed them down, shredding the expensive decor of the luxurious suite in the process. The shots echoed coldly through the sterile hallway, chilling in their finality. Carth just froze in paralyzed horror, and Vren leaned in, his whisper unheard over the weapon discharge.

"Is it just me, or is this kind of thing not included in the Captain's authority?"

Carth fought hard not to turn around, but his stillness drew the attention of the other two Sith that were with them. Vren tugged at his arm, hissing in hurriedly suppressed voice.

"Come on, Carth, keep moving. Remember Bastila. Just...keep...moving."

It took a great amount of willpower, and a mention of the urgency of their mission, to force Carth into a step away from that apartment. The following short walk to the stairwell was suffocating and thick with tension, emphasized so much more by the eerie silence. Only military boots, striking the shining floor in uneven cadence.

As the four soldiers stepped through the automatic staircase door, Vren moved ahead to walk along the trooper carrying the scanner log, leaving the other one to fall in line with Carth behind them.

"I say," Vren nudged Carth as they reached the first floor landing, but spoke outloud for all to hear. "Do you remember those protocols for dealing with hostiles in a quiet manner? When the enemy can't be alerted to our presence?"

The duo of Frelok's men gave him a puzzled look. Carth was quiet for a short moment, then spoke up slowly, grim recognition dawning in his voice.

"Yeah...yeah, I remember."

Vren paused for another spiralling moment, before shouting out abruptly and erupting into motion.

"Let's practice!"

With that, he jumped the unsuspecting trooper next to him, twisting the weapon from his hands and locking his arm into an immobilizing grip. Simultaneously, Carth slammed the butt of his rifle into the helmet of the second soldier, before he could fully recover from his surprise, sending him tumbling down the stairs to slam against the wall.

Vren twisted the trooper's arm sharply, breaking the elbow joint. Carth rushed down the flight of steps, and delivered a few more wild blows to the disoriented trooper with his rifle. Vren sweeped his screeching opponent while still gripping his arm, landing him on his back roughly. Carth's strikes managed to dislocate the trooper's helmet, sending it tumbling onto cold floor as he held up his hands in futile defense. Vren's vibroblade cut through the resistance of the mesh on the downed man's armour, tip penetrating through and into the side of his neck. The other trooper had barely a chance to offer a frightened look, his hair disheveled and matted with sweat, before the butt of Carth's rifle mauled him to the ground. His head made a juicy crack, so different from dull thuds of the helmet.

Carth straightened again, looked up and found Vren already searching through a dead trooper's belt hurriedly. This prompted him to do the same, leaning back down to take some blaster powercells as he called out to Vren.

"Take that datalog!"

"Of course," Vren flashed the thick datalog briefly, pocketing it. "Now let's be off, before they realize what happened."

Carth just nodded tensely, following him in a light jog down the stairs to the back entrance.

XXX

Cold grey eyes lingered with a terse exhale before the accompanying voice spoke in subdued, yet steel-lined voice.

"Alright, but I don't like being cut out of my share."

"You know business hasn't been the best lately."

Canderous clenched his jaw with some subdued emotion, giving his boss and current employer a sidelong glance.

"All I know is the sum we agreed on when I entered your service. The last few payments were less than adequate. You wanted the best, and you got it. But it doesn't come cheaply."

Davik gave him a long, dangerous stare. Which was met and held firmly.

"You'll get your money, Canderous. The sooner you get me those codes, the sooner you'll get it. That's why I'm giving you free reins with this operation. You've got the best team of specialists on Taris, the best equipment. You can't not get me those codes."

Canderous let out a soft breath, saying nothing. His icy stare lingered for a moment more, then he turned back to the lifts.

"I need to inspect the Undercity teams before they set out on the evening rounds," he said casually as he waited for the lift to arrive, back turned to Davik.

The crimelord just nodded absently, his attention now focused on the text message that was just received on his personal, state-of-the-art comm unit.

"Not just yet," Davik spoke finally, his eyes still on his comm unit. "We'll go and say hello to our dream team first."

He looked up, ignoring Canderous' look of mounting annoyance.

"I want you to brief them and set them up with all the equipment. I want them to be ready as soon as possible," he steered Canderous into the lift, pressing the button for one of the lower levels which held storage rooms and spice laboratories.

"I hope they're better than the wet-behind-the-ears enforcers you're sending to the Undercity."

"Oh yes," Davik said with a quick glint of enthusiasm. "The best money can buy. Well, on Taris, anyway."

They were interrupted by the lift car arriving with a soft tone, and Davik lead the way through well-lit corridors, occasional guard nodding in respectful acknowledgment. The convoluted path through the vastness of lower level estate brought them to what appeared to be a multi-purpose storage room. Some tables and a large holoprojector with various computer consoles suggested its usage as an informal briefing and conference room, instead of its initial design purpose.

Four sentients were casually seated at a small table off to the far wall and engrossed in quiet chatter, snapping into nervous attention as Davik and Canderous entered. Davik nodded quickly, not wasting any time as he took a commandeering position near the holoprojector emitter.

"I think you all know why you're here."

The scarred man looked at the staring faces, reading reluctant expectance, readiness, even subdued fear. He smiled inwardly when they averted their gazes one by one, as his own lingered momentarily. It was good to know he still had that effect on people.

"Of course, Mr. Kang," one of the four sentients that comprised the attentive group confirmed somewhat tensely, after clearing his throat. "Although, we haven't been told all the details…"

"You will be, soon enough," Davik Kang shot him a brief look, straightening. "First I'd like to point out again that you are all good enough to warrant this job in the first place. I've made sure that you're the best at what you do, so I expect some results."

He scanned their faces again briefly, before turning toward the big man standing next to him for the first time.

"This man here is Canderous Ordo, as you may know. He's one of my most trusted men, and he'll be leading this job. So from now on, any questions you got, you turn to him."

The tall Mandalorian in question turned his cold eyes on the small group. His hardened visage spoke of war and unyielding ferocity waiting under the calmness like a beast in the shrubery. His eyes betrayed nothing but detached coldness, tempered with fire of passion, and would speak of countless battles if they could. The reaction of men was predictable. All but one winced involuntarily as Canderous' eyes passed them, feeling the distinct uncomfort that testified to the brief time passing from the last Mandalorian war.

The small group consisted of three humans and a Twi'lek, all specialists in their fields. Their services did not come cheap, but Davik Kang was the last man on Taris that had to make economic compromises.

"Now some of you may already know each other, but just so we get the formalities out of the way," his eyes darted toward the first sentient sitting on the far left of the table, a small-framed human with unkempt black hair. "This is Yen Rufkel, demolitions man, ex-Taris Planetary Defence. He lost his job with the occupation and is currently selling his skill to the best buyer. Who just happens to be me."

The man grinned uneasily at the others, his slanted eyes smiling.

"Next to him we got Ker Agar, or as most of you would know him as, Blondie. He'll be in charge of communications and computer infiltration."

The man in question ran an idle hand over his flat-top blonde hair, glancing lazily at the others.

"The Twi'lek gentleman goes by the name of Unshin L'Vak, and he's one of the most important segments of this team. He'll be tending to all the matters of security cracking and opening doors for the rest of you."

Unshin nodded his head politely at Davik, barely sparing a glance at his new co-workers.

"And finally, Senk Ged, the designated driver for the team, and all-around shooter. Some of you might recognize him from the Swoop Race circuit, where he used to compete a few years back."

The tall black man on the far right end of the table raised an acknowledging hand.

"Hey."

"Alright," Davik stepped closer, his tone businesslike. "Now that we got that out of the way, let's focus on business. Canderous here's going to-"

"Is this going to be a specific contract, or do we enter your service for indeterminate time?" Blondie, the human in what looked like modified Republic module armour asked, his pale blue eyes sparkling with vivid energy.

"Strictly specific," Davik said quickly, irritation at being interrupted detectable in his voice. "But those are details, and I'll let Canderous sort them out with you in a minute."

Blondie shifted in his seat, his expression a curious mixture of reserve and growing interest.

"And the pay?"

"More than you can spend in a year," Davik turned to him again, unphased. "If you succeed in getting me what I want, I'll reward you accordingly."

"Now, as I was saying, Canderous-"

The door opened with a subtle hiss, interrupting him again. A few armed guards walked in, bringing in large security coffers, their uncertain eyes seeking Davik's approval. As if just remembering something, Davik quickly nodded and waved them in impatiently.

