The cargo hold was filled to the brim with containers of many goods. The containers were all sectioned off by a few flimsy screens. Food had been stored near the back—the coldest part of the hold. Since nothing was labeled and the Wookiees had thrown everything randomly, I had to open each container to find what I desired.

Anything but Tarisian ale.

First container—Kashyyyk fruits. Second—Tarisian ale. Third—juma juice. But it was virgin. Who would bother cutting out the best part of a drink? Oh, right, Czerka would.

After opening twenty containers, I found it. Thirty bottles of green liquor lined the cold container. Twi'lek liquor. Stuff was strong. Perfect. I'd be knocked out within the hour. It went without saying that I couldn't sleep.

I smiled as I grabbed a few bottles to throw into the canteen. When I closed the container, the sound of something... squishy and wet slapped near the front of the hold. Almost as if something was leaking. Hopefully not from one of the containers.

I weaved around the screens towards the squishing. The noise slapped the ground again, and that's when I realized it was coming from underneath one of the empty wheeled carts. Placing the bottles on the cart, I bent low and peered into the darkness beyond.

A shadow jumped and I flinched. An amphibious, bipedal creature cooed.

A gizka. Of all things, I'd been spooked by a gizka.

I sighed, rubbing my face. Well, thank the Force there was only one. Because if there was another then, well, gizka bred... like gizka.

The creature's eyes, which were the size of two coins at least, looked at me from the darkness—curious about the giant that invaded its new home. It neither jumped away nor at me.

Smiling, I reached a hand under the cart. The gizka didn't move as I beckoned it. "Come on, little guy. You'll get crushed if you hide under here." I shook my head. "You probably have no idea what's going on, huh? Ignorance is bliss, I guess..."

Why was I talking to the gizka like it could understand me? File that under the long list of proof that I was, indeed, going insane.

Apparently, my hand wasn't enough to coax it out. I stood, looking about the cargo hold, before spotting the crates of nutrition bars. I grabbed one and bent low once more, extending the food towards the creature. The gizka relaxed after a minute passed of the nutrition bar not attacking it. It cooed— cutely —then hopped towards me. Eventually, it was out from underneath the cart and close enough so that I could feed it. I smiled as it munched on the bar, and reached up to pet it behind the nubs that passed for ears. The skin was oily yet strangely soft. And...and it purred. Cutely.

As it ate the nutrition bar, I sat down and pet it for...a long time—its beady eyes entrancing. A giggle escaped my lips. I grabbed my mouth then glanced behind me at the entrance of the cargo hold. No one had heard...thank the Force.

He finished eating with a small burp. Before I could try picking him up to find a place for him, the gizka jumped onto my lap and looked up at me with his buggy eyes. He was like a child. A baby. I bit my lip then glanced at the hall again. Everyone was already asleep anyway...

I hid my eyes.

"Boo!"

The gizka jumped after I unhid my eyes. I laughed, amazed it actually reacted. These creatures were smarter than they looked.

"Boo!"

It jumped again and cooed with joy. The gizka jumped on my lap, almost as if it was demanding for me to do it again. And I really, really, couldn't help it. Believe me. There was just something about it.

I played this stupid game for a few minutes at least. Too long. I should have left with my drinks and dignity. But, Force, I couldn't resist.

This...this really said a lot about my current state of mind if I was laughing over a gizka of all things. I didn't even have the excuse of being drunk yet! Was it sleep deprivation? Or perhaps the stress of the upcoming battle was already getting to me. Yeah, that was probably it.

That had been the sane part of my mind, of course. The more wild, insane part chuckled after the gizka jumped back again in shock that I was, indeed, still there.

"Okay...okay, one more time, alright? I have things to do…"

Drinks to ingest.

I hid my eyes for longer than usual. Yeah, I was going to pull a fast one on the little guy. Its cooing got louder as I continued to hide my eyes.

One...two…

"Boo!"

The sound of someone letting out a snort came from the entryway of the cargo hold.

Oh.

Oh, no.

I didn't even care to see how the gizka reacted. No. My face had begun to burn like a thousand lightsabers. It didn't matter who stood there—they saw me playing a childish game with a gizka like a little girl.

Just blast me already.

