Quinlan Vos crept along the dim street, dodging piles of litter and refuse while keeping to the heavy shadows cast by the tramway running over his head. A tramcar roared over, shaking the duracrete.

"Are you sure the entrance is on this side?" he muttered into his comm.

"Are you sure you're on the correct side?" replied Hunter. "We're at the rendezvous, but I don't see you."

"A tram just went over my head." Quinlan turned to look up at a dingy, dust-smeared sign. "I thought this was the forty-ninth level. No, maybe it's the forty-seventh. Just a sec."

He clambered up the metal support, using the crisscrossing braces for a ladder, and brushed at the dirt that covered the numbers. "Forty-seventh. Huh."

"How did you get on an entirely wrong level?" Hunter sounded slightly impatient.

Quinlan jumped off and rubbed the dust from his gloves onto his tunic. "Actually, it's harder than you think."

"What is?"

The Jedi glanced around, Force-jumped to the tramway, and leaped upward once more to balance precariously on a wide water pipe. "Uh. Counting levels and stopping on time?"

His comm blinked silently at him for a long moment. "Counting levels?"

"Yep." Measuring the distance with his eyes, Quinlan gathered his strength and took a quick running start. He came down directly on top of a creaking old lift. "They go by fast when you're in freefall."

Another pause. Quinlan smirked to himself as he climbed up the lift pulleys – Nar Shaddaa was notoriously outdated in everything but crime – and hopped onto another walkway. "I'm on forty-nine now."

Tech spoke next. "When you say freefall, do you mean it literally?"

"How else could I mean it?"

"As in, you jumped off the landing platform and counted levels as you fell?" Tech suddenly sounded very interested.

"Yeah. Guess I miscounted."

Crosshair's voice came from the background. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"Like to see you do better," Quinlan replied absently. "I see the palace. Are you guys at the front?"

"Yes," said Hunter. "Beneath the third pillar on the west side of the plaza."

"Got it." Quinlan checked his surroundings, but once again, no one was nearby. He broke into a casual jog, extending his Force-senses around himself. On Coruscant, there were always hundreds of beings within shouting distance. Here, there seemed to be just as many people, but all secluded, all hidden.

On Coruscant, even in the lowest slums, you could find people who would help, should a random stranger be in trouble. Quinlan knew this from personal experience – he might not have escaped that drug-runner's men if an old Pantoran hadn't seen what was happening and pulled him into cover.

Of course, those people were few and far between there, but here . . . He wouldn't be surprised if they were completely absent. The Force felt almost muted. No one cared about anything but survival.

What a thoroughly miserable existence these people must lead. Quinlan frowned, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he neared the plaza. Sure, most of the inhabitants were here through choice – Nar Shaddaa was a pretty good place to live if you wanted to escape the law – but not everyone. There were people who were here simply to refuel and get out, hopefully with their fortunes and health intact; some who were down on their luck and needed jobs or money; and there were slaves, some who had just arrived, and some who were runaways, living in hiding from their old masters.

Quinlan stood in the shelter of a dark, empty doorway and studied the plaza, which was also empty – except for the commandos Force-signatures near the third pillar – then sauntered forward. Slavery was stupid and had all kinds of bad results. Not the least of these was the fact that previous slaves were often known to turn around and enslave those who had enslaved them. Kind of backwards, really.

Not that I'd lose a lot of sleep if someone enslaved Grakkus, though. He gave a guilty smirk.

"Took you long enough!" Wrecker whisper-shouted from a few feet away, cutting through Quinlan's wandering thoughts.

"Sorry." He turned to study the entrance, then faced the commandos. "Okay, I checked out that pipeline entrance. It's old and probably dangerous, but it seems empty."

Hunter tilted his grease-blackened helmet, casting the Jedi a look that was undoubtedly suspicious. "But you're not sure."

"Nope." Brushing a lock of hair from his eyes, he stepped forward. "You guys are welcome to go examine it yourselves while I handle Grakkus."

Tech looked confused. "But if we all go down there, we will have defeated the purpose of having a hidden escape route ready; so what good would it do for us to examine it?"

Hunter huffed a sigh. "Presumably, Tech, that's his point."

Quinlan gestured at the entrance, and the five of them sprinted towards it. Four guards, all unconscious and wearing stuncuffs, were lying near one of the two decorative pillars.