"I've taken the liberty to provide you with some equipment to get you started," he commented as the heavily armed servants displayed the coffers on the floor before the curious eyes. "When you need anything else, and you will need it, you talk to Canderous."

Canderous, standing a bit to the side with arms crossed idly, gave a quick glance over the men assigned to him, then returned to staring off into distance. Davik continued, slowly walking around his men who were opening the heavy coffers, revealing various weaponry, electronic decoders as well as explosive charges and other such equipment, all highly advanced and highly illegal.

"I'll spare no expenses to get what I want, and I expect only the best from every one of you."

"Damn," Senk breathed in awe, having rushed from his seat to closely examine a large blaster carbine with shining eyes. "With this stuff, getting those codes should be a piece of cake."

"We'll need a lot more than just heavy weapons," Canderous spoke up for the first time, bleeding some of enthusiasm from Senk's expression. "If it were that easy, we wouldn't need any of you for it."

Mercenaries stepped over to the displayed goods to inspect and familiarize themselves with them, while Davik discussed something quietly with Canderous. Yen and Blondie picked up some portable scanners and analysis equipment, setting it up on the nearby table while engaged in some restrained debate or other. The other two kept examining the provided equipment with barely concealed enthusiasm.

The black man, Senk, leaned over to the Twi'lek and placed his boot on the bench to casually support the large rifle he was cradling protectively.

"I haven't seen you around for a while, Unshin. I thought you retired already, but then I heard you got on this job...Davik's really forking out for this one, eh?"

The blue Twi'lek smiled nostalgically, pausing with a miniature hacking console in his hands.

"I'm about to retire, actually. This is the last job for me, that boost to launch me into comfortable life of an honest citizen."

They laughed at that notion, their laughter dying slowly into banality of their existence. As they slowly fell back into silence, their thoughts wound into momentary introspection, a flicker of their passed life's recapitulation in the glimpse of the future.

"And how have things been for you?" Unshin asked abruptly, surprising Senk. "I haven't seen or heard of you since the Vulkar-Bek war started."

Senk gave a dismissive sigh, shifting the weapon in his hands.

"Since the Magnetic Blades broke up, I've sworn I'm done with swoop gangs."

"That's right, you used to race for them, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Senk said slowly, obviously uneasy talking about his past. "But I was getting tired of the swoop track even before Brejik's feud. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing better than rushing through traffic full speed on some sweet bike, but I'm not all that for gang politics."

Unshin seemed bemused by that.

"But nothing against being a hired gun?"

Senk cracked a roguish grin.

"Mercenary work is simple. They point me in a direction, I shoot, they pay me money. It's a dream job."

Unshin nodded with a snort, and another pause fell in lack of any discursive topics. Senk shouldered the rifle he had been holding, glancing about at others. His wandering eyes stopped on one particular figure in the room.

"So who's the blondie?"

Twi'lek shrugged casually.

"It's the first time I heard his real name. He's just known as Blondie," he glanced at the man in question cautiously. "He's well known in the Exchange spice routes, used to be a bounty hunter."

Senk gave a surprised look.

"Really? Was he any good?"

Unshin gave a knowing smile.

"Oh yes. He used to be in the Silver Corona, before most of them were killed by the Sith."

Senk gave a low whistle at this. The Silver Corona was one of the most famous, in the underground anyway, and respected mercenary companies, whose exact leadership was still very much a mystery to this day. They were quite a scourge for hunted sentients during the last years of Mandalorian War, and far into the still ongoing Sith War. Now defunct, they were most known for what would later be referred to as 'Ando Incident'.

During the initial Sith invasions, the Silver Corona, working for some unknown contractor, managed to infiltrate into a Sith base in Ando system space forward outpost. They shut down automated defenses and cut off the base's main power supplies via remote network, then sent in a small strike team in a daring maneuver that was going to be the talk of late night drinking companies in the criminal underground for years to come. They snatched a valuable prisoner from heavily guarded Sith military installation, before the disarrayed defense forces could muster a cohesive counterattack.

"You probably know about the Ando fiasco. Silver Corona earned a lot of credits with that mission, but it was also the beginning of the end. The prisoner who they captured, some high-ranking Exchange kingpin, or so the word goes, got them freighterloads of credits. But it cost them dearly, because the Sith, that was back when Darth Revan was still alive and acting chief, hunted them actively since that incident."

Senk laughed boomingly.

"Yeah, I guess it didn't do much for their public image for a group of mercenaries to break into one of their bases and swipe a high-security prisoner from under their noses."

"You could say that. Like I said, they ran on a tough streak, and it ended at Yavin system, where the Silver Corona attack cluster got ambushed into orbital trap. They say there's still debris floating in Yavin 8 polar orbit from that battle. I mean, Silver Corona had the best weapons and ships available on the black market, but this is Sith we're talking about. If you've ever seen one of those colossal Sith cruisers tearing to pieces some poor vessel, you'll know what I mean."

Senk nodded sympathetically.

"So what really happened? Were they all killed, or what?"

The Twi'lek took a slow breath.

"Not from what I hear. They say only a few lucky individuals managed to escape with their lives, and even that thanks to some Republic ships stumbling upon the battle and distracting the mainstay of Sith forces," he indicated the blonde human, who was now running some tests on electronic equipment Davik provided. "Blondie's one of those who survived."

Senk followed Unshin's gaze, silently thinking on this information.

"He's good enough for Davik to be hiring him, and I guess that's good enough for me."

Unshin smirked darkly, his voice lowering considerably.

"Some even say he got away because he was the one who relayed their coordinates to the Sith. But that's just rumours, you know."

Senk gave a non-committal sound, his attention seemingly focused on the advanced weapon in his hands. Unshin pocketed some security spikes, nodding his head toward the quietly conversing duo of their employers.

"You know anything about this Canderous?"

Senk looked up in mild surprise, then followed his companion's gaze.

"He's a Mandalorian, I don't think I want to know anything more. Man, Davik's gotta be paying him a fortune to come working in this dump."

"Hey, Taris used to be one of the prime trading worlds before the new hyperspace routes. It's still a well-used junction for spice and other black market lines," the Twi'lek shrugged as he was turning a multi-lockpick in his hands inquisitively. "Or at least it used to be, before this quarantine. This place is going to hell in a gravbasket since the Sith occupation, I tell you."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I remember-"

"Now that you've looked over the toys I've provided for you, let's see how you're going to put them to good use," they were interrupted by Davik speaking up again, drawing all attention.

He glanced at Canderous, who stepped forward with an obvious intention of speaking.

"You'll be staying in this complex for the duration of your contract, and you'll be spending all your effort to make sure you carry it out," Canderous supplied evenly, his voice impossible to ignore. "That means you don't go out to the city, and you don't contact anyone while you're here."

"What if we want to relax a little bit?" Senk piped up, drawing some agreeing chortles from Unshin and Yen.

Canderous gave him an unnerving stare, effectively wiping the smile from his face.

"There's enough of everything you could need right here at the estate. Girls, drinks, drugs, it's all in abundance. But you won't be enjoying it much, because you'll be getting ready and working on completing your contract."

Davik was nodding in concurrence, and looked like he was about to say something as well, when his attention was stolen by another person entering. The mercenaries exchanged meaningful looks at the familiar short figure of the man determinedly walking up to Davik. Everyone's attention now solely on the short bounty hunter, he seemed as indifferent as ever, as if to already being used to his paradoxically commanding presence. One could easily miss the momentary glance of icy derision that was passed between the Mandalorian and the bounty hunter. Davik leaned down so that the shorter man could whisper something to him. There was a brief flash of irritation on his face as he straightened again.

"Canderous, you take it from here. I've got some business to take care of. Gentlemen," the four sentients stood up in a sign of respect as he left with Calo Nord close behind him.

"Listen up now," Canderous stepped over to the holoprojector nonchalantly, bringing up a three-dimensional display of what looked to be a complex military-grade map. "You already know the basics, now we'll go into detail."

He briefly scanned the room, four pairs of expectant eyes staring back, then turned back to the holomap.

"This is what you'll be doing for the next couple of weeks."

XXX

Their walk from the Shipton Lane was uneventful, and enshrouded in grimness. Thoughts as heavy as the polluted air spiralled around them unseen, bringing with them a sort of mutual reluctance to sift them into words.