My head turned, like HK's would, incrementally, to face the Murderer.

Bastila stared down at me with...a stunned, humored expression.

No. Not a thousand lightsabers. A million along with a star. I was going to burn to death. Imagine that epitaph—Wesley Gale, dead by a million lightsabers and a star shoved into the ass. My body wouldn't even be in an urn or casket at that point, truth be told. Instantly vaporized.

The gizka jumped off of my lap after a minute of this internal crisis.

I couldn't take it anymore. I crossed my arms and looked down in shame. Yes, shame. Because that's what this situation garnered. I couldn't even say anything. It was like I was shell-shocked. And maybe I was. I didn't even dare sense the bond. She was probably laughing, internally, at this situation.

Would anyone grieve for my loss? Mission would. I could see Juhani too. Carth and Verena? Yes, but not for long. Canderous? He'd call me a coward for dying like this. Bastila...well, she's my murderer. Though murderers regret killing their victims at times. So, maybe Bastila…

She walked into the cargo hold and sat cross-legged in front of both me and the gizka. I expected her to start huffing about some gross creature making its way into our food storage. Or for her to start lecturing me about expressing too many emotions over a stupid gizka. Which I would agree with for once. It was rather dumb and I had no idea what came over me.

But, no, she didn't do any of those things. Because of course she didn't.

"How did you get in here?" She asked the gizka as she reached over and pet him behind the ears. "It's...hmm, cute? In a weird way."

The heat on my face died down to a thousand lightsabers. Enough for me to risk a smirk.

"I've never heard you call anything cute before."

Bastila smirked back at me. "And I've never heard you giggle before."

"I didn't—!" I choked on my words and put on a calmer expression. "I didn't giggle."

Her gray eyes sparkled.

"Liar."

"No!" I waved a finger. "No. Don't you dare! "

"I don't have to sense the bond to know what you're really feeling." The glint reflected in her eye. "The signs are all there."

Kriff this woman! Using my own words against me.

"Uh…" I glanced over at the bottles. "Well, it seems like I'm a little tipsy…whoops! Heh, heh."

"Do you think I'm stupid? You're obviously sober."

I dropped the act. "What do you know about being drunk? You never had a drink in your life."

"W-What?" She glanced away. "No, I've...I've had a drink before."

"Oh, really ?" I raised a brow. "What drink?"

"Um...a beer."

Sure.

"Was it during your rebellious phase?"

"R-Rebellious phase?"

"We all have them, Bastila. Or well...non-Jedi do." I scratched my chin. "Maybe Jedi raised by Jedi always stay stodgy though."

She sighed. "You know...it would make too much sense if you were drunk. But this is you we're talking about."

"Are you saying I act drunk all the time?"

"No, I'm saying you're trying to distract me from the fact that you giggled and played peekaboo with a gizka like a child."

My chest was once again on fire.

"Back to that again?" My eyebrows creased. "I didn't giggle. That was a hallucination. Or a...vision—yes! A vision. They're starting to get weird, eh, Bas?" I nodded. "And how long were you standing there anyway? I thought you were sleeping or...went back to meditating away your attraction to me."

Red blossomed on her face. "I-That is not why I went to meditate. And do I need a reason to go to the cargo hold?"

"What do you need to get this late at night? Juma juice? Didn't know you had a habit like that on the side, sunshine. Tisk, tisk."

"J-Juma juice? No, I…well…" She rubbed the back of her head while her face once again flushed. "I sensed…something unusual in the bond."

I paused, my smile wavered.

"Unusual?"

"Um…" Her gaze avoided mine except in flickers. "You were…happy. Very…happy. It…it was overwhelming. Distracting. I couldn't sleep."

My breath escaped my lungs.

"That's…you think that's unusual?" I pursed my lips. Was it? "Do…do you even know what it feels like to be happy? Because I'm happy a lot—smile, laugh, joke around. You probably just didn't realize that's what it was."

"No, you…" She sighed. "Of course I know what happiness feels like. I'm not that emotionally inept. You just…you never actually—"

I snatched the gizka—he was bored of us and trying to escape back underneath the cart. I tried to hold it still as he squirmed but he slipped out of my hands. My face warmed again and I tried to grab him only for him to jump into Bastila's lap. She flinched at the gizka and froze as his buggy eyes stared up at her. A moment of her just staring at the creature passed.

