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?

5. Alliance

Chapter V: Alliance

"That is not what we agreed on the other day."

Vren's voice carried a subtle warning, yet the corpulent Hutt still remained unphased.

"That was then and this is now, human. Information doesn't come cheap, for nobody. You want information, you pay. Just like everyone else."

Zax leaned back on his oddly shaped support lean, narrowing his lids triumphantly. Secure in knowledge that he would get his way, safe in the midst of watchful eyes of his bodyguards.

Carth whispered something in Vren's ear, his eyes settling on the Hutt uncomfortably. Vren nodded quickly, focusing back on the waiting Zax.

"Well, if you absolutely insist on this ludicrous fee...fine, but I expect the information to be fresh and factual."

Zax smiled broadly in a calculating grin as his stubby hands grabbed for the credit chip, his race seemingly incapable of producing any other kind of smile.

"My information always is, human. Now what would you like to know?"

"About these bounties...could you be more specific about a certain bounty?"

Zax licked his thick lips slowly as his eyes narrowed analytically, his interest roused both by Vren's flowing switch to Huttese and this sudden interest.

"Thinking about getting those high contract rates?" his deep laugh rumbled momentarily. "Which one makes you smell credits, mercenary?"

It was not an insult, and Vren knew this; mercenaries were a sought after commodity in the Taris underground, and a vital part of the shaded area of Taris' economical infrastructure.

"Firstly, Selven," Zax snorted knowingly at this, a terrible, grating sound.

"Ahah, I should know you'd be interested in her. Every bad bounty hunter coming here lately thinks he can bring her in. Not many come back," he paused in a bemused expression, as much as a Hutt could wear one, as if briefly contemplating something. "Selven's big game, human, big. Professional assassin who got herself in too deep. She's one of top class contract killers, or, she used to be. The street wind is she got entangled in high class politics, killing rivals of a powerful royal family. And now Organa family wants her dead, too risky to leave any witnesses."

"Organa, you say?"

Zax raised his stocky hands defensively at the question.

"So they say. Maybe. I'm not going digging any deeper, human," he glanced over Carth quickly, irritated undertone creeping in. "Anyway, she'll bring many credits, if you can even find her."

Vren thought on this momentarily, one hand hooked into his belt idly.

"I believe you also mentioned something about black bounties, the Davik's contracts-"

"Davik's bounties are nothing but contracted killings!" Carth hissed in outrage.

"As opposed to the other, officially sanctioned killings," Vren supplied succinctly, then turned back to Zax expectantly.

The large Hutt's eyes glided slowly from one to the other in something akin to derision, his tone coming reserved and deliberate.

"There are couple of them. A woman, Dia, got herself a bounty by angering Holdan. The merchant man, Largo, is owing Davik some money for long time, and Davik's had enough. There's Davik's former man who was going to testify against him in court. His name is Matrik. They got him into witness protection program before the occupation," he shifted his head in slow manner, chuckling borborygmically. "But the Sith don't care about witnesses, so he's free game now."

"Who is this Holdan you mentioned?"

Zax indicated vaguely toward the main room with his eyes.

"Davik's man. You can find him in one of the lounge rooms usually," he paused, suddenly studying Vren thoughtfully. "You thought about that vaccine, human? You find a sample and bring it here, I pay you lots of credits."

"Doubtful," Vren muttered, then quickly raised his voice into farewell. "We'll be off, then. But we might drop by if we need some more information, and to collect our bounties, of course."

Zax just snorted in amusement, turning back to his datapanel.

"Right," Carth said immediately as they were out of earshot. "Now what? By looking for those criminals we might stumble on some information about Bastila. Maybe she's hiding somewhere in the lower levels. I suggest we take care of those bounties first...at least the government ones."

Vren shot him a sidelong glance of exasperation, something about his hesitation in that last sentence immensely irritating.

"Before you mark anyone a villain, Carth, let me remind you that the current government is the Sith," he said starkly, giving him a pointed look.

Carth looked like he was desperately trying not to say anything, knowing that an argument would soon develop if they dwelled on the subject. Fortunately, he was spared any further notion by a familiar figure capturing Vren's attention. He quickly adopted an amiable visage, moving toward the old man purposefully.

"Garouk, I never thought I would see you lurking outside the Pazaak parlour. And down here?"

"Eh," the old man waved dismissively. "You can only see so much games before your throat runs dry."

Vren nodded in a sympathetic manner, steering him toward one of the bars.

"Have you heard anything interesting lately?"

"The usual," he shrugged as he dropped into a barstool easily, with Carth sitting on one side and Vren on the other. "Swoopers are at it again, there's rumours of some big fight in a couple of days just outside the Solon platform. Also, some Rodian at Pazaak mentioned some big deal going down with the Vulkars."

"Davik's territory?"

Garouk shrugged as he took a thirsty sip of his drink.

"This is the Lower City, it's all Davik's territory. I wouldn't bother with it, if I were you, nothing honest for a merc."

The man was operating from assumption Vren and Carth were mercenaries, a notion Vren had gone to some length to subtly imply. Very freelancing and very not-Republic mercenaries.

"What makes you say that?"

Garouk grimaced sourly.

"It's probably Sith involved, they've got spies all over the lower levels. They may not have a direct military foothold over anything below Upper City, but you can be damn sure they know what's going on. There's all sorts of factions trying to come up one another, and the occupation has given some extraordinary opportunities."

"You don't say?" Vren said musingly, ordering him another drink.

"Yep. The Sith know they can't play their power card down here, so it's all muddy waters. But they've been sending more security details down below lately, and you can bet it's nothing good. Space knows what's going on."

Vren exchanged a meaningful look with Carth.

"You suppose they are planning some action?"

Garouk raised his eyebrows in gesture of helplessness.

"Who knows? There's been some kind of battle overhead, that's why all those pods crashed down. Probably some local rebellion, but rumours go it was Republic attack," he glanced around, as if from some precautionary habit. "Whatever it was, they've quarantined the planet ever since."

"You mentioned something about political fractions before..."

Garouk gave him an earnest look.

"Like I said, nothing worth getting yourself killed about. It's politics, whether it's corporate or governmental, and politics have gotten a lot more deadly since Sith came on power. Even before, there's always been bickering between the ruling parties, and the heavier issues always sank down to the lower levels," he smirked emptily. "Wouldn't want the glamour of all those polished towers fade with all the mud slinging. Anyway, that's where things usually resolved, or escalated; down under."

"So what changed?" Carth asked, his hands crossed on the bartop solemnly.

"Not much, but enough to make a difference. Swoopers think it's prime time to make that bid for who's going to rule the streets, the syndicates have gotten more influence, Davik...Davik's gotten a lot stronger, ironically enough. It's total chaos."

"Why is that ironic?" Vren inquired, studying Garouk's face closely as he spoke.

"It's the Exchange," despite the background noise, Garouk lowered his voice, perhaps again some ingrained habit. "You know how much they rely on flowing goods. The way things are now, nothing goes in, and nothing goes out."

He stared into the swirling crystal of his glass as he spoke, tracing the smooth surface with a crooked finger. Carth shifted in his seat, leaning over the counter with a small sigh.

"Do you know anything more about those Republic pods?"

"I said maybe they were Republic," Garouk eyed him warily, then shifted his eyes back to Vren. "And unless you're backed by some real influence down here, you can forget about scavenging them. Davik's probably got to whatever's out of Sith reach down there. If not him, then the swoopers."

"Swoop gangs scavenge in the Undercity?"

Garouk shot Vren a quick glance-over, then shrugged.

"They get around. I forget you're off-worlders. Listen, here's a free tip; don't go any lower than Lower City. The Rakghoul disease is out of control down there, and I've been hearing some pretty strange things drifting up."

"Such as?"

Garouk gave a non-committal grunt.

"Slavers, increased hostilities between Davik and the swoopers...there's all sorts of scum down there, Outcasts the least you should worry about," he grimaced, halting his glass halfway. "I don't think there's any viable business for independent mercs like you down there. I'd forget about it if I were you - there's plenty of profit to be made around here."

Vren offered a tight nod, pretending to actually acknowledge it.

"I appreciate the advice. While we are on the topic, tell me more about the Rakghoul disease. We heard rumours of there being a cure?"

Garouk shook his head with a musing smile.

"Not officially. Unofficially, that's the kind of talk that can make you magically disappear."

Vren arched his brow at him quizzically.

"The Sith come knocking on your door in the middle of the night and – puff, you're gone. Just like that, never to be heard from again. Anyway, far too much trouble for a tired old man like me."

"The Sith don't concern me," Vren dismissed with annoyance, pressing forward. "Apparently they have a cure, though."

Now it was Garouk's turn to arch his eyebrows in surprise. A fake one, Vren imagined.

"Could be. Or it could be just Sith propaganda."

"Whatever for? You said yourself Sith have little influence beyond Upper City."

Garouk gave a knowing smile, placing some credit ships on the counter for the bartender.