"Well," Vren said finally, breaking the silence. "We are finally out of danger."

Just as he said those words, a nearby group of tough-looking swoop gang thugs took notice of them.

"The Sith aren't welcome here!" a particularly big Nikto spat, hefting a vibrosword ominously.

"Terrific," Vren supplied dryly. "Just what we need to work out the muscles from sitting in a cramped speeder."

The blaster bolts were already flying past their heads as he said that, and they both dove for cover. Vren fired off a shot, then surprised his opponents by rolling out of the cover, unsheathing his blades. Sith armour he was still wearing absorbed a direct hit that tumbled him off-course. He threw himself sideways, flopping toward the closest opponent's feet as Carth's shots flew by above. The surprised Vulkar, a blaster-wielding Rodian, barely managed to give a startled cry before Vren's sword cut into his legs. Ankles crushed, he fell onto the waiting blades. Vren shoved back at the struggling Rodian firmly hooked on his vibroblades, pushing him backward and using him as a dying shield for his companions' fire.

Behind him, Carth jumped into a closer cover, steadily decreasing distance to the enemy line. Vren kicked the dead Rodian into a pair of his companions, distracting them enough to launch an attack and for Carth to take one down.

Another Rodian slammed a shock baton into Vren's side, enticing a cry of rage, despite the armour dissipating most of the charge. Dropping one of his vibroswords, Vren grabbed the Rodian's wrist before he could pull back, twisting and throwing his arm wide to expose his side. He followed with a kick through that cut past the oncoming punch, imbalancing him, and then immediately locked his leg over the alien's arm he still gripped, twisting the wrist just outside of his knee joint to push his opponent down into joint-dislocating position.

Carth, now completely out in the open as most fire was drawn to Vren, was kneeling in a firing position, precise bolts keeping the remaining thugs behind cover. Finishing off the Rodian, Vren launched into a sprint toward where the last two enemies were sheltering, dropping into a slide just as one of them, a human, peered out and fired off a shot. The bolt grazed the top of Vren's helmet as he dropped to the floor, the dry impact and unpleasant heat spreading even under the enclosed armour. He rolled forward amidst unnervingly close blaster impacts, with Carth providing some seminal support from behind. As he came out of a roll he was met head-on with a large Nikto, barely blocking the overhead chop on his knees. Sparks flashed momentarily as the blades met, Vren pushing his assailant back with a cry as he stood up. Cursing wildly, the Nikto thug fought back furiously, which also prevented his comrade from landing any decisive shots on Vren without hitting his comrade.

Carth ran up to them, having dropped the rifle and picked up the sword Vren dropped on the way, launching himself into melee combat as well. He engaged the remaining human gang thug, knocking the blaster from his hands before he had the chance to fire at Carth. The first swing at the man's head was ducked, with him managing to grab a vibroknife from his dead companion's belt as he dived under Carth's attack.

Despite his apparent agility, the man was clearly sub par as far as melee combat was concerned, and Carth quickly managed to lock the thug's shorter weapon with his own, driving a hard knee to his stomach. It was followed through by a slam down on the back of his head as he doubled over, the pommel of the vibrosword sending him down permanently.

Carth whirled around just in time to see Vren behead the last thug in a frenzied slash, the alien's blood splashing over the floor and Vren's armour as the rest of his body collapsed lifelessly.

The momentary silence of the battle aftermath left them speechless, scanning the streets for any more threats, potential or otherwise.

Carth offered Vren back his vibrosword wordlessly, glancing about at the carnage. The uniform he was wearing and his posture gave him appearance of a war-weary Sith soldier, no doubt the last comparison he was trying to evoke.

Vren felt the sweat on his brow, instinctively reaching up with the back of his hand to wipe it, only to have it stop on the helmet.

"We have to get out of these uniforms," his breathing could still be heard quickened from combat. "They are just as bad as walking around Upper City in Republic insignias."

Carth, his eyes always darting around uneasily, nodded quickly.

"And fast! These streets are full of swoop gang thugs and other criminals. But we've got to find somewhere out of way to change back into our clothes. Changing out here in the open is out of the question."

Vren looked around, at the grimy buildings and shady stores, finally stopping near one of the speeder lanes that lead downward and out of sight.

"Over there," he indicated an abandoned looking building complex, outer layers peeled from the walls by time and elements.

They walked quickly into the towering building, disappearing in its dark hallways. It seemed to be condemned, piles of trash and assorted debris lining the floor suggesting its disuse. They found an abandoned apartment, half of broken door hanging from the side of the frame like some impotent curtain. The place was dim and thoroughly thrashed. Broken pieces of furniture, and what looked like rusted speeder parts testified shamelessly to the true core of Taris. Only one of the overhead lamps remained, and even that flickered intermittently, providing basic illumination at best.

"This should do it," Vren commented, already having removed his helmet as he looked around critically. "You guard the door first while I change, we wouldn't want any nasty surprises."

Nodding affirmatively, Carth positioned himself so he had a clear view over the empty corridor, and a good firing position if the need suddenly arose.

"I wonder what's in that scanner log," he commented idly, standing a bit in the cover of the broken door panel, eyes firmly set on the hallway outside.

Vren paused in unbuckling his uniform, giving a thoughtful look.

"Whatever it is, it is important. Pity we don't have the diagnostic computer to read it."

"We should get an access to one when we're back with the fleet and off this Sith-infested planet."

Vren gave a bemused smirk as he dropped the Sith armour to the floor with dull thunk.

"Optimistic, aren't we?"

Carth actually turned from the door to give him a surprised stare.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We still have to find Bastila, remember?" Vren supplied bitterly as he pulled on the armoured pants. "So far we don't know anything about her location, or whether she's still alive or not."

Carth furrowed his brow in concern.

"That officer at the party said they haven't captured her yet, so that gives us-"

"Nothing," Vren snorted resignedly. "That information is old, Carth, even by non-military standards. For all we know, she could have been captured and executed by now."

"Damn it, Vren, we don't have any other choice," Carth said softly, quickly glancing at the empty hallway and then back.

"I know," Vren's tone matched his, and they were both silent for a while.

Carth couldn't help but notice a strange tattoo on Vren's body in the dimness of the failing lights. A thin black line, like a coil, was running up the middle of his abdomen from where it disappeared into his pants, straight to his solar plexus. From there, a narrow line of some strange angular script was winding its way to his left side and over to his back, climbing like a coiled serpent until it widened to lodge itself in a hook-like manner into his spine at the base of his neck.

"Nice tattoos," Carth commented. "Does it go all the way down to-"

"Yes," Vren said exasperatedly, as if having to answer that question a million times before.

"What does it all mean?"

Vren shrugged dismissively.

"Nothing, it's just gibberish. When I was still in the Academy, some mates and I got into a small bet on who would get the strangest tattoo."

"Did you win?"

"No. That honour belonged to some poor idiot who got the name of his current girl tattooed across his forehead in bold letters," he shook his head bemusedly at the memory.

Carth gave a non-committal sound, staring at the jagged symbols suspiciously. Vren finished the last buckle-clasp on his combat armour, glancing surreptitiously about.

Wordlessly they exchanged places, with Vren, now back in his regular combat armour, guarding the door while Carth changed. Vren's hands crossed as he settled into slow pacing about the room.

"We should look for the nearest transition to the lower levels, where the rest of the pods crashed."

"What are we going to do with these uniforms?"

Carth straightened, finishing strapping on his blaster holsters just as Vren paused in front of him.

"We'll need them later," he looked around, his eyes stopping on an in-wall locker in the disused maintenance niche. "There!"

Carth grabbed the uniforms and followed him to the locker.

"The electronic lock seems operational," Vren commented as he tested the metallic door for sturdiness. "Can you reprogram it to a custom code?"

"Let me see."

Carth studied the mechanism carefully, finally giving an approving sound.

"No, but I can sever the opening circuitry and take out the battery mechanism to make a sort of mechanical lock."

"And that will keep it locked?"

Carth shrugged as he rummaged through the small utility pocket at his belt.

"Basically. I don't think anyone'd go to the trouble of breaking open a rusted locker in an abandoned building in these slums."

"Good enough," Vren crammed the uniforms in as Carth went to work on the locking mechanism.

