The only thing worse than the pain was the taste of blood, mud, and sweat. It reminded him of the drinks his favorite tavern back home used to serve. Prying his face out of the ground would have been a blessing, but even if Natron could move, there were two Stormtroopers on top of him beating him to a pulp. Despite himself, he couldn't help but chuckle as this brought back memories of a simpler time.

"The eyes," he muttered.

The Stormtroopers brought him roughly to his feet, and as his vision cleared, he stared down their Death Trooper commander. "Is that a location?" she asked in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a droid. She stomped down on Natron's foot. Natron gasped in pain as he felt the bones there break. "Or is this more stalling? As long as you continue to suffer, I'm fine with either."

Natron grinned at her. "The eyes. That was what the crooks on the lower levels…used to go for first. Cracked people quicker that way…on top of robbing them of their sight. They were uncivilized, but professional…unlike you."

The Death Trooper nodded. "Good." She headbutted Natron in the face and the troopers dropped him.

It could have been worse; the mud cushioned his landing, and he was face up this time. He got a better look at his surroundings. He had taken such a beating he had half forgotten where they were. They were next to a river, which flowed on ignoring the squad of violent Stormtroopers conducting violent business next to it. At least the rain was slowing down. Natron looked up and saw the clouds were revealing some of the morning sky, and even the ever-present trees didn't seem so ominous—

He barely held in a sigh of relief. Then as he tried to right himself on the shore, he saw one more small miracle. All he had to do, was keep these sadistic murderers talking.

"Professionals take the enjoyment out of everything," the Death Trooper went on, as she walked forward with a vibroblade in hand. "You'll also find they tend to lack imagination. Allow me to demonstrate—"

A swarm of Yucari jumped out from the treetops, their shells opened in a menacing display, and their wings slowing their fall. Some opened fire on the troops, others simply charged at them, launching them into the air with their horns. The Death Trooper ignored Natron and blasted several of the Yucari down herself, not missing a single shot. And then she saw his newest attacker leaping towards her, and he rolled out of the way as the electrostaff buried itself in the ground where she had been previously.

Haldan Spar didn't bother with banter, he just continued his assault on the Death Trooper, actually knocking her rifle from her hands. Then she tried grabbing her pistol, but Haldan swatted that too, and it landed next to the river. To her credit, the Imperial whipped out a pair of electrobatons, and matched every blow from the Tognath. To Natron's dismay, after the Imp blocked an overheard swing, she used her free baton to jab the general in the mask. Haldan fell backwards, and not missing her chance, the Death Trooper leaped towards him. With a snarl, Haldan swung his staff, knocking the Imp into the river. Even though he wanted to help the general, Natron began to crawl towards his new goal, away from the river. He held his breath as the Death Trooper got back to her feet and snatched her pistol off the ground—

But not before a school of crab-like creatures hit her like a swarm of Ahmuzens. Instead of the usual two claws, it had another set of claws inside of them, and they went to work tearing the Imp's black armor to pieces. Much to Natron's grudging admiration, the Death Trooper never screamed or panicked, she just set to work stabbing them with her vibroblade. She had just gotten the last one when the alpha crab barreled into her.

This crab was even bigger than the others, almost the size of a Nexu, and as if its species didn't have enough claws, this one had claws all over its mouth. As it caught and crushed the Death Trooper's hand in its mouth, the Imp finally screamed, while at the same time using the hand that still held her blaster to shoot it through its vulnerable eye. As the crab fell into the river, the Death Trooper looked back to see Haldan fighting off the last few Stormtroopers, and was about to open fire when she noticed Natron. She had just enough time to say, "You'll never get off this rock alive—"

Natron fired the Death Trooper's fallen rifle. The shot hit the Imp through the middle, and her corpse joined the crabs' in the river. Natron groaned and sank back into the ground, ready to go unconscious, when someone hauled him to his feet. "Not now, Major," Haldan scolded him. "No time for rest when the Empire is at our heels—"

A bright orange Yucari walked up to them, with something in his hand. "General! Heard something in the foliage and I found this!"

Natron stared blearily at it. "Oh, my comm. Glad that the Cranhas didn't eat it."

A voice finally came through the comm. "Attention, this is General Spar. Is that you, Captain Dvaita?"

Luke, Naliah, and Kashvi looked like they were about to collapse out of sheer relief. Zar did his best not to get too involved in it. "Yes, General," grinned Nailah. "We're so glad to hear your voice again. And we've got good news: the weapon the Empire was after has been destroyed."

A mass chorus of jubilee came out of the comm. "Good work, Captain," Spar replied. "But our troubles aren't over yet. I don't know how, but the Imperials found Yucari Base. We were forced to evacuate; I still haven't managed to locate all of our forces yet."