"The Sith may not have that much direct influence down here, but they can still get you if they really want to. The occupation is backed by some powerful families, the kind that have been ruling this planet for centuries. Just a little something to keep in mind."

Vren mulled over this momentarily.

"You seem to know quite a lot on current affairs."

"I'm just an old Pazaakhead, and you hear a lot of things if you've been playing for as long as I have."

"Indeed."

Vren doubted Pazaak was the only game this man was involved in, and he appeared to be quite a player. The sudden silence was cut as Garouk stretched half-heartedly, glancing about the busy Cantina.

"Well, it's been nice chatting with you, but I better get back to the cards. Maybe someone'll buy some rare decks from an old veteran."

Carth put a hand on the old man's arm, just as he was rising.

"Just one more thing; does the name Sandral mean anything to you?"

Garouk paused, his eyes flickering over Carth's face for a moment. Brief as it was, it was long enough for Vren to suspect the veracity of his next words.

"No, I can't say that it does. Who is that?"

Carth shook his head.

"Nevermind."

Garouk made a pensive sound, still keeping his idle gaze on him.

"You coming for a match in the Upper City Cantina tonight?"

Vren flashed a briefly bemused expression as Garouk turned his eyes to him expectantly.

"Which one?"

"The usual. There's a new guy coming, an off-world merchant that likes to bet big."

Vren put his hand on his shoulder as they turned toward the main lobby.

"We will see."

They separated outside, with Garouk quickly disappearing into the diverse crowd rolling across the walkway. Vren took a moment to stare over the precipital decline of the speeder lane glittering far over to the open right, orbited by many smaller, swoop bike tracks like a complex helix. Carth joined him.

"Do you really think that datacube holds something important?"

Vren half-turned to Carth as he spoke, the flashing strips of light passing over them from the direction of the lane below. Carth kept his eyes firmly in the distance, absently processing some thought or other.

"Maybe."

"We have other priorities, you know."

With a start, Carth turned to him meaningfully, as if snapping from some distant dream.

"I know. Let's move out."

X X X

It always started somewhere in the middle, as if being thrown into an ice-cold lake of liquid gas. Just an echo, that which was remembered after the first flow faded away.

He was waiting expectantly, bleak walls distant in the warm dimness. The floor and, he realized, much of his modestly clothed body was painted in obscure symbols, black and vermilion melting into each other seamlessly. As he strained to make sense of elusive symbols, he came to see them as writhing entities, grafted to his skin more as a substance than any sort of form. This only intensified the odd sensation he felt. He was not afraid, but immersed in a curious emotion – a mixture of discomfort and anxious familiarity.

There were sentients – all humans, he noted, kneeling in a half circle from the center where he stood. Women first line, and then men, all naked and sporting layered tattoos on their bodies, all motionless.

Then forward was the shadow, thick and glossy as if it could be cut with a knife, and somehow – breathing. The culmination of the senses overtook him completely, assembling into realization with gradual progression like he was only half-awake. The great beast stood before him like a pillar of insurmountable ancient will, its eyes a vortex of eternal reflection. It moved as his thoughts moved, both incomprehensible, and veiled to his lucid scrutiny.

The beast spoke like fractured glass, the voice unheard, with black ichor oozing from its composite jaws. And he listened, all the while hearing the echoes of her voice suffused in the undertone. He did not understand the language, caustic and peeling as it sounded, but understood what was being spoken.

Someone else was there with him, standing next to him on the podium, yet blurred to his senses, furthering the sensation of being trapped inside the surface layers of some stranger. Between the senses and the conscious mind, enough to witness everything but without the capability to interpret any of it. It was most frustrating.

The beast receded into the subtle shadows, and the burning abated. His senses were washed with a stream of euphoria in the wake of this, and he looked up. Two angular birds were perched on the top of the highest pillar, each staring in opposite direction.

He spread his hands as the Force streamed from him and back into the dismal shades, and addressed the gathered in a voice that disappeared from his memory as soon as it was heard.

But the words remained, as if burned into the inside of his skull and defiantly refusing to be read. Still, he knew the final phrase, even as the gathered rose and began chanting in euphoria, each carrying a cylinder of cold metal reverentially before them.

"The Sith will rise again...may the Darkness conquer all!"

Vren awoke with a violent twitch, half-articulated cry freezing on his lips. It took a moment to distinguish the realities, sudden bright light driving the dream further away.

"What? What is it?"

Carth was already sitting up in his bed next to the bedroom door, blaster in hand and looking utterly disheveled and confused. But collected enough to engage any potential threat. Vren exhaled heavily, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand in a calming effort.

"Nothing. Just a dream," he said softly, trying very hard to keep the already dissolving fragments from completely slipping away.

Carth relaxed with a tired sound, putting the blaster back to the shelf next to his bed and flicked off the lights again.

"Yeah? What about?"

"I don't really remember. There were...naked women," he frowned, with a distinct snort of amusement coming from across the room. "And...men?"

"Huh, no wonder you woke up screaming," Carth's attempt at humour was met with silence.

Vren couldn't shake the feeling that something important has eluded his mind, and coupled with some unspecifiable sensation of lingering dread, it unsettled him even further. Such dreams, fleeing his memory as soon as he would awake, and leaving nothing but frustrating shards behind, were becoming more often in the past few weeks. Ever since he boarded Endar Spire he had at least a few such episodes each week, and they seemed to grow in intensity and oddness ever since he woke up on this planet. Must be all the stress, he dismissed doubtfully, even though the situation wasn't that extraordinarily exhausting when compared to his past missions.

Still, it was irritating at best, and he doubted he would get much more sleep tonight. Which was just as well, he considered as he glanced at the large dimmed windows; the sky was already brightening with coming dawn.

"Where are you going?" Carth's characteristically wary voice stopped him in the door.

"Out, to refresh myself. I've a fight scheduled this evening anyhow, and there is much to be done before then."

Carth dropped back down on the bed, mulling over this broodingly. After a minute or so he gave a frustrated sigh, figuring that was as much sleep as he would get for the night. He hastily dressed himself and splashed some soundwaves into his face in the refresher, then emerged in the living room to find Vren going through stretching and routine exercises. He threw himself on the torn armchair, his hands instinctively going for a dysfunctional focusing chamber lying on the table. His brow furrowed in some troubling thought as he idly tinkered with the part.

"Maybe," he started, then paused, as if debating what to say. "Maybe you should reconsider that dueling business. It's attracting too much attention."

Vren straightened to look at him curiously.

"I disagree."

"So far we've been lucky."

Vren finally stopped his exercise, dropping out of a balanced low stance to shoot him a pointed look.

"Luck has got nothing to do with it. We will not get off this planet by hiding in backalleys and dilapidated apartments. Or find Bastila, for that matter."

"I know, but," Carth's glance followed him helplessly as he walked past him to the lockers. "We've got to keep a low profile. The Sith are actively looking for us, especially after that uniform catastrophe."

Vren frowned to himself, taking out a vibrosword and slamming the metal door shut.

"Catastrophe? I thought it was rather successful operation. We got the uniforms and managed to reach the Lower City. I would hardly call that catastrophic."

Carth was already rubbing his forehead in tired displeasure.

"You know what I mean. The patrols are doubled in the area, even more so after our stint with that platoon."

Vren dismissed such concerns with an off-handed wave, fastening on his armour as Carth watched on.

"Lower City is torn by swoop gang wars, making it that much more difficult for the Sith to effectively patrol," he paused to look up at Carth with a driven glint in his eye. "And that much easier for us to move about."

"If we don't get killed by either side first."

Vren was silent as he fastened on his weapons, eliciting a dramatic sigh from Carth and making him turn his thoughts in other directions. He pulled something from the insides of his armoured jacket.

"I wonder what's in this holocube," Carth said after a time, staring at the angular object in his hand thoughtfully. "ID markings are all etched off. The only thing left is the factory serial number."

"Most likely some information that could be sold on black market for a lot of credits, if the trouble those Sith went by to retrieve it is anything to go by."

Carth frowned solemnly.

"Which means it could hold some sensitive tactical information. We should get and read its contents as soon as possible!"

Vren watched him as he put the holocube into a built-in wall locker, locking and reinforcing it with some metal panels.

"Don't get excited just yet. It could be something completely unrelated to the Sith, and Frelok and his men were just after some bonus on the side. It wouldn't be surprising if some officers were trying to earn some easy credits on the proliferating criminal underground here. Martial law does make such things easier for certain parties, after all."

Carth paused at the locker, his mind in some distant thoughtscape.

"Maybe. That officer mentioned something about a scanner log," he turned around with a grim look. "But we'll think about that when we find Bastila and return to the Fleet."

Vren pointed an approving finger at him, already moving to the door.

"Quite right."

Beige corridors of the apartment building were as scarcely populated as one would expect from alien-infested building at late morning. Carth perused the half-legal Twi'lek merchant's wares idly as Vren got caught up in another caustic argument with the building's janitor.