"Perhaps we can gleam some information in local Cantinas," he commented thoughtfully as he paced about, attentive eyes scanning the dilapidated corridor. "We know very little about Sith movements in the Lower City, and of the gangs even less."

"I agree," Carth slammed the locker door shut, tugging on it to check it was unopenable without the internal battery. "I think I saw an ad for a Cantina near where we fought that swoop gang. It's worth checking out."

"Let's move out then."

XXX

The Javyar's Cantina was like one of its elite Upper City counterparts, only bigger, meaner, smokier, louder and more lively. Bodies spasmed to booming beats that subsonically echoed in the bones, tabacc smoke mistifying the spacious halls as any amount of artificial fog could. Everywhere one looked, sentients were dancing, talking, playing Pazaak, rowing. Anything but sitting still and enjoying their drinks quietly. Truly a place any pure breed Tarisian noble would sneer upon in disgust. It was into this chaotic turmoil that Carth and Vren were thrown as they entered the dim lobby, scanning their surroundings with cautious eyes.

"It's quite lively here," Vren commented off-handedly.

"What?" Carth leaned in, straining to hear him over the rolling waves of synthetic music.

Vren just waved him off dismissively, pointing to the main room where a myriad of slowly spinning lights added to the dim morass of smoke and laughter.

Pushing past the squirming bodies on one of the rectangular dance floors, they made their way over to a large cluster of tables, just behind the main bar. Since all the tables were taken, they just leaned on one of the drink countertops near the hallway, somewhat at a loss on how to proceed. A particular man caught Vren's eye, sitting at a corner table alone – a curious fact in itself, considering the crowded nature of the Cantina. Not that it was difficult to miss him, for the man stood out in the extravagant crowd of gang members, bounty hunters, prostitutes and other such opportunists like a battlecruiser in a souvenir shop. Sporting full body heavy armour, custom made by the looks of it, and tight-fitting goggles one could easily mistake him for just another enforcer that the place crawled with.

His height, the lack of it, that is, separated him from the normal imposing physique of an average criminal that frequented the establishment.

And yet, there was an unmistakable aura surrounding him like a pall of some kind, the way he shot out placid stares of unreadable chill, the measured movements of a predator as he slowly moved the glass to his lips. Vren always had an uncanny ability to judge people's personality by the way he perceived them, the first impression that went beyond simple instinct. An intuitive sense, a finely honed skill to combine all the little clues into a vague picture of the whole.

Right now, it was telling him this man might be someone that would be interesting to know. Off-putting, but interesting to know. That, and his face was strangely familiar to Vren. This one was someone famous.

His suspicions were confirmed when a small group of what appeared to be swoop gang thugs approached, their posture suggesting thinly veiled hostility.

Vren nudged Carth, which was entirely unnecessary, since by now the majority of main hall's occupants were intently following this new unfolding drama. One of the thugs, a nasty looking Rodian, stepped in front of the man, but not too close, Vren observed. His arms akimbo, he glanced at his companions quickly, exchanging smirks.

"Look here, it's the big bad bounty hunter," his tone indicated that striking up a friendly conversation was the last thing on his mind.

"Go away," said the short man simply, looking up from his glass in unreadable glance.

"What's the matter? We just want to have a drink with the great bounty hunter," a Twi'lek said, his tone derisive.

His Rodian companion turned to him, feigning disappointment.

"Maybe he doesn't want to have a drink with us," his tone turned scathing, aggressive. "Maybe he thinks he too good for us!"

The Twi'lek turned back to the indifferent man.

"You think you're too good for us? Huh? The great Calo Nord," he mocked, his courage undoubtedly inflated by alcohol.

"One," the man said flatly, not even bothering to look up from his glass.

The thugs exchanged amused looks.

"What he counting? He drunk or something?" the Rodian mused aloud, turning back to the man as his friends laughed.

"Hey! What you counting, small man?"

"Two," the man said calmly, slowly sliding his glass to the edge of the table and leaning back in his seat.

"Maybe he's counting how many of us is against him," a Nikto offered constructively.

"He no Calo Nord. Calo Nord big and strong, he just a little squirt," the Rodian mocked further. "Aren't you, runt?"

"Three," the man said with an air of finality, exploding into motion.

Small rotund object clattered to the floor between them, preceding a disorienting flash by mere second. Vren shielded his eyes reflexively, just as a barrage of blaster fire sounded in the following confusion.

Simultaneously, Vren and Carth dived in opposite directions, landing behind the counter base and under a table, respectively. By the time they peaked from behind their covers with drawn weapons everything was already over, the short man walking in a completely casual manner past the table where Carth was hiding. Out on the floor, three fresh bodies lay silently. Rapidly the atmosphere cooled back to normal levels, this being Lower City after all, where such occurrences were part of the daily beat.

"That was pretty impressive," Carth commented, still blinking from the glare.

Vren scowled as he glanced at the bodies the short man left behind.

"Calo Nord," he said the word as if it was something sour in his mouth. "I don't like that man. He makes me nervous," his expression brightened as he turned back to the main room. "He has left an empty table. Come on."

Stepping carefully over the corpses that were already being removed by security, they settled into the comfortable plasteel chairs. Calo Nord's glass remained untouched on the edge of the table, quarter-filled with deep brown liquor. Sporting a tight expression, Vren cleared it off the table, letting it clatter and spill its contents to the floor, the hard crystal remaining uncracked.

"We should check the bounty office here, I'm told there is a fortune to be had in collecting bounties government issues out."

Carth seemed reluctant.

"You're probably right, but...with Sith being the current government, I don't know if all those bounties are justified."

Vren adopted a mildly irritated expression.

"You mean not wrapped up in transparent excuses of a lawful decree?"

Carth gave him a strange look.

"Since when does killing dangerous criminals bother you?"

"It isn't the killing that bothers me, it's the blatant hypocrisy."

Carth let out a sharp breath.

"I'm not gonna argue with you about this, not now when we've got million other things to worry about. Let's just go check on that bounty office."

"Keep calm, let's first analyse our situation and get a feel for the place."

"We don't have much time to waste, you do know that, right?"

"Yes, I am well aware of that fact," Vren could feel his annoyance rising again. He stood up abruptly, surprising Carth. "I'm going to go order us some drinks, and check in on the Pazaak room. You should stay here and make sure no one takes our table."

Carth just waved dismissively, half of Vren's words lost in the loud music anyhow. Vren moved through the crowd of dancing and standing sentients, going over to one of the heavily crowded bars.

He bumped into a Twi'lek woman on his way, almost causing her to spill her drink. He was about to let loose a string of scolding when the familiarity of the face struck him. It was one of the Twi'leks from their apartment block.

Same revelation seemed to dawn on her as well.

"Oh, it's you! Isn't this a coincidence!"

A momentary smile flashed across Vren's face, looking more like a random spasm. He made a non-committal sound, pretending to search for someone in the crowd.

"Do you remember me, from the apartment complex? I'm your neighbour," she said in a quieter tone, looking around conspiratorily. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Vren's attention snapped back to her, eyes hardening.

"What secret?" he asked slowly.

"Well you've got to have a secret if you're living there. I mean everyone…" she stumbled over her words, suddenly feeling very awkward.

Vren watched her incisively for a few moments, his expression finally settling into a casual smile.

"Would you care for a drink?" he took her by the elbow, practically pulling her along toward the bar. "I think we started on a somewhat wrong footing. Please allow me to correct that impression."

He sat her down in a chair at the bar, ordering some Tarisian Ale.

"Allow me to introduce myself; I am Lano. I believe you said your name is Aasira?"

"You have a good memory. Yes, that's my name."

"So tell me then, what was that about secrets?"

Vren didn't fail to notice the subtle motion of the woman's lekku, as they tightened ever so slightly around her neck in a defensive pose.

"Maybe I blurted something out without thinking. Forgive me. I've gotten so accustomed over the years to secrecy and hiding from authorities that I automatically assume everyone around me is just the same."

"Oh?" Vren arched a curious eyebrow. "You are staying here…illegally, then?"

She smiled tightly.

"Every alien that's in Upper City is there illegally. Except that some have more privileges than others," her eyes wandered toward the dancing Twi'leks on stage pointedly.

"Indeed."

He looked back at Aasira, as if snapping from his thoughts.

"So, that woman that was with you the other day. Are you…living together?"

"Oh no. She just came to visit, she actually lives here in the Lower City."