"Where'd you get the stuncuffs?" Quinlan wondered aloud as Tech knelt, setting to work on the security panel.

"The guards," Crosshair said succinctly.

"Yeah!" added Wrecker. "They were kind enough to let us borrow them."

"Uh-huh . . ."

The wide paneled doors slid open, folding in on themselves, and Tech sprang to his feet. "We're in!"

Quinlan drew his knife, extended the blade, and sauntered through the door. The light from outside was the only illumination in the entire hallway. One would think that Grakkus, rich as he was, could at least afford a few glowpanels. Maybe slugs just liked living in the dark.

"Should we use our lights?" Hunter whispered, one hand hovering near his helmet.

"Not yet." Quinlan narrowed his eyes, reaching through the Force. There was a warning, red-tinged flicker from somewhere up ahead. . . "There's someone near us," he said. "Someone dangerous."

Wrecker cracked his knuckles loudly.

"I'll lead the way," Quinlan said. "Stay close, but not too close."

"Crosshair, watch our backs," Hunter ordered.

The sniper went silently to the back of the group.

Quinlan dropped into a half-crouch and moved lightly forward. The commandos were nearly as silent as he, which was impressive, given their armor.

The red flicker returned in his mind, then vanished to his left. Quinlan adjusted his grip on the knife hilt and broke into a run. The hall ended abruptly, forking upstairs to the left and downstairs to the right. Right would take them to the vault more quickly, but it also passed by Grakkus' throne room.

Had Quinlan been alone, he'd have taken the right passage. Now, he hesitated.

Hunter stepped up beside him. "What is it?"

". . . Safer, or faster?" Quinlan asked.

"Faster," replied Hunter immediately. "I don't like the feel of this place."

Quinlan didn't like the feel of it either, but – that was because of what the Force was telling him. He wondered what Hunter meant by his words. "Okay, right it is."

There were no traps on the stairs themselves, but as they gathered on the small landing, Quinlan stopped short, holding up a hand. Three interrogation probes floated down around them, lights flickering and needles extended. A faint, shrill sound emanated from them as they drew closer.

Before Quinlan could move, Hunter lashed out with a high roundhouse kick that slammed the nearest probe into the wall, where Wrecker pinned it with his gargantuan knife. As he did so, Hunter dropped into a crouch, knife out, readying himself for another attack. Tech ran up the sergeant as though he were a ramp, balancing briefly on Hunter's shoulders before launching himself into the air, landing on top of the second droid and driving it into the ground.

Hunter slashed the third probe twice, leaving trails of glowing metal as Wrecker stabbed the droid Tech stood on.

Crosshair slipped through the gap between Hunter and Tech and continued down the hall, leaving the others, including Quinlan, to follow.

Quinlan Vos looked at his own knife and seriously considered Tech's advice from the previous night. "Those vibroblades aren't exactly what I'd call standard issue."

"Neither are we," Crosshair snarked.

Hunter nudged him with his blaster and said, "Which way now?"

"Keep going to the end, then turn right," Quinlan answered. "There should be a lift nearby that can take us straight down."

Crosshair paused mid-step. "Is the lift large enough to carry a Hutt?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

A rapid clank-clank-clank, like a rotating chain, sounded some distance ahead.

Crosshair lifted his rifle and lowered his voice. "Because there's a Hutt heading past the end of this hall."

Quinlan snapped his fingers. "Aw, nuts."

"That's putting it mildly," Tech said, blinking at his tiny computer screen. "Grakkus does not seem to have observed us, but my readings indicate that twelve life forms have just come through the main entrance."

"Must have seen the guards," Wrecker mused.

Hunter tapped his blaster against his leg. "This could be a problem."

The four commandos turned as one to face Quinlan, who smirked. "Rule number one of being an operative," he told them. "Pursuers never look up."

"That's rule number one?" Wrecker sounded skeptical as he and the others pulled ascension cables from their belts.

"Okay, maybe not rule number one," Quinlan allowed, twirling his knife around his fingers. He watched the commandos fire their ascenders into the high ceiling. As they were drawn up and disappeared into the shadows, he tilted his head back thoughtfully. "On second thought, yes, it is. All the rules are rule number one when you're an operative."

"Right," Hunter whispered loudly from the darkness. "Any chance one of those rule number ones involves not being seen?"

