A/N: the nightmare is almost over and my stress level/fibro flare feels like it's already receding a bit. hell yeah. maybe I'l remember to update now. Here's hoping!


A full week passed of useless reconnaissance and ship repair, compounded by constant Exchange stonewalling and a general unwillingness to help. Even the refugees they saw lost their desire to talk to them, save the old man that spent most of his time near the Hawk. And the more the Exchange stonewalled, the less patient Trista was. Everyone seemed to know who — and what — she was, but no one had confronted her, attacked her, or anything.

Even Atton was confused by the lack of attention, and couldn't explain the silence.

"All right," Trista said on their sixth day, as they gathered in the main hold, "we're going to split up this time. I'll take HK and Atton. Handmaiden, Visas, Mical, go scour the docks again and see if you can hear anything. If this keeps up, we'll assume he's not here and move to a different sector."

"I do not believe we should move," Kreia said, "I feel we have come to this sector for a reason."

"Yeah. Anyway. We'll meet up either in four hours, back here, or if someone finds something out. Bao-Dur, I assume you want to keep working on the ship?"

He nodded. "I'll keep T3 back here. We should finish the stabilizers today, if we aren't interrupted."

"If you are, let us know." Trista frowned as she looked back at the other three. "All right. Head out, you three, and contact us if anything happens."

Despite Handmaiden's wary eye on Visas, she nodded. "We will be fine."

The trio departed, and Atton glanced across the table. "You sure it's safe to send those two out together?"

"I don't think Handmaiden will toss her off a walkway unless she has a reason to." Trista sighed and stood. "All right. Let's head out."

The sector was, as it had been, quiet, save for the howling of the traffic only a few meters above their heads. The feeling of being watched did not diminish, and she pulled her coat tighter around her.

"Atton, I don't know what to do from here," she admitted. "No one will give us any information. And without information, we're dead in the water." She sighed. "I was hoping Ell would just... I don't know, try to meet with us by now, but..." Trista shook her head.

"Nah, it sounds like they tried to dig in real deep. He's not going to just meet with you out of nowhere." Atton shrugged. "We'll figure something out, Tris, we always do."

"So far."

As they turned the corner toward the plaza, someone hissed a psst next to them. The old refugee waved them toward him. Trista glanced at Atton, who shrugged, and knelt next to him.

"Got a message for ya," he said. "Real scary Trandoshan. Thought he just wanted to re-break my legs at first."

"What did he say?" Atton asked, joining her.

"Asked if I'd been talking to you and your crew. I said maybe, so he said, 'give a message to the ex-Jedi.' I asked who that was, and he described you. Don't worry, I've got no interest in your business."

"Thanks."

"Anyway, he said he wanted to talk to you, and he'd be in the dive bar over there. 'Tell her I'll come to her' is what he said. I don't think he's gonna try to kill you."

"Great." Trista handed him another five credits. "Thanks for the info."

"Anytime." He tucked the credits away, and they stood and headed toward the indicated bar.

"You know anything about this place, Atton?"

"Don't drink the water."

"Helpful, thanks."

"And get a corner seat. You want two solid walls at your back in here."

"Noted."

The bar itself was little more than a corner of the plaza, sealed off with walls and a half-open, malfunctioning blast door. A bar was set off to one side, tended by a hassled-looking Devaronian, with a scattering of darkly lit tables and booths.

"We'll wait here," Atton said in the doorway. "That way he doesn't get spooked."

Trista rested her hand on his arm. "Thanks, Atton."

"Yeah, uh... don't mention it."

She smiled and stepped inside, then turned back. "Uh, do I just—"

Atton waved her toward a table close to the door, tucked back into the corner as he'd directed. "Don't look out of place, go."

She nodded and settled down, waiting only a minute before a battered and ill-charged serving droid finally approached. She put in an order for something without thinking. By the time it arrived, maybe a minute or so later, her contact hadn't.

Trista nursed it with a frown as she stared across at the wall, ignoring the patrons giving her a wide berth. She took another drink, further ignoring the apprehension building in her gut. Was this a trap for some bounty hunter to get lucky? Wouldn't be a surprise. Her hand rested on her arm, near where her lightsaber was tucked, the weight finally more comforting than triggering.

Finally someone slipped in at the table, and she studied him out of the corner of her eye. An older Trandoshan, heavily scarred, with several large weapons and the walk of confidence that showed an ease with conflict and strife. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You are brave to walk here, ex-Jedi," he finally said, voice low over the dive's music. "In landing on Nar Shaddaa, you have stepped into the krayt dragon's jaws."