"I see."

Moments of rather awkward silence followed, with many mutually suspicious and wondering glances exchanged.

"You see, Aasira," Vren said finally, shifting closer so that he could be clearly heard over the booming music. "My friend and I, we are staying in that apartment for a reason. We aren't exactly seeing eye to eye with the local law, if you know what I mean."

Aasira nodded vigorously, raising an empathic hand.

"Yes, I do, really. Things have gotten a little better for us non-humans with the new government, but not much. You don't have to explain anything, I understand."

"Good, because we really wouldn't want the information that we are staying there spread around. That would be very unfortunate."

Aasira watched Vren's face closely, her unease at his subtly warning tone not gone unnoticed.

"Don't worry, you've got nothing to fear from me," she assured again, hastily.

"Terrific," Vren's smile was unsettling at best.

Aasira was quick to change the subject.

"Not many humans speak Huttese around these parts."

"Well, I am most unusual human. Odd, though, I would imagine that a metropolis such as this would surely hold humans with certain linguistic knowledge."

Aasira made a coy smile.

"I meant humans in our apartment district, not much humans at all there, let alone those speaking Huttese fluently."

Vren paused, as if in thought, then looked up at her.

"I say, do you have some sort of job in the Upper City, or..."

He let the thought hang in the air, like a sharp hook for her to grab.

"No, not really."

Vren saw that she was visibly uncomfortable with the subject, so he pressed on.

"I say that because you mentioned your friend was from Lower City, and from my limited experience, aliens can make themselves quite the better living standard on the lower city levels than up there, amidst racism and scorn. At least, most aliens living in our block have a very good reason for staying in the Upper City, yes?"

Aasira studied his face as he spoke, her expression conveying nothing. But her lekku subtly shifted in a manner that could be interpreted as distrust...or aggravation. She smiled, more artificially than not.

"Like I said, I perfectly understand the need for privacy the tenants of our apartment block have. Everyone there does."

Vren didn't miss the unspoken, looking away with unreadable expression and nodding slowly.

"You haven't touched your drink," she commented off-handedly, indicating the full glass in his hands.

Vren smiled in a not entirely pleasant manner, nodding toward her own glass.

"Neither did you."

"Touche. Nobody's getting drunk tonight, eh?"

Vren just inclined his head in acknowledgement, glancing about at the crowd.

"Well. I really must be going, a friend is waiting for me, you see. Perhaps we'll bump into each other again soon."

"Perhaps," she smiled again, giving him a friendly tap on the arm.

Without any further words, he ordered some drinks for his and Carth's table, then disappeared back into he crowd. Aasira stared after him thoughtfully, taking the first sip of her expensive drink.

XXX

"You there!" Vren motioned over one of the Twi'lek servants irritably. "Where are our drinks? We ordered them over quarter of an hour ago!"

The blue Twi'lek stopped, frowning disapprovingly as one hand settled on her hip crossly.

"Hey, I ain't no waiter! Just because I'm a Twi'lek doesn't mean I'm here to serve your rich butts!"

"Mission, be careful. They look like enforcers, they could be Black Vulkars. You always get us in trouble with them!"

The towering Wookiee that accompanied her was a source of many curious, and frightened stares, as he fidgeted around her in an amusing manner.

Understanding the Sheeriwook, Vren's expression tightened. He already pointed a warning finger to unleash a verbal barrage when Carth interrupted lightheartedly.

"Look, we didn't mean anything by it. We just don't know this place that well, we're kind of new here."

The girl's face softened somewhat.

"Oh, that means you're one of those people that got stuck here because of the quarantine? I thought I never saw you around here before."

She visibly perked up, dropping into a chair at their table, while the tall Wookiee just stood behind her awkwardly.

"I guess that makes me and Big Z here your official welcoming committee!" she chirped.

"I don't remember allowing-" Vren began in that slow, venomous manner of his, annoyed by her cheerful demeanor, when Carth quickly interjected, sending him a firm glare.

"So you live down here? Why don't you tell us a bit about this place?"

"Sure! Just buy me a drink and I'm all yours!" she laughed mischievously, eliciting an exasperated breath from Vren.

"Uh, sure. What'll you have?" Carth waved a servant over.

The large Wookiee growled miserably, vexed by his companion's willingness to be distracted from their mundanity so easily.

"Mission, I must eat something. I am starving!"

Mission turned to him in playful annoyance.

"Oh hush, you big baby! Didn't you just eat a minute ago? Well go on, knock yourself out already! I'll stay here and talk to these nice off-worlders, wouldn't want them to get the wrong impression of Taris."

The Wookiee shambled away with a subdued grunt.

"So where were we?" she turned back to them with an eager smile.

"You were about to tell us something about Lower City," Carth provided helpfully.

"Oh yeah, that's right! It can get pretty tense sometimes, what with all the gang wars lately and the rumours about Davik turning up heat on the Lower City businesses. They even say he's hired Calo Nord himself to-"

"Yes, we've seen the dwarf," Vren interrupted curtly, as if by the mention of bounty hunter's name his patience snapped. "You say he is working for this Davik?"

"Yeah," the Twi'lek nodded vigorously. "Or at least that's the scoop. The best, most notorious bounty hunter this side of the Outer Rim. You saw his handiwork here just now, didn't you?"

She glanced at the drying bloodstains suggestively.

"Anyway, you don't want to mess with him. He's one tough cookie."

Vren gave something akin to suppressed snort, glancing away in apparent bemusement.

"I'm serious!" the girl adopted a matching expression. "People say he's even more dangerous than that Mandalorian Davik's got working for him."

"Wait a minute, a Mandalorian?" Carth asked quickly, his face darkening. "Davik's got a Mandalorian working for him?"

"Yeah, it's pretty much common knowledge around here. Some big mercenary, who knows what special work Davik's hired him for."

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't hire a Mandalorian mercenary to do your laundry or shake down local stores," Vren interjected impatiently. "Now what was that about gang wars?"

"Well, it's kinda complicated, with personal grudges and territory issues and all that. Basically, it boils down to this: On one side you've got Hidden Beks, that's the good guys, me and Big Z hang out around their base all the time so I know; and on the other there are the Vulkars. They're really just a bunch of bullies and coreslimes, even more since Brejik took over."

"Who's Brejik? Could you slow down a little?" Carth waved his hand calmingly, unable to follow her excited rambling.

She smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. I tend to ramble sometimes. Just stay clear of Vulkars, they've gotten to shooting people on sight!"

"What can you tell us of Davik?" Vren cut in decisively.

She leaned in a bit, lowering her voice as she glanced around.

"Nothing much. I stay out of his business, just like you'll do if you're smart. You don't wanna mess with the man that practically runs Taris. I keep my nose clean, you know?"

"You live down here all on your own?"

Mission gave a frown over the note of concern in Carth's voice, a hint of irritation entering her voice.

"Yeah, it's pretty much just me and Big Z. We're good, though, this place really isn't all that bad once you get used to it."

"It doesn't look so good to me, so far," Carth said sadly, glancing about the busy Cantina.

"The lower you go, the worse it gets," Vren said off-handedly, looking over at Mission intently. "Isn't that so?"

Mission didn't really pay full attention, her restless eyes searching the crowd for her companion. She shrugged non-committally, her eyes briefly grazing Vren's.

"I guess. Some'd say the more richer...'more blood, more money', like that saying goes."

She half-stood as she noticed the Wookiee, waving him over mutely. Carth and Vren exchanged quick looks, but said nothing. As soon as the chatty girl was confident her friend noticed her, and tore himself slowly from the crowd, she turned back to them.

"A-Hey, we better go. Drop around the Bek base if you want to talk, or something. I'll catcha later!"

And she was gone, a faint trickle of blue in the crowd of muted greys and greens. Carth stared after them, his eyes sparkling in musing thoughts.

"Interesting pair."

"She didn't even pay for her drink," Vren complemented sourly, eyeing derisively the empty glass that was in Twi'lek's hands a moment ago.

"There you go again. You just couldn't stand actually buying someone a drink for a change, could you?"

There was more venom in Carth's voice than he had perhaps intended, eliciting a smoldering scowl from Vren.

"You'll forgive me if I don't jump at a chance to buy expensive beverages for complete strangers, who also happen to be incredibly annoying at that."

