"What's this layer of the forest called?"

Kashyyyk is an enchanting sprawl of massive trees groaning with life and the noise of a jungle ready to tear something apart. Zaalbar already walks softly for such a large being, but here his steps are hesitant. As if afraid to announce his presence too loudly for fear of the whole forest tumbling down on their heads. He answers Mal's questions in a dull groan that could be mistaken for the wind.

"And what's your word for this type of tree?"

Zaalbar stares down a passing group of twitchy fingered guards then halfheartedly answers.

"Is that one R or two?"

Juhani peeks over Mal's shoulder. "Are you taking notes?"

Mal slides the datapad back into her robes. "Could come in handy later."

Juhani looks to the other companions for comment on this behavior, but they're used to it. "I believe there are a few tomes on this planet in the Enclave library."

"One and a half to be exact," Mal frowns. "And they're really lacking from a cultural perspective."

She doesn't miss the way Juhani's eyes light up in curiosity. "Have you read on the other planets we're to visit as well?"

T3 beeps from behind the group. Mal glances at the droid in suspicion as Bastila nods in confirmation. "Even the ones she's not supposed to."

She's been ratted out for something. Nothing too bad from the amused look on Juhani's face.

"I hope one day you are able to visit the Temple on Coruscant. The library there is extensive and most beautiful."

Now that sounds like a dream vacation. Coruscant just found itself at the top of the list of places Mal plans to visit after this little nightmare. She'd been prepared for a thrilling adventure through a cutthroat forest, slashing her way through thick brush to reach a long-forgotten relic. What she hadn't been prepared for was the corporate blight named Czerka creeping through the trees. And they had the nerve to ask her to pay for docking. She'd refused of course, proclaimed herself a very important Jedi on an equally important mission. Bastila and Juhani were unimpressed.

"Does the word secrecy mean nothing too you?"

"Do not be so frivolous enforcing your will onto others!"

Instead of one uptight babysitter, Mal now has two to cluck over her. Just as well. This place is a minefield of triggers. The sight of the Wookiee in a cage forms a pebble in her stomach. For every snide comment towards Zaalbar, the stone grows. But Mal is a professional. She knows how to smile while stabbing someone in the back.

"You all go on ahead. I need to check something real quick."

Bastila looks back at her in concern. "We really should keep moving."

Mal sighs. "Relax, Mission and T3 can come with me. How much trouble could I possibly get into?"

The look on Bastila's face says, 'A lot,' but she nods and keeps walking with the others. Mission looks reluctant to be separated from Zaalbar. They've had their brushes with prejudice before and a close call with slavery, but this is another level of degradation. Mal would have her wait on the ship if there was any chance of convincing her to listen.

"We'll catch up in a second, I swear." Mal leads the way back to the outpost and huddles them in a corner near the entrance. There's an increased pleasantness from the employees now that their hairy companion is gone. Mission notices it too from the deepening scowl on her face.

"You," Mal points to T3. "Think you can hack into Czerka's systems?"

Maybe it's wishful thinking but his response sounds like an affirmation.

"Download all information on their planetary operations including sales records. And it's okay if you accidentally cross some wires on the way out, disrupt some controls, you know. Everyone makes mistakes." She winks and prays the droid knows what the human gesture means. She raises her voice loud enough to be overheard by the next room. "Mission, haven't you always wanted to explore the possibilities of a corporate career?"

Mission squints at her in suspicion. "I have?"

"Great! Why don't you ask that nice gentleman over there how he got his start." She gestures to the scientist standing further inside typing aggressively at a console.

"Thanks," Mission's smile grows wicked as understanding dawns. "I think I will."

"It'd be pretty irresponsible for me to leave you, a defenseless minor, all alone. I'll go talk to that overseer again while I wait for you to finish. Let's see if he's got any more helpful information."

The Ithorian is clearly paid well, but not enough to deal with the shitstorm that is Mal. A once-over tells her everything she needs to know. Strictly business, never seen a lick of combat, just-doing-his-job type.

"Ah, I see you've returned without your pet."

And a definite sense of superiority.

She smiles sweetly. "Your guards were on the verge of a heart attack. Figured I'd give them a break."

"I assure you they're competent enough to handle one beast."

"Oh, I'm not doubting you. I'm sure you've got some handy techniques for dealing with those who refuse to come willingly."

"Nothing as secret as how you got one to swear service to you."

Mal shrugs dismissively. "I told you before, I got lucky. Right place, right time. Almost like you and this sweet gig. Tell me, is this the end goal of climbing the corporate ladder or is it a steppingstone to bigger, better things?"

The Ithorian dismisses her with a wave. "I go where they tell me for how long they say. Edean is as good a place as any."

Ugh, Edean. The word feels like dry crumbs in her mouth. None of the throaty poetry she's come to enjoy from Zaalbar. But that's always the first step of colonization, right? Give false names to places that can never truly be claimed.

"You make it sound so boring! It's got to be more exciting than that. Lots of action." She leans forward conspiratorially. "Especially when they try to escape."

"Not as exciting as you think. Most of them come willingly with the fight already drained out."

"Willingly? Even my pet is ready to blow at any moment. For example," she points to the nervous looking secretary sitting at the desk behind him. "He really, really wants to rip off his arms and then beat you to death with them." The secretary turns two shades paler as the Ithorian looks ready to faint. Mal bites her cheek to stop from laughing.

"Um, yes, well," he fumbles for words. "That's what the collars are for. Every guard carries a remote to control them."

Mal's smile grows wider. "Now that sounds handy. I might have to make it my next investment."

An offended gasp steals their attention. They turn to see Mission throw her hands in the air. "You call those health benefits? Forget it!" The teen stomps over to Mal leaving a flustered and very confused scientist behind her. "Let's get out of here."

Mal smiles apologetically and places a friendly hand on the Ithorian's arm. "It was nice speaking to you again. Until next time."

He nods politely as they turn to leave. Within seconds T3 rolls up along Mal's other side. She peeks down at him.

"Well?"

"Give it a minute," Mission whispers.

Five steps out of the door and the screaming begins. The outpost is in chaos, scientists running towards the exit while a handful of guards push in. The Ithorian fumbles inside his pockets for something he can't find. Mal discreetly tosses the remote hidden in her hand over the railing. A furry blur rushes towards the exit in a thundering roar. As the guards whip out their remotes, Mal pulls gently at the Force. It's such a sweet sensation, an almost visible reaction as it bends to her will. One by one, the remotes fly from their hands scattering across the floor. It's too late for blaster fire; the newly freed Wookiee leaps past Mal across the walkway and scrambles high into the foliage in the span of a breath.

Mal stares dumbstruck by the utter speed and grace of it all, a million ideas running rampant through her head until Mission nudges her arm.

"You alright?"

A look of pure excitement blooms across her face. "When this is all over, do you think Zaalbar would have a tree climbing race with me?"