Carth shot them a disapproving scowl as more sharp words floated up to him. For someone who was supposed to excel in stealth and subtlety, this man had an unnervingly active confrontational streak. A sudden thought that he might not be who he claimed he was stealed its way into Carth's mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Ship's logs don't lie, after all, and neither do personnel folders.

"I hope my wares are to your liking," Larrim spoke lightheartedly, noticing Carth's gloomy expression.

"What? Oh no, I was thinking about something else."

"Feel free to ask anything if something catches your eye."

Carth half-nodded, studying the white contours of a personal energy shield. Larrim noticed his interest, moving in for the kill.

"That's state of the art personal shielding, the best you'll find anywhere on this planet. I just have a few units, since the Sith tightened their control over illegal merchandise."

Carth made a non-committal sound, having seen better designed and more powerful shielding units in his time in the Fleet. Still, one couldn't be overly selective in a place like this.

"How much?"

"For you, my friend, special discount; 325 credits."

"That's a little expensive for an ordinary shield unit."

Larrim gasped in faked outrage.

"Expensive? Ordinary? There is no one else in the Upper City you can get personal shields from, and that's a fact!" his demeanor quickly shifted as Carth began to return the unit back on the stand. "Okay, how about I lower the already great price, since we're neighbours? How does 260 credits sound?"

"It sounds like I'll take it," Carth said crisply, reaching for his credit chip.

"You bought a shield?"

Carth whirled in surprise, meeting Vren's indifferent stare.

"Yeah," he quickly fastened the unit to his wrist, disguising it under the armour's sleeve. "Should come in handy."

Vren nodded with some mild sound, waiting for Carth to finish the transaction.

"What was that fight you had with the janitor again?"

"Nothing worth dwelling on," Vren dismissed idly. "He attempted to shift his responsibility again, by accusing me of hindering his work."

Carth grimaced in disapproval.

"We should try and not make enemies here. Maybe we'll need him sometime."

Vren didn't appear to be listening, gradually slowing down his gait. Carth watched him with a pang of annoyance.

"Vren?"

"Wait," he stopped, appearing thoughtful.

Carth was immediately wary, his eyes never ceasing from scanning the surroundings.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you remember..." Vren started, but trailed off as he turned back toward one of the hallways.

Carth scowled after him in confusion, but followed still.

"What are you doing?" he began with scolding tone, noting the apartment before which Vren stopped. "We've already been here. If you think you can-"

"Do you remember what that man said, this man?" he nodded toward the apartment door behind him. "He was hiding from Davik. I am fairly certain there is a bounty on his head."

Carth mulled over this darkly.

"But if he is, it's Davik's bounty-"

"If he is who I think he is, then he owes credits, in which case it is irrelevant whether it is a government institution or a private business. Now open this door."

Carth fidgeted with a magnetic tunneler in his hands, eyes darting around periodically.

"Why don't you use the door buzzer for a change?"

Vren let out an annoyed breath.

"I doubt very much he will open the door if he is in hiding here. So open it, and stop wasting our precious time."

Carth gave him a sharp look, turning back to the lock. It was opened quickly, and he pocketed the tools, readying his blasters. Vren glanced around the hallway one last time, then nodded quickly to him.

"Watch my back."

The door slid open, revealing the familiar apartment, with only difference from their last visit the different amount of trash on the living room table and haphazardly strewn clothes.

"Good morning!" Vren announced almost jovially as they stepped into the apartment, Carth keeping himself close to the door.

A startled man, again familiar to them, emerged from the bedroom, clearly frightened. He clutched a blaster pistol in his hand pointedly, devouring Vren and Carth with his wide eyes.

"Wha-you again?"

Vren studied him critically, keeping his posture rigid like a spring.

"So you remember us? Good, because we have scarce time for re-introductions. We have come on business. Largo, I presume?"

The man grew even more apprehensive at Vren's confident tone, and his knuckles whitened over the blaster handle at the mention of his name.

"I've already paid you to leave me alone," he said thickly, quietly, as he glanced toward the door, where Carth's grim stare intercepted him.

"Quiet! You are a wanted man, Largo, do you know what that means?" his eyes flashed dangerously as he took a step forward and Largo stumbled backwards. "Do you comprehend the implications of that?"

Largo shook his head in some desperate denial.

"All I need is two hundred credits, please...if you turn me in Davik will kill me! Please!"

"I am not interested in your troubles, imbecile, much less to supply you with credits!"

He grabbed the handle of the pistol on his belt meaningfully.

"No! I can't let you do this!" cornered, Largo raised his blaster with determined despair.

Vren's leg shot out just as the blaster fired, kicking the weapon from Largo's hands, with the bolt scorching a black mark on a metallic locker. Largo's expression of surprise was short-lived as another straight kick struck him in the abdomen to double him over in a flash of pain. Vren immediately delivered the third kick without pause, slamming into the side of Largo's head with the ball of the foot. The power of the fast blow sent him crashing sideways over some chairs.

They both immediately followed after, with their weapons drawn and trained on him resolutely. After a few tense moments, Vren holstered his vibrosword with a pointed glance at Carth, crouching over the motionless Largo. Carth kept his blaster carefully aimed at the merchant as Vren turned him over, revealing the deep purple bruise on his left temple, just under his hairline. A thin line of blood trickled from his ear slowly. Vren checked the pulse as Carth ran a nervous hand through his hair with a sigh, putting his weapon away.

"He is dead. It must have cracked the bone."

He rose with a shrug, glancing at grave Carth.

"I don't like it, I don't like this one bit," Carth was looking around bleakly.

Vren went to retrieve Largo's blaster, from where it landed behind an armchair as it deflected off the wall.

"I suppose we will not need any evidence for Zax, given his intelligence network. But check the bedroom; there could be useful things for us."

Carth looked like was about to say something, but then thought better of it. He spared another quick look at the body, then disappeared into the bedroom.

X X X

Navash breathed in full lungs of fresh air, so cold and invigorating in the expansive morning. He had been out in the Enclave's north gardens to meditate with the first rays of a rising sun. There was much work ahead of him this day, many exhausting meetings with Masters and counsels with the Jedi. It was ironic, he thought as he slowly rose from his crouch, since this was supposed to be a relaxed coordination assignment.

He slowly picked up pace toward the Enclave's sloped entrance. He should have learned by now that there is no such a thing as relaxed assignment for a Jedi, not in these times, and most certainly not in this place.

He paused his step with the presence of another.

A man was standing at the edge of the Enclave grounds, staring out into the valley below from under an old tree, its roots sprawled through the soil at garden's low wall. He frowned, sending out a gentle probe through Force as he teetered on the edge of a decision, his frown deepening at the response. Somewhat uncertainly he deviated from his plotted path, gaining confidence with each step. He came up to the shorter man soundlessly, briefly glimpsing at the gleaming land below, where the stranger's eyes rested.

His appearance was deceptive enough; grey-haired older man with set lines razing his aged face, and his apparel even more so; a simple Jedi robe without overcoat, with nothing to deviate from myriad of other Jedi filling the halls of this compound. Even the vitality and latent strength he exuded were no different from any other Force adept bathing in the Force currents for so long.

Navash cleared his throat pointedly, but lightly.

"Excuse me," he said politely, gracefully turning to the man. "I would think all the Jedi would be inside the academy for morning meditation and training."

The man turned to him slowly, years of settled serenity reflecting on his face.

"Not all, apparently. I have always believed Force can be better felt and perceived out in the open, in the sweep of the plains and brimming forests, than inside offices and stone corridors."

"Those, too, are a part of nature, as much as any forest."

"So they are. But they do not offer the same realization, nor the same view."

Navash nodded slowly, his eyes locked on the man's slightly bemused expression.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but...you seem terribly familiar."

The old man inclined his head respectfully.

"We have met before."

Navash stared at him, saying nothing for a few long moments. The man finally spoke again.

"I am Nemo."

Navash arched his brow pointedly.

"I know. To be honest, I am a bit surprised to see a man of your...reknown here."

"We all have our duties, Jedi Knight. I go where my path takes me."

"We all do, as we follow the will of the Force. So you have come here...on Council's behalf?"

Nemo smiled a half-smile as Navash watched him intently, turning back to stare over the expanse of fields and rolling hills.

"Have you heard of the recent disturbances? Of the creeping darkness spreading through the farmlands?"

Navash glanced out at the golden land, the sun now completely arisen over the horizon.

"I have...felt it. Are you implying you are here because of it?"

Nemo looked at him with almost a surprise, then his visage cooled.

"No. But neither are you, Jedi Knight. Or are you?"

Navash withstood his pointed stare evenly, furrowing his brow a bit at the address.

"I am Navash Orai."

Nemo smiled a small smile.

"I know."

Navash was silent for a moment, hiding his surprise well as he studied the old man curiously. His words were carefully guarded as he spoke.

"And to answer your question, one could say a Jedi is always on the lookout for darkness these days. But no, I am not here specifically for this."

Nemo acknowledged with a soft grunt.

"A different kind of darkness, then."

Navash looked like he might respond for a moment, but in the end said nothing. They watched out over the morningrise for another silent minute.

