Though he'd be wary about being sent into a trap, the woman in black appeared to have been telling the truth. There was indeed a medical centre nearby, run by a kind, aged doctor named Forn. Though Carth didn't like the way Forn's assistant looked at him, the doctor himself treated his wounds with apt skill, even repairing some damage suffered in his crash landing the night before. He nodded with understanding when Carth explained being run roughshod by a pair of hired thugs, apparently having heard such stories many times before.

"Doctor?"

Forn was putting away some equipment. "Yes?"

"The woman who referred me here... she said you might have something I'm looking for. Do you know what she meant by that?"

Forn looked up at him, and his dark skin paled slightly. "She said that?"

"Yes."

"She was referring to my medical care, obviously." Carth looked at him, disbelieving, and the doctor sighed quietly.

Turning, the man went to a counter, quickly arranging a set of medkits and other medical supplies into a kit. "Gurney, would you take this to Ajuur? Remind him that he still hasn't paid me for the last kit, if you could."

The suspicious-looking assistant came over to take the kit bag. "I have to talk to a Hutt about credits?" Forn gave him a hard look. Gurney's shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yes, doctor." Shooting Carth another glance, he turned and walked out of the medical centre.

Once the greasy-seeming man was gone, Forn turned to the pilot. "How did you get those contusions on your back?"

Carth blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. If you want honest answers, you'll have to give honest answers. Those injuries were at least half a day old, not less than an hour. How did you get hurt?"

Carth paused. He knew he was being tested, but trust was definitely not something he gave out. But he needed answers. Finally, he decided to put some faith in the doctor's oath. "I got them when I came down in my escape pod from a Republic cruiser which was destroyed in orbit last night."

Forn nodded, unsurprised. "That's what I thought. Come this way."

Curious, Carth followed, his hands near his blasters, as Forn led him toward the back of the centre. Tapping a code into a lock, the rear wall slid open to reveal an array of kolto tanks.

Carth looked, his heart sinking as he realized each tank was occupied with a man or woman wearing standard-issue Republic underclothes.

"People have been bringing them in since last night," Forn explained softly. "Some from the Upper City, sometimes one of the Beks will bring someone they found in the Lower City." He looked at Carth. "There's nothing I can do for them other than keep them free from pain."

"Thank you," Carth replied, really meaning it. "It's good to know that at least some of these men ended up in compassionate hands."

He stepped in, moving around the room to see the faces of those waiting to die, recognizing them all. Shaking his head sadly, he turned to the doctor. "Have you seen a woman – about this tall – brunette, blue eyes, pretty, wearing peach robes? She – uh – probably would have been carrying a lightsaber."

Forn's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "A Jedi? No. No women matching that amongst those that have been brought to me. She would have come down with another pod?" Carth nodded. "Then, if she survived, she's probably either been captured, or is in hiding. If she's a Jedi, I can understand why."

He pursed his lips. "Most of the pods smashed through to the Undercity, from the looks of it. The swoop gangs swarmed them as soon as they could. If your friend is still alive, then your best chance of finding her is by asking them. If you find some that won't kill you on sight."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Yes. Most of these people were brought here by the Hidden Beks. They're one of the gangs in the Lower City, and in general the least objectionable." Forn's lip curled as he realized just what faint praise that was. "Their leader, Gadon Thek, is a good man. But he's got his own problems... with the Sith, and the gang war that's been going on down there lately. With the Vulkars. Be careful of them... they're brutes."

Carth began to feel a surge of hope. "These Beks might have an idea where I can find my friend?"

Forn shrugged. "They might, they might not. But they're probably the only ones you'd be able to ask and walk away."

"Wonderful. So how do I get down to the Lower City to talk to them?"

Forn considered, thinking for a moment. "There's a sentient in the big residential building south of here. He does some work for the Beks. I know he speaks with them on a regular basis, but I'm not sure how he gets down there. You might try asking him."

Carth pulled out his personal datapad, which he'd loaded with a map of the city courtesy of a passing protocol droid. Forn quickly pulled up the location on the map, and the pilot was pleased to see that the building in question was nearby, only a few minutes distance away in the district south. With sincere thanks, Carth took his leave of the medical centre, heading to the next person in his quest to find Bastila.

Taris was deceptively large; though the streets were laid out in a simple pattern, Carth learned that the district immediately south of the one he was in was nearly five kilometres away. Not wanting to waste time, he spent some of his dwindling supply of credits to hire a speeder-taxi, who carried him in just minutes to his destination. The droid at the helm even recognized which building he sought, and dropped him off immediately in front. They were credits well-spent, as far as he was concerned.

