The jolt of the sandcrawler awoke me from my half-sleep. Finally on the move. I brushed my face of sand and stretched as I stood while scanning the cargo container we'd smuggled ourselves into.

Mission smiled at me, Bastila held a comm—updating Carth and Juhani on the situation, and Canderous tapped his boot against the wall. The sound of Carth's voice reverberated around the metal walls. The Sith hadn't left port, yet Calo hadn't shown up. Juhani hadn't spotted the Sith troops either. Which only made it more worrying. If we lost sight of Calo, then who knew where he'd show up next?

When Bastila ended her conversation with them both, she glanced over at Verena who leaned on the far side of the container like some teenager protesting against authority. Bastila shoved the comm in her pockets with a scowl on her face.

"Who sent you?" she asked.

Verena stopped her stare down with the sandy floor and smirked.

"I'm not Sith, Jedi."

"Really? I find that hard to believe." Bastila paced towards the taller woman. "You following us here is very convenient. Not only that but you wanted to destroy our only lead."

"You mean the murder droid?" She shrugged. "Sure, I wanted to destroy it. But Gale has told me you need it to translate the Sand People. Which only brings up more questions than answers. What do the Sand People know?"

"That is none of your business. When we leave this sandcrawler, you go. No question—"

"Bastila." I had to say something before another fight broke out. "I don't trust her either, but don't you think it's actually a better idea for her to stick around so that we can keep an eye on her? If she is a Sith spy, she could run back and tell them what we're up to."

She turned towards me. "For all we know, she already told them what we're up to."

"If I was Sith," Verena said, "they would have already swarmed this crawler."

The Jedi paused in thought before letting out a large sigh. "Fine, but I'll be keeping an eye on you, Echani."

"Verena."

But before the Echani finished speaking, Bastila marched away with that arrogant strut to the opposite end of the container.

This was going to be a long ride...

Minutes, hours passed of boredom. To Bastila's dismay, I took to throwing small pebbles across the container with the Force. Canderous paced like a wild kath hound, and Verena pointlessly swung at imaginary enemies with her vibroblade. Must have been some Echani thing. After skipping my rocks hundreds of times, Mission sat next to me and held her knees.

"I hope…"

I raised a brow. "Hope...?"

"Griff is...you know. Alive." She sighed. "You'll have HK ask about him right?"

"Of course." I smiled. "What—you think I'll forget?"

"No!" Mission chuckled. "It's just...a lot has happened. And I know we have to ask about the Star Map first and foremost for your Jedi mission."

"Despite being on a 'Jedi mission,' I'm not that heartless. And, even though Bastila wouldn't say it out loud, I don't think she'd want you to go without knowing what happened to your brother. I mean, she didn't know about her father..." I snapped my mouth shut when I realized I was getting into personal territory again. Mission seemed to understand why I didn't continue.

She smiled wide. "Thanks, Wes. You're a pal."

Before I could say anything in response, someone shouted at the far side of the container.

" You !"

Quicker than a blink, the Echani rushed towards Canderous with Yusanis' blade. Without thinking—something that I seemed to be doing far too often lately—I unsheathed my lightsaber and blocked her descending attack.

"What in all hells are you doing?"

Bastila and Mission all stopped meditating and sitting respectively and rushed over to us. Verena's sneer caused her chin scar to stretch.

"Why is a Mando here?" she shouted. "I recognize those tattoos. Clan Ordo."

I glanced back at that Mando. He crossed his arms with a sniff.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"The Battle of Jaga's Cluster."

Canderous sighed. "Another Republic war hero?"

"Shut up!" Verena snapped. "First an assassin droid, now a Mandalorian? And I'm the one who is untrustworthy here?"

I shoved my lightsaber back away from Canderous—even though he didn't even look the least bit threatened.

"I know it looks bad, but just...put the blade down. I'll explain everything, alright? Please."

A moment passed with Verena in a bloodthirsty rage before she finally relaxed and took her blade away. She sheathed it onto her back then faced me with crossed arms. I explained why Canderous had joined our group...minus a few details about our mission. Bastila and Mission provided extra details like the fact that both of us went to get massages. I mean, was that really necessary?