The trio glanced at each other in worry. "What about Natron?" asked Luke. "Is he alright? We heard the Imps interrogating him over the comm."

"Don't worry, he's alive. It takes more than a pack of Imps to break a former Coruscant Police Officer. But back to the task at hand. I have another mission for you."

A beeping sound broke Zar's attention. It sounded like it was coming from the transport. He went back inside and found Han in the cockpit. An unknown language was coming out of the ship's speakers. "Come on," the smuggler groaned, as he fiddled with the insides of the control panel. "We just fixed this. This scrap heap is a bigger mess than the Falcon."

Zar was about to make a dry remark, but then he noticed the text on the control panel. There had been a stream of alien text on the screens, but now they were replaced with all too clear Basic. Without bothering to warn him, Zar hauled Han to his feet, and almost dragged him as he ran out of the transport. Before Han could berate him, they both heard the ship's warning in basic.

"Ship is irreparable. Failsafe activated. Evacuate immediately."

Zar might have laughed, but he knew his expression was probably just like Han's. The duo flew out of the transport, and Han screamed, "MOVE!"

Their comrades ran for it just in time. Zar dove into the foliage as the transport blew up in a sizable explosion. "Whatever gripes I have with the Falcon," he growled, "at least it's tougher than that bucket of bolts was."

Han nodded sourly as he brushed debris off himself. Then he froze. "Did you guys get my cut off before it blew up?"

Zar hesitated, then shook his head. "Chewie?" Han called out. "Are you alright? And did you get our loot?"

A few guttural barks answered him. Han looked relieved and dismayed at the same time. "If you want," Zar offered, "we can send you a smaller cut once we find out how much our haul is worth."

Han shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We'll manage."

They all regrouped out in the open a few moments later. "We heard back from General Spar," Luke told them. "The Empire's blocking our transmissions offworld, so we can't contact the Fleet."

"And this concerns us how…?" SN interrupted, as he fiddled with his rifle.

"Stow it, SN," snapped Zar. "We can help them one more time before we call it quits."

Luke glanced at him, half grateful, half disappointed. Zar did his best to ignore it. This wasn't their fight. "There's an outpost not far from here," Luke went on. "We secure it, we can contact the fleet. Plus, we may be freeing some captured comrades over there too."

Zar gestured at the jungle. "Lead the way, kid."

As they headed out, Zar noticed more of their expressions. His team stared at him with hesitant curiosity. Nailah had surprise on her own usually sour (towards them at least) face. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and gave a slight start. "Thank you," said Kashvi, her grey eyes sparkling with gratitude. "We wouldn't have been able to do this without you and your team."

Zar shrugged and stared back ahead. She looked a lot like Luke had when he tried to recruit them back at the valley. If she too tried to give him the old Rebel Alliance speech about hope and freedom, then she was in for a very rude awakening. He wasn't heartless, but for him, his team's wellbeing was a greater priority than anything else. He wasn't going to put them in danger for some idealistic crusade.

Terro could tell something had happened before he had even set foot in the shop. The greed, but more importantly, the fear, seeped out of the building and flooded the street so thickly he could almost smell it, along with a cold dark feeling that froze his very soul. His eyes narrowed; something waited for him down below in the Hive. Such a presence suggested a worthy prey…but one that could very well be out of his league. Still, it would probably be wise to see what this presence belonged to, and who knew, if the being was beyond him, it could potentially lead him to other prey.

Raax let him through without complaint, and in no time at all, Terro was in the cantina. From beneath his hood, his eyes roamed over the carnage. Ontho's staff were busy cleaning up broken glass, charred tables and seats, and even carrying out a pair of Twi'leks, and a fellow Trandoshan, all of whom looked like they had been gutted. Then he noticed that all of the patrons were at the bar, along with many small ancient droids, and several sizable scrap piles. They were all hard at work setting up equipment, and it appeared as though the droids were using the scrap to make new cruder droids. The presence was somewhere in the crowd, but Terro couldn't see them.

Taking care not to interrupt anyone, Terro took one of the only free seats at the edge of the bar. Ontho hustled over and almost slammed a bottle of his favorite Corellian Ale in front of him. "Sorry, Terro," the Yucari huffed, his eyes darting down the bar. "But we've got an important customer to satisfy. Just please, don't start anything, and you can have all the ale you want, free of—"

An ice-cold needle jabbed into his senses, and Terro looked up to see an alien approach them. Terro had never seen an alien like this before, and even without its unsettling appearance, the pair of green eyes that effortlessly pierced right through him, Terro instinctively knew that if this alien wanted to, it could kill him with a single swipe of the claws that had undoubtedly killed the criminals he had seen earlier. It gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Friend of yours, Ontho?" it asked with venomous cheer. "Perhaps he can help my eager band of crooks and murderers."