Quinlan sniffed and sheathed his knife. Drawing the Force around him, he leaped up, braced a hand and a foot against the wall, then bounced to the opposite wall. He continued in this way until he'd reached the others, then grabbed onto Hunter's and Crosshair's cables with either hand and hung between them.

Wrecker's posture implied that he was impressed.

Crosshair's didn't. "You don't have a cable?"

Quinlan shrugged. "Yeah, but it's more fun this way."

Tech clung to his cable with one hand and observed his vambrace-screen. "They are getting closer . . ."

"Everyone shut up," Hunter requested.

Quinlan, who already had his mouth closed, lowered himself carefully between the two cables and closed his eyes. The flicker of immediate danger had vanished, but a tangible hum in the Force indicated a threat.

Shuffling steps and quiet whispers were all that could be heard for several moments. Then, a man spoke. "Looks empty, but something took out those probes. Okay, Aurra, get this level cleared while I find out what the intruders could be after. And no mistakes, you hear me?"

"Cool it, Sunton," replied a harsh female voice. "I know my way around."

Quinlan Vos stared contemplatively at the opposite wall and considered the female's voice.

Aurra Sing was here. Aurra Sing, the Palliduvan bounty hunter who was known for her deadly sniping, her creepy implants, and her merciless and unnecessary kills. This stupid mission just had to keep complicating itself, didn't it?

Muttering voices and clomping boots faded away, and Quinlan turned to Hunter for a moment. They both watched Crosshair, who shook his head, staring intently at the floor halfway down the hall. Someone was still there.

In the Force, however. . . He couldn't feel anyone. Quinlan narrowed his eyes. The other Jedi who had come across Aurra Sing reported that she seemed to be slightly Force-sensitive. Quinlan could now confirm this – she had just enough ability to mute her signature in the Force. She probably wasn't even aware of it.

A beam of light pierced the hall, swerved in a careful circle, and moved slowly out of the room. After a long moment, it faded away completely.

They waited for the space of a slow breath.

Then another.

Then another. Then –

The light flashed on, focused towards the stairway.

Crosshair twitched in response, but Quinlan jerked on the cable to catch his attention and shook his head.

At long last, the light vanished again. A slow half-minute later, Quinlan nodded and dropped soundlessly to the ground.

The commandos descended slowly, detached their cables, and clipped their ascenders back to their belts.

"You know who that was?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah. . . . Well, the woman, anyway. She's a Palliduvan named Aurra Sing."

"She dangerous?"

"Very." Quinlan Vos stared into the darkness for a moment. "She's gone up against Jedi and survived. . . And won, actually. And she's very sure of her own skills. I figure that once she clears a room, she'll move on without doubling back."

"Like just now?" Wrecker asked. "Looked like she doubled back to me."

"No, that was her making sure the room was empty. Most people who freeze while a threat is present will move as soon as the threat is gone."

"Did you know she'd check?" Tech asked curiously.

"I figured she would. It's a common trick among bounty hunters who are smart enough to use it. And she's definitely smart enough."

"So we follow her," Hunter suggested. "Only get to the vault after she thinks it's clear."

"Exactly." Keeping one hand on his knife, Quinlan led the way down the hall.


Hunter, his squad mates, and the Jedi had to pause to avoid three separate patrols before they finally reached the lift that would take them to the vault entrance.

Hunter knelt at the edge of the corridor and peered carefully out in both directions, listening to the pulses that told him where the strong currents led.

"No droids," he whispered to the others.

Opposite from him, Crosshair stood up. "Nothing in sight."

Tech darted across the open area and plugged a device into the lift control panel. As he set to work, Wrecker and Crosshair stepped into the hall, turning in opposite directions to keep watch. Hunter stood between them, blaster in one hand and knife in the other.

Quinlan Vos joined Tech, moving with an almost habitual air of nonchalance, but Hunter could tell that the Jedi was more nervous than he let on. His fingers kept tapping at his knife hilt, and he'd repositioned his holster, putting his hold-out blaster in easy reach of his right hand.

Hunter had what his instructors called an instinct for trouble, and they'd meant it literally. He'd always known when danger was approaching, though why that was, no one could really say. Hunter felt that creeping sensation now, and he shifted to glance back at the corridor they'd just left.

"I found the security codes," whispered Tech. "Shall we go down now, or wait?"

The Jedi tilted his head. "Grakkus is still down there."

