The Takodana sky continued to steadily pelt Tom and PY-HD with rain as they stared up into the clouds where they had last seen the Raventalon as it soared away without them. Tom had correctly guessed that whoever had stunned him would be going after Star and Marco next. What he hadn't been expecting was for his attacker to make off with the entire ship and everyone aboard.

PY-HD found its voice before he did, it's exclamatory binary language bleeping out, "WHAT THE HEY?! SOMEBODY STOLE OUR SHIP! And, you know, our friends, too."

Tom was not quite as vocal. "…What do we do now?"

The droid made a motion with its entire body to suggest shrugging. Tom paced back and forth, the sudden silence exacerbating the pattering of the falling rain around him. "Think, Lucitor, think…Well…um…we need a ship, right?"

"Boop-brep." (Duh.)

"Well, the only place we can walk to that has ships is the village. We'll just have to try to…borrow one. I'm sure in a town of wanted criminals it shouldn't be too hard to convince someone…" His voice trailed off when he noticed the astromech staring at him in silence. "Look, you have a better idea?"

PY-HD rotated its head back and forth.

"Then keep your judgmental looks to yourself and follow me."

Rasticore sunk heavily onto a stool at the counter. His work day officially finished, he was ready for a drink. He tossed a few credit chips on the counter and Zoro the Twi'lek wordlessly fetched the bounty hunter his usual drink. Rasticore gave an appreciative nod and threw back the dark liquor. Only a few more days of servitude to repay Zoro for the damage to his cantina, and then the Septarian would be free.

The cantina was crowded, packed with beings taking shelter from the rain. Few buildings in town had a completely water-tight roof, and heavy downpours such as this would cause them to leak. Yet, it was no noisier than usual. No matter the size of the crowd, the inhabitants of Zakaras never raised much of a ruckus. The only sounds to be heard were the rain and the occasional clinking of glasses on tables.

Rasticore drained his second drink much more slowly. He had nowhere to be, and certainly had no intention of going out in the rain. He was just killing time.

Then the door slid open. Everyone abruptly sprang to their feet and reached for their blasters, as was the usual custom in Zakaras. Rasticore swiveled on his stool to see who had arrived purely out of curiosity. His brow furrowed in surprise. The Jedis' teenaged Demonicite friend stood in the doorway, soaked to the skin and dripping wet, a ridiculous blue-and-pink astromech droid behind him.

The kriff is that kid doing here?

When everyone had resumed their seats, the waterlogged smuggler and his droid cautiously entered. Tom scanned the room, not entirely sure how to go about procuring a ship.

I wish Janna was here. She could con someone out of a ship with her eyes closed.

He made his way up to the counter. Star and Marco had told Tom that the cantina's owner was relatively friendly, and he hoped that the Twi'lek would be able to point him toward someone willing to lend him a ship.

Rasticore glared at the kid over this drink as he came up beside him, leaning on the counter. He also eyed the astromech. It was painted ridiculously and had that stupid horn on its dome, but those things could be easily rectified. Having a droid could come in handy…

"Excuse me, Sir?"

Rasticore watched as Zoro made his way down past him to where the kid stood. "How can I help you, young man?"

"My friends and our ship were just…uh…highjacked. I need a ship to go after them. Any idea where I might find one I could borrow?"

Rasticore's lizard brain spun rapidly. His mouth curled into a grin as an idea gained traction. He was going to take care of that dumb kid and gain himself a droid in the process.

"…hard to come by. I'm not sure I can help you, young man," Zoro was saying.

"I can," Rasticore growled.

Twi'lek and Demonicite both turned toward him, equally surprised and confused. Zoro was especially skeptical. "Rasticore, I don't think-"

The sound of the bounty hunter's name triggered Tom's memory. His three eyes narrowed. "Wait a second, you're that guy that tried to kill my friends!" His hand was already reaching for his holster as PY-HD squealed its displeasure, but Zoro reached across the counter and grabbed his arm.

"No business here," the Twi'lek said softly.

Rasticore rose from his stool, his full height towering over the teenager. PY-HD quickly made itself scarce, taking shelter behind Tom's back. "Nothing personal, kid. Just trying to finish an old job."

"Well, it is personal for me!" Tom spat, drawing the attention of everyone in the cantina.

Rasticore's grin stretched wider. "Perhaps we can clear up some of this…animosity between us. You need a ship, I have one. I'd be willing to let you borrow it…" He flashed his sharp teeth in an evil smile. "…In exchange for ownership of your droid."