"She's just a kid, Vren!" Carth practically snapped, immediately forcing his voice and manner back to conversational level. "You can't just...treat everyone like dirt! She's given us some valuable info on the Lower City. I'm sure she's just trying to make a living and not get in the way of the Sith, like a lot of these people."

"Something tells me this has less to do with the Twi'lek and more with your apparent dislike of me. You just can't seem to bring yourself to trust me, can you?"

Carth let out a long breath, his expression almost painfully tight, as if he was carefully composing the right words in his mind.

"It's not that I don't like you, I just..." he let out a frustrated sigh, slouching back in his seat. "I knew it was a mistake to talk with you about it openly. You just don't understand where I'm coming from."

"Oh yes," Vren's tone was dripping dry sarcasm now. "You never know when I might drop by at the nearest Sith base to deliver my intel report."

Carth brushed some stray hair out of his eyes annoyedly.

"Look, you've got the skills of an elite commando and you've saved my butt plenty of times, and I'm grateful for that. But don't expect me to trust you blindly, I'm just not built that way."

Vren stopped, giving a cold stare.

"I've just about had enough of these thinly veiled accusations. How Do I know you aren't the traitor?"

"Me?" Carth asked incredulously.

"Yes, you! The best way to divert attention from yourself is to accuse others, which is exactly what you are doing!"

Carth let out a suffering sigh.

"This is getting ridiculous. We're-"

"Yes, quite. You seem to have some sort of unresolved issues, issues which might pose a problem to our current situation!"

"I don't have an issue," Carth's tone carried dangerous irritation in return. "I'm just not comfortable with people I barely know, Republic soldiers or no! You wanna know what my issue is? The Sith are my issue! Look-just look what they've done to this planet! I'm not going to let myself be set up for betrayal again, not in this dump of all places!"

His expression conveyed some inner struggle as he fought to control himself, shooting back what was left in his glass angrily. Vren stared at him with impaling gaze, but said nothing for a long time.

"Your unfounded paranoia is really beginning to annoy me, Carth," he said finally, as the palpable tension rose to almost unbearable levels. "Think of me what you want, but if you endanger our chances of getting off this bloody planet, you will regret it."

Carth just shook his head tiredly and pointedly looked away, wearing a sour expression. His eyes focused and narrowed with a frown as he noted someone in the crowd.

"Hey, isn't that the woman from our apartment block? One of those two that barged in the other night?"

Vren's head snapped up to follow his stare.

"Yes, yes she is. I had a little chat with her," Vren hurried to explain as Aasira noticed them, approaching with a friendly smile.

"Lano! Ah, there is your friend. I don't think we've been introduced yet," she wormed her way past Vren to Carth, much to his annoyance. "I am Aasira."

Carth took the offered hand, flashing a somewhat guarded smile.

"Hi. I'm-"

"Yuluk," Vren interjected quickly, earning a surprised scowl from Carth. "I've already explained to our neighbour here that we are staying in those buildings because we must keep a low profile. She fully understands this."

The last part was pointedly directed at Aasira, along with a meaningful look.

"Er, yes, sure. Well...I really need to be going now, so...just come around if you ever want to go grab a drink or even just talk. You know where to find me," she smiled conspiratorially.

Vren's bedazzling smile disappeared the moment she turned her back, twisting into a dark frown.

"I'm really beginning to dislike that woman."

"What was that all about? And why is she calling you Lano?" Carth asked suspiciously.

Vren waved his question off dismissively, his attention idly set on the crowd around them.

"Well I can't very well go around telling everyone my true name, can I? Might as well give them my rank and station while I am at it."

"Yeah, but...oh, I guess you're right. You can never be too careful, especially with the mess we're in."

"Precisely. Now, I believe I spotted a Pazaak room somewhere in the back..."

XXX

"We lost contact, but she lives still."

Master Vandar's affirmation did nothing to dispel the grave expression on Navash's face.

"Which puts the Council's decision to send her as the leader of that taskforce all the more under question."

"We did what had to be done," Vrook said curtly. "I am sure the High Council will agree, especially in the light...of other information."

Navash rose curious eyebrows.

"Something I am afraid we are not at liberty to discuss even with you, Navash," Master Zhar supplemented gravely.

"Oh. I see. A sensitive matter then," the forcefully calm look he directed over the assembled Masters spoke nothing of his thoughts, but the flaring of his aura, quickly quelled by his Force mantle, did. "I am sure the Council knows best. However, as I am the emissary of the Coruscant Temple, I must be informed of Jedi Bastila's whereabouts, for obvious reasons."

"Yes, naturally," Master Vandar's croaking voice floated upwards through the chamber. "We understand the anxiety of High Council over Bastila's disappearance. We share in it ourselves, with Bastila's relevant contribution to the Sith confrontation. You will be informed as soon as we have any news, so that you may convey it to the Jedi High Council."

Navash nodded in respectful acknowledgement, nevertheless his voice carrying a constrained undertone.

"Master Vandar, the Council's forthright manner is appreciated. Yet Bastila's importance is such that the possibility of her...displacement must be brought into High Council's deliberation sooner than any subsequent unpleasantries may arise."

"We are confident that Bastila will not stray from her path," Master Zhar interjected, cutting Navash's eloquencies tersely. "She is devoted to the Order and all too well aware of the dangers of the Dark Side."

"We trust in the Force to return her safely to us," Master Dorak assured.

Master Vrook gave him a quick glance, then frowned exasperatedly at Navash.

"So this matter is out of discussion. The Order must remain ever vigilant, if we are to defeat Malak and his battalions of hate, and in this we train our students the most; for it is the greatest of dangers."

Master Zhar nodded in agreement as Vrook continued with an air of bitterness.

"The Order almost brought the Republic to the brink of destruction, when the paragons of its virtues have failed so, succumbing to the Dark Side. Now we must do all in our power to undo this darkness that was unleashed with Revan and Malak's betrayal. Be certain we would not have sent Padawan Bastila on this mission were it not absolutely necessary."

"Master Vrook speaks wisely," Zhar interrupted, giving Vrook a pointed glance. "But beyond what was already said, we cannot discuss, Navash."

Navash gave an acquiescing nod.

"Of course, Masters. I understand. Then we should move on to other matters. I have here," here he procured a compact datacube from the folds of his robe, offering it carefully. "A most important message from the High Council, partly the reason of my visit."

Master Zhar took the presented datacube from Knight Navash's hands, looking meaningfully at the other Masters. Master Vandar spoke up first in the relative silence of the softly beeping computers.

"You do not know what it holds, Knight Orai?"

Navash seemed reluctant as he glanced at the assembled Masters.

"I was not informed of its contents, but was most highly advised of its greatly confidential nature, and have guarded its secrecy with my life. I should leave you to study its message in private, Masters."

"Yes, that would be for the best," Vandar said evenly, exchanging a quick look with Zhar. "May the Force be with you, Knight Orai."

"May the Force be with you, Masters."

Bowing respectfully, Navash left the Council Masters alone in the small computer analysis room.

"I think we all know already what this is about," Zhar said ominously as he inserted the datacube into the decryptor.

He typed in his personal security string, stepping aside for other Masters to do the same. As they did, slowly the decoding process came to a halt on the monitor screen and a pre-recorded image of a human Jedi Master flicked to life, illuminating their grim expressions.

XXX

"You cheat!" Niklos spat in that heavily accented voice.

Vren gave a disapproving sigh, pulling the credit chips over.

"It isn't my fault you're incompetent."

The self-proclaimed Taris Pazaak champion flushed deep red in anger, donning a stormy scowl.

"And you even dare to insult me, when I point out your obvious sleight of hand? I refuse to play any more games with you!"

"Pity," Vren called mockingly after him, as he stormed off infuriated. "I could always use some spare credits!"

After gathering some information in Javyar's Cantina and scouting out the immediate area of Lower City, he and Carth returned back to top level, in order to sort through their discoveries and create some strategy before attempting contact with one of the local gangs. Since they agreed on keeping low profile for the day, just in case Captain Frelok and his men decide to investigate their sudden disappearance, Vren came back to the Cantina just around their apartment block to relax with a game of Pazaak.

He was collecting the won credits off the now abandoned Pazaak table with a self-congratulatory smirk, when he noticed a female presence hovering over him.

"Hello. I saw your match against Niklos. Very impressive. I like a man who's not afraid to take risks," she purred, winking at Vren seductively.

