A/N: This chapter is a bit dark. And there is a little bit of violence. And it's a tad bit short. Sorry 'bout that.

Disclaimer: I don't own SW and the song 30 Minutes is still owned by TATU though I strongly disagree with their advertised lifestyle.

Can we fly?
Do I stay?
We could lose
We could fail

In the moment
It takes
To make plans
Or mistakes

Chapter Five

"Hey. I'm going outside for a moment for some fresh air. Won't be long."

Melita Ronswan looked up from the assorted datacards and recorded news holograms scattered about on the glasswood table. A mug of steaming corjet was beside her elbow, and she took a drink from it while watching her partner from the corner of her eyes.

It was the third day since they had come to Moenia. In that time Jonas Halburn had been behaving as a normal investigator aught, but she still wanted to watch him.

Who was that man he had been talking to three days ago?

"It will take approximately four to five days to accomplish."

What had he meant?

Ronswan planned to find out.

When Halburn was outside she decided to follow him to see what he was doing. She was sure it wasn't just to get a "breath of fresh air". There was something about him and until she could prove he was on her side and on the side of the New Republic she would always be suspicious of him.

She didn't go out the front door, but made her exit from the back, creeping along the corner of the house to watch him. She inched her way along, not letting the rustling of dew dampened grass give her away. She made it to the corner, heart pounding in her throat as she began to slowly take a peak at him. Any moment and he could turn around and spot her.

He wasn't talking to anyone via comm link, nor was he doing anything even remotely suspicious. He was standing outside watching the orange and pink glow of the setting sun.

He really was taking a breath of fresh air.

It was very anticlimatic.

How much of her suspicion was pure imagination and how much was real?

"It will take… four to five days to accomplish."

What was going on?

I-I-I-I-I-I

Kuraha Yamanaka had appeared in Drev Grenweld's first meeting to be a man who wasn't to be taken lightly. Had Grenweld been anyone else he would have been somewhat terrified to be in the man's presence. But by this new job of hunting down those who were targeting Norvar, he would have the money to pay for a cure for Lilia. That is, if the cancer was already beyond the point of no return.

The skin around his eyes tightened at that thought, dread lingering inside his heart. No. Last time he had seen her (that had been a week ago) she had been ill, but not terminally ill.

But the cancer was spreading even while the minutes dragged by…

"I thought you might want to see this, sir. It's a list of the names of potential smugglers and bounty hunters who want to have Norvar at blaster point," he said aloud. "I also put the names of a few top Imperial agents. Helesin Gortiv, Josan Milburn, Kuchiki Ichigo."

His new employer arched a slender black brow, a miniscule smile forming at his mouth. Or was that a smile? Was it the beginning of a grimace? His expression was decidedly unreadable.

"I don't believe there will be any trouble with Imperial agents, Grenweld. For one they are busy organizing and ruling their own territories. And why would they feel any animosity toward Norvar and toward her son? It is the New Republic one has to be wary about as well as Grisrond," Yamanaka explained, pushing his chair away from the desk and standing to full height.

"Yes, sir. I'll be aware of that. I'm sorry also that my information is inconclusive. I'll try to come up with something."

Grenweld half expected Kuraha Yamanaka to dismiss him, and felt surprise at the next words out of the man's mouth.

"How is your sister?"

The question was spoken in an impersonal manner, but there was a little polite concern mixed in there as well.

"She could be past the point of recovery by now," Grenweld said gravely, averting his gaze to the ground. "Then again," he continued in a soft tone, "She was already past the point of recovery before then."

"I beg your pardon?" Yamanaka stated.

"It's nothing you would be interested in, sir. Point is she saw her fiance and childhood friend murdered right in front of her. Couldn't talk for almost a whole kriffing year. That kriffing son of a Hutt! If I had a choice I'd turn him into a nice ash…!" Grenweld trailed off for a moment, a mixture of anger and sorrow filling his soul at the memories of the empty, haunted shell his sister had become.

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Yamanaka was staring at him keenly, as though he knew something Grenweld hadn't said aloud. There was something in those almond shaped eyes. Something very grim.

"It's quite all right, Grenweld," he said quietly. He made a motion as though to press a switch from beneath the desk, then, keeping his eyes trained on Grenweld, said politely, "Please give me your sister's name as well as the hospital she is to be treated at."

"Lilia Browel. Halcut Morgin Hospital, Coruscant. She—"

"Very good," Yamanaka cut him off, keying the switch at the same time.

"Yes, sir?" a tentative voice asked from the comm link.

"Transfer fifty thousand credits to the Halcut Morgin Hospital and make a deposit in one Lilia Browel's account for extensive cancer treatment."

"Right away, sir."

Yamanaka keyed the comm off, his face still void of any immediate emotions. His black eyes seemed to bore knowingly into Grenweld's soul…

"Y-you…" the man stammered, his mouth suddenly dry. Lilia. Lilia would be treated from cancer. She would be fine. She would live…

"Thank you," he breathed.

Yamanaka gave a fractional shrug of the shoulders, a slender black brow raised ever so slightly.

For a man who appeared rough on the outside, Kuraha Yamanaka had something most pirates, smugglers, and even New Rebublic big heads lacked. He seemed refined. Cultured even. Somewhat different from the shark like man who had appeared to him earlier in the rather noisome cantina.