She covered her eyes.

"Boo!"

The gizka jumped. A snort that sounded like a ray of light left her lips. Then full-blown laughter. And that overwhelming sensation of warmth. This…this is what she was talking about. Happiness. And it was unusual. Part of me wished she would be...happy like this more often. Whether through herself or…through the bond.

A laugh of my own left my lips until it matched her own. Her eyes flickered up at me. She covered her mouth as her forehead grew red.

"Ah, ha…" My laughter ceased and my grin began to hurt my jaw. "So, you're a Gamorrean."

Her laughter ceased with mine.

"Gamorrean?!"

"I mean, with a snort like that?" I whistled. "I'm surprised you kept up the ruse for so long."

"That...that wasn't—"

"Don't worry, sunshine." I put a finger to my lips. "Secret's safe with me." I stood, making sure to grab the liquor. "And, since we're divulging secrets, I happen to be a Hutt in disguise. I know—plot twist."

She blinked. "A Hutt in disguise…? What—?"

I shook the bottles. "Twi'lek liquor wouldn't be a bad place to start your rebellious phase. Better than beer—which you had, definitely."

Bastila's eyes became hooded as she stared up at me.

"You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow—"

"Right. Tomorrow." I stared down at my boots before I smiled down at her. "Sometimes you need to forget your troubles by smiling, Bastila, or trouble is all you'll ever have."

I could tell she was going to try to make another argument. But she wasn't able to convince herself to voice an argument I was definitely going to win.

Gil the Gizka had been temporarily trapped with a metal barricade in the mostly empty storage compartment in the main hold. Sprinkling some crumbs from another nutrition block, Bastila and I were rest assured that the little guy was safe and sound. At least until we could find a proper home for him on the ship.

"On the ship?" Bastila asked.

I grabbed two glasses from the kitchen cabinets. "Uh, yeah?" I placed them on the counter. "Where else?"

"We aren't keeping it."

"Aw, come on!" I pouted. "It was meant to be. The Force willed Gil to find us."

"You...you already named it?"

"Him." I opened one of the bottles with a pop. "And yes."

The Jedi sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "We don't...we won't have time to take care of it or feed it."

"Gizka survive months without food."

"Yeah, but still…he should be with someone who would give him proper attention. Gil deserves that much, right?"

I glanced over my shoulder at her smirking face. I smiled back.

"Fine—you've convinced me." I poured the green liquor into my own glass until it was about half full. I paused before I poured a few splashes into Bastila's glass. "He'll follow us around. Gil will be like our own personal mascot."

"N-no, that isn't—"

"What do you wanna mix with?"

Her shoulders fell as she muttered to herself. I tilted my head closer to her.

She sighed. "Nothing."

"Nothing? You sure? Twi'lek liquor isn't going to taste good straight. Believe me—you're not going to like it." I opened the fridge and peered around. "Could make a Lekku Twist—that's lime and salt on the rocks...if you like sour…?" I raised a brow but when she didn't react, either positive or negative, I continued. "Or maybe a fruity drink. Women like those."

Bastila rolled her eyes with a huff. "I'll just...have it how you have it."

"Pfft, I don't mix."

She flinched. "You...but you just said that didn't taste good."

"Well, I don't care about making it taste good as long as it works, sunshine." I grabbed some juices from the fridge along with some ice. "Fruity it is."

The Jedi grew quiet as she watched me put together her drink. It had been a while since I'd actually mixed something, but she didn't need anything too complicated. After pouring a mismatch of ingredients, I threw it in the mixer, and a few seconds later the drink was ready.

I handed it to the Jedi who stared down at it—at least it wasn't the grimace she made to the speeder fuel on Tatooine before. Taking up my own glass along with the bottle, I made for the bench next to the holodeck. I sat, placing the bottle on the floor next to my foot. Bastila followed, sitting a few feet away, staring up into the blue lights.

I raised the glass.

"For tomorrow."