Tom and PY-HD reacted with equal levels of surprise, the astromech incessantly chattering with indigence. "What?! I am not giving you my droid!"

Rasticore had expected that to be the answer. "Okay then. How about a contest? You win, you can take my ship and keep your droid. When I win, I get your droid."

"You mean 'If' you win."

"No."

Zoro whispered to Tom. "Don't do it, kid. If you know what's good for you."

Tom's eyes flickered back and forth between the bartender and the bounty hunter. "What's the contest?"

Rasticore removed his LL-30 pistol from his holster, flipped it around backwards, and roughly slammed it down on the counter beside him. "Dueling pistols."

"So…what? Ten paces?"

If it was possible for Rasticore's smile to become more devious, it did. "Twenty."

"Don't do it, kid."

Tom ignored the bartender and thoughtfully stroked his chin, pondering the challenge. He looked at PY-HD, then back at Rasticore. "Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five?!" Zoro exclaimed.

"Bwezoo-bloop?!" (Twenty-five?!)

Rasticore raised his brow inquisitively. "Twenty-five paces, huh, kid?"

Tom held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Rasticore's grin returned and he shook Tom's hand "Deal."

While so-called "conducting business" was against the Zakaras code, dueling was considered an acceptable method of resolving grievances.

It was also the only source of entertainment in the village. Every single patron of the cantina forgot about taking shelter from the rain and quickly pushed their way out the door, lining the sides of the street as Tom and Rasticore made their way from the counter to the front of the cantina. Some ran to other buildings, excitedly informing anyone inside of the impending duel. Some rushed to windows; the rest joined the throng gathering in the street. Most beings gathered under overhangs to shelter from the rain.

Rasticore barreled his way through the crowd making its way through the cantina door and escaped long before his opponent. Zoro followed closely behind Tom as the bounty hunter's opponent followed the crowd. The Demonicite was trying to ignore PY-HD's frantic chattering about how he was going to die. "C'mon kid, don't do this," the barkeep said. "Rasticore is the fastest gun in the Outer Rim."

"Don't worry, Dude, I got this." Tom slid his trusty WESTAR-32 from its holster and checked it. The gas cartridge was brand new, still full. Despite what it's owner had endured in the last hour or so, it was still shiny, save for a little spot of mud on the hilt where the holster did not entirely cover the gun. Tom grabbed a napkin off a nearby table as he passed and quickly wiped the blaster clean, then made sure the safety was off and slid the meticulously maintained weapon back into its home on his belt. "And Pony, knock it off with the name calling, I'm not going to lose you. Everything is under control." But as Zoro and the astromech halted in the doorway of the cantina and Tom stepped out into the pouring rain, he whispered two more words to himself: "I hope."

Rasticore was waiting for him in the middle of the street. Tom stood directly in front of him, looking up at the hulking Septarian towering over his head. The bounty hunter's mere size was quite intimidating to say the least.

But Tom silently reminded himself that, in this particular case, his opponent's massive frame was actually to his advantage, not Rasticore's.

"Ready, kid?"

"I am," Tom replied with all the confidence he could muster.

"Good. We stand back-to-back and count off twenty-five paces."

Tom nodded. "I'm ready."

The opponents turned their backs to each other and counted off twenty-five steps a piece. Tom took extra big steps, both to equal Rasticore's long stride, and to make sure he distanced himself as far away as possible from the bounty hunter.

They turned and faced each other. And what Tom saw made him smile, just a little. His hand hovered over his holster, prepared to draw.

On the opposite end, Rasticore did the same, but he was no longer smiling. He was realizing that, at twenty-five paces a piece, his much shorter and thinner opponent was quite a bit further away than he'd realized he would be. He didn't doubt he could hit Tom; it would just be a tick more difficult. His reptilian fingers twitched over his holstered LL-30.

But Tom was not even focused on his blaster hand. He stared at Rasticore's arm, waiting for his opponent to draw, his legs tensed and prepared.

For a long, tense minute, the opponents stared at each other through the pouring rain. The observing crowd held their breath, not willing to look away for even a moment, lest they miss the action.

Rasticore was becoming impatient. He was waiting for Tom to make the first move, but the Demonicite seemed to be quite content to let him draw first. The bounty hunter wanted the kid to draw first so that he could prove himself the faster gun.