"It is very rare for me to be so generous, Grenweld. This was an exception."

Grenweld felt his throat tighten for a moment. Yes, for whatever reason Yamanaka had seen to his sister's wellbeing, it didn't necessarily mean the man was a soft or compassionate individual. In fact, he wondered if the whole reason he was watching Norvar was for financial gain or something of the sort. Yamanaka just didn't strike him as being one with softer emotions. For anyone.

He knew that Yamanaka knew full well what he had been doing when he had contacted his people. Drev Grenweld owed him now. Big time. What better way than to pay for the intensive cancer treatment?

I-I-I-I-I

The Fate of Arnon glittered like a silver gem just outside Chiss Space. It had a few scratches here and there on its newly polished hull where it had entered a few laser battles with mercenary groups or pirate wings. But the gleaming, blue tinged mirror-like surface (and, indeed, the entire ship), was completely whole. Beautiful. But despite the fact it had a gorgeous exterior, the starship was built like a lumpy, pregnant bantha.

From the bridge of the ship, looking out into the viewport, a warrior clothed in red Mandalorian armor stood, hands clasped behind him. His head was turned toward the stars, to the empty space, his opaque t-shaped visor giving away nothing of what he was feeling or thinking.

Captain Chassra Norwich felt a chill go down his spine as he watched the tall, imposing figure. There was little he knew about Grisrond. Very little. The man was a strategic genius. In many ways he rivaled even Thrawn, but there was something very off about him. Norwich didn't know how to place it. All he knew was that Grisrond was different.

"We have a transmission from Naboo, sir," someone said.

"Put it on," Grisrond ordered. The voice synthesisor made him sound mechanical, like a droid.

A full sized hologram of a man with red hair, freckles, and wearing a boravin vest with tight leather pants, appeared in the center of the bridge.

"Greetings, Lord Grisrond. As you well know, it is near the fourth day. However, it is next to impossible to carry out your wishes when I am"—

The transmission abruptly cut off, the holo sizzling out in a rush of blue and white static before disappearing completely.

Norwich swallowed, glancing over at where Grisrond stood. This incident didn't portend well. They had sent Hathalas on a mission to disguise himself as a well known investigator but it appeared he had been sniffed out. Now he wondered how Grisrond would take it. It was no secret that the man had been targetting Cecia Norvar's alien child for several weeks. This would only delay him in that goal.

Norwich didn't know what Grisrond had against the child. All he knew was that he was going to get paid. And if Grisrond became too displeased with the slow progress Norwich wouldn't live long enough to spend that money.

I-I-I-I-I-I

"What was that?" Ronswan demanded, her eyes flashing at Halburn. His message, or the part she had listened to, had more than confirmed her belief. This wasn't the real Halburn. He was a fake. A hoax. The real Halburn was a hero, a man with morals and life values. This man was lacking in them.

She should have guessed from the chemical taste and scent of the man that he had been disguised as New Republic Investigator Jonas Halburn. She hadn't been able to place the scent, but now she recalled that it had been similar to the smell of most chemical dyes.

The man narrowed his eyes at her, his lips curling back into a cruel line.

"You're planning to kill Norvar aren't you? Why? What has she"—

The man slammed her roughly against a wall, hand pressing into her shoulders. She gasped in pain, eyes smarting. His face was a mask of cool rage and aggression. His lips lifted in a tight smile.

"Yes. I plan on killing Norvar. And that brat. What are you gonna do about it? Shoot me?"

In answer Ronswan whipped out her blaster, pointing it squarely at his chest. Her breath came out shakily. She had never been in such danger before. Normally the New Republic sent out some of the tops after major governmental criminals. Any moment and this man could throw her a violent surprise.

She pulled the trigger, knowing she was within her rights to shoot this man out of defense.

Nothing happened. There was a hollow, horrible resounding click. Empty.

"While I was in your abode, sweet Melita, I took the necesarry precaution of removing all powerpacks from your weapons. I knew you would find out sometime and to better prepare against it, I decided to take a few"—

He never finished.

While she was unarmed, Ronswan could still fight. She pivoted on her right foot, sending the left foot slamming hard against his hard waist. Or, it would have slammed against his waist. He gripped her leg, throwing her off balance, making her tumble to the ground.

"I should have known," he said wryly. With a terrific amount of force his booted foot impacted itself into Ronswan's abdominal region, knocking the air out of her lungs. She moaned, instinctively doubling over. She briefly saw a flash of something metal as he pulled something out of his boot, and immediately tried to remove herself from that spot on the floor, knowing all too well what that something was.

But the man sent her another powerful kick, this time in the ribs.

She cried out as she felt several ribs snap, coughing up blood from her injured lungs. Panic flooded her senses. What was she to do? There was no way she could win! It was becoming difficult to breathe. Each breath was filled with cutting sharp pain from her injuries.

She flinched instinctively as she saw "Halburn" ready himself to strike again. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel the slamming impact of his kick.

But it was the sharp steel of a dagger hurling into her chest, trailing through her body until the very tip protruded at her back, a red, warm ribbon of blood blossoming out.

As the weapon sliced through her vital organ the last sentient thought she had before eternal darkness embraced her was, I failed them. I failed them all.

In the darkness of the night a lone speeder ripped through the streets of Moenia.

It was the fourth day…