He entered the building – a near-clone to the one he stayed in, though far better maintained – and searched around the corridor for the apartment he needed. As he walked around the circular path, he noticed a Sith trooper standing in front of an apartment. With a sinking feeling, Carth confirmed that the apartment in question was exactly the one Forn had directed him to.

Fortunately, it did not appear to be a trap. The trooper barely looked at him, and when he approached, the Sith gestured with his blaster rifle. "Keep moving."

Inside, Carth could hear a male human shouting, and an Aqualish desperately proclaiming innocence. He feigned curiosity. "What's going on in there?"

"Nothing that concerns you. Keep moving!"

The Sith commander inside the room was rapidly losing patience. "I'm getting sick of your lies, alien scum! We have video evidence of you stealing those uniforms! Now produce them, or I splatter your brains all over the wall!"

The trooper seemed amused, distracted by the argument. "Uh oh. Now this might get messy."

"Maybe he really doesn't know anything?" Carth offered.

"You're too curious for your own good, civilian." The trooper said, his hands tensing around his rifle. "This is your last chance... move along!"

"I won't let you hurt an innocent sentient," he replied.

"You won't let us? Did I hear that right?" The Sith commander had heard Carth's comment, and turned to face him.

Carth looked at the two Sith, backing up a step and licking his lips nervously. "Um..." His hands dipped down to his hips, and when they rose again, he held a blaster in each hand. The fear in his face was completely gone. "Actually, yeah."

He pulled the triggers, and the faceplate of the trooper's helmet shattered under the bolts, the Sith's body falling backward like a cut tree. He swivelled to target the commander, but the man had already raised his rifle. Carth dived behind the door just as a burst of red plasma seared through the air where he had just stood.

He was about to try to storm the apartment when he heard a human cry, and he peeked around the side of the door to see the Sith crumpling to the ground, a vibroblade stuck in his back. The Aqualish stood panting over the body.

The two sets of eyes blinked at the soldier. "Thank you, human. Your interference undoubtedly saved me. I trust you are no friend to the Sith?"

"You could say that," Carth replied, holstering his blasters. "Were they right? Are you helping the resistance in the Lower City?"

The alien tensed, but made a gesture affirming. "Yes; I assist a man named Gadon Thek, who is the leader of the Hidden Beks. I collect enemy uniforms for him, and he plans on using them as part of his guerilla warfare strategy. He openly opposes the presence of the Sith on Taris, and they are hunting him as a result."

"I need to get in touch with Gadon. Do you know of any way past the Sith guards watching the lifts down?"

"I'm afraid I only know of the lifts, though there are rumours of stairways and other means of access. Gadon regularly sends a courier to pick up the uniforms from me."

Carth's shoulders slumped, but the alien smuggler seemed to think for a moment. "However, why could Gadon's ploy not work for you?" He gave the body of the dead commander a kick. "Between these two, you have a full, unstained uniform. It should be sufficient for you to walk past the guard on the upper levels."

The two of them stripped the two Sith of their uniforms, and Carth was soon dressed up in the shining chrome armour of the Sith. It made his skin crawl, but the Aqualish looked at him and nodded his head. "Very believable. The guards in the Upper City are complacent, and bored. You should have little difficulty getting past them. However, I would not expect this to be enough to get you into the Undercity."

Carth looked at the two dead bodies. "Do you need help getting rid of these two?"

The alien shook his head. "No, I will leave them here. This meeting spot is compromised... I will inform my contact as such. I suggest you not linger here. Good luck, human."

The two of them parted ways, and Carth found himself walking along the streets in full Sith regalia. He kept his weapon visible, and tried to emulate the attitude most of the Sith he'd seen sported.

Picked on a lot as a kid... mommy didn't hug me enough... really bad case of diarrhoea...

The Aqualish had pointed him toward the nearest elevator to the Lower City, which was located conveniently close... undoubtedly the reason they'd chosen that particular building as their rendezvous point. Soon enough – the armour was getting hot, and itchy – the soldier found himself coming up on the doors to a lift on a corner of the street. Few civilians wandered around this section of the district, so the Sith trooper standing guard at the lift was plainly visible.

Carth found himself almost hoping the trooper would be suspicious; he much preferred dealing with Sith through his blasters than using a disguise. Still, there was no way to know what other defences there were, or how fast the Sith could call in reinforcements. So, the pilot kept walking, letting his contempt show somewhat in his walk.

It appeared to work; the Sith nodded as he approached. "Going down to the Lower City, eh? Watch out for those swoop gangs. They're vicious today. Something's gotten them all riled up."