He just stared back unflichingly, and not entirely pleasantly.

"My name's Christya. Maybe we could get to know each other better. How about you give me twenty credits so I can go buy us a drink? Then we could go back to my place later."

"How about I don't?"

The woman winced at his tone, her seductive expression dropping slightly.

"What's the matter, are you shy? Don't be, I like you."

Vren stopped collecting his cards, turning slightly to look up at her, his features sharpening into a scowl. Then, in an instant, his expression brightened to a sort of melancholic weariness.

"I'm sorry, I'm just having a bad day. Why don't you take a seat?"

The woman hesitated briefly, finally sitting down next to him at the Pazaak table. Vren shuffled the cards again, putting them back into the pack.

"You're the first person that talked to me the whole evening," he said with a dreary sigh. "Apart from the Pazaak players, I mean."

"Then it's a good thing I found you," she paused at his crestfallen expression. "Why so sad?"

He looked at her with the saddest expression, then back down on the credit chips he was slowly collecting.

"It may seem like all this money is making me happy. It doesn't."

"Don't worry, things'll pick up," she edged closer to him, like river serpent to its prey.

"Why don't you let me buy us a drink? Then you can finish telling me all about it back at your place?"

Vren's face lit up with an idiotic smile. But it quickly reverted back to his previous gloom.

"I can't."

The woman leaned away slightly, her expression faltering. Vren quickly grabbed her hand.

"It's not that I don't want to – I do! But I just…"

He stopped abruptly, as if forgetting himself. Sensing profit, she leaned in closer, allowing her perfume to waft all over him.

"What's wrong? Come on, you can tell me."

Vren gave a long suffering sigh, turning the credit chips in his hands nervously.

"I…I guess I could tell you. You seem like a nice enough woman, and I really have to get this off my chest."

Christya's ears perked as she arched her eyebrows in patient expectancy.

"Alright, it's like this. I'm sure you've heard of Davik Kang?"

"Yes," she said slowly, guardedly.

"Well," Vren lowered his voice tentatively. "I used to work for him, once. Nothing serious, mind you, I wasn't, you know, killing people and all that. I'm very good in hacking computer system databases, security networks, things like that."

Christya nodded quickly, her interest piqued.

"So, I did a couple of jobs for Davik a few years ago, then I had to leave Taris," he gave a sigh, looking down. "Also because I owed him a considerable amount of money at the time. At any rate, I came back, just in time to get stuck in the quarantine."

He smiled bitterly, and Christya returned an encouraging smile, prompting him to continue.

"Of course Davik took the chance to put me under his boot."

"What do you mean?"

Vren leaned in conspiratorially.

"Did you see that man I came in with? He's on Davik's payroll, one of the most vicious bastards I've ever known. He specializes in 'asset acquisition', and he's here to make sure I pay off my debt to Davik. Don't let his innocent demeanor fool you. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen him do. I'm fortunate to have survived that long in his presence as it is."

He glanced around nervously to emphasize his words.

"Really?" Christya said incredulously, as she tried to recall Carth in detail in her mind and combine the image with this startling new information.

Vren nodded dramatically, donning a grave expression.

"The thing is, I am doubly screwed if I don't pay Davik. You see, there's this wealthy merchant that has gotten himself in trouble with Davik, so he wants him robbed blind to teach him a lesson. He said he would let me do the job when I pay back the credits I owe him."

He gave a deep, slow sigh.

"I just need three hundred credits to get in, and I'm all set. But I'm nowhere near that sum. I know they won't wait for me much longer."

"Doesn't Davik need you for the job?"

"Yes, but there's plenty of other such specialists on Taris he can hire. They waited as long as they did because I'm very good at what I do, and Davik doesn't like losing money. But he's not going to wait much longer."

"What would he do?" Christya asked, despite knowing what the answer would be.

The morbid curiosity demanded it, though.

"If Davik thinks I can't pull my weight in hard cash, he'll just...well. It's most unfortunate. I even have the safebox reserved in speeder transport terminal."

"Safebox?" Christya asked quickly.

"Yes, I have a special safebox in the speeder terminal in Tir district-"

"You mean the one near the military base?"

Vren nodded.

"I have a deposit box there, as a stash for the valuables we'll get in the heist. Then I'll go and pick them up with a safe speeder a few days later, when the militia interrogates the known...people like me, and take it all to Davik."

"But if they...I mean, hire someone else for the job, will they still use that speeder transport terminal safebox?"

Vren shook his head sourly.

"No, that's my personal stash. I'll just use it to store the credits until the whole thing cools off a bit so we can transport it back to Davik safely. I don't know what they'll do if Davik gets someone else for this. I'll probably be dead anyway," he added tensely.

Christya stared off at the wall, licking her lips excitedly as the possibilities lined her mined. Vren cleared his throat nervously. She gave him a dismissive glance, annoyed at being interrupted in her plans.

"When did you say this is going to happen?"

"In a week, that's how much I've got to raise the money if I want to get in."

She seemed to ponder on this in sudden silence, and Vren quickly interrupted her thoughts by another half-excited statement.

"I don't even know why I am telling you this. I feel like I can tell you anything. Which is strange, since I've only known you for a half an hour or so."

Christya smiled wolfishly.

"I tend to inspire trust in people. It's alright, I feel strangely connected to you too. Are you sure we haven't met before?"

Vren just smiled, looking away as if slightly embarrassed as she kept spinning her seductive web.

"I suppose you're not doing this job alone, are you?"

Vren looked at her warily.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Well, does anyone else know about the location of this safebox?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, suppose that something happens to you after you put the money in that deposit box. I'm not saying it will, but just suppose. Then Davik won't get his cut, no one will."

"No," Vren said slowly, creasing his forehead as if thinking really hard. "But it won't matter then in any event."

"But the credits will just sit there, with no one to use them. Think of the leisure that money could bring to someone's life. Or even save someone's life."

"I suppose I could tell one of Davik's men to take the credits to Davik if anything-"

"Is give money to man who'd kill you for it really the last thing you want to do?" Christya snapped, but quickly forced a sweet smile back to her face, taking a deep breath. "Why not give that Davik the finger and give it to someone who could really use it. Davik's probably already got more than he can count, why give him more if you don't have to."

Vren studied her for a moment, drawing back slightly.

"I...don't know, wouldn't that be cheating?"

"No," she assured fervently. "If you're dead then you don't owe anything to anyone anymore."

"Really?"

She nodded vigorously.

"But who should I tell then?"

"Why not tell me?" she flashed a charming smile, rubbing his arm affectionately.

"You?"

"Yes. I can already tell that we're going to be very close, and I promise I'll put those credits to better use than Davik if I won't be able to spend them with you. At least I'll remember you."

"And-and if everything goes fine?"

"Then you'll just have your share. And me," she breathed seductively.

Vren swallowed, staring at her wide-eyed.

"Tell you what. You tell me what's the number and code of that safebox, and I'll vouch money for you so you can pay back Davik. Then you can go through with this and pay me back from your share."

Vren's eyes widened even more in surprise.

"You would really do that for me?"

"Sure," she pulled out a credit chip, offering it with pleasantly constructed smile.

"No, I couldn't take this-"

"Oh don't be stupid! Think of how much you're going to earn if you do this job."

Vren took the credits, his movements deliberately awkward as he stammered in thanks.

"I…I don't know what to say…"

"Just take the credits and get that money," she quickly corrected herself, her tone returning to nauseating sweetness. "I can't just stand by and let someone as handsome as you pass something like this up!"

An impeccably genuine looking smile of simple joy crossed Vren's lips.

"Thank you, so much! I can trust you, right? Because I haven't told anyone else about the safebox."

She lay a soothing hand on his shoulder, her voice deep and husky.

"Don't worry, you can trust me! I won't tell anyone."

"Alright, give me your datapad."

She gladly obliged and Vren typed in some random numbers.

"The safebox number is thirty-nine, and door code is three, three, seven, eight, twelve, five. Here, I've put it into your datapad. Don't show it to anyone!"

Christya gave a lighthearted smile, quickly snatching the datapad back.

"Don't worry, I won't. Your secret's safe with me."

Another simple smile painted itself on Vren's features.

"I'll pay you back, as soon as I get the credits!"

"I know you will," there was a vicious glint in the woman's eyes.