At the end of my tale, the Echani frowned. "It doesn't matter what he did to help you. He's a murderer. A cold-blooded killer. In the war he—"

"The war's over," I said. "And guess what? We're in another one. Tough shit."

Before Verena could argue poorly against that point, we were all thrown off our feet. A boom vibrated the metal walls along with shouts that came above us. As we all picked ourselves up, the container was knocked, and HK's muffled voice cut through the sound of chaos.

"Observation: An explosion has ruptured the front of the vehicle, Master."

"Yeah, HK, I think we know." I groaned. "I can't believe this—what next? Darth Malak riding after us on a bantha?"

Mission chuckled. "Don't jinx it..."

Fortunately, Darth Malak didn't appear out of nowhere on a bantha. No, instead we were stuck—again—and surrounded—again—by unknown assailants. Blaster fire muffled through the walls of the sandcrawler along with varying shouts. Some were animal-like in nature.

Then, the firefight stopped along with the shouting. Numerous shuffles along with multiple bangs vibrated the cargo hold as whoever, or whatever, tried to open the sandcrawler. We all froze in place like HK had been when on standby. Five minutes, ten, twenty must have passed of us standing in utter silence.

I was the first to move. The weight I'd used to get us into the container sat near Mission. Taking it and the rope again, I threw it with the Force.

We all climbed out and were met with flashing lights and smoke. Bastila coughed at the black fog and I held part of my robe up to my face. HK's red lights made beams in the half-darkness. Canderous tried to open the door, however, the explosion must have jammed it closed.

I unleashed the blue blade of my lightsaber and stabbed it into the side of the crawler. If we didn't get out of here soon, we'd be smoked. Literally. Bastila helped on my right and it only took a minute for a person-sized hole to be carved out of the wall.

I kicked the metal slab out and the bright Tatooine suns caused me to wince. Once my sight adjusted, I peered out to the dunes below.

Black smoke drifted from the crawler, concealing the scene. The sand had been charred and glassed in places where a grenade exploded or a blaster bolt had missed its intended target. Shadows of...bodies laid near the front of the treads.

Nothing else other than the smoke moved. So, I eased out of the hole we carved and stepped onto the metal treads. I climbed down and dropped to the sand. HK-47 didn't know the meaning of careful, of course, and collided into the ground beside me. His robotic limbs unfolded from the fall and his red eyes blinked lazily.

While we waited for the rest of the team to climb down, I got closer to the scene of the attack. Most of the bodies were of creatures in robes with wrapped faces and hollowed mouths. A Sand Person or a human that had abnormal fashion tastes. I stopped beside the closest one and crouched to get a better look. Its torso had been littered with blaster bolts and a bone spear laid near its arm. A spear drenched in blood.

Yellow and black-uniformed bodies leaned against the metal treads. The Czerka miners had been massacred. Those same spears brutally spilled their brains and guts to the sands around them.

Bastila jumped to my side. The wind blew hair into her face as she peered towards the suns that were now halfway across the sky. Once everyone landed in the sands, I rose.

"The Sand People must have set an ambush for the sandcrawler," I said.

Canderous sauntered to my side. "Then where are the victors?"

"They ran off."

"And leave this sandcrawler behind? Unplundered?"

"Perhaps they wanted to send a message."

As I debated with the Mandalorian about the turn of events, Bastila strode away from the crawler towards the horizon.

"There's something out there..." she muttered.

I followed her. "Where?"

After all, I hadn't sensed anything—at least, nothing that wasn't already dead. But when I started paying attention to the distance...darkness hung like dirty laundry, permeating the already thick air.

She pointed across the desert.

"There...a shadow."

A black splotch in the middle of an otherwise pale desert wavered in the thick air. Smoke billowed into the blue sky. Another downed sandcrawler. We hadn't been the only ones hit.

Verena called from behind. "It doesn't seem too far off..."

"Let's check it out," I said. "See if there is a speeder or something to take us out of here."

Bastila shook her head. "No, it's too dangerous."