"Do you plan to stay here for long?"

Nemo gave him a sidelong glance at the sudden question.

"Long enough to serve my purpose. And you?"

Navash felt Nemo's tone indicated he didn't really expect an answer. He got one nonetheless.

"Not long, really. I am...expected back on Coruscant."

"Matters that cannot be delayed," Nemo spoke after a moment, matter-of-factly.

"Yes."

Another palpable pause, before Navash spoke, seemingly a thought-debris of idle conversation.

"Isn't it unfortunate how many Jedi have fallen to the lures of the Dark Side?"

Nemo was nodding in quiet response, slowly turning his curious stare back on the taller Jedi.

"And to think," Navash continued, each word carefully measured and calculated. "It was all a doing of a single pair. It boggles the mind, almost."

"With Force, great things are possible," Nemo finally spoke, his voice more grave in tone. "Terrible things. Normally they occur when the wielder forgets of this simple notion."

"Do you think what they did had some merit, perhaps, their reasons notwithstanding?"

The abrupt, if evenly posed, question made Nemo cock his eyebrows in some indeterminable reaction. Long moment passed before he answered.

"Why are you asking me, when the answer is plainly obvious?"

"I wish to know what you think of it," Navash persisted.

Nemo's eyes were locked with his now, allowing nothing but some light aloofness to shine through.

"They disregarded the Council, and many people died. If they didn't, many people would die."

"That does not answer my question."

"Do you really wish to explore hypothetical alternatives?"

Navash held his gaze a little longer, then turned away and changed the subject.

"I trust I will see you at the midday conclave?"

Nemo shook his head gently, corners of his mouth stuck upwards in a lingering trace of some emotion or other. Navash leveled his gaze knowingly.

"Matters that cannot be delayed?"

Nemo slowly nodded, watching him quietly. Navash took this as a cue to return to his errands, making to leave.

"May the Force be with you."

"And you, Jedi Knight, and you."

X X X

"This is a regular maze," Vren stared into his glass despondently, scoffing in some distant calculation. "We need some sort of transportation if we have any hopes of tracking down those bounties."

"Maybe we should look into other things first, like finding Bastila," Carth said almost accusingly.

Vren broke from his transfixion and shot him a quick glance, then finished his sour non-alcoholic drink, pushing the empty glass across the table in irritation.

"We really should stop coming here, the drinks are far too expensive."

Carth shrugged off-handedly.

"It's still a lot cheaper than in Upper City Cantinas."

"Yes, but I get discount in most of them because I am a duelist," he paused, glancing over at the smoky entrance to the Pazaak rooms, where a minor skirmish had erupted. "Although the Upper City is never this exciting."

Carth snorted denouncingly.

"Exciting isn't what I'd call it," he paused his cyclical scanning of their surroundings for a spark of thought. "Do you think we could lure some of those swoop thugs to fight the Sith guards, just enough to distract them?"

Vren looked up at him with calculating eyes.

"I don't know. But one thing is certain – we will not get past that Undercity checkpoint without authorisation papers."

"Great," Carth ran a hand through his hair, exhaling in distress.

"We might," Vren mused further, leaning back in his seat as he glanced about slowly. "Be able to overpower those guards, if we can get something to disable the automated turrets..."

Carth shot him a reluctant look.

"You think they won't know it in the base if we break through, and that's a big 'if' right there? There'll be shock troopers crawling all over the place in a ten kilometer radius, cutting us off from surface."

Vren made a pondering sound. Agreeing, but annoyed still.

"In that case, we should try to establish some contacts within the local swoop gang scene. Someone has to know something, a secret passageway or somesuch, and they might be able to set us up with some better equipment while we are at it."

"That's probably the best idea," Carth's eyes flickered around constantly, his hand never far from his holstered weapons. "Didn't that Twi'lek girl say something about being in a gang? Hidden Beks, right? Maybe she can help us out here."

Vren's fingers rapped on the table's smooth surface slowly.

"Perhaps. But we would have to find her first, for which we have little starting points. The Undercity is easy to disappear in, and we can't afford to waste more time by waiting for her here. I suppose it doesn't hurt if we ask around."

"If anyone's willing to talk."

"We shall see," he glanced at his chronometer. "My fight is due soon. Let's head up."

The trek back to the Upper City was somewaht uneventful, involving retrieving the uniforms from their hiding place near the lift and then, once past the checkpoint, returning back to the apartment to change into more suiting attire. They nary spoke a word during this time, each engrossed in calculating the best possible outcome for reaching Bastila, while keeping the worst firmly in mind. Indeed, their brooding visages made them blend in nicely with local populace, who had a constant black cloud of Sith occupation hanging over their weary faces, lurking behind every thin smile.

They made their way through the large Cantina in uneasy silence. As much as one could say that for a place where loud music and continuous chatter were considered background noise. Carth caught a glance at Christya as they passed the Pazaak tables, especially noting her odd behaviour.

"Why is that woman always avoiding me?"

Carth was genuinely surprised.

"She's acting like I'm gonna hit her, or something."

Vren just shrugged innocently.

"Who knows? You know how these Tarisian nobles are."

Carth gave an unintelligible sound, glancing at the woman suspiciously. She noticed his stare and paled, quickly turning away to disappear in the crowd.

"Again, bet on me all the credits we have," Vren's voice brought him from his frown. "And be sure to watch me triumph."

Carth made a noncommittal noise, idly observing the queue going into the arena galleries.

"I think I'll just watch from a Cantina monitor, I don't feel like going into all that crowd. But are you sure you want me to bet all the credits again?"

Vren sent him a pointed look.

"Yes! We are low on budget, we must maximize our income whenever the opportunity presents itself."

"Alright, if you say so."

Vren nodded toward the guarded combatant wing entrance.

"I have to go and prepare myself. Be seeing you after the duel."

"Be careful."

The betting counter was moderately crowded, mostly with the usual gamblers and chance-players, given the low-class and relative lack of reknown of the duelists.

Carth did as asked, except he kept a share of the credits, his share, in the safety of his pocket, betting the rest on Vren. Then he sought out the nearest free monitor booth to watch the show.

X X X

Vren steadied his breath into a familiar pattern, keeping it above the normal intake, but fast enough to provide needed bursts of motion without tiring him too quickly. His eyes scanned the surrounding crowds, up and above the polished arena walls.

Across from him, Gerlon Two-Fingers stood motionlessly, wearing a scowl. His hand hung perfectly still over the hilt of his blaster, a visage that would once strike dread into his opponents. Now, it was just a painful reminder of faded glory.

The announcer's voice boomed out some inane commentary or other, with neither the combatants, nor majority of the audience paying much attention to it. What they were all waiting for, was the characteristic low siren that announced the start of the duel. Even though it came all too soon, the last seconds dragged like Hutts on sedatives for the tense duelists.

When the siren finally sounded, Vren exploded into motion, breaking his run with occasional roll and slide to avoid the precise bolts raining from his opponent. One or two hits managed to clip his limbs as he stormed toward Gerlon, fortunately nothing that would incapacitate him.

Despite his near-legendary precision with blasters, Gerlon's melee skills were far from lacking. One's had to be at least adequate, if one was to remain in the ring for as long as he did.

The barrage of fire abated as Vren came up into critical proximity, unsheathing his swords with a fluid motion that extended into an opportune strike. Gerlon had just enough time to drop his blaster and jump aside, drawing his own vibrosword.

Their weapons clashed with tiny sparks and that specific sound that churned the crowd into a frenzy. Rushed into a blur, they fought furiously and the audience actually began cheering for their respective champion.

Vren deflected the first few combinations, sweeping aside and under Gerlon's defensive circle as he lunged forward, then snapped his leg into his opponent's knee. Realizing Vren's intention at the last moment, Gerlon twisted awkwardly, just enough to keep himself afoot. Nevertheless the blow that would normally crack his knee joint managed to seriously imbalance him, an advantage Vren capitalized on. Locking still struggling Gerlon's sword with his blades he delivered a forehead strike to Gerlon's face, breaking his cheek open and cracking his nose.

Then immediately pushing forward and downward, he broke free the lock with Gerlon's weapon and pulled back his swords in a scissorlike maneuver that would normally decapitate his opponent cleanly. The suppressors mostly negated the kinetic energy of the blades, but the blood still gushed out openly, spraying Vren's face and upper torso in thin fine spray.

Gerlon's expression was one of horror and disbelief, his eyes as wide as they were turbulent with intense emotion. His sword had a clear path to Vren's head now, but it was already too late. The already weakened blow just brushed the side of his head as his own sword rushed forward again, to jab viciously under Gerlon's jaw and send him to his back with a thud of finality.

Gerlon's sword clattered next to him dully, immediately drowned in the announcer's booming voice and the subsequent cheer of the audience.

Vren prodded the side of his jaw, under the ear, as he walked past the medical team rushing to collect his defeated opponent, feeling an inflammation there. Normally, the blade would draw blood, but the energy suppressors did an adequate job of weakening the already feeble attack.