Her hand closed over her bracelet. "Is that a threat?

"No. I am Vossk, once of the bounty hunter's guild, now no longer. You have nothing to fear from me."

Trista raised a brow. The Force certainly didn't indicate that he was lying – nor did the language she read in his shoulders and eyes.

"Really? The million-credit bounty isn't appealing?"

Vossk scoffed. "I do not hunt as the others do — as cowards, as honorless betrayers. I am no longer of them. Membership in the guild is name only. Most are killers, assassins. Something has taken their hunter's heart and twisted it. They no longer pleasure in the hunt... only the kill. Bounty hunting has become murder. No sum of money is worth destroying what I hunt for.

"Besides that, they have instituted a truce. No hunter can approach you until it is ended. Until then, they watch and wait."

"Why would there be a truce?"

"I do not know, but I know it has come from the top — from Goto. To the Exchange, his word is law. Until they lift the truce they will leave you alone. Even I had to disavow the others simply to approach you."

She sipped her drink again. "May I ask you some questions, then?"

"I am sure you have many."

"What is this guild you spoke of? Are bounty hunters so organized?" That wasn't expected.

"There were oaths to the bounty hunter's creed, honored in blood. There were laws to hunts and bounties once upheld, now no longer. This is not known to many, but the bounty hunter's creed has been infected. Laws are fragile, broken easily."

"Like what?"

"A contract is honored, and they are not to attack one another if chasing the same prey."

"So the ones following me can't attack each other?"

"Under the old laws, yes. Now, I do not know."

She nodded. "Do you want a drink? On me, for the help." He ordered something, and they waited for the serving droid to stomp off before continuing. "You're no longer a bounty hunter?"

"No. I hunt no longer, the scent no longer drives me. The guild has killed it, as surely as they killed their pledges and their oaths."

"Where do I find these other hunters? The ones that ruined the hunt?"

"You cannot. There is no base, no territory where they stake their claim. They are scattered throughout Nar Shaddaa and the galaxy."

"Then how do I draw them out?"

"Credits are the blood that beats in the heart of every bounty hunter. Announce who you are. Cause trouble. Make the price on your head so high that the scent drives them mad, and no one can resist wanting to kill you."

"Comforting."

The droid returned with Vossk's drink, and again they waited for it to leave before speaking further.

"Nothing is gained without risk. If you seek danger, be prepared to find it at your throat. Make someone angry enough that they no longer care whether there is a truce among the hunters."

"Fair enough. So if I bring things to the tipping point—"

"They cannot resist."

"Excellent. Who should I target?"

"The easiest will be the Exchange... no one else has the credits to pay. There is much danger in that, like baiting a Wookiee. You will succeed, but it is unlikely you will have all your limbs at the end."

"I'll deal with that if it happens. I have one last question, if you have the time." He nodded. "Who are the hunters I need to worry about?"

Vossk was quiet, claw-tipped hands tapping the table as he thought. "There are many. The smuggler's moon has become their home. An entire nest of Gand have come, having left their colony, but they will not say why they come here to hunt. They have strange perspectives on life, on hunting, but they are effective."

"Who else?"

"There are the Twin Suns, two Twi'lek slaves from Ryloth, who killed their masters and developed a taste for it. They have mastered a dance of death. Very beautiful — but very dangerous."

"I doubt they know what dangerous is. Next?"

"I like your spirit, ex-Jedi," Vossk said with a hissing chuckle. "There are the Zhug 'brothers.' Cast from Duros for attempting to wipe out a rival family of politically minded Duros. There are hundreds of their kind, not grouped by blood but their cause, who claim they are a new family. They seek to raise enough credits to seize Duros for their own.

"Then, a series of hunter droids new to the moon... and there is always Hanharr, and Mira. They will hunt each other until the sun of this system dies, and beyond."

"Tell me about them."

"Hanharr, a Wookiee, brought from a Mid Rim world near my world of Hsskor. Czerka captured him, he killed the Czerka slavers. He now hunts this moon and other systems. He uses bounty hunting as an excuse for taking slaves, and for breaking and killing humans wherever he can. He is very dangerous, almost unstoppable when angry."

"And Mira?"