The Yucari struggled to meet the alien's gaze. "This is Terro Aniq. But he's not a pilot, he just comes to Yuca every now and then to hunt."

The alien looked disappointed. "I see. Wrong kind of killer then." Then his face brightened…at least, Terro noted, as much as a face like that could brighten, anyway. "Perhaps next time. When I do have need for your kind's renowned muscle, I'll be sure to find you."

Somehow, even though Terro felt the alien's bow was genuine, it still managed to make it look mocking. It joined one of the bigger groups, where an Iktotchi with a pair of cut off horns had finished setting up some equipment. Terro turned to Ontho. "Who is the new guy? And did he do that to the Iktotchi…Ark Meer, is it?"

"Arkeem Miur," Ontho corrected, and put another bottle of ale in front of him. "And yes, our new client, Hyerox, is responsible for relieving Arkeem of his horns, and butchering some of the customers. Then he managed to hire the whole bar seconds later." The Yucari shook his head. "You want my opinion, keep your head down, and just watch what happens. Who knows, maybe you'll get to see some new targets on the big screens," he added, and pointed at the screens over the bar.

Something pulled at Terro's senses and he looked around. Hyerox was speaking to Arkeem. Thanks to his keen senses, he could just barely make out what they were saying. "Are you sure this will suffice?"

"Absolutely," Arkeem muttered. "All we need now is Ontho to make it happen."

Hyerox nodded and barked some orders at the patrons. They hastily began to set their equipment on the bar, or brought them through some doors leading to the back. "Ontho," Hyerox declared, "we're ready. Call your associate."

Ontho pulled out a holoprojector and activated it. A hologram of an Imperial appeared not long later. "Finally," he snarled. "Took you long enough. So, what is it you need now, bug boy? Your customers want to see some of the other battles? If so, it's going to cost you extra for—"

Hyerox nodded at the Yucari. Ontho looked uneasy, but spoke up. "Sorry to interrupt, but are you sure you're at the usual place?"

The Imperial looked annoyed. "Of course, what kind of stupid question is that? Do you think I—"

There was a noise and the Imp looked up in alarm. A group of the small strange droids fell from above all around him, and there was the unmistakable sound of weapons being charged. Ontho slid the device to Hyerox and the alien smiled widely at the human. "I think you would like to prolong your continued state of existence. And fill your own pocket while you're at it. Or am I wrong?"

He tapped a claw on the bar, and the droids stalked closer to the human. "No," he whimpered. "Not at all. What do you want?"

Hyerox's eyes flared menacingly. "We need you to give us access to the Imperial network, so our pilots can continue to operate their droids in space. Don't worry, we're not planning on sending them to the Core Worlds, they'll remain in the Yuca system. Can you manage that?"

The Imperial still looked nervous, but suspicion had formed on his features. "I can. What are you anyway, one of the Rebels?"

Hyerox actually grimaced. "Please, young sir. You offend me, comparing me to those brigands. No, I am merely advancing my own goals, which as it stands, can only be done with your assistance…which, I assume, can be accomplished by adding to your bank account?"

He took out a fat gold coin and placed it on the bar. The human eyed it warily. "Maybe…but I can't drive the Empire off Yuca, if that's one of your said goals."

The alien raised his hands reassuringly. "Not at all," he said, and Terro sensed actual sincerity from Hyerox. "That would actually work against me. I'm simply trying to ensure the aftermath of this battle will work in my favor. So…do we have a deal?"

The Imp glanced at the droids. "Don't have much of a choice, do I? I'll see what I can do."

Hyerox nodded and raised his hand. A glowing crystal was in it. One of the droids sprang on the Imp's back and slid down his shirt. The human panicked and tried to grab it, but Hyerox said, "Nothing to worry about, my friend…at least, so long as you don't rat us out. Otherwise, the Empire will be short one more loyal officer, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

The Imperial stared hollowly at Hyerox for a moment, then nodded meekly. "Good," said Hyerox, and smiled broadly. "I'll be in touch."

He ended the transmission, then he glanced at Terro. "I trust you know now what will await you, should you try and bring the Empire down on us?"

Terro grabbed one of the bottles with a red scaled hand and slowly drank it. "Don't mind me," he muttered. "A hunter knows when to seize his prize…and when to fall back and hunt another day."

The alien grabbed the other bottle and clanked it against Terro's. "Smart reptile," Hyerox chuckled. "But who knows? Perhaps this planet will offer an alternative trophy for you."

They stared out at the outpost from the top of a ridge, thankfully shielded from any Imperial eyes from the plentiful trees and flora. It sat at the base of the same mountain ridge that they had just escaped from, with a river dividing it from their ridge. It wasn't big, but it was still too much for them to handle…at least without their secret weapon.