I placed it to my lips and took a mouthful of the liquor that burned my tongue. Heat filled my chest. Yup—Twi'lek liquor always got me tipsy and tired fast. Perfect. When I took another drink, I noticed Bastila still hadn't touched hers and instead traced the liquid forming on the edges.

"Um, you okay?" I peered past the shadow covering her face. "I didn't put too much in there—promise. And if you're worried about breaking the Code, well..."

"No, I…" She sighed. "Jedi are allowed to drink, you know. In moderation, as with everything, but it isn't taboo. It's just my mother, she…" Her gaze flickered. "When Father and her fought, it was always because she was drunk or...it was about her drinking. She always became...angry at me when she had too much. One time she yelled at me so loud and was so enraged over something that I did, she threw—" Bastila stopped herself from continuing. "I've seen what drinking in excess does. And I fear...I'd always feared that I'd be like her if I tried it."

Force. I glanced down at my own drink. I wanted to slap myself for missing such an obvious detail. Of course she'd be uncomfortable with it. Things like that...she wouldn't have just gotten over it even if her mother was forgiven. Stupid Wes. I scooched close—close enough that I accidentally bumped her knee.

"Sorry." I held out my hand. "You don't have to, really. I shouldn't have—"

Bastila raised the glass at me with determination.

"For tomorrow."

She took a drink. Her lips scrunched as she tasted the sour of the liquor. I lowered my arm, unintentionally resting it on her leg. When she shifted at my touch, I flinched back to rest it on my knee. I stared at her for a long moment then returned to drinking my liquor. We stayed silent for a while after that. When I occasionally looked at her, she would be sipping at her own drink. In silence. Yet, it wasn't a bad silence. Not really. It felt…safe. Secure.

I finished my glass. The buzz was starting to kick in.

"Sometimes...I can't sleep," I muttered.

Bastila nodded. "I know. I can't either."

"No, not..." I grabbed the bottle from the floor and poured another glass. "Sometimes I can't sleep without drinking. Next to impossible."

Her gray eyes wavered with concern.

"Why?"

I sighed. "I don't know." I placed the bottle back down. "Sometimes I'm fine—you know? Like at the Enclave—didn't need a drink once. Though it wasn't like there was a cantina to tempt me anyway. It would have been nice at times after one of Master Vrook's lectures...kriff, he's an asshole." I took another drink then rubbed the glass. "Maybe it's...it's control? The lack of control..."

I shook my head from the fog, my words were slurring. Bad. "When...when things get out of my control, drinking…helps. It was worse...worse when I was younger." I took another drink, finishing that glass. "I'd drink myself unconscious...end up across the ship or...in someone else's bed. Most of my memories from five...ten...fifteen years ago...all a blur or...or just gone. Forever." I combed a hand through my hair as I rubbed my temple. "Though, guess that's my fault. I was a stupid kid, really. So stupid."

"No." Something light grabbed my shoulder. I peered at her or tried to. She was getting unfocused. "No. You are not stupid. Never say that. You..." Even though she'd had little to drink, her voice skipped while a smile wavered on her face. "I look up to you, you know? I wouldn't look up to someone stupid."

"You...look up to me?" My hot breath fanned the air. "You...you aren't drunk already, are you?"

She bunched up my sleeve. "What? Is that so unbelievable?"

"Yes. It's so unbelievable I'm beginning to think you've been replaced by a Clawdite."

Her hand fell. "Well, it's true. I do...look up to you."

"Why?" I leaned to the side—my shoulder touching hers. "Why would you look up to me? I'm a drunken mess and the worst…the worst Jedi in the galaxy. I didn't think you were that stupid."

"I look up to you because…" Her eyes flickered down to her drink. "Because you don't let anything phase you. Sure, you complain about having this...destiny and the visions, but that's because I can sense your emotions. I can ask the right questions. But in front of everyone else? You still...you're still able to smile. Joke. Laugh. Even when on the inside..."

There was a flicker of pain as she took a drink herself. "You say you're happy a lot, but that's not true, is it? I haven't sensed true happiness from you. Not once. Not until today. And you were only happy because of something...something so stupidly simple. To put on a smile for everyone. To be there for everyone when inside you want to...just crawl into a corner. It takes strength. Strength that I don't have."