Vossk nodded, a look of respect entering his eyes for the first time. "Mira, once a slave captured by Hanharr and brought to the smuggler's moon... but she escaped. She is still a hunter, perhaps one of the best I have ever seen."

"Why?"

"Because she does not kill unless she must. She respects the hunt, not the slaughter."

"Understood. I appreciate the help." Trista stood, setting her drink on a waiting tray. "Keep your eyes open, because you're about to see fireworks." Vossk responded with an terrifying, toothy grin, and Trista headed for the door. Atton was still waiting outside, tapping his fingers on his arm. "How'd it go?"

Trista tucked her coat around herself and started toward the Hawk, Atton following. "Great, but you won't like it."

"When do I like anything we do?"

"Exactly. Vossk said that, if we're going to draw out the hunters, we need to get the bounty on me — specifically me — raised, so they'd be willing to go against this Goto guy."

"Ugh."

"What's your opinion?"

"I hate it... but it'd work. Most bounty hunters are predictable. You throw enough money at them, and they won't be able to resist."

"Great, that's what I was hoping you'd say. We'll get started in the morning."

"Any idea where to start? There's a lot that'd piss the Exchange off."

"Oh, definitely. We're going to break into the refugee holding area."

"What?" Atton grabbed her arm to stop her. "So, you'll walk right into where the Exchange is consolidating their power?"

"Atton, I'm going to give them what they want. Think about it." She pulled him after her. "We've kind of discussed this before. If they even have an inkling that Master Ell is here, then they're doing this to lure him out. So far, it hasn't worked. But if we need them to ignore this truce—"

"What truce?"

"The one I was just told about. Apparently the bounty hunters were told to leave us alone — by Goto, the same guy who put out the bounty."

"That's... weird. I've never heard of that happening. Not that I'm an expert."

"More than any of us."

"True, I guess."

"So that's where we'll start. We've got plenty of material already." She held up her hand, counting off on her fingers. "There's Lootra, the guy in the docks who they've been keeping out. Not to mention the horror stories we've heard from the few refugees we've seen. Plus, there's that Hutt in the docks, Vogga. He's been having some issues with Goto and his freighters, according to his dock manager. So if we throw our weight in with Vogga—"

"Oh, no, sister. You're not getting me to work with a Hutt."

"We're not working with him. We make him a deal." She motioned as they started down the walkway to the Hawk. "He runs fuel from Sleheryon, right?"

"Yeah."

"So he ships fuel to Telos at a discount, we solve his Goto problem."

"And you're fine with the slave labor on Sleheryon?"

"Of course not. But we need to tackle problems as they come — Sleheryon is something to deal with later." She sighed. "And it'd be a miracle if we could even put a dent in it. Once we've made sure everyone knows that we're going after Goto, we get into the refugee holding area."

"Do I want to know how?"

"We talk, sneak, or carve our way in. I don't care which. And then we make a lot of noise until someone breaks."

"Yeah. Hopefully them, and not us." Atton sighed and opened the comm. "I'll call the others back."

#

Only a few hours later Trista approached in front of the door to Vogga's warehouse and... did Hutts have offices? Was that what they were? She adjusted the robes she had kept from Dantooine and the lightsaber on her hip, both still alien in their unfamiliarity.

"Still don't like this," Atton sung through his teeth, shifting on his feet behind her.

"We'll be fine." The door guard, a bored Gran, barely looked up from his gun as they approached. Trista cleared her throat. "I seek an audience with Vogga."

"Yeah, sure," he said, returning to his gun. "If you want an audience, you better have a good reason."

"It's imperative that I speak with him."

"Oh, yes." All three eyes rolled simultaneously. "That is a unique position. Vogga's schedule has openings just for requests like this. Don't waste my time, human."

"Actually, I have a unique position. I know about Vogga's trouble with Goto, and about the hijacked freighters. My 'unique position' is that I'm equipped to do something about it, which seems much different from that of his minions. Must I be clearer than that?"

He scowled. "Might wanna bring that up carefully. He's been tense about it. I'll let you in, but make it fast. Of course, Vogga might just feed you to his hounds, and we won't have to worry about anything, huh?"

Trista kept her expression in a solid, diplomatic smile, and the alien moved to open the door. "Stay out here. I won't be long."

"Absolutely not. Might have worked for them—" Atton jerked his finger back at the docking platform, where the others were standing in a clump. "—but it ain't gonna work for me."

"Fine. Don't — just don't talk, then."