The scorch marks on his legs and side looked a bit more disconcerting, though, and he already felt the familiar ache where the blaster's energy spread through.

"That looked intense. Everything alright?"

Vren waved Carth's comments off as he hurried out of the arena to collect his purse.

"He is a better shot than I expected."

"Do you need a medpack?"

Vren shook his head irately as he collected the purse from grumbling Hutt, limping slightly.

"We can't waste them like this, and then run out in combat. I will be alright."

Carth reluctantly replaced the injectors on his belt, wetting his lips anxiously.

"I thought he had you there for a moment."

Vren shot him a disgusted look.

"Don't be absurd. I am a professional soldier, Carth. These people are fighting for sport, while I am an elite RSTF commando. What makes you think any of them could stand a chance against me?"

Carth arched his brow pointedly.

"Not if they have to fight your ego they don't."

Vren looked around briskly, pausing at the dueling lounge doors to scoff at the poorly-lit corridor.

"I am going to go scout for some information in the Lower City. Meet me in Javyar's Cantina at 2200."

"You're going back to the apartment first, right?" Carth sounded uncertain, even suspicious.

"Of course. Store the uniform at the usual spot in the slums."

Carth nodded quickly, watching him with a scowl.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Yes," Vren dismissed Carth's concern, instinctively removing his hand from where it was probing his side adamantly. "I suggest you loiter around here some more, keeping your ears open."

Carth crossed his arms in discontent and for a moment Vren thought he might again object about them separating. He said nothing of the sort, despite his expression radiating just that.

"No, I think I'll go and check out the local arms stores. We're running low on powerpacks."

He grimaced as a drunk Rodian shuffled past with a hacking cough.

"Alright," Vren brought his attention back to himself. "Use the comm if something crops up."

Carth's face tightened immediately.

"Such as?"

Vren looked at him curiously.

"Anything. We still need to get off this planet."

Somewhat placated, Carth mumbled something unintelligible, then they dispersed through the crowd.

X X X

"You're new here, aren't you?"

Carth paused the glass at his lips, his eyes darting sidelong in the direction of the voice.

After spending far too much time in various stores, looking for the best deal, he stopped in Javyar's Cantina. He was a little early of their appointed time, but he resisted the impulse to contact Vren. So he settled himself at one of the least crowded bars, enjoying a slow drink. As much as one could enjoy himself on a Sith world, amongst criminals and smugglers, that is.

He slowly put his glass back down, cautiously turning to the woman addressing him. She wore a smile, but nothing pleasant. He didn't like it in the least.

"What makes you say that?"

She leaned one hand on the bartop casually, fingers hanging close to the handle sticking out of an underarm holster. Teasingly so, almost.

"I know most high-profile contractors in this sector. And you," she looked him over unnervingly. "Are definitely high-profile. Am I wrong?"

Carth studied her face closely, as if it could provide some clues as to her intentions. They weren't of the pleasure kind, that much was obvious.

"Maybe. Who wants to know, and why?"

"Who I am, is not important. A colleague contractor, let's say."

"A mercenary," Carth amended, trying to keep disdain from his voice.

The woman's eyebrows shot up in insistence.

"No. A contractor."

Carth let out a dismissive breath, taking a sip of his drink, all the while keeping an inconspicuous eye on her. She was obviously someone who could handle herself, if her sidearms and armour were to go by. A bounty hunter, or perhaps a mercenary, Carth surmised. He frowned mildly. She was also very familiar.

"Look, I don't know you, and, no offense, but I'd rather be left alone. I don't feel like small talk right now."

"Me neither," her eyes steeled, faint scar on the side of her chin stretching. "I wish to discuss business."

Carth almost choked on his drink, shooting her a startled look. His right hand fell to his thigh lightly, over the holster of his blaster.

"What business?"

"The kind that pays off, nothing a man like you would shy from."

"I don't like where this conversation is going."

"I am offering you to earn a lot of credits, for a relatively small-risk work. Many here would kill for such a chance."

Carth narrowed his eyes at her.

"So you just walk up to strangers and ask them? And you just happened to come across me?"

Something akin to smile twisted over her lips momentarily.

"Let's just say I have a good eye in judging people. You're no different from any other contractor in this place, at least on first glance, with added difference that you're probably an off-worlder, trapped here by the quarantine. Am I right?"

All alarms in Carth's mind went off simultaneously, but he suppressed them; there was still a chance she was just very observant with a keen mind.

"No. And even if you were, which you're not, why would it matter if I'm an off-worlder or not?"

She leaned in closer; Carth could distinctly detect the familiar scent of antiseptic, mixed in with something spicy.

"Let's just say I need someone outside of local playground," she smiled toothily.

Carth drew back a little, eyeing her guardedly.

"For what?"

She straightened in her stool, observing him calculatively.

"Combat support, let's say for now. I need to be sure first, before I lay out the details."

"Of what?"

"That you are really committed," she paused at Carth's dismissive frown. "What if I say I can get you off this planet, through the quarantine?"

Carth's face flashed with some momentary expression, too brief to be noticed by most people as anything other than a passing twitch. The woman caught it, knowing exactly what it meant.

"What makes you think I want to get off this planet?" Carth kept his voice flat and tightly edged.

She smiled knowingly.

"Every off-worlder wants to get off this forgotten world, especially someone in your business."

Carth kept his outward façade nonchalant, running through possibilities silently. Could this be the chance they were looking for? He dismissed the possibility immediately; far too much would have to be put at stake, for too small a chance. Still, he played along, perhaps there was something he could learn from her.

"I suppose you won't explain how you can break the Sith military blockade until I agree to this job you're offering?"

"Like I said, I need to be sure you're committed. But don't waste your breath trying to convince me of anything. Maybe you need to get off the planet, maybe you don't. Maybe you're interested in earning some credits, maybe you're not," she rose slowly, leaning closer in the process. "We both know there's little business in the Lower City for outworlders, but a lot of local competition."

Carth licked his lips, watching her analytically. Awkwardly, he half-rose with her.

"You're leaving? You haven't heard my answer yet."

She appraised him again, with a calculating look, then scanned the Cantina quickly.

"I can see you're not interested, maybe you need some time for yourself to weigh my offer. I'll be around the Martis' Supply Depot for the next couple of evenings. Think about it."

Carth stared after her, his mind working furiously. She could be a Sith spy, or, worse yet, working for some local crimelord that somehow realized they were Republic soldiers.

His scowl deepened.

She could be setting him up with a trap. Maybe she was a bounty hunter that somehow got wind of them being Republic soldiers, and was trying to cash in. She could be working for Davik. Bastila must have been captured and tortured, and she gave out their precise descriptions to the Sith. No, that didn't make sense, they'd just send an entire platoon out after them. Or would they? Maybe she had nothing to do with the Sith, or local gangs. She could be part of some elaborate plot against the Sith government, and thought him a Sith spy. Maybe she just killed people for the hell of it. Or just someone trying to seduce him into a trap, then rob him of all his possessions.

So many possibilities, and not one pleasant. And that scratching unease continued gnawing at the back of his mind. Why was she so familiar?

A soft beep from his chronometer broke his thoughts, reminding him of the time. He looked around, then, with a sigh, emptied his glass and threw some credit chips on the counter. He would have to worry about this later.

Selectively scanning the crowd, he made his way over to the back, toward the Pazaak rooms. Predictably, he found Vren debating something lightly with Gelrood, the local Pazaak shark and informant. He acknowledged Carth with a quick nod, waving him over. Vren was just finishing up whatever business he had with the shady Pazaak player, taking his leave and rising as Carth came over. He glanced at Gelrood suspiciously before turning to Vren.

"Any news?"

Vren nodded sharply and guided him to a nearby table in the main Cantina area, not wishing to discuss anything in the Pazaak rooms.

"I may have secured us a passage into Hidden Bek base," he said as they seated themselves down with a drink.

Carth was surprised at this.

"Really? How? I thought Mission-"

"Through Gelrood. I gently implied that we are merchants, seeking the end distributor in the Lower City for our merchandise."

Carth frowned in confusion.

"What kind of merchants?"

Vren studied him from the rim of his glass, sipping the juice idly.

"The illegal kind. You know..."

Carth took a sharp breath, as if to say something, but then seemed to change his mind.

"Well I guess it doesn't really matter, since we're already hunted by the planetary authorities. And especially if it gets us some allies," he glanced around the Cantina as he took a sip of his own drink. "I still don't think the gangs will do much help..."

"We shall see, said the blind man," Vren said curtly, earning a strange look from Carth. "In any event, we have other business to attend to first."

"You mean the bounties?"

Vren ignored the obviously reluctant subtone in Carth's voice.

"Yes. Gelrood also gave me, with sufficient persuasion, of course, some pointers as to where we could begin looking for the infamous Selven. There are rumours of sightings in Octagon district, not far from here."

"It's still too far to walk there."

Vren paused momentarily, exhaling slowly.

"We'll get a speeder then."