And Tom knew that's exactly what the lizard was doing.

Finally, growing tired of the rain dripping down his face, Tom decided he would play the bounty hunter's game. He moved his hand quickly toward his holster with no intention of actually drawing his blaster. At the first sign of motion, Rasticore pounced. One swift motion brought his LL-30 to his hand, already squeezing the trigger as it cleared the holster and aimed in Tom's direction. The bolt tore down the street-

-Tom rotated his torso just ever so slightly out of the way as the bolt tore past. He needn't have done so. Rasticore's shot was so wide he would have had to have taken a full step to the left to be in its path.

Rasticore's expression fell. He'd missed. The crowd murmured with hushed shock.

Tom allowed himself the tiniest of grins. "Speed without accuracy will get you nowhere," he called.

Rasticore stood up straight, laughing sarcastically at Tom's words. "And you think you can hit me from this distance? Go ahead. Take your shot. When you miss, we'll go again. And next time, I'll make my shot!"

Tom had not been exaggerating when he'd said he had the situation under control. He had increased the distance of the duel over Rasticore's suggested pace because he knew the typical bounty hunter ego would not let the Septarian back down from a challenge. At this distance, he couldn't lose.

First was Rasticore's blaster. Tom watched him slam the LL-30 down on the counter. He was no expert on every model of blaster, but he recognized it immediately because it was a weapon that Janna loathed. Why? Because LL-30's were notorious for having a slightly right-favoring barrel. At close range, it wasn't noticeable, but over 20 meters, it became very difficult to hit small targets. Tom wasn't exactly tiny, but Rasticore would surely draw and fire very fast to prove himself the superior gunslinger. His aim would be mediocre at best from long range, enough to miss Tom entirely.

And he had.

Second was Tom's own weapon. The big, heavy WESTAR-32 blaster that Janna so often mockingly called a canon was renowned for its accuracy in addition to its power.

Finally, there was Tom himself. As a Demonicite, his most striking physical feature was his trio of eyes, arranged in a triangle. His depth perception and field of vision were far superior to Rasticore's reptilian eyes positioned on either side of his head. With an accurate weapon in a steady hand, Tom was a naturally exceptional long-distance marksman.

So as his opponent laughed heartily, barely paying attention, Tom calmly drew his blaster. He casually took aim and squeezed the trigger.

Rasticore's laughter abruptly ended as the green bolt of energy from Tom's gun struck him squarely in the chest, the high-powered round sending him sailing backwards and landing heavily on his back in the muddy street. The crowd gasped.

Tom lowered his blaster. "I think I win." He twirled the WESTAR-32 around his finger, only to have it fly off and clatter to the ground. His shoulders slumped. "Aaaaaand there goes every ounce of street cred I just earned."

Movement at the other end of the street caught Tom's attention. His eyes went wide with surprise as Rasticore staggered back to his feet.

"Oh, kriff…"

Tendrils of smoke curled from the smoldering black mark on Rasticore's chest. The high-powered bolt had been enough to knock him to the ground, but it hadn't pierced his tough reptilian skin.

"You haven't won yet, kid," Rasticore growled. He threw his cape to the ground and roughly yanked something long and cylindrical off his belt. "This duel is to the death."

Tom shrank back as the bounty hunter ignited the crimson blade of a lightsaber and began sprinting toward him. "Oh kriff-kriff-kriff-kriff-kriff!" He dove for his blaster, sliding on his side as he landed on the ground, quickly pointed it toward his attacker, and squeezed off several shots. All but one bolt found its mark on Rasticore's body, but the lizard was not even slowed.

"RRRRAAAAAGHHHHH!" A terrible war-cry erupted from the lizard's mouth as he reached Tom, drawing back to slash the lightsaber toward his hapless prey. Tom had just enough time to make one last shot, and at such close range, he was confident he could hit a fairly small target.

The target in question was the one spot on Rasticore's body that was in no way protected by his thick skin: his right eye.

Tom took careful aim and fired.

The lightsaber fell from Rasticore's hand and extinguished on the ground as the big Septarian roared in pain, his hands desperately clutching at his burning face as he tumbled to the ground for a second time. Tom's shot had been dead on. Rasticore's right eye was no more.

Tom slowly got to his feet, watching the bounty hunter writhe in pain, keeping his blaster trained in Rasticore's direction as he cautiously approached. He glanced toward PY-HD and Zoro, still standing in the doorway of the cantina.