"We shouldn't stay here," Hunter cut in.

Quinlan cast him a quick glance. "Okay, Tech, take us down."

They stepped hurriedly onto the lift, Wrecker joining them last, and Tech tapped in the code.

With a quiet hum, the lift descended.

Hunter exchanged a look with Crosshair, who brought his rifle up to his shoulder, ready to fire the instant he laid eyes on a target.

"Do we blow the vault entrance?" Hunter asked.

"Speed is our priority," Vos said composedly. "Especially if you've got quiet explosives. Also, this is the last time I go on a mission without my lightsaber."

"Hm." Hunter dropped into a crouch, ready to lunge forward. "You ever say that before?"

"Uh . . . yeah."

The lift settled with a clunk, and the doors slid open, revealing a clay-colored room with a huge metal door in the opposite wall. Glowpanels covered the rest of the walls, casting a steady, yellow light over the interior.

"That's the vault," Quinlan Vos said. "But I don't see Grakkus."

"Maybe he's inside," Hunter suggested.

"One moment. . ." Tech tapped away at his wrist consol. "The vault scans as empty."

"Want me to set the explosives?" Wrecker asked.

Hunter inclined his head. "Just don't destroy the vault itself."

Wrecker grabbed a charge from his backpack. "Right!"

"I don't get it," Quinlan said, stepping into the room. "Where'd Grakkus go?"

Hunter shrugged. "Maybe he went back up to –" He paused, tilting his head. There was something – "Wrecker!"

The big clone spun around, and the laser meant for his head scorched past his shoulder.

Instantly, the four commandos threw themselves to either side. A huge droid with long rifles for arms stepped out of a previously-hidden recess in the wall, firing rapidly.

Hunter rolled away, snatching at an EC detonator on his belt, but before he could arm it, Quinlan Vos dashed forward. The Jedi dropped to his knees and bent backwards, skidding directly underneath the lasers. He jumped to his feet as he neared the droid, then stabbed his knife into its chest.

The droid stepped heavily back, slammed one rifle into the Jedi's chest, and the other into his back. Vos dropped to his knees with a breathless gasp, and Hunter jumped, slashing through the droid's main processor while Wrecker tore off one of its arms.

With a dull clank, the droid staggered sideways, lifting its remaining rifle. Crosshair's shot went straight up the barrel of the droid's gun and exploded the cartridge. Tech shot the droid four times in the head, and Wrecker stabbed his knife straight through the hole Vos' knife had made.

The droid shut down with a dull hum and clattered to the stone floor.

"Ow." Vos stumbled up, one hand against his chest. ". . . Thanks."

Hunter nodded absently, already turning away, and Crosshair moved across the room, carefully checking for other hidden enemies.

"Now I can set the explosives," Wrecker declared, hurrying to the vault doors.

Tech gestured at the Jedi with both pistols. "For a special operative, you seem to have an unusual propensity for getting caught by your adversaries. Why did you rush that droid head-on with only a knife?"

"Because I don't have my lightsaber, and I was trying to keep you guys from getting shot," the Jedi grumbled, shoving his hair out of his grease-blackened face. "If I were doing this on my own, and didn't have to be worried about getting recognized as a Jedi, I'd have had no trouble taking it down."

"Hm." Tech holstered his pistols, seeming unconvinced.

Hunter observed him for a moment, then turned to watch Wrecker. This was the first time he had seen the Jedi in action, and so far Quinlan Vos was not striking him as exceptionally competent. At the same time, he had a long history of successful missions. . . And he seemed willing to put himself in danger, which could be good or bad depending on whether or not he could really defend himself, or whether he'd just drag the commandos into more danger when they had to rescue him.

That was a problem for later, though. For now, Hunter would just have to keep an eye on him.

"Okay!" called Wrecker. "Charge set!"

Hunter stepped away from the door just as the explosives went off with a muted flash, destroying the immense hinges. The metal door fell slowly toward the ground, gathered momentum, and slammed into the floor with a clang that made Hunter wince.

As the others moved toward the dark opening, Tech, who was closest to the door, started to enter.

The shriek of a siren, from the floor above them, caught their attention, and they all paused to look back at the lift, which remained motionless.

"We need to move," Quinlan muttered.

Hunter nodded and turned back to the vault in time to see a huge fist shoot out of the opening and catch Tech in the faceplate.