They stepped inside, into a smaller antechamber, and were met by a light-green Twi'lek woman in minimal clothing. Trista glanced at Atton, who rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. The Twi'lek bowed to them.

"Welcome, guests of Vogga!" Her voice carried a tenseness to it, and Trista sighed internally. Typical. "Please, follow me. My master awaits."

"Lead the way," Trista said, keeping her smile in place. The Twi'lek turned and motioned them after her.

"May I ask why you wish to speak to him?"

"I am interested in helping him with his Goto problem," Trista explained. The Twi'lek's color drained slightly. "Goto is a... mutual enemy, and I intend to go after him. I want to cut a deal with Vogga regarding Sleheyron fuel once we deal with the problem with."

She nodded, a bit of color returning to her skin. "I apologize, but my master is... sensitive these days regarding the Goto problem. If you can put a stop to it, I am sure he may consider an offer."

"Great. I promise I won't make things harder on you."

She laughed, though it was still tense. "I appreciate your consideration." The Twi'lek stopped at a doorway and bowed deeply. Trista glanced at Atton, who returned his eyes to the ceiling again. "Master Vogga, there are guests here to speak with you regarding the... Goto issue."

The bulbous, wrinkled mass of skin and... whatever Hutts had under their skin turned toward them, dull eyes glowering in their direction. "You had better have a good reason to bring up his name while defiling my space, human. Speak quickly."

The Twi'lek stepped aside, and Trista bowed. "I will be honest with you, great one," she said, taking a step into the room. "You and I share a common enemy in Goto, as I am a former Jedi and he has placed a significant, and inconvenient, bounty on my kind. Now that I have traced it back to him, I intend to deal with the problem — violently, if necessary. I understand that he has been inconveniencing your excellency as well, via these freighter hijackings."

Vogga huffed, jiggling with the motion. "Somehow, Goto knows my freighter schedules, and has hijacked every one of them."

"What do you know of him?"

He slammed his hand into his desk, which creaked ominously. "This infuriating one, I wish to see him lying in a pool of blood before me — or with his knee bent. He preys upon my freighters. Entire shipments of fuel from Sleheyron have been hijacked by his minions. He has forced me to cease my trading operations, which has proved annoying."

"And unprofitable, I am sure."

"Indeed."

"And that is why I believe we can make a mutually beneficial arrangement. One that allows you to resume your trading operations and allows me to get this damnable bounty removed."

"What are your motivations? Why approach me, when you can simply take care of the problem yourself?"

"Because I am here to deal. You manage the fuel yards on Sleheyron, no?"

"Have I not established that?"

"You have. And I am sure you've heard of the recent tragedy with the Peragus operation?"

"Ah, yes. I should thank whoever took care of that place. Losing my chief competitors on that side of the Rim will increase profits... should my ships ever be able to leave."

Trista resisted the urge to just walk out. "Well, then, you know that losing Peragus has endangered the Telosian reconstruction efforts."

"I've heard a rumor, yes."

"If I take care of Goto for you, I want you to supply the Telosian Council with a fair deal for fuel."

"Ha!" Vogga slapped his hand against his flab. "I like you — you aren't half bad for a human. All my deals are fair. And you would do this from the kindness of your heart? What is your price?"

"A low fuel price for Telos, and your people not trying to cash in on this bounty before I get to Goto."

"Ha. I do not want Goto's money. I make more than a million credits each time I sell a freighter full of fuel."

"That's what I suspected, great one. Are we agreed?"

"Hmph. We are getting ahead of ourselves. First, you must deal with Goto, or the stores of Sleheyron will remain on Sleheyron."

Trista held up her hand. "I want our deal in writing. I take care of Goto and, in return, we arrange for you to sell fuel to Telos at a fair price."

"Hmph." He waved a hand at the Twi'lek, who hurriedly produced a datapad, typed a few things into it, and held it out to him. He signed it with a flourish, then pushed it back to her. She offered it to Trista, who took it and skimmed the text.

"Sounds good." Trista signed it. "I'd like a time stamped copy, please."

The Twi'lek looked at Vogga, who waved his hand. "Price of dealing with these Republic types," he growled. "Everything in triplicate."

Once a copy was on Trista's datapad, she tucked it away and bowed again. "It was a pleasure to do business with you, Vogga. I look forward to speaking again once I deal with Goto."

"If you deal with Goto." He waved her toward the door, and the Twi'lek ushered them out.

"Don't worry," Trista said as she left. "It's when."