And then his legs abruptly flew out from under him and he landed hard on his back, his blaster flying from his grip. Rasticore had recovered, ignoring the searing pain in his face. He had swung his tail around and struck Tom's calves, hauling himself back to his feet as the teenager was still trying to figure out why he was staring up into the pouring rain.

"You're dead, kid!"

Rasticore dove toward Tom, claws prepared to gut the young smuggler like a Rokarian dirt-fish. Tom quickly rolled out of the way, his boots scrambling for purchase on the wet ground. He started to flee down the street, thinking that if Rasticore could survive a blaster bolt to eye, there was nothing he was capable of that would stop the big bounty hunter.

But then his eye caught a glint of something shiny. It was the lightsaber Rasticore had dropped. He started to turn back to grab it, but Rasticore was unexpectedly fast, already lunging again to grab him. Tom narrowly ducked under his huge hands and skidded to the side, stumbling as he reached down to snatch the laser sword from the mud.

Rasticore about-faced once more, and Tom was forced to lunge out of reach. He continued to retreat, walking backwards as fumbled with the lightsaber, searching for the activation plate.

And then Tom tripped on a rock. Yet again, the young smuggler fell to the ground, this time landing on his backside. Rasticore was on him in under a second, his claws bared to cut Tom's flesh to ribbons. Tom raised the lightsaber in front of him, held in both hands with a death-grip, and shut his eyes as he squeezed the activation plate and awaited the end.

But it never came.

Tom opened his eyes. Rasticore still stood over him, his mouth agape in surprise. The crimson lightsaber blade had impaled him straight through the heart.

Tom let go of the activation plate and scooted backwards as the blade extinguished, his trio of eyes still locked on the bounty hunter standing over him. As if in slow motion, he watched as Rasticore fell forward, crashing to the muddy ground with a heavy whump! And as he staggered to his feet, panting for breath, he watched as the violet glow of Rasticore's cybernetic eye went dark.

Cheers erupted from the crowd of onlookers. Tom ignored them. He hadn't the time to relish in the throes of victory. He had friends to find. He retrieved his blaster from where it had fallen and hurried back to the cantina, brushing his matted and soaked red hair off his brow.

"I am quite impressed, young one," Zoro said when he approached. "Very resourceful."

"Thanks," Tom said. He placed the lightsaber in Zoro's hand. "Why don't you hang onto this? Keep it in safer hands."

The old Twi'lek nodded. "I will guard it closely."

Tom took a few deep breaths. "So…where's Rasticore's ship?"

Tom clambered up into the waiting cockpit of the Xanadu Blood. He and PY-HD had found it exactly where Zoro said it would be, in the landing field amongst a few dozen other ships parked between the trees on the outskirts of Zakaras. He had heard about the so-called "Magnaguard Starfighters" during the Clone Wars, but he'd never seen one in person. As concerned as he was about finding his friends, he was also rather excited to fly what he expected would be a very capable and fast starfighter.

The ship had no astromech socket, and since PY-HD was not equipped with any implement for flight as many astromech's were, he'd had to haul the droid up to the space behind the pilot's seat all by himself. There was a BUS cable lying in the back, though, so Tom was able to connect the droid to the ship's systems. Now, at last, he was able to hop into the pilot's seat himself.

"Pony, you can track the Raventalon, right?"

The droid gave a long explanative series of bleeps and bloops. Tom frowned.

"Alright…drat." He thought for a moment. "Hmm…"

Some berating beeps came from behind him.

"I know…Janna was always the one who knew what to do in every situation."

For several minutes, the only sound was the pattering of the rain on the cockpit canopy. Tom pondered the situation whilst trying to ignore his soaked and matted hair, water streaming out of it and running down his face. He was smeared with mud from head to toe from his repeated collisions with the dirt street during the fight.

I feel so gross. And cold, he thought to himself. Wish I could jump in a nice, warm lake or something and get cleaned up real quick. A memory was creeping into his subconscious. Tom smiled as he remembered. Mmm…wish I could be there…I don't know why we didn't consider that place for a hideout…

And then, inspiration struck. Tom knew exactly where they needed to go to track the Raventalon.

He quickly fired up the engines and coaxed the Xanadu Blood into the rainy sky, ignoring PY-HD's repeated inquiries as to where they were going so abruptly and in such a hurry.