I blinked a few times at her rambling—not quite sure I heard her correctly. And I should have been disturbed. I would have been disturbed, before, about her dissecting my mind like that. Yet...

I snorted.

She glared at me. "What?"

"Stupid."

"Stupid? "

I took another drink to calm my shaking hands, but I think that only made things worse. "If that's why you look up to me, Bastila, then I'm sorry but you are galactically stupid. Because that…that 'strength' is something you don't want. Ever. Believe me."

She shook her head. "What is more approachable, Wes? A fake smile? Or an emotionless mask? Because my emotionless mask made me the Republic's tool—a thing ."

"You aren't a thing." My voice raised—anger bleeding through. Possibly a result of the alcohol. "You aren't ."

"I know!" Now she was shouting. "But the Republic thinks I am! Don't you see? I resent them for it. The dark side...the dark side has already taken hold of me. Probably even before—"

"Oh, come on!" I slapped a hand on my knee. "The dark side? Really? Anyone would resent being treated like that, Bastila, and it isn't your fault for feeling that way either. And would someone who fell to the dark side care about saving others like that? You haven't fallen. Don't be ridiculous."

"I don't know how many times I have to say it, Wes," Bastila whispered. "We are all vulnerable to falling. And attachments...make it worse. My attachments to those millions of people, to the Republic, makes it worse." Her body shuddered. "I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have agreed. It was a mistake. The mission—"

"Stupid."

That caused her lips to snap closed. Her gray eyes wavered but she didn't say anything else. Somehow, that word had stunned her into silence. So, I returned to my drink again, allowing the warmth to flood my face. I finished my third...fourth?

The drink made me ramble. Things were fading in and out. "That...you didn't make a mistake. Even if the Republic guilted you into it...you chose to protect the people anyway. I could never...that choice. A difficult choice. You've fought…Sith…fought back against evil. You didn't…you didn't need to be dragged into this war kicking and screaming like me. I could never. I'm not…I'll never be that. A hero. I'm nothing. So, don't look up to me. Don't. Because I look up to you."

She didn't say anything in response for a long time. Her fingers once again rubbed the surface of her glass.

"I…" She finished her drink. "Before the Masters recognized my power, I never dreamed of leading or having control over who lives. Who dies." Her shoulder shifted against mine. "I didn't really choose to be a hero. But you…you did."

I snorted—my face felt hot. "Are…you sure you're talking about me here? Because all...all of this...cause of fate. Never had...choice."

Her gray eyes connected with my own, or at least tried to, and her head tilted. So, was she a lightweight? One spiked drink was enough? Her hot breath brushed across my chin and her pale cheeks flushed. And we were close. Too close…

"Of course I'm talking about you. You..."

Her mouth slammed shut.

My brows creased. "I only care about...myself." I grabbed the bottle again. "Vile, inconsiderate, egotistical...asshole? Remember?"

"Do you?" I finished pouring—some spilled over onto my hand. I shot her a confused look. What did she say? "Do you really only care about yourself?"

"...yeah."

"Liar."

I gaped, reset, then took a drink, smacking my lips—some of it spilled on my lap.

"N-No." I shook my head. "No."

"You're lying." Her arm wrapped around mine and her head rested on my shoulder. Warmth. "I know because you...you care about me. I sense it. All the time."

Warm feelings perforated the bond. I wasn't sure…if it was because she was drunk —or…was she drunk? Or maybe I was the one who was drunk…? My eyes and head grew heavy with fatigue as the liquor began to have an effect. Yeah, heh, I'm drunk. My free hand shook as I took another drink. I don't think she was though? Drunk? But she'd never say something like that or get so close to me sober. So close. Warm. Her Jedi sensibilities—

Is her attraction something else? Something more…?

No, idiot. That's the guy downstairs talking. She sees you as a friend. You'd sense it if it was otherwise. And the drink...you're drunk.

Yeah, ha, I'm drunk! Stupid Wes. What would she see in someone like me anyway? Even if we weren't Jedi...

But she's right, you know.

What?

You lied.

No. No, I didn't.

You care about her. Actually...it's more, isn't it?

No, I—

Admit it.

Admit what?

Come on, coward, at least admit it to yourself. You—

Drinks, remember? It's the drinks…I'm drunk.