X X X

Carth let out an impatient breath. He knew separating was a bad idea, he never should have let Vren convince him otherwise! It has been over three hours since he went to scout out ahead, as he had said, and Carth was getting progressively more concerned. He was pacing around outside the Javvyar's Cantina, unable to bear the crowd and loud music anymore. Vren wasn't responding to his commlink, and he was seriously considering writing him off as another casualty, already forming some vague plans on how to find Bastila on his own.

An approaching land speeder caught the corner of his eye, namely the fact it was slowing down and heading toward his spot of the walkway. A flash of frenetic anxiety washed over him, instantly subdued by will and decades of warfare.

His hand tightened around the hilts of his pistols, but keeping them holstered. His posture tightened into a balanced, quick-response stance as his eyes followed the approaching speeder. Just as he expected, it stopped next to him on the sidewalk, thickening the tension. It was impossible to glimpse of those within through the heavily tinted crystal glass. Passenger door slid open, and Carth's blasters shot from their holsters.

The next moment his visage of grim determination was replaced by instant surprise.

"Vren?"

"Do you mind not aiming your weapons at me?"

Carth quickly stashed away the pistols, his bafflement slowly wearing off.

"Where the hell have you been? And why aren't you answering your commlink?"

His anger was dulled somewhat as the full notion of the speeder hit him. Vren arched his brow at him strangely, idling the engine.

"Get in."

"Where did you get this?" he ran his hand over the smooth curves incredulously.

"Well, I know you don't really want to hear the truth, so let's just say that some compassionate soul kindly lent it to me after I explained my predicament to him."

"Right. And I'm a Hutt."

Despite his disapproving tone, he got into the sleek speeder after he glanced around quickly, still looking decidely uncomfortable. Vren glanced at him sidelong as he steered the land speeder into traffic lineway, picking up speed.

"You mentioned something about commlinks?"

"Yeah, I buzzed you at least dozen times in the past hour. Why don't you answer?"

Vren ignored Carth's accusing tone, glancing at his wrist commlink.

"Odd. It appears to be malfunctioning," he shook it irately, pressing some buttons in mild frustration. "I'll have to look into it when we return to the apartment."

"Okay, just keep your eyes on the road please, I don't want to get killed like this," Carth said, trace of annoyance still lingering.

Vren flashed him an exasperated glimpse, focusing his attention back on the road. They fell into comfortable silence, the kind that only a soft humming of the engine and passing landscape can bring. River of lights rushing by mutely, the only sound the subdued hum of the airspeeder. Any trace of lineway or platform was lost in an ocean of blinking, buzzing lights below, with many convoys stretching on all sides around them, monumental buildings towering into impenetrable heights upward. It was hard to believe this was actually a sublevel, with platforms and buildings rising far beyond where the sky disappeared into darkness above.

It reminded Carth of some other place, now seeming so distant and clouded, as if from a slowly fading dream, and again he found himself having to consciously stop his thoughtflow. They had work to do now, plenty of time for sorrow later, faded and worn as it was.

"It's not far from here now," Vren's soft voice sailed through the lulling hum of the speeder, somehow shattering the quiet placidity.

Carth said nothing, just gave a half-nod with his complacent stare still somewhere in the blurred depths. Then he started, as if the words just registered.

"Where are we going?"

"Searching for transportation took longer than expected. We should head directly to the Bek base, and take care of the bounty later."

Carth nodded again, this time studying his face carefully.

"When we get there," Vren continued after a moment, taking his time. "Let me speak. Gelrood surely must have mentioned our conversation to the swoopers."

Carth pulled in a deep breath, crossing his arms and leaning his head on the back support.

"Sure."

Vren threw a suspicious look his way, but remained quiet. The lines of urban environment lost their glitter as the speeder slowed down, turning into a sideline level, over into a swoop track sublevel. The road here was much dirtier, and strewn with wreckages that looked alarmingly new. The building which they parked behind, one in a series of seemingly ancient complexes stretching in all directions, was buzzing with swoop activity, especially on the main road in front. Many unfriendly eyes of gang thugs followed them as they made their uneasy way to the entrance.

A human woman, most likely to be in the position of a doorman, stopped her conversation with a heavily tattooed Twi'lek and turned to them with a critical scowl.

Vren stepped forward confidently, keeping his tone curt and businesslike.

"We have business with your leader. We are expected."

The guard appraised them suspiciously, shifting into a challenging posture.

"Oh yeah? We'll see about that."

"We are here on Gelrood's behalf. He can vouch for us."

She hesitated momentarily, then turned around to speak into her communicator. Carth shot Vren a worried glance, but he just returned an everything-under-control quick nod. He turned to stare back at an Aqualish that was leering at them threateningly, holding his stare defiantly.

"Alright, you can go in," the woman said, and she seemed somewhat disappointed. "But don't do anything stupid, you're being watched!"

Vren snorted dismissively, boldly stepping inside. The main lobby spread out into two doors, the only currently open one flanked by a pair of scowling gang thugs. Their meaningfully held rifles silently repeated the doorwoman's warning. What waited on the other side could be best described as a cross between an improvised reception and a warehouse. Gang members milled about, either moving packages or just going off on some business, but no one seemed to be in any real hurry, and everyone could spare a glare.

The most obvious direction presented itself; the back of the large room, with table and few chairs scattered about, some computer terminals cluttered on it. Two individuals rose as they approached, an air of suspicion and that palpable unease lying heavily about. The man was quite obviously the leader, his manner and quiet confidence implying someone used to giving orders.

Vren quickly appraised him; a mid-aged dark-skinned human with what looked like cybernetic ocular implants, his overall aura and demeanor slightly less threatening and overbearing than one would expect from a gang leader.

Vren was not fooled for one moment, and he suspected Carth was neither, judging from the way he kept his hands resting on his holstered blasters tensely. Vren subtly assessed the man, seeking for tell-tale bulges and asymmetry, the suspect spots for concealed weapons.

The man's bodyguard seemed to make up in tenacity and attitude for her leader, her posture and pointedly held heavy blaster as she crossed her arms far less welcoming. Vren stepped up to the perceived leader, his Twi'lek bodyguard instantly blocking his path with a challenging glare.

"Zaerdra, please," the man spoke firmly, gently pushing her out of the way as he scrutinized Vren and Carth."I am Gadon Thek, leader of Hidden Beks. They tell me you're here on business."

"Yes," Vren kept his eyes in soft focus, mentally running over the most efficient scenarios to take them both out quickly, should the need arise. "Gelrood, I believe you know him, said you might be interested in some aftermarket merchandise, so to speak. He mentioned you have quite an influence in the Undercity traffic, something that interests us greatly."

Gadon seemed apprehensive as he spoke.

"Yes, Gelrood said you might drop by, and has personally guaranteed you're good. We're always looking for new business routes, but I don't remember him saying anything about the Undercity, though."

Vren smiled slowly.

"Well. You see, that was actually not entirely true. We are not really black marketeers, looking for new venues."

Gadon's bodyguard immediately stepped forward in alarm.

"Gadon, they could be spies!"

Vren turned to her, his words full of caustic sarcasm.

"That's right, we merely came here for preliminary reconnaissance. Sith assault troops are already waiting outside, to blow your idiotic self away."

Carth nudged him in the ribs in warning, earning a glare. Zaerdra opened her mouth, unable to speak in rage. She already raised her blaster when Gadon interjected.

"Zaerdra, calm down! Put that away! You would do well to watch your mouth, stranger! Coming into my territory and threatening my people is not a good way to spark my interest."

"As long as it's sparked. We wouldn't come to this place if it weren't absolutely necessary, rest assured."

"We're Republic soldiers," Carth interrupted quickly before Vren got them both into an unresolvable situation.

Gadon arched his eyebrows slightly, some of the tension draining away.

"Really? I didn't think there were any survivors from the pods that crashed in the Undercity."

"Well, you know now. Your gang has been pillaging these escape pods, have you by any chance come across a woman, a Republic officer who must have survived?"

Gadon frowned.

"The Vulkars are the ones who have taken the majority of that territory for their own, and they're usually the ones that get the brunt of the salvage. But I know who you're talking about. The woman, she is a Vulkar slave now. Brejik is offering her as a grand prize at the upcoming swoop bike season opener."

Carth and Vren exchanged concerned looks.

"Don't worry, if she's being put up as a prize they won't...damage her. She's far too valuable for them as a trade and status good."

"That puts her at an advantage. Maybe she'll even figure out a way to break free by herself," Carth whispered, leaning in to Vren.

"Don't count on it," Vren murmured pessimistically, his eyes still trained on Gadon.

"But you want your woman back, right?" Gadon added quickly before either could say anything outloud. "I might have a way for you."

"Is that so?" Vren crossed his arms distrustfully. "Then by all means..."

"Like I said, the swoop bike opener is approaching soon, and Brejik's offering that Republic officer as a prize. Now, you probably heard about the recent war here between us and Vulkars. That's all Brejik's doing, but...that's another story."