"I can handle a few gang members," Carth sneered.

"Good to hear," the trooper replied snidely. "Me, I'm looking forward to when the governor's had enough and just sends all down to wipe them out. I could use a good massacre to raise my spirits."

Carth nodded, though he really wished he could ask why so many Sith had to act like bad holovid villains. He was spared from faking further enthusiasm by the arrival of the lift. He stepped inside, breathing a sigh of relief when the doors shut in front of him.

He wasted no time ditching the armour, although he had nothing to replace it; somehow he suspected the chrome armour would do more to attract blaster fire than deflect it. Packing it away, he decided to hide it inside a maintenance compartment within the elevator, in case he needed it again to come topside.

When the doors opened upon the Lower City, the contrast could not have been more apparent. While the Upper City was well-maintained, by sentients as well as droids, the Lower looked neglected and broken-down. The flooring was constructed with the same non-skid durasteel sheeting common on many stations and starships, the struts and girders of the ceilings and walls were far from the gleaming metals and ceramics of the Upper City. Dirt and scraps of metal lined the walls, and the piping and conduits which fed the city-planet were plainly visible behind grating on all sides.

He stepped from the elevator, looking around. The wide corridor, which served as a kind of street, stretched to either side of him; far to his right, he could see the wreckage of a crashed swoop bike, completely abandoned, and then the avenue stretched far beyond. To his left, the corridor curved away, but seemed clear. Deciding that the holes in the swoop bike didn't all look accidental, Carth opted to head to his left.

And blundered right into a gang war. A dozen sentients of various species confronted each other in the middle of the corridor, shouting. Over half of them wore dark red, almost black armour, and these sentients seemed to be allied. The others wore various colours, but were no less vigorous in their arguing.

"The Black Vulkars are best!" yelled a dark-clad Weequay dramatically. "It's only a matter of time before the Beks are crushed!"

"You're insane!" responded a Rodian. "Brejik is walking right into the Sith's hands. He-" The Rodian didn't get a chance to finish, as the Weequay jumped forward, a dagger flashing in his hands. The blade buried itself into the unfortunate Rodian's gut, and the alien crumbled to the ground.

Then the fight was on; all of the survivors pulled blades, and rushed at each other, shouting imprecations.

Stuck behind the melee, Carth slipped back, not wanting to take sides in a gang war. His diplomacy went unappreciated; a human Vulkar broke through the ranks of the others and, spotting him, came roaring at the pilot. His blasters snapped into his hands, and he quickly fired bolts into the Vulkar's chest armour, knocking him back.

The sudden appearance of blasters into what had been a blade-battle caused the warring gang members to pause. Then a pair of Vulkars broke free to try to rush him; one was cut down from behind by a quick-reacting Bek, but Carth was forced to deal with the other himself, firing a pair of bolts into the oncoming Rodian's thigh, trying to find the spot where the Vulkar's armour was thinnest.

The first Vulkar had recovered his breath, and came at him again. Carth dodged the stun-stick the human wielded recklessly, and fired both blasters point-blank into his chest. The damaged armour was unable to withstand the assault, and the man collapsed to the ground.

Then Rodian was on him again, swinging his vibrosword, and Carth was hard-pressed to dodge the big blade. He had no melee weapons of his own, and was unarmoured... any hit was likely to be deadly. Taking a queue from the black-clad woman from earlier, he stepped in as the Rodian swung again, dodging the blade and finding himself pressed up against the Vulkar. One blaster-holding hand trapped the blade, while his other hand pressed a muzzle to the Rodian's chin. A squeeze of the trigger, and the fight was over.

"Well, I'll be damned," Carth muttered.

Looking up, he saw that the fight was over, and the Beks had won, though barely. One human and one Rodian out of the six had survived, both badly injured.

The Rodian held a hand over a wound in his side, breathing painfully. "Thanks, human. I think without your help we would have been wiped out."

"No problem," Carth replied. He left out the fact that he hadn't planned on getting involved at all. "Are you with the Hidden Beks?"

"We are," the human responded.

"I'm looking to talk to Gadon Thek. I was told he'd know how to get me into the Undercity."

"The Undercity? Yeah, he might be able to help. Why?"

"I'm looking for a friend. I think she might be down there."

The Rodian and the human looked at each other. The human shrugged, and the Rodian turned back to him. "Sure. We'll bring you to our base, and you can talk to Gadon. Be careful what you say, though, and don't touch your weapons. Zaerdra won't like you."

Carth sighed and shrugged. "I'm getting that a lot today."