That's an excuse and you know it.

Nope! Not an excuse, I—

You love her.

Bastila flinched. Panic. She pushed me a bit—but that only caused my head to drift to the side. It was stopped by a warm, soft sensation.

It wasn't just an attraction...an infatuation...was it?

No, idiot. It's the drinks…you're drunk.

My glass fell into my lap. I closed my eyes and let the blissful nothing take over.

The empty glass shook in my hand and the blues of hyperspace swirled outside the window. I let the light wash over me instead of closing the shutters. I was sitting in my captain's quarters on the Tabula Rasa—bottle at my feet. Chest heavy. So this was a dream. A memory. Not a vision. And it had been one of those days when I couldn't sleep.

It was the day before a heist.

Bzzt!

Someone buzzed the door. I already knew who it was. I sighed, waving to unlock it. He better have had a good reason to interrupt my "sleep" this time.

The sound of heavy footsteps came from behind. There was only one person it could be. My first mate—Alen. He'd walk like that—so loud and boisterous like he didn't care where his feet fell. Of all the people in my crew who could have betrayed me, it wouldn't have been him.

"We're ten minutes away from exiting hyperspace, Captain," he said. "Everyone is in position."

I nodded with a hum, placing my empty glass on the table next to me.

"Alright, go on ahead. I'll be there in a moment."

"I'd get there soon—they're restless. You know how they are."

Then, it got quiet—Alen didn't leave for some reason. It frustrated me that he hadn't listened to my orders. I just wanted a few seconds of peace before all hell broke loose.

He eventually spoke over the silence.

"Did you even get any sleep?"

I sighed but didn't answer. He already knew the answer. My bed hadn't been touched.

"I'm fine," I said. "Go on ahead. That's an order."

"It wasn't your fault, you know," he continued, ignoring me. I sensed Alen sitting on the chair opposite me at the table. I still faced the window. "There wasn't much that we could do. It was either—"

"Did you hear me?" My voice lowered. "Because I gave you a direct order."

He grew silent as I said those words. Cold words. I'd been unfeeling—sure—but we didn't have time to talk about our feelings when there was a job to complete. The heist was all that mattered. The operation. The credits. Alen should have known this by now. And any past regrets…well, they went into the trash compactor where they belonged.

After a second, he sighed. "Okay, I…sorry, Captain." The chair creaked. "I'll be on the bridge."

He left with heavier footfalls.

"Daw!"

The voice of Mission pierced my consciousness—interrupting my dream and memory of Alen. Hadn't thought about him or my crew since my imprisonment. Not enough time to, really, with everything—

Something heavy collided on my head—along with it, a familiar pain of a hangover spiked my brain. I groaned into a pillow—wait, pillow?—before pushing myself up, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. The warmth was gone. Memories...most gone after the third drink except flashes of myself embarrassingly rambling on and…

Oh, kriff, hopefully I didn't say anything...out of character.

I swung my feet over—wincing in pain. The drinks and glasses were gone. Bastila...she was gone, replaced with a pillow and a...blanket? The blanket had fallen to my feet, revealing a massive green stain on my trousers.

And a gizka looked up at me from the pillow with cute eyes.

"G-Gil?" I rubbed my face—clicking my dry tongue. "How...how the hell did you get out, little guy?"

Mission rushed into the main hold from the hallway—holding…

Uh, oh.

"Wessy, look! Gizka!"

She shook another poor gizka around.

That...that wasn't Gil, was it?

Mission chuckled nervously. "They're cute but, um…they've kinda infested the place."

Two jumped onto the holodeck, some had begun chewing at wires, some…crawled onto the tables. The sound of HK-47 howling about his "middle motors" in the distance caused me to wince. T3-M4 rolled from the cockpit, screeching in terror as two rode his chassis like a Mando would ride a Basilisk droid.

I massaged my temples. "Ugh..."

Why am I not surprised that I woke up to all of this chaos?

"Where...where did they all come from?" Mission stuttered.

I was speechless. So much so, before I could answer or...try to rectify this situation, Verena stomped in from behind Mission, face red, hair wet from a shower. I sensed pure darkness from the woman.

"Kill them, " she whispered.

I flinched out of fear, mostly.