Rasticore's starfighter wasn't as fast as the Raventalon in hyperspace, but Glee Anselm was only a dozen or so systems away, and Tom and PY-HD reached the watery planet in good time.

The astromech was surprised to see where they were heading. "This is no time for a vacation!" it bleeped in its binary language. "We have to find Janna and Star and Marco and our ship!"

"We're not here on vacation, Pony," Tom said as he guided the ship down through the atmosphere. "We're here to see an old friend of mine. Hopefully he can help us track the Raventalon." They glided in above the glittering blue ocean and over numerous small islands dotting the calm waters. Tom scanned the tiny land masses as they sailed overhead. "It's been a long time since I've been here. I hope I can remember which one it is…"

Small children of various species playing in the sand on the beaches of the islands waved up at the Xanadu Blood as it passed overhead. To them, seeing the starfighter was exciting; Air traffic was almost nonexistent over this part of the planet.

One island came into view which featured a very unique characteristic: a large tower adorned with a colossal receiver dish that cast a shadow over three-quarters of the island.

"Oh, yeah. It's that one. Duh."

Despite being smaller than many of the other land masses, the island was one of only a handful with its own dedicated landing pad, which was anchored in the calm ocean just off the beach, connected to land by a floating bridge. A human male with broad shoulders and a tiny mustache walked out from beneath the shade of a cabana and watched the Xanadu Blood gently touch down on the dock.

Raising the cockpit canopy, Tom was greeted by the scent of the gentle sea breeze and the rays of the hot, tropical sun. He inhaled deeply. "Glee Anselm. It's been too long." He hoisted PY-HD out of the ship and carefully lowered the droid to the ground-

-which resulted in him tumbling off the stabilizer and crashing down onto the landing pad. PY-HD mocked his clumsiness.

"Oh, be quiet."

They crossed the floating bridge to the beach. The man who had been watching approached. He wore swim trunks and a floral shirt, open in the front. "Welcome to Glee Anselm!" the man greeted cheerfully. Then he frowned. "Wait a moment…Thomas?! Is that you?!"

Tom waved. "Hey, Raf. Long time, no SEE!" he squeaked as the man's muscular arms wrapped him in a crushing hug.

"Thomas! It is so good to see you! What brings you to our little slice of paradise?"

He released the Demonicite, and Tom had to take a deep breath before he could answer. "Unfortunate circumstances…um…unfortunately. We could really use your help."

Raf tapped his fist against his chest. "For you, Tom, I will help however I can! What can I do for you?"

Tom pointed to the big tower looming overhead. "We need to use the relay."

The relay station tower was constructed upon a semicircular mountain that curved around the opposite side of the island from the beach with the landing pad. The receiving dish perched atop it cast a shadow over almost the entire beach when Glee Anselm's sun was in the east.

A lift was built into the mountainside to reach the base of the tower. Raf took notice of Tom's disheveled appearance as they rode to the top.

"Tom, you are a mess. Why are you covered in mud?"

"…It's a long story."

PY-HD whistled sarcastically.

"I did not get my butt kicked!"

They reached the top and stepped out into the control room At the base of the tower.

"I don't leave the relay powered up all the time," Raf explained as they made their way to and through an interior door. Beyond was a corridor running through the center of the tower. "It takes so much energy to power, it just seems like a waste to leave it on." At the end of the corridor was the power control room, housing three huge power generators. A window showed they had traversed to the backside of the tower where it overlooked the cliffs dropping straight down into the ocean below. Two large durasteel pipes ran down the cliff from the tower wall into the sea. "So before you can use the relay, first we must power it up."

Tom looked out the window as Raf made his way to the central control panels to power up the system. The pipes running down into the sea made him frown. "What are the pipes going into the water for?"

"These generators run on thermal energy," Raf explained. "Thermal energy from the undersea vents that created the very island on which the relay station now stands. The pipes are power conduits running down to the sea floor to capture the energy." He fiddled with the controls for a few moments, and when he'd finished, the generators slowly whirred to life. "It will take a little time before the power level is high enough to operate the relay," he said. "Would you like to get cleaned up in the meantime? You are welcome to use the shower in the cabana."

Tom felt a bit guilty about enjoying any kind of amenities while his friends were still missing, but he supposed if he had no choice but to wait, he may as well take advantage of the down time. "I would appreciate that, Raf. Thank you." A low groan reminded him that his stomach was empty. "I don't suppose you have anything to eat…"

Raf smiled. "Come on. I will take good care of you."