"Terrific," Vren pocketed the credits. "Now let me get us those drinks."

"I'll be right here," she said, giving him a seductive wink.

Leaving the Pazaak room, Vren turned to the main Cantina lobby instead of the bar, a crooked smirk plastered to his face.

XXX

"I bear good news and credits," Vren came sauntering in, sporting a smug grin.

Carth stopped examining the blaster rifle in his hands, looking tersely at the credit chip Vren tossed on the table casually.

"What did you do, rob another poor sap?"

"Quite the contrary, my good man. I robbed a wealthy sap."

"I don't even want to know," Carth shook his head disapprovingly.

"Good. Because I don't want to tell," he dropped into an armchair with an air of accomplishment. "I must say, though, I am quite intrigued by this Davik fellow. He seems to wield a strong influence over Taris."

"Is that really so surprising? I mean, the guy's in Exchange as far as we know, and they don't mess around," Carth's distaste was evident from his tone.

"No, I suppose they don't," Vren said thoughtfully, contemplating something silently.

"So what's the good news?"

Vren snapped from his thoughts, arching inquisitive eyebrows at him.

"You said you had news. What is it?"

"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. On my way back here I dropped by at the medical facility and bought some medpacks and stims. Judging from the way things are progressing so far, we'll need many soon."

"Oh," was all Carth said, dropping back into silence. "I didn't know that place was open this late. Or should I say early."

Vren shrugged.

"It must be, I suppose, for emergencies and all that."

He shuffled through the medpack injectors in question idly, then stood up abruptly, breaking the momentary silence.

"Come, let's go to Kebla's Emporium," he said spontaneously, already reaching for his weapons. "Perhaps she's gotten some new vibroblades."

"From where? Nothing can get through the quarantine."

"Maybe so," Vren said as he sheathed his vibroswords on his back. "But there must be a rich black market trade running within Taris in such crisis. Who knows what wealth of weaponry and other equipment is circulating from the lower levels."

"You really like those swords, don't you?" Carth mused, indicating the handles jutting over Vren's shoulders.

"The first time my blaster rifle malfunctioned against a shielded Sith trooper, I swore I will never let myself in a situation of such disadvantage again," Vren replied tersely as he clipped on the armour.

"Isn't that going against the RSTF philosophy? Adaptability and all?"

Vren paused, giving him an unreadable stare.

"The only 'RSTF philosophy' is the accomplishment of given mission with minimum resources in minimum timeframe, with maximum possible results."

"Fair enough. So how did you deal with that trooper? When your blaster malfunctioned, I mean."

Vren holstered a blaster pistol to his waist, checking his armour bonds for the final time before starting toward the door.

"I bludgeoned him to death with the rifle."

The streets were as busy as ever, only adding to the foreboding sense of urgency gnawing at the back of their minds. Carth looked particularly affected by the seeming helplessness of being trapped in a world where Sith were more like an unfriendly neighbour than a mortal enemy. Then again, he wasn't really sure he wanted all the Sith on Taris to regard him as such. Although mixed emotions washed over him every time he passed a uniformed Sith trooper, glancing back with his own reflection in the mirrored visor, he still couldn't help but feel some small amount of gratitude for having the benefit of relative anonymity. His introspection faded when he and Vren came upon some human children who were stoning and insulting an Ithorian in plain view.

"Help me, humans!" he pleaded boomingly as he spotted them slowing down. "I cannot fight back or the Sith will apprehend me!"

"Hey, you kids leave him alone! Stop throwing those rocks!" Carth admonished scoldingly. "Haven't your parents taught you any manners?"

"He's just a scummy alien!" a girl yelled.

"Yeah, what do you care?" one of the boys said defiantly.

Vren turned a placid stare at the boy.

"You children better disappear before I decide to rip your ears off and throw you over the walkway."

The children paled and ran off, screaming.

"I thank you, humans. Without your help, I do not know what I would have done. I could not have fought the offspring of your species off without getting arrested."

Vren offered a seemingly pleasant smile.

"Is there some sort of reward for helping you?" he said in a curt, unnerving voice, earning a glare from Carth.

"I fear I have nothing to give you, human. Only my gratitude. I must return now, for my lifemate is surely worried. Thank you again and goodbye."

Vren's smile faltered, turning into a frown.

"There goes nothing," he murmured as he stared after the swaying Ithorian.

"Sometimes you really surprise me, you know."

"Is that so?" Vren arched a suspicious eyebrow at Carth.

"Yeah. I didn't think someone as…determined as you would stop to help an alien from something that seems pretty much irrelevant against our troubles."

"Well, it just so happens that I loathe children and…" he trailed off, frowning. "What, exactly, did you mean by that last part?"

"Nothing. Just that you're always putting things in perspective against our mission. So I thought I'd save you the trouble for once."

"Well," Vren eyed him critically. "How noble of you."

Carth just gave a soft snort, shaking his head dismissively. Then his expression hardened again.

"It's just terrible that these kids could do this here in the middle of a busy street, and nobody stepped in to help him."

"Such is noble Taris," Vren added sardonically, his attention already on a man up ahead. "Speaking of racism..."

On the walkway intersection ahead was an older man, loudly declaring his political manifesto with a small group of humans listening in. They ran across him before as they navigated Upper City; the obdurate man was obvious alien-hater and fierce nationalist, calling to his fellow humans to rid Taris of alien infestation. Carth and Vren never really gave him much heed, not that they often had time to spare, but now Vren stopped in front of him, surprising Carth. He listened to the man's warnings and words of hate with a sort of condescending look.

"I just wish that the Taris National Party would get the chance to enter the parliament with representative body. The current administration is just a bunch of thieves and alien-lovers."

"Your blind paranoia is sickening, old man. And current administration is always a bunch of thieves, you old fool!" Vren interrupted, speaking up suddenly.

"This really isn't worth it," Carth whispered to him urgently, glancing around at the gathering crowd.

The man turned to Vren in surprise, face twisting into derision.

"More alien lovers? Yes, you can mock me now, but soon the reckoning day will come and you too will be judged, along with the plague that encroaches on our race. The Sith will not tolerate this filth in our midst much longer!"

Vren gave a snort of indelicacy.

"We will see who judges who, old man," with the corner of his eye he noticed a pair of curious Sith approaching. "Well. I wish you much fortune in your endeavors, you old goat."

With that last mockery and an acid smile, he quickly walked away before the man could retort and those Sith got any closer. He caught up with Carth a little down the walkway - he was wearing a sour expression.

"You didn't have to provoke him like you did," he said in subdued tone, annoyedly. "You know we can't afford calling the attention of Sith on ourselves."

"Come now, Carth, the man is a complete imbecile. Surely you dislike him just as much?"

"Yeah, I do," Carth admitted. "People like him really tick me off."

Vren shrugged indifferently.

"I really wouldn't concern myself overly with such petty matters, if I were you. Most aliens are irrelevant scum. But then again, so are most humans."

Carth shot him a surprised look.

"Cute. I didn't know you had such a low opinion about people."

A haughtily half-serious expression crossed Vren's features.

"Those Ithorians are rather strange, what with all those headtails and oddly curved appendages..."

"Twi'leks never seem to bother you like that. Especially the female ones," Carth commented nastily.

Vren gave a crooked grin.

"Well, they have other redeeming qualities."

"Yeah, I bet they do," Carth snapped with sudden enmity, turning away.

Vren exhaled irately, scowling.

"Just look around you at this great metropolis. How easy Tarisians gave in to the Sith, just so they could continue in their decadent lives. Hardly even offering any resistance."

"It's not like they had much choice in the matter," Carth contested as they turned into the street that lead to Kebla Yurt's Emporium. "It was a matter of overwhelming force, and make no mistake – the Sith don't hesitate to use it to their advantage, even against civilians."

Vren waved his hand, not really willing to discuss the matter, but Carth persisted.

"And it's not like most of Taris lives in luxury, only the wealthy classes. You've been down to the lower levels, you know how most people in this place live. Even the Sith don't really have the means to do any drastic changes to this labyrinth of duracrete, even if they really wanted to. Nothing short of complete massacre, anyway."

"No," Vren agreed as they entered the Emporium. "Their grip seems the strongest on the upper classes, those closest to the sun, which is ironic in itself."

Pausing at the door, Carth glanced back habitually, squinted in the morning sun, then disappeared inside the store after Vren.