"Wha…"

Verena chuckled while eyeing Mission's gizka...but it wasn't out of humor. "Kill them. Kill them all. Before it's too late."

Once again, I was rendered speechless. Was this all a hallucination caused by the hangover? It was starting to feel like it.

Mission moved her gizka away. "No, don't!"

"Poison...fastest way. Will be painless, girl, I promise—" Verena rushed to the compartment where Gil resided. "GAH!" The poor Echani woman hunkered down behind the steel barricade as if she was under fire. But no she'd...only seen Gil. "Kill it, Jedi, kill it, please! Xai'chath vyl'pas…" And she continued to ramble on in Thyrisian about the "fucking little pests" while shaking in terror.

"Oh, it'll be fine, Little V!" Mission said, waving the gizka. It mewled. "See! I'm holding one. They don't bite! And they're cute!"

"Cute!" Verena shouted. "Cute, no, they are terrifying! And don't call me that!"

"What? Little V?"

"Yeah, don't."

The young Twi'lek looked as if she was about to argue before she was interrupted by Carth storming in from the other hallway. Looking...pissed. At me for some reason.

"What did you do?"

"What?" I shot up from the bench, tipping slightly due to the hangover. "Why did…why did you think I did something? I didn't do anything!"

For once.

Carth crossed his arms, lifting a suspicious brow. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the Ebon Hawk is infested with gizka."

"No, Orangy, I just so happened to not notice the multiple gizka jumping around. Suffering from a mild hangover, you see."

His face grew red. "I went to the cargo hold. There were practically a hundred of them in one of the containers!"

Mechanical stomping interrupted his incoming rant.

"Exclamation: Oh, Master! Is this revenge for threatening death upon the blue meatbag?" HK-47 stomped into the main hold. His photoreceptors blinked slowly. Two gizka were chewing his hydraulics. "Because if so, this is a brilliant torture tactic that even I myself wouldn't have thought of!"

Before I could answer, the droid shook his leg then crushed one of the creatures underfoot with a violent squelch. Green blood seeped into the metal floors.

Mission gasped. "No! How could you!"

"Great." Carth threw his hands. "Just great. I'm not cleaning that."

"HK!" I rubbed my forehead and waved. "Stand by."

"Protestation: But Master! They are eating my motors—my wires! If I stand by, I will not be able to defend myself from further damage—"

"I can fix you, idiot!" I hissed as another piercing headache hit my brain. "Stand by!"

There was a mechanical hiss of a sigh. "Fine, Master. Signing off."

His photoreceptors dimmed.

Verena hissed. "No! Let it kill them. Let it!" She laughed. "Could have killed them all easy...easy…"

"Is…is Verena okay?" Carth asked me. "She's acting a bit deranged."

More pain entered my skull. It seemed to correspond to all of this talking.

"Ask me when I don't feel deranged myself."

"So...never?"

"Egh!" Juhani shrieked as she skipped out of the hallway with a face of disgust. "Um...why are there so many gizka, Gale? They were all...everywhere...it..."

I groaned. "I don't know! Why does everyone think I know!"

"Because you wanted to inspect all of the containers as they were being hauled in!" Carth said, pointing a finger at me. "A job you obviously half-assed!"

"But I didn't see any gizka!" Pain. More pain. Ow. "Two must have slipped in. They breed like crazy..."

"Yeah, but not like this!" Carth shouted. "This is insane levels of gizka."

"Guys, guys!" Mission interrupted with a nervous chuckle. "Come on! It's not that bad, really?"

"It's bad," we all said in unison.

This caused the Twi'lek to stick out a lip. "You're all no fun!"

That's when Canderous stormed in looking like his entire family had been murdered in front of him. Though, in all honesty, I don't think he'd look that disturbed even if his family had been sliced into pieces and thrown at his feet.

"Rotten pests…they're all over kriffing the place…"

He looked at me.

I frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that for? I didn't do anything, I swear!"

"I don't know—do something about it."

"W-Why me?" I hissed. "You do it."

I glanced over at the one jumping, cutely, on my pillow. I really didn't want to do it.

"I won't be able to kill them fast enough, pipsqueak."

"No!" Mission shouted at the Mando. "Why do you want to kill them! They're adorable!"