Tom rode the elevator back up to the relay station tower feeling quite refreshed. Raf had cleaned his muddy clothes while he took a shower, and Raf's wife had given him some kind of sweet and juicy native fruit that grew under the sea as a snack while she prepared second meal for them all. He'd also taken a moment to wipe off PY-HD. The droid had become rather grubby out in the rain on Takodana and it great appreciated being cleaned up.

They reached the control room once more and Raf checked the power level. "Ninety-six percent. Almost there."

"Perfect timing," Tom said.

"Indeed! Another five minutes or so and you should be able to begin scanning for your ship."

"Great. I really hope we can track them down." Tom sat down in a chair facing the window beyond the control panel, staring out across the sea. "How'd you come to be in possession of this relay, anyway?"

Raf chuckled. "Mostly because it's obsolete. It was built almost a century ago. There are far better communication relays now. I hear the Empire is building some really massive ones to aid in communicating with the Imperial Navy." He sat down in another chair and leaned back, folding his arms across his stomach. "This place had been abandoned for a long time, and no one wanted to live on an island with a big, ugly tower on it, so we got it for cheap. But it still works, and so we put it to good use helping people like you.

"The good thing about it," Raf went on, "is that it can really pick up the weakest and most minute signals. Even better than modern equipment. It isn't usually very clear, but it will pick it up."

An alert chimed, and Raf checked the power level. "We have reached full power!"

PY-HD squealed with excitement and quickly plugged into the terminal.

While the relay station had a very, very long-distance range, it could only transmit or receive transmissions to a small, focused area. This made it great for sending secret messages without allowing them to be picked up by outsiders, but terrible for searching for a signal whose location was unknown.

Especially when that signal was very small and weak and could be literally anywhere in the galaxy.

So, the three set to work. PY-HD scanned, listening for the minute frequency of the Raventalon's beacon. Raf and Tom were in charge of aligning and realigning and re-realigning the relay dish. They scanned one system at a time, starting with every system with a known Imperial military base.

Raf's wife brought up some dinner for them. Tom devoured the food gratefully.

By the time the sun had sunk below the horizon, they had exhausted the systems with known Imperial bases. PY-HD asked what was next.

"I guess we just start scanning random systems until we find something," Tom sighed.

"I may have an idea," Raf said. "A way to narrow down the search."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"This relay can intercept Imperial communications. Let us listen in to their outgoing messages. Perhaps they will say something that will clue us into your friends' location."

"That's a great idea! Where should we listen in?"

"Coruscant. We will listen to central command. If nothing else, we may learn the location of some of their patrolling ships near where the Raventalon was hijacked from."

"Let's do it!"

They tuned the dish back to Coruscant. The Empire's comm signals were much stronger and clearer than what they'd been previously scanning for, so Tom and Raf listened in to the transmissions with PY-HD. It was exceptionally boring. Tom's eyelids began to droop. He'd been in motion nearly nonstop for hours, running, fighting, flying. He was exhausted.

Eventually, he dozed off to sleep. Raf stayed away awhile longer, but he soon nodded off to sleep in his chair, as well.

Tom was abruptly awakened by PY-HD frantically chittering.

"You got something, Pony?!" Tom yelped. He quickly fumbled for his headphones, shoving them back onto his head.

"…test N-K Necrosis against in battle. They managed to escape from their restraints, but we are deploying the droid as we speak. I am confident two mere Padawans should be no match for its power and ability."

"Who are the two Padawans you have captured?"

"Star Butterfly and Marco Diaz, my Master."

Tom launched out of his chair. "That's them!"

This woke Raf, who was startled awake. "What? You found them?"

"Yes! What was the receiving location of that communication, Pony Head?"

The astromech twittered a brief reply.

"The Penagosis system? I've never even heard of that."

"I have," said Raf. "It is in the Outer Rim. There is not much out there, though. Elkeenar is the only planet in the system, and it is uninhabited."

"Then let's check, just to be sure. Realign the dish for the Penagosis system and scan for the Ravenatalon's beacon."

"I am on it!"

Loud hydraulic whirring told the group that the dish was indeed moving. It seemed to take forever to finally reach it's intended alignment. PY-HD began scanning, and in just a few seconds excitedly announced that it had indeed picked up the Raventalon's beacon in the Penagosis system.