Gadon Thek was hardly the man Carth expected. Rather than the robust, rough-looking thug the pilot expected, he was introduced to an older man; noble, with an air of authority that would not have been out of place amongst the admirals he had met. He looked strong, but it was the kind of strong that grew out of hard work, not from fighting at every opportunity. And, most surprising of all, his eyes were the metallic grey of optical implants.

After the fight on the streets, the two surviving Beks had led him to their base, with the Rodian and Carth helping the human walk on his damaged leg. The Rodian had hurriedly explained his presence to the suspicious guard at the base, and she had allowed him in.

The Bek base was surprisingly large – a converted warehouse, Carth guessed. He was escorted toward the rear of the base by a healthy Bek summoned before the two injured Beks were led away for medical treatment. The new escort, a male human, didn't seem inclined to speak, merely nodding politely and leading him onward to meet Gadon. Carth looked around what he could see of the base with interest; there were surprisingly few swoop bikes in evidence for what was a "swoop" gang, but he didn't comment on that. He could see corridors leading off to other rooms, but didn't know what they held.

Gadon himself was behind a desk located in plain view at the rear part of the large main area. Beside him stood an armed female Twi'lek, who glared at Carth as if she expected him to pull his blasters and start shooting any moment. Her hands hung close to her weapons.

The Bek leader looked at Carth. "Well, what do we have here? We don't get visitors very often."

"Are we letting in strays now? And they didn't even confiscate his weapons? I'm going to have to have a word with those idiots at the front gate," commented the Twi'lek in accent-less Basic.

"Calm down, Zaerdra," the older man admonished. "Would you have us shooting strangers on sight? Like the Vulkars?"

"You're too trusting, Gadon," the Twi'lek warned. "Brejik is after you, and your safety is my concern, not the offended feelings of strangers."

"You'll have to forgive her," Gadon explained. "Tensions are high in the Lower City right now. The Sith are putting pressure on us, and a rival gang, the Vulkars, have been taking advantage of the fact that we're one of the few gangs trying to fight them. They've been hitting us where-ever and when-ever they can."

"I'm not with the Vulkars, nor the Sith. I'm here because I was told I could talk to you about getting into the Undercity to look for a friend."

"And who told you this?" Gadon asked, slowly.

"Zelka Forn. And an Aqualish topside, who said he had been dealing with you about Sith uniforms." He shrugged. "He didn't give his name, and I didn't ask for it. It seemed better for both of us."

Gadon nodded. "I thought so. He sent us a message, letting us know that he'd been rescued from a pair of Sith, and to expect you. I had to be sure."

Carth sighed with relief, pleased to finally have something going right. "That's excellent! Can you help me? It's vitally important that I find my friend. Especially if you want to help defeat the Sith."

The Bek leader held up a hand. He sank into the seat behind his desk with a sigh. "I suspect I already know what happened to your friend. You're looking for a Republic crew member from the ship destroyed in orbit, yes? Female, brunette, came down in one of those escape pods?"

His heart rose into his throat. "Yes... you know where she is?"

Gadon snorted. "Where she is, is in the hands of the Vulkars." He sat down with a sigh. "The Vulkars were on top of those pods practically before they hit the ground. Brejik's made it known among the swoop gangs that his men managed to capture a Republic woman."

Wincing, Carth asked, "What does he plan on doing with her?"

"That's the difficult part, and where our mutual problems coincide. Brejik has put her up as the prize in the annual swoop race."

Carth wasn't sure he heard right. He shot the Bek a quizzical look. "A... prize? In a race?"

He nodded. "Yes. Once a year, the swoop gangs come together to compete in a swoop race. The gang that wins gains a great deal of prestige. This year, Brejik hopes to be that gang. So he puts up this woman as the prize for the swoop racer who wins, hoping to attract the best of the racers."

"Those racers will get a surprise once they actually get her. Why is this race so important?"

"As a said, the winning gang gets prestige. With this, comes greater numbers, and alliances with other gangs." Gadon shook his head. "Brejik has a great deal of resentment towards the Hidden Beks. If he get swell his numbers enough, he'll have what he needs to wipe us out. In contrast, if the Beks win, the other gangs would rally around us, and I'd have the numbers needed to resist the Sith."

As he spoke, his fist clenched on top of the desk.

Carth shook his head. "This is nuts. So in order to rescue Bastila I need to enter a swoop race?"

"Not just anyone can enter the race. You need to be sponsored by a gang."

"Can't I mount a rescue of some sort?"