Canderous snorted. "If they don't stop breeding they'll chew up the hyperdrive or worse. Seen it happen before—it ain't pretty, kid."

"Don't worry—checked the engine room. It's all clear, but…" Carth's voice trailed. "We really need to deal with them before it gets worse."

"Ha, ha! I thought I left Kashyyyk's jungle." Jolee sauntered in—patting a gizka on his shoulder. Great—my head was about to hurt even more. "Or maybe this is a result of that root from earlier. Not dancing this time though..."

"Who's...who's the old man?" Canderous asked, grabbing at his rifle. "Some homeless stowaway?"

Oh, right, he technically didn't meet Jolee yet, huh?

I sighed. "He's no one. Ignore him—"

"Oh, ho! A Mandalorian! Fought some of you in the war, you know..." Canderous raised a brow. The old Jedi grinned. "You really do have a diverse set of companions here, kid. You should all tell me how you happened to join this quest. Always do like to hear stories other than my own—"

"While I'd like to, Jolee, we really don't have time to reminisce," Carth muttered. "We need to figure out how to fix this...Gizka issue."

"Ah! Well, that's an easy solution." Jolee grabbed the gizka on his shoulder and dropped it to the floor. "First, don't act threatening or force them into containment—the gizka are only known to breed fast because impatient fools make that mistake. Their breeding is a survival instinct. If we live and let live, they'll stop."

"So, do nothing about it? That's what you're saying?" I said, voice rising. "That...that is not a solution! The opposite of one, in fact!"

Jolee shrugged. "Beats me then. Not much else we can do until we land and pawn them off, kid. Unless you want to make the problem worse?"

I opened my mouth to argue against that, but that is when Bastila limped in…looking absolutely exhausted. I glanced away—avoiding eye contact. And no, it wasn't because I was slightly embarrassed about falling asleep on her drunk last night. I rubbed my forehead. Kriffing…needed painkillers.

"Quiet down, all of you." She rubbed her head with a sigh, accent slightly cracking. "How...how did this happen?"

Carth answered with a sigh. "There was some random container in the cargo hold that had been left open." Oh...um, that might have been my fault then, actually. I was going crazy with opening those containers. I kept my mouth shut, of course. Wasn't stupid enough to out myself. Carth continued. "I...don't think it was any of the ones that we brought on board, come to think of it. It was marked with the word Josephine if that means anything..."

Both Bastila and I flinched. Then utter silence except for the occasional slap of gizka jumping around the ship. The Jedi was probably glaring at me, but I didn't dare look over. Though I did sense some humor in the bond, so for once I was probably incorrect on that assumption.

"Handled that perfectly, did you?"

I finally faced the Jedi with my face radiating, hands on my hips. She was smirking.

"How the hell was I supposed to know they'd be shipping gizka of all things!"

"So, it was your fault!" Carth interrupted. A smile grew on his face. Then a snorted laugh. "Ha! Knew it."

"Well, then." Canderous marched away. "Since this isn't our fault, have fun dealing with your mess, pipsqueak."

I flinched. Horrified. "What...no, wait!"

Verena nodded, shaking. "Yes, not our fault. Not our mess."

She left towards the engine room—the only place without gizka, supposedly—while casually avoiding the small, innocent creatures. Carth sighed, that shit-eating grin still on his face, then whistled on his way to the cockpit.

I chuckled. "Guys...ha…no wait, don't just leave me."

Jolee walked towards the canteen then pat my shoulder as he passed by. "Sorry, kid. We all make mistakes."

Betrayal. Ultimate betrayal.

Bastila sighed, rubbing her temple, before walking back towards the dorm room without a word. I think our ruckus actually woke her up, so I didn't blame her for abandoning me.

Only Mission and Juhani remained, staring at me with sympathy. Or pity. Probably pity.

The young Twi'lek grinned. "So...do we get to keep them?"

Juhani and I sighed.

A bit of a slice-of-life/fluff tinged with angst chapter this time around - with some important plot points that will be relevant later sprinkled in of course :)

Next time you'll learn where they're actually going (aka it's the last Ebon Hawk chapter), I promise! Sorry for keeping you in suspense for so long!