"We've got 'em!" Tom exclaimed. "Let's go!"

Raf assisted Tom in hoisting PY-HD back up into the Xanadu Blood.

"Thank you, Raf. For everything." Tom clasped his older friend's hand.

"Anytime, Tom. When you have rescued your friends and the heat is off you, bring everyone here! We'll have some great fun on the beach!"

"I will!"

Tom closed the cockpit hatch as Raf jumped down off the stabilizer. He guided the Xanadu Blood into the sky and quickly departed Glee Anselm's atmosphere.

"Alright, Pony, you got a course plotted for the Penagosis system?"

The droid whistled that it had, and the navicomputer was programmed and waiting.

"Good work, Pony. Let's go rescue our friends!"

Tom pulled back on the hyperdrive control, and the Xanadu Blood jumped into hyperspace.

He never knew that his friend Raf was in fact Raphael Diaz, Marco's father.

"TOM?!"

Tom waggled his stabilizer tips in response to his friends' collective exclamation over the comm and angled the ship away from the Raventalon's trajectory, hoping to lead the remaining Imperial fighters away. PY-HD twittered that the TIEs had regrouped and were now targeting the Xanadu Blood.

"Perfect! Exactly what I was hoping for!"

Tom held a relatively steady course until the TIEs had formed up in a row behind him.

"Okay, Pony, hold onto something." Tom quickly cut power to the starboard engine and the ship abruptly rotated horizontally around its central axis. Then he yanked the throttle to zero to slow the spin and the Xanadu Blood very nearly halted in midair. He mashed the buttons atop the control yoke with his thumbs, and the canons spat lasers at their adversaries. One TIE exploded, followed by a second before the starfighter began to rapidly lose altitude. But Tom had counted on that, too. His craft fell down below the trajectory of both the remaining TIEs' lasers and the TIEs themselves, turning over backwards as they roared past overhead. Tom shoved the throttle forward and the Xanadu Blood sprang to life, rolling the ship right-side up as he gave chase. He had now positioned himself behind the TIE-fighters.

And they were dead in his sights.

He fired again, and one at a time, the last two Imperial fighters vanished in balls of fire.

"Woooooo! Way to go, Tom!"

"Thanks, Star!"

The Raventalon came alongside, and Tom watched as a cloud of carbon dioxide vapor blasted from the fire suppression system, extinguishing the flames spewing from one of the external thermal couplings. Marco waved through the ventral gun canopy.

"How the heck did you find us, Lucy?!" Janna exclaimed.

"I'll explain later. We gotta get out of here. That Star Destroyer is still up there."

"We can't," Janna said. "When we were captured, they disabled our hyperdrive. I don't know the extent of their sabotage, and I'm not in any condition to fix it anyway. I got shot in the arm."

"You were shot?! Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

"Not really, Lucy, on account of how I WAS SHOT IN THE ARM."

"Well, you're doing a really good job flying with an injury…"

"Actually, I'm flying!" said Star.

"Really?! But I saw you- Some of those moves were incredible! How have you never flown before?!"

"Lucy! Focus!" Janna scolded. "We've got no hyperdrive! How do we get out of here?"

PY-HD twittered something to Tom that the others could not hear over the comm.

"Hmm…we could try it. It's a little risky."

"What is?" Janna asked.

"We can try piggybacking."

"…That is definitely a little risky."

"Then let's just do it before we think about it too much and decide it's a bad idea."

Tom looked skyward. Even through the clouds, he could see the Star Destroyer and the cruiser-carrier. They had positioned themselves to block the hyperspace lane out of the system. "You wouldn't happen to have any idea how to get past those ships without getting blown up, would you?"

"Oh, don't worry," Janna assured him. "Their weapons systems are disabled. Well…they were. They may have gotten them back online by now."

"Ah. I guess that explains how I was able to basically fly right past them to get down here to the planet's surface. I thought they were just too preoccupied with you guys to notice me."

"Hey, since I'm the one flying, does someone want to tell me the plan?" Star interjected.

"I guess the plan is we're gonna have to blast right past that Star Destroyer and hope for the best."

"Oh, good. That makes me feel reeeeaal confident."

"You lead, Lucy," said Janna. "Our shields and weapons are down."

"Alright. Star, stick tight to my tail and don't get separated."

"And what about once we get past that Destroyer?"

Tom swallowed nervously. "If we make it that far, I'll let you know."