"I've already looked into that. If I could get her away from him, he'd lose a lot of the racers who've come to him just to try to win her. Unfortunately, he's kept her well-hidden. Away from his own men as well – otherwise they might have... despoiled her."

The pilot's jaw clenched, and his hands turned into tight fists. "Will you sponsor me into your race?"

Gadon raised a brow, surprised. He looked sad, then shook his head. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but swoop racing is risky and dangerous. And you're an unknown quantity. I can't let just anybody onto one of our bikes."

"But-" Carth stepped forward, desperate, but stopped as Zaerdra grabbed hold of one of her blasters, but didn't draw. "You have no idea how much depends on recovering her."

"Probably not," Gadon admitted. "But I need to be careful. A lot of people here depend on the outcome of that race."

Carth's shoulders slumped, and he tried to find some argument that would convince the cagey old man. Just as he was about to speak again, he was interrupted by a shouted voice from the base entrance. Zaerdra pulled her blaster, but kept it pointed down, watching for the source of the trouble.

"Help! Help! Gadon!" From the direction of the entrance came a young Twi'lek girl, no older than fifteen, blue-skinned and just blossoming into the grace and beauty her species was renowned for. She wore rugged-looking pants and a decent-quality armoured vest, and Carth was surprised to see an energy shield generator on her upper arm.

Gadon stood, concerned. "Mission? What's wrong?"

She came skidding to a stop, panting, and they could see that she'd been crying. "It's Zaalbar... We have to help him..."

"Mission, slow down and breathe. Then tell us what happened," Gadon said soothingly.

The girl paused, closing her eyes, gathering her breath for a moment. Then she stood fully, opening her eyes to look at Gadon pleasingly. "Me and Big Z... we were exploring, like we usually do, y'know? And we'd wandered into the Undercity sewers. We... we thought we could scout out that secret entrance the Vulkars have, y'know?"

"The Vulkars have a secret entrance?" This was apparently news to Zaerdra.

Gadon held out a hand to silence her. "Go on, Mission."

"We were looking around, when suddenly we were surrounded by Gamorreans! Big Z threw himself at them, yelling at me to run. I did, thinking he'd be right behind me... but..." The youngster began to cry again. "They're going to slave him out, I know it! You have to help me get him back!"

"How many of them were there?"

Mission paused, thinking. "Uh... about eight or ten, I think."

Gadon sat down, and steepled his hands over his mouth. He was silent for a long while, until he sighed and looked at Mission sadly. "I'm sorry, Mission. I barely have enough men to guard this base. I don't have enough to send into the Undercity and get injured or killed, especially with the race so close."

"But Zaalbar's helped you! Kohl's helped you!"

"I'm sorry, Mission," he repeated, "but my people are just spread too thin right now. Can't you get Kohl to help? She'd be far more effective than any men I could send along with you."

The young Twi'lek paled and looked down. "I was hoping Kohl wouldn't have to know."

Gadon watched the girl for a moment, then nodded. "Ah." A shrewd look passed over his face, and he looked toward Carth. "Maybe you could help her?"

Carth's mouth dropped. "I'm kind of caught up with my own missing person right now..."

Gadon held up a hand. "Tell you what. You help Mission, and I'll let you race for us. It'll prove what kind of person you are, and whether you win or one of my racers win, you'll get back your shipmate. I don't hold to slavery. All I want is a win for the Beks."

The pilot paused, considering. "I'm willing to help. But if these guys overwhelmed a Wookiee, what help would I be?"

"We're gonna need Kohl," Mission said. She made the prospect sound terrible.

"Who's Kohl?" He frowned, wondering why she would be so hesitant to go to this person for help. "Is she your master?"

"No!" the teenager exploded, suddenly offended. "She's not like that! She's my guardian, sort-of."

"Kohl works for Davik," Gadon explained. "She's helped to keep Mission and Zaalbar out of his hands."

"And now Big Z is in a slaver's pen to save me," Mission moaned, about to burst into tears again. "She's gonna be so mad."

"Yes, she will be," the Bek leader stated. "But she'll be far, far more angry if you don't do anything. You know how she feels about cowardice. And I know you're no coward."

Gadon's words seem to bolster the girl, and Carth was impressed. She squared her shoulders. "I'll do what I have to to save Big Z." Her confidence wavered a bit, and she looked at Carth. "You'll help?"

He tried to smile reassuringly at her. He recognized the tactic: hoping your parents wouldn't come down on you too hard in the presence of a stranger. Though from the way she and Gadon spoke of this Kohl, he wasn't sure his being around would matter much. "Of course. My name's Carth Onasi."

She smiled through her drying tears. "Mission Vao."