"You really want to walk the rest of the way? In this heat?" I asked. "Also, someone might need our help."

"That is—normally I would agree with that sentiment, but we need to get out before—"

I scoffed. "Come on, we're practically an army."

"We're barely an army. That is your incredibly arrogant ego talking once again."

"Aren't you both Jedi?" Verena said. "Can't you sense if we're in danger?"

Bastila glared at her. "That is true, but—"

"Then what is the problem?"

Bastila pursed her lips but didn't say anything else. We'd somehow convinced her against all odds.

The distance to the sandcrawler was deceivingly far. As we walked, the binary suns blinded me and I wished for the fifth time that our destination wasn't towards those kriffing blimps of light.

"Should've bought sunscreen..." I wiped my brow of sweat then took a drink from one of the canteens in HK's pack.

Mission skipped forward between me and Bastila.

"Twi'leks don't get sun damage."

"Lucky you." I twisted to my right and caught sight of the ever marching HK-47. "HK kind of looks like he's sunburned, huh?"

HK stopped scanning and held his rifle tight. "Disclosure: Unlike organic meatbags, I do not have fragile sheets of floppy tissue protecting interior squishy functions. What you call a 'sunburn,' Master, does not apply to my undeniably superior armor mounts."

Canderous snorted from behind us. "This droid talks a dictionary."

"Undeniably superior?" I watched the shadow of the other downed sandcrawler. We were only halfway there... "If I wanted to, HK, I could take off your armor mounts and let you go running around naked, wires exposed. You'd be lucky if they didn't fry from this heat. Not undeniably superior then, huh?"

There was a moment of silence as the droid processed what I said. Eventually, there was a hissing sigh. "I suppose so, Master. Confutation: But you don't want to take off my armor mounts, do you, Master? I would be useless to you in the event we are required to use lethal force."

I smirked over my shoulder at the droid. "Well, let's hope that you remain useful then."

HK's photoreceptors blinked once in the droid emotive of shock or gawking. Apparently, the droid liked a challenge and I had, unwisely, given him one.

Another hour or so passed until we were close enough to spot the details of the other smoky ruin. The downed Czerka sandcrawler sat beneath a dune—spears littered the conveyor belt treads. The impractical metal box of a vehicle's ramp was wide open for any layabout to enter. Other than that, the mines that took out this one had only caused one of the treads to sink dangerously into the sand.

And more bodies, both Sand People and miners, laid underneath the crawler.

We stopped before the ramp. Turning to HK, I ordered him to stay back and shoot anything that tried to attack from behind (the droid gave me a "with pleasure" in return). As I approached the darkness, I flinched when I sensed something within the opened sandcrawler. I dove and unleashed the blue blade of my lightsaber. Something cried out in a garbled high-pitched language from within the sandcrawler. I pounded my boots up the ramp and lit the inside of the clustered storage area with the beam of my saber.

A shaking figure called out in a clicking dialect near the turned over ore containers.

"No! No trouble create ever. Bombs, fire, violence, only sell. Credits. Never kill."

The Jawa's bright eyes quivered as Bastila rushed beside me with her lightsaber drawn as well. I lowered my blade. Bastila glared at me—probably due to the false alarm. What? Better safe than sorry. The Jawa raised his tiny hands as he staggered to his puny feet. I held out my lightsaber so that it could light the darkened cargo bay.

"It's alright, we're friends," I said. The Jawa relaxed though his beady eyes never wavered in the darkness. "What happened?"

Bastila sighed behind me. "I doubt we'll be able to understand him. The Jawa's language is impossible to decipher."

"Sounds like a challenge." I nodded at the small being. "Go on."

The Jawa coughed. "The giants made of sand, they are horned ghosts that take me away. Credits wanting. Climb onto metal running within desert winds. Didn't mean to go with trade. Boom! Giants made of sand stopped running. Diggers of your kind shouted, dead, dying. Out into the day to get the metal running again. Never came back. Ghosts among the sands."

I rubbed my face of sweat. Kriffing...

"HK!"

The droid somehow heard me and stomped up the ramp. "Yes, Master?"