"Yes, we are aware of the swoop gang hostilities in the Lower City. Get to the point, please."

Zaerdra glared murderously at Vren's nonchalant tone, and Gadon scowled, but he continued nonetheless.

"What I'm trying to say, is that this race is very important to us, since the winner'll get the support of many smaller, fringe swoop groups and subsequently an upper hand in the conflict. We need to win. We had a prototype swoop accelerator component developed, to give us that extra edge. The problem is, Vulkars stole it from us."

Vren exhaled slowly in rising annoyance.

"Yes, most fascinating. I still don't see how that will help me get the Republic captive back."

Carth grabbed his arm subtly, shooting him a pointed look.

"Simple," Gadon was unphased by Vren's hostile tone. "We need someone to get that swoop accelerator for us from the Black Vulkar base – and since the prize is the girl you're looking for, you can enter the race to win her back."

"And secure you your victory, how convenient. Why would you allow an outsider to run in such a delicate race for you?"

Gadon sighed wearily.

"Look, I'll be honest with you. That swoop accelerator is a prototype, meaning it's got about half the chance to blow up in your face as to take you to the finish line. I'm not willing to risk one of my men, and if something does go wrong...then one of my riders can step in and hopefully get out on top."

"Pragmatic. You seem to have all angles covered, don't you?"

Gadon smiled bitterly at this.

"I have to. We can't afford any blunders in the situation we're in, and I won't allow Hidden Beks getting destroyed by Brejik and his thugs, for anyone's sake."

"So we don't really have a choice, do we?"

Gadon glanced at Carth, shrugging.

"In any event you'll need a sponsor if you want to enter the race to get your girl back. And I'm offering you a chance, something we'll both have benefit out of."

"Alright," Vren said with a tone of finality. "So let's review our agreement; we get you the swoop accelerator prototype, and you sponsor me in the swoop bike race season opener. Correct?"

Gadon nodded slowly.

"And this prototype is currently stored with Vulkars?"

"Yes...that's another thing we need to talk about. Their base is pretty heavily secured, at least from this level. You won't be able to get in through the front door, it'd be a suicide anyway."

"Then how are we supposed to get the accelerator back?" frustration was evident in Carth's voice.

Gadon smiled a small smile of a man with a plan.

"Through the Undercity. I've got it on pretty good authority that there's at least one hidden entrance to their base through the sewers there."

"The sewers? Terrific," Vren commented acidly.

Gadon ignored the comment, continuing quickly before Zaerdra interjected.

"But you'll need to get past the Sith security checkpoint. Those uniforms," he motioned toward them, as if they had the silvery suits on. "Won't do you much good."

Vren exchanged a wary look with Carth.

"And why is it that you believe we are in possession of such uniforms?"

Gadon smiled again, knowingly.

"I have my sources. Just the uniforms may have gotten you past the Upper City checkpoint, but Lower City security's much tighter. Especially since the Sith are looking for Republic fugitives. You'll need something solid, like authorisation papers."

Vren studied Gadon's face intently as he spoke.

"I presume you have them?"

"You presume correctly. I'll exchange them for the pair of uniforms."

"What use would you have with Sith uniforms?" Vren asked, immediately defensive.

"We like to be prepared for when the Sith start cracking down, and believe me, it has already started."

Vren stared at him in momentary silence, then nodded with a sharp exhale.

"Very well, you can have the suits."

He glanced at Carth quickly, then back to Gadon with a shrewd smile.

"Actually, we have four more uniforms you might be interested in."

Gadon looked up in surprise, his interest piqued. Vren smiled enterprisingly.

"And since we've just about exhausted the barter route, we might be willing to give up those uniforms for a fair price."

Gadon exchanged looks with Zaerdra, taking some time before answering.

"Alright, we could use any means we can get. How much do you want for those uniforms?"

"Oh, say 400 credits for a uniform, which sums up as 1600 for a set of four. Payment in credits only, at delivery of course."

Carth let out a shaky and entirely disapproving breath, earning a sharp look from Vren. Gadon considered this for a moment, whispering furiously with Zaerdra. When he turned back to Vren his face was firm and determined.

"Deal."

"Very good. I will be delivering them shortly. In the meantime, can you give us any more specific directions as to where that sewer entrance would be? After all, this is a large planet..."

"Yes," Gadon paused, as if weighing something with himself. "Yes, you would definitely need a guide. Mission Vao knows the Undercity like the back of her hand, she's gone down many times with her Wookiee."

The Twi'lek woman winced at this.

"Mission? You can't be serious, Gadon! She's just a kid!"

"You underestimate her, Zaerdra. She and her Wookiee companion know the Undercity well, as they often go down to scavenge. They are perfect for this."

Vren took a slow breath.

"Mission? The blue Twi'lek girl with a Wookiee bodyguard? Yes, I believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before," he said with an air of distaste.

"Good, then you can seek her out and she'll help you locate that entrance to the Vulkar base. At the moment she is scouting around in the Undercity, so look for her there," he paused, as if thinking of something. "You'll get the papers when you bring us those uniforms, and for any other you bring I'll pay you as we agreed."

Vren nodded sharply, already turning away. Carth made an exasperated sound as they entered the outer lobby.

"I don't believe you. You've bartered for the uniforms with possibly the only allies we've got on this planet."

"It earned us some credits, no?"

He smiled at Carth's disapproving stare.

"Don't look at me like that. We've no use for the uniforms, if antyhing they are a liability now that we have other means to pass through checkpoints. I would be a fool to pass this opportunity for exchange."

A rather large group of Hidden Beks gathered with their swoop bikes outside the building, shooting them strange looks as they exited. Their plainly equipped weapons and generally hostile demeanor were a grim reminder that despite being less vicious than most of their counterparts, Hidden Beks were still a swoop bike gang, one of the biggest and currently engaged in a brutal gang war.

Carth eyed the Bek group suspiciously.

"I don't like that Gadon. He's got a hidden agenda, I'm telling you!"

"I don't care if he has three, so long as they don't interfere with us."

Carth sighed, somewhat resentfully.

"Now what?"

"Let's head back to the Cantina. We'll consider next course of action over a game of Pazaak."

X X X

"So what's this all about?"

Canderous' eyes slowly glided from Calo to Davik, idle expectation lingering in the air. Davik cocked his head with a trace of excitement forming on his features. Lounging in one of his opulent rooms, with his top men flanking him at the long hardwood table, some datapads scattered before them, along with an ornate cigarra box. He studied Canderous as he spoke with some suppressed satisfaction.

"It has come to my attention that one of the swoop gangs is getting a shipment of Sith uniforms."

Canderous paused in lighting his expensive cigarra to look at him.

"Which one?"

Davik leaned back in his seat, taking a wistful breath.

"The Hidden Beks."

Calo listened intently, devouring and analyzing every word quietly. Canderous flicked his microtorch lighter shut thoughtfully, exhaling slowly the richly flavoured smoke.

"I wouldn't think they would have time to look for such a dangerous commodity, what with their war with Black Vulkars."

"Apparently, this isn't a standard black market acquisition. It doesn't matter, anyway," his eyes darted to Calo then back at Canderous. "I don't have to tell you how useful genuine Sith uniforms could be to getting me those codes."

Canderous was silent for a moment.

"The Undercity-"

"Forget the Undercity! The good stuff's been taken already anyway. This is the jackpot, right here," he rose to fetch a bottle of vintage Bothan Brandy from a wall cabinet. "I want you to do it, I don't want some idiot screwing this up. Take the new group, see how they work out as a team. It should be good practice for the real deal."

"I could do it easily, Mr.Kang," Calo interjected in his usual nonchalant manner.

Canderous shot him a cold look, while Davik just shook his head.

"No, you've got other things to take care of. Canderous can handle this, can't you?"

Canderous didn't fail to notice the slight warning in the question. He took a slow breath, seemingly engrossed in the slowly smouldering end of the cigarra between his fingers.

"Where are they keeping this shipment?"

"I'll get the info on the location soon. They don't have it yet, if my informants are right. In the meantime, get your men ready. I don't want any screw-ups on this one."

"I don't screw up," Canderous said flatly, earning a soft snort from Calo.

"Most of the time."

Canderous gave him a slow, hard look, matching his icy stare intently. Davik's gaze slowly travelled from one to the other, seemingly bemused as he sipped his drink.

"I have full confidence in you. Then when this thing's over, we can talk about that bonus."

"Taking it from them might cause them to become uncooperative," it wasn't really an objection, more like an indifferent commentary.

Davik paused the glass of amber liquid at his lips, some dark glint in his eye.

"Then you'll just have to put them back in line again. Those swoop gangs are in my territory, they still gotta answer to me."

"It's your call, Mr.Kang," Canderous glanced at unreadable Calo through heavy-lidded eyes, taking another pull from his smoke.

Davik emptied his glass and nodded sharply, adopting that expression he could be seen most of the time with; a mixture of perpetual self-importance and thoughtfulness. High up behind him, various trophies stared on mutely from the wall.