Zar had even taken his helmet off for the occasion, and his mechanical eye glowed with even more intensity as he called it in. Luke and Han were right beside him, muttering among each other on how to take on the outpost. "I'll pay you anything you want," Kashvi whispered to Bariq as they sat in a group, "if you can make more of those things for the Alliance."

"Fat chance of that," SN scoffed at her. "Zar's eye ish mmn…uofk…rrrred…"

He went offline again and fell face-first into the ground. "Looks like he could use another recharge," Tor noted, as he patiently waited for Ru to break out some food. "That on the fly plan of yours took more out of him than I thought."

Nailah glanced at him. "Well, we're not doing it. Will you?"

Tor gratefully accepted his rations from Ru and shrugged. "Not right now. I find the absence of his derogatory remarks is very soothing."

The Twi'lek actually broke out into a wide smile as she chuckled. "Same here, big guy."

Kashvi on the other hand looked hesitant. "Was he telling the truth though?"

"Yes," Bariq growled, his narrowed in resentment. "Trust me, I've tried. But that eye is made out of some pretty rare technology, we think it's a mix of Umbaran and a few others we can't identify." He chuckled and raised his canteen in a toast. "But it's still a top of the line product, courtesy of our dear departed Razorface."

Tor couldn't help but give a grim smile. Ru laughed and the three of them clacked their canteens together. "Who?" asked Nailah.

"Tarkin," grunted Dendro. As usual, he marched back and forth on sentry duty. "Our nickname for the Grand Moff before our new friend over there blew him to atoms."

Before either Rebel could press the subject, Han called them over. "It's almost here. Get ready."

While the others joined Han, Tor went over to SN. He took a power pack and plugged it into SN. Moments later, the droid scrambled to his feet. "Wha—?!" he spluttered, then locked onto Tor's eyes. "If I find out you didn't recharge me immediately…"

"I'm sure I can weather that storm," Tor replied, and they joined the others.

"Try not to blow up all the vehicles," Han told Zar. "We'll need them to get the prisoners out of here."

Zar nodded, his attention on the outpost all the while. They waited a little longer…and then they heard a familiar and welcome sound, as the Shyyyo Talon shot past overhead. It flew over the outpost's landing area, its lasers tearing through the parked TIE Fighters. The alarm siren wailed as Imperials rushed out, trying in vain to shoot the ship down with either rocket launchers or the turrets.

"Showtime," Han told others, and as he and other Rebels charged down the hill, the rest of them opened fire.

The ridge was a blessing for them. They were high enough to pick off the Imperials, and all too soon, the Imperials were trying to find out where the new enemy fire was coming from. Tor gave them some assistance by launching a rocket into the biggest crowd of Stormtroopers. The rest of his crew took care of the others with their own lethal firepower.

Then Zar used the Talon to blow open the main gates leading into the outpost. After that, he guided the ship into a graceful landing in front of it, as the Rebels charged inside the to free their comrades.

"Let's go boys," said Zar, as he put his helmet on. "Since this job was such a success, I actually want to part with them on good terms this time."

He activated his jetpack and took off. His rifle soon added to the remaining Imperials' troubles, and they knew the outpost was as good as theirs.

But as they gathered up their supplies, Tor had to voice his thoughts. "Should we actually part ways with the Rebels after this?"

"Tor," Ru said sternly, as they marched down the hill. "You're doing it again."

Tor blinked. "Doing what?"

"Thinking," SN told him. "It's not good for your brain, and I don't want to be the one who has to clean it up once it overloads."

"Stow it, tincan," snapped Dendro. He laid one of his four hands on Tor's shoulder. "Tor, you're the best person in our ragtag team, but you have to face facts. Sooner or later, we're going to get burned with the Rebels. Just ask Zar."

Tor stared resolutely forward, not wanting to lock eyes with any of them. Maybe there was a way to convince Zar. Then Dendro looked thoughtful. "Which reminds me, can I ask you all something?"

As they neared the outpost, they all looked at him. He looked hesitant, but determined. "I think I got it this time…the Response."

They all groaned in reply; even Tor couldn't hide his grimace. "Not this again," sighed Bariq. "You've been trying and failing at this for how many years?"

The Besalisk grumbled. "I'll find a name for these guns. You'll see."

SN looked like he was about to shoot off another sarcastic remark when they entered the outpost. Luke was talking into his comm, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "No, please, listen to me General! Keep everyone on alert, and make sure to stay away from them, you have no idea how dangerous these things are!"

Tor approached the young Rebel, an uneasy feeling in his gut. "What's wrong, Luke? Is the Empire closing in on them?"

Luke looked at him. His reply churned Tor's stomach. "The creatures from the underground city? They're back."