"Can you translate what the kriff this thing is saying?"

The Jawa repeated it to the droid and HK's red receptors dimmed. "Translation: 98% probability that the miniature organic meatbag intended to speak to the Czerka miners in order to buy this sandcrawler. The meatbag ended up as an unintended passenger. He heard an explosion, saw Sand People, then hid inside."

"Okay...but what's the 2%?"

"Translation: 2% probability that the miniature organic meatbag is looking for trouble and needs to be blasted. That may be wishful thinking on my part, Master."

I shook my head at the droid, before addressing the Jawa. "So, you don't know anything? And this was a waste of our time?"

The Jawa nodded. "Your kind left the giant after the ghosts among the sands attacked. No one own now. Scavenge the giant made of sand for my kind."

"Whoa, wait a—"

The Jawa jumped up to press a red button. The jaws of the "giant made of sand" closed and Bastila, HK, and I rushed down the ramp before it disappeared. Before we could try to get the damn thing open again, something tickled the back of my neck—like the touch of a large bug or wasp landing to bite me.

"Duck!"

I grasped my lightsaber and twirled it underhanded, cutting into the first spear that tried to impale me.

A chorus of ugly growling ruptured from above the dunes. A vicious barrage of weak spears rained down on us. Most if not all missed when Bastila used the Force to throw their weapons aside. Kriff, how could we not sense them when they were so close?

"Fall back!" I shouted at the rest of our team, pointing towards the only cover that existed for us—the sandcrawler—and hoped they got the hint.

We hugged the edge of the treads which tinked with the sound of multiple spear points. HK laughed maniacally and raised his blaster to shoot, but I grabbed it before he could try. We needed to talk to them—not kill them. Before we could run or hide somewhere else, more of those things ran down the dune across from us. Spears ready to stab.

Canderous cursed. Mission flinched. Bastila raised a hand to use the Force. Verena held her vibroblade—as if that could help!

I twisted towards the droid. "Quick, tell them that we're not a threat!"

The droid responded by growling although in a much more mechanical tone. The Sand People stopped running at us as if confused after hearing the droid. The tallest one at the back roared at us in its odd language.

"Translation: They are stunned that we can communicate, Master. He has demanded to tell them what you are doing near the foul machines or you will not leave alive. Query: Can't we just blast them, Master?"

"No blasting. Apologize for being here. Say we want peace."

HK translated again then returned after gaining a response. "Translation: He is expressing disbelief at your request...as am I." HK raised his rifle. "Query: Do you wish for me to blast them now, Master?"

I pushed the rifle down again. "No. Tell them that we wish to speak to their leader to negotiate terms."

"Translation: They say they will bring you to their leader, Master."

I raised a brow. That was easy.

"There's a catch, isn't there?"

"Response: Indeed there is, Master. Your intellectual foresight is quite admirable." Was that sarcasm...from a droid? HK roared and the Sand People responded. "Translation: The only way they will feel safe is if everyone except myself and 'the leader' are taken hostage."

"Leader?" I asked.

"They mean you, of course, Master."

"Now wait just a sec—"

Before I could continue to protest, the Sand People marched down the dune with ropes and spears. They took Verena's vibroblade, Canderous' heavy rifle, Mission's blaster, and Bastila's lightsaber. They didn't take my weapons but I saw the implied threat. If I made any sudden moves, then they wouldn't hesitate to kill.

The Sand People raider leader roared after everyone was tied together and they began to drag them forward.

Canderous shot me a look. "I really hope you have a plan to get us out of this one, pipsqueak."

Hours passed. The twin suns caused most of us (that weren't hidden by dark robes) to sweat rivers. I glanced over at everyone and they shuffled forward—all of them looked completely dehydrated. Who knew how long it would take to get to our destination?

Mission had begun to slow and stagger—the poor girl almost tripped twice. The Sand People lifted their spears as I tried to approach. I raised my hands.

"No, it's…" I pointed at Mission's canteen. "She needs water."

HK translated with mechanical growls. "Translation: They do not care, Master. They think it is a trick."