X X X

"Carth!"

Whipping his head around, Carth spotted Vren in the dimness of the Pazaak room, calling for him from one of the tables. Giving an exasperated wave back, he made his way through the thick crowd, the quieter Pazaak room having less of the commotion and loud music of the main floors. Various patrons played in relative silence here, furrowed brows in misty air, heavy with tabacc smoke that curled lazily from cigarras and cigarillos.

Vren was sitting at a table with a Rodian and another human, both seasoned-looking individuals, in Pazaak as well as combat. They gave Carth a suspicious look as he approached and pulled up a free chair stiffly.

"A friend of mine," Vren said absently, barely nodding toward Carth, his attention focused on his cards.

The rest of the match went by in silence of occasional half-muttered remark, as brief as it was.

"So," Carth began at length, glancing up at the departing Pazaak players as Vren collected the winnings. "Do you have any idea yet where to start searching for the Twi'lek? I say we ask around the Lower City before going down, just in case."

Vren paused to closely examine a scratched credit chip, still not looking at Carth.

"Absolutely. We will start in the Bek base itself, when we deliver them the uniforms," he smiled self-congratulatorily. "I told you those extra uniforms will be useful."

Carth made a non-committal noise, always keeping one eye on the idle patrons around them.

"Someone will have to go back in the apartment to collect them."

Vren pocketed the last chips with an air of finality.

"I will go. You should in the meantime see if you can gleam some information on Mission Vao or anything useful, especially about Black Vulkars."

Carth was quiet for a moment, then gave a troubled sigh.

"I don't like us separating, but...I'll see what I can do."

Vren nodded approvingly, finishing the remainder of his soft drink.

"No point in wasting time, then. Let's take the uniforms to the Beks, and then I will go back to the Upper City."

Carth frowned, as if some thought just entered his mind. He licked his lips quickly as they walked through the crowded Cantina.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Hidden Beks may be better than the Vulkars, but they're still a swoop gang. Associating with them like this...what if they sell us out to the Sith?"

"In case you haven't noticed, the swoop gangs are not exactly on the friendliest of terms with the Sith. I doubt we have much to fear from that angle."

Carth took a dramatic breath.

"A Republic soldier's worth a lot of credits to the right hands," he warned succinctly.

Vren shot him a scathing look as the fresh air of open metropolis washed over them. Fresher, at any rate.

"I suppose you have a better idea then? Well, don't be shy, let's hear it!"

Carth's expression was something between annoyance and exasperation as he readjusted his gunbelt.

"I'm just saying this thing can backfire bad, that's all."

"Considering where we are, there is nary a thing that could not backfire, or even fire openly at us."

Carth pressed out a sharp breath.

"You know, ever since we've been on this planet we're bickering about every damn step."

"It would be rather difficult to argue before that, seeing as how I didn't personally know you."

Carth pointedly ignored the sardonic comment.

"Ever since you woke up, you've done nothing but contradict me in every way, about every little decision, starting from whether or not we should search for Bastila on. And on top of it all you draw constant attention to us, by going into these stupid arguments with everyone we meet!"

Vren eyed him coldly.

"We have nor time, nor luxury of asking politely and wait for others to take pity on us. Accusing me of pettiness is quite hypocritical, as you are the one constantly delaying the mission with complaints."

Carth shook his head in indignant incredulty.

"How can I not, when you're doing such stupid things like the stunt you pulled with the Beks? Or with the uniforms? We've got enough enemies on this planet, we don't need to make any more!"

"Somehow I just knew it would come back to that," Vren interjected caustically. "Perhaps I wouldn't have to contradict you so much, if you realized the necessary measures for our mission to succeed. The odds are stacked greatly against us, in case you haven't noticed!"

"What's necessary has got nothing to do with this!" Carth gesticulated vehemently. "We didn't have to rob all those people, just like we didn't have to kill everyone in that apartment and cause such a stir. And what the hell were you thinking talking to a swoop gang leader like that, knowing what's depending on us? It's almost like you're trying for us to fail."

Vren narrowed his eyes sidelong at him.

"I don't think I like the direction of this conversation."

"Well that's too bad, because I don't like the direction we're heading in! I knew people like you, people that acted big and then didn't deliver when the time came. People that betrayed all that was once important, and turned against their own. I'm not about to let history repeat itself!"

Vren's voice was in contrast ominously low.

"Is that about that Admiral, Karath? Is that what this is about? Because I know you cannot possibly be suggesting I am a traitor."

Carth shook his head, as if in frustration, or perhaps cleansing.

"I'm not saying you are," he said slowly, tone forced into flatness. "It's just...what do you want from me? I'm not going to just stand back and let you jeopardize our chances."

Vren kept his tone clipped, suppressing some deeper seething.

"If anything, I am improving them. Would you care to explain why you are incapable of acting in a professional manner, without accusing me of treason every five steps?"

Carth sucked in a sharp breath, obviously on the edge of control.

"Look, why don't we just get on with our mission and stop wasting time?"

Vren glared tempestously, stopping.

"Then why the bloody hell do you keep striking up these conversations in the middle of our so very important mission?"

"If I remember right, it was you who started prying about my past the last time," Carth's voice grew progressively more frustrated and agitated.

"Yes, because you abruptly ended the previous conversation, brief and awkward as it was, leaving me to wonder whether you had some deeply seated psychological issues. Clearly I was correct."

"What are you trying to say? That I'm crazy?" Carth's expression darkened. "I don't trust people easily, yeah, and for a good reason! I'm not even going to talk about this with you."

"Then perhaps we shouldn't talk at all."

Carth's irritation seemed to be just about ready to spill over at Vren's sudden coldness.

"Maybe we shouldn't!"

They walked the rest of the distance to their speeder in constrained silence, that wrapped around their minds like a viscous webbing of sarvin. Vren unlocked the speeder with a press on the remote, glancing sharply at Carth, who was staring fixedly at some spot on the floor, his expression mimicking some brewing thoughts.

Tense silence was cracked as Vren paused before entering, staring at something across the roadway, then frowning.

"That green speeder," he indicated the small landspeeder parked not far from them. "It looks remarkably like the one that was with us for a good part of our trip here."

Carth's scowling eyes sweeped the roadside to lock with the vehicle in question.

"Yeah, I've seen it too," he shared an alarmed look with Vren. "Too much of a coincidence, if you ask me."

Vren nodded sharply.

"Let's find out, then."

He pulled the door back down and let it lock automatically, already jogging lightly toward one of the underground pedestrian crossings. Carth checked the powerpack in his weapons as they marched quickly through the poorly lit tunnel, muffled sounds of passing speeders dripping through permacrete overhead. When they emerged out on the other side, the speeder was only a few meters away, and it was already starting its engines.

They broke into a run after the gliding vehicle, but it melted into traffic and rushed away before they could reach it.

"Damnit! I knew it!" Carth spat angrily, bent over and holding his knees breathless.

"Yes," Vren stared after the speeder harshly. "Definitely not a coincidence."

X X X

"Lord Malak."

Malak barely acknowledged the respectful address, not even bothering to turn away from the window, from his endless postulating. Half-turning his head in the direction of the vioce, barely an inclination, let Admiral Karath know it would not be out of line to speak. He did so with conciseness and confidence.

"I have just received report; Admiral Horthy has returned from the Outer Rim."

This made Malak whirl on his subordinate, more in a show of spectacular manner and drama than any real surprise.

"And?"

Karath couldn't help but wince at the voice, and those devouring eyes drilling into him, as used as he was to the Dark Lord's presence. In fact, he suspected in some bleak, distant corner of his mind that one could never get used to Darth Malak's presence, not fully. At least with Darth Revan it was...different. He would not spend much time with the regular military, relegating such duties to Darth Malak, and when he would, the aura he was emanating was just so alien and cold, so completely outside comprehension that he was just beyond any reach and definition.

But Malak, he was different. He was closer down to a common man, to the plane where his thoughts lingered, and wallowed in the bleak plains of mundanity and despair, he was much more easily related to. More immediately threatening, more...predatory.

Karath cleaned his throat swiftly before answering.

"Nothing, Lord Malak. The initial reports are still scarce, I expect he will fully inform you in person upon his arrival," he paused for briefest of moments, causing Malak to narrow his eyes into demanding slits. "However, he did relay that the Jedi activity in the Outer worlds has been reduced to minimum. The negotiations with the favorably inclined worlds also yielded satisfactory results."

"So aggressive negotiation did prove effective," Malak half-chuckled to himself, then his gaze returned back to the view outside the viewpanel. "As I expected it would. I hope this is not the only reason for you disturbing me?"

The wicked hook of a question, accompanied by sudden durasteel in his voice, made Karath frown in momentary panic.

"No, Lord Malak, I...there are still no news on Bastila. Ground teams are performing extensive searches planetwide as we speak. There should be some response soon."

Malak kept staring out the viewport, his eyes narrowing in some quietly seething venom.

"If they continue to fail to produce results, we will have to resort to more drastic measures."