Heat grew in my chest. Kriff, these things were impossible. If only we didn't need these damn animals for information. Would stab them all in a heartbeat. Bastila met my gaze from the front of the prisoner train—probably sensing my frustration.

So, we continued on until the desert sands became red rocks. Canyons and crags stretched for miles, cutting into what seemed to be numerous cave systems. I wondered if one of those caves in the distance housed a krayt dragon? I glanced behind to see if Bastila had sensed anything, but she never glanced up from her stare-down with her boots.

When both suns crossed three-quarters of the way across the sky, we left the crags and came to a clearing. A wicker camp blanketed the rocky valley. Sand People herded banthas into pens on the outskirts. A group of Sand People riding more banthas—these ones armored with wraid bones—galloped towards us while shouting in their crude language. HK was happy to translate that they were celebrating "a successful raid" and "taught the outsider scum a lesson."

The entrance to the camp was heavily fortified with turrets. Decapitated heads—some human, some alien—were mounted around the perimeter. An obvious warning to anyone who approached. We all stopped at the entrance and the bantha riders dismounted. They pushed closer to me while waving their gaffi sticks. The leader growled something angry.

HK's head swiveled. "Translation: They have asked that you not stray from their sight as they lead you to the chieftain for interrogation. Any sign of violence and they will cut one of the prisoners down."

"Well, aren't they pleasant," Mission muttered.

I shook my head. "Tell them I will not go unless the prisoners come with me."

HK translated but the Sand People leader growled louder while shoving the spear at Mission. "Translation: No, Master. They will take the prisoners to the cages. You and I will have to follow."

"Right, very pleasant."

Why did it have to be me of all people that was burdened with this responsibility?

"Wes." Bastila met my gaze. "Be careful."

I pursed my dried lips. "You're asking for a miracle here..."

The inside of the Sand People's camp was claustrophobic. The walls built out of brush and twigs had either been transported or found at this spot. Sand People of all shapes and sizes gawked as we marched past. Mothers holding sacks that I figured to be babies, heavily armored warriors that were as tall as HK (and that was saying something), and frail elders dug their canes of bone into the sand. All of them were ominous if not ghostly. They never showed their skin or...face ever if at all.

I was cut off from this thought as we were led past dug-out pens holding...people? Piles of people.

The wicker pens were opened and Bastila, Verena, Canderous, and Mission were shoved down into them. I approached the one who pushed them with a sneer.

"Watch it slemos!"

HK hissed. "Proposition: I would keep moving, Master. These sandy meatbags are not patient."

After we passed the pens of both animals and sentient beings, I was led into a grandiose space. It must have been the center of the camp. The wicker doors behind us closed and the Sand People butt spears into my back. Two guards with dark armor took their places beside the exit.

Completely surrounded.

In the center of the circular space, a tiered sandstone patio sat the chieftain who held a decorated pole—bones of many creatures attached to both the handle and point. That must be the gaffi stick Czerka wanted in exchange for our hunting license.

One of the sand people waved at HK. The droid's head swerved 180 degrees to face me.

"Translation: They want us to disarm ourselves, Master. How shall we proceed? Can we slaughter them instead?"

I took my lightsaber from my belt then threw it to the ground. HK didn't move to copy me. Frowning, I reached out and grabbed the rifle only to be resisted.

"HK ..."

The droid gave a mechanical sigh. "Fine, Master." HK released the rifle and I threw the weapon down beside my lightsaber. I nodded to the chieftain who didn't seem too thrilled at our appearance. He waved the gaffi stick at me.

"Translation: The chieftain has demanded you explain your presence."

Well, that was a story—let me tell you. But we didn't have time to go into my escapades at Taris, Dantooine, and Tatooine.

"We need to know the location of something called a 'Star Map' and the krayt dragon that guards it." I glanced back towards the guarded doors. "That and you recently captured a blue Twi'lek. I wish to know what happened to him."

After HK-47 finally translated the request, the chieftain shook his head, sitting back in his seat.

"Translation: He hasn't heard about this 'Star Map,' but he knows the whereabouts of the krayt dragon's cave. As for this prisoner, Master, he does not know. He doesn't keep track of 'slaves.'"

"Okay." That was disappointing. I took a careful step forward. The Sand People flinched but I raised my hands to help pacify them. "Tell me where the krayt dragon is."

"Translation: They will, Master, but first you will need to make a deal."

Oh, joy. Deals. As if that hasn't been trouble for me in any way before. I crossed my arms, making sure my hands were still shown to these barbarians.

"Go on..."

"Translation: The krayt dragon has been a nuisance to them, Master, and in recent years it has grown violent against the bantha herds. You kill the krayt dragon and they will not have to worry about the growing season." HK hissed before he continued. "Until you return with proof that you have slain the creature, they will keep the prisoners hostage."

Wonderful. You know, I fully expected something like this to happen. As if killing rancors wasn't enough...now I'm supposed to go waltzing off and kill a krayt dragon too. And sneaking past the beast wasn't going to be enough for them, oh no.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, a headache beginning to grow. "Tell them it is next to impossible for me to defeat a krayt dragon on my own. I will need help."

The chieftain shook his head. "Translation: They will not give you any of their warriors to die, Master."

"Some of my companions can fight—if I take some of them with me, I may stand a better chance." I shrugged. "Wouldn't it be better for you if we succeeded?"

After HK translated the chieftain sat back with a growl. The "council" of Sand People around him began to argue. Eventually, the leader nodded then waved. A few guards left and a minute or so passed before they returned.

Canderous was first pushed into the throne room followed by Bastila. HK finally translated.

"Translation: They will allow two of your companions to join you. In exchange, I will need to stay behind."

I sighed. Only HK knew how to speak with these things. "It doesn't look like we have much of a choice."

They growled at HK who relayed the directions to the krayt dragon's cave. One of the Sand People kicked my lightsaber to my boots and I hooked it back onto my belt. Before I turned to leave, I glared at the chieftain.

"You lay a finger on any of them and I swear this camp will burn."

HK's photoreceptors blinked. "Query: Are you certain you wish for me to translate, Master? These sandy meatbags might be antagonized."

"Yeah? That would be smart of them."

Before HK could finish his growling, I stomped away with the sand hissing up into my boots. Canderous and Bastila followed with the latter shooting me a concerned look.

We set up a small camp behind some rocks in the crags. A small fire burned within a circle of rocks and slabs of wraid meat Bastila and I had cut down earlier cooked brown. The Mandalorian sat on one of those rocks, grumbling a laugh. He wasn't dripping with sympathy, that's for sure.

The Jedi grew red as I explained the terms. After all, two organics, a droid for the location of the Star Map, and a promise to kill a krayt dragon wasn't a fair trade, surely.

"What made you think agreeing to that was a good idea?" she asked. "How could you just...abandon Mission like that? How easy—?"

"For the hundredth time, I didn't want to abandon them. And it wasn't easy alright?" I said. "Are you saying that you could have convinced the Sand People to release them without bloodshed?"

She studied me for a second as if piecing together my words. Then, all the anger and stress she had over this flowed out of her like a storm.

"I suppose...there was no avoiding it."

Finally. She saw the light.

"I mean, at least they have HK."

Bastila grimaced. "Yes, of course, I forgot the droid. How could I forget the droid? A droid that is an assassin! Thank the Force they have HK-47 with them. The odds of their survival have doubled, no, tripled."

I smirked. "Exactly!"

She grew redder, shifting as she shook her head.

"You are impossible."

"Noted," I said.

"Impossibly arrogant."

"Duly noted."

She huffed a strand of hair out of her face, looking up into the sky as if rolling her eyes. Before I could go on, she pointed to my chest once again.

"Inform Onasi of the situation. We'll camp here and go after the Star Map and the krayt dragon tomorrow. I'll have first watch."

With that command, she stomped away, pigtails slapping air into my face. She took position on a rock the stared out to the cool night. I rubbed the back of my sweaty neck before I caught the Mandalorian's gaze. Grumbling to myself—mostly about the Jedi pouting on her rock—I sat next to the Mando at the campfire then glared into the embers.

"Fried wraid?"

Some meat on a stick dangled close to my face. Grimacing, I took the stick then sniffed it with caution. The Mandalorian laughed.

"It isn't going to kill you, pipsqueak."

My grimace deepened, mimicking Bastila's face from earlier when she climbed into the treads. I ignored him and chomped into the wraid on a stick as I took out the comm, flipping the switch.

"Carth, you there?"

A few seconds passed before I gained a response. As I ate, I told Carth about what happened at the camp and, unsurprisingly, he wasn't thrilled. But at least the Sith hadn't made any moves. Yet. I shoved the comm back into my pocket as the wraid meat's grease leaked down my fingers. Bastila still sat on that rock with her side facing us. Meditating and watching. Dirt scuffs marked her cheekbones and her shoulders relaxed somehow despite the stress of today. Walking for miles in the desert half-dehydrated. Starved. Somehow she kept herself collected.

And no, I wasn't jealous.

There was a familiar annoying laugh when I threw the wraid stick into the flames.

"Have I told you about my wife?"

I sighed—I remembered him mentioning her once.

"Wife?"

Canderous smirk cast strange shadows over his face. "My wife was a beauty years ago. Not that she isn't beautiful now, of course. Just...a tad bit more insane." He chuckled at some joke I wasn't privy to. "She flirted the stars out of me. Was the only one who could manipulate and order me around."

"And how did she do that? Manipulate you, I mean," I said.

A barked laugh. "She hated me."

"Hated you?"

"That's how we Mandalorians flirt. No one else in Clan Ordo had the guts to face me like my wife did. Of course, many women—and men—wanted to bed me. Took some of those favors, of course…who wouldn't? My wife, however, never offered. Until one day, she couldn't resist and..." Thankfully, he stopped. He chuckled—probably as he noticed my disgusted face. "But let's not get too detailed now. What about you? Any crazy women in your life?"

I stared down at my calloused hands. "Sorry, still trying to burn that mental picture out of my brain."

Canderous tilted his head. "You've mastered the ability to change the subject away from yourself. I admit that's an admirable trait."

"When did talking about women become a popular Mandalorian discussion topic?"

"When I'm lacking ale," Canderous said. "And when I'm bored."

Sighing, I laid back against the rock hiding our fire from the crags, and watched the stars—ignoring the Mando's question. Before I could close my eyes and drift into either a peaceful or violent rest, Canderous chuckled again.

"Oh...I see." I opened my eyes. Canderous raised an eyebrow. "You haven't been with a woman, have you? I mean, you are a balls-less Jedi—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Mando." I sneered. "Shut it."

"Jeez, no need to be so defensive about it."

I frowned then remained silent as I thought over Canderous' "question."

For some reason, in the thirty-two years of my life, I'd hadn't connected with anyone on a real deep level. No friends. No lovers. No one—except my mentor perhaps. Sure, on the occasional drunken bout on smuggling runs, a woman would flirt and we'd have fun for a night. But the memories of those nights were clouded and without...emotion. They were just blank faces and motions in a mist of drunken memories. And trying to recall it only made this feeling of...emptiness worse.

Why are you surprised, Wes? You were black-out drunk on all of those occasions. Who knows? Maybe it didn't happen and all of that was just in your head.

"I had...something, I guess."

Canderous shifted. "Oh?"

"My crew...we had a habit of getting drunk after a successful heist. Every time I'd wake up with someone different next to me." I shook my head. I wanted to slap the younger me in the face sometimes. "But a real relationship? No. Not one that I can recall."

"Smart." Canderous took a long drink of water. "It isn't worth being tied down to someone—especially someone who needs to follow your orders. That's part of the reason why I cut ties from the Clan."

It was my turn to ask questions. "Oh? Only part? There's another reason?"

Only now it was Canderous' turn to be defensive.

"That's a story for another day, pipsqueak."

And I didn't press the Mando to elaborate. After all, it was only fair for the talkative Mando to not reveal everything about himself. Especially the parts concerning his wife.

I shivered—and not from the cold.