A/N: HEY EVERYONE, GUESS WHO'S ALIVE.

Yeah, it's been one of those years. You know, attempted coup in the country you live in, your job continuing to drag your temp status out to the grave... it's been hell. But I decided to use NaNo as an excuse to finish this, and for the very first time beat my mega-goal of 100k! Which sounds like a lot, I know, but - it is what it is, lol.

Anyway, we're going to be topping this bad boy out in the vicinity of 80-85 chapters (total). Not sure exactly where it's going to fall in there, because the post-game isn't written, but I've pretty much written through the entire game. \o/ So there's zero excuse for me to not finish this damn thing, now.

We'll be back on the guaranteed Friday update schedule, though once I have everything finished I may start posting twice a week (Wednesdays). We'll see.

Anyway, let's pick back up in the hell that is Iziz 1.0.


"Well, this is Ghent's office." Mandalore kicked over a chair in the ransacked office they'd discovered. "Or, it was."

"Place has been ransacked," Mira said. "Any sign of where he is?"

Trista leaned over a console without bothering to right its chair, slicing into it and rifling through the files. "Nothing over here. Think someone grabbed him as a spy?"

"Doubtful. He's the last person you'd think was a spy."

"Maybe that was the reason."

"You all lookin' for Dhagon?" Trista whirled towards the door of the wrecked medical office, hand on her holdout blaster. A man wearing the distinctive armor of a Beastrider stood behind them, leaning on the doorway like the outside of a cantina. "Yeah, he's not here."

"Yeah, we can tell," Mira said. Trista held up her hand.

"Do you know where he is?"

He shrugged. "Some soldier captain was murdered good by the cantina yesterday, so they hauled some suspects to the tower. We saw him getting dragged out this morning."

"Force's sake," Trista breathed. "Which tower?"

The Beastrider pointed. "Other side of the market. You'll wanna talk to Captain Riiken."

"Great, thanks."

"If you see Ghent, tell him I've got his credits."

As he left, Trista turned. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Mandalore asked.

"Could your friend have done this?"

"He's capable of it, and stupid enough to get caught. But we need him, suspicion of murder or not."

"Great." Trista turned back for the door. "Hope everyone wore their comfortable boots today."


As they approached the tower, Trista put on her largest, most welcoming, and fakest smile. It was so natural that it all but overcame the internal chaos Dxun had caused, and she counted it as a victory.

"Hi," she said. A dark-skinned human in Onderon's military browns turned, then stepped forward to meet her. He was older, around her age, while the others on guard with him were likely newer recruits.

"Welcome to the smelliest place in the universe, off-worlder," he said. "How can I assist you?"

"I was looking for someone named Dhagon Ghent, and was told you had him in, uh…" She motioned to the tower, which looked more like a regular A-D tower. "…here?"

He sighed. "Nasty business, that. Yes, we have him here. We picked him and several others up in connection to a murder."

"As I was told. Who'd he kill?"

"Captain Sullio. She was in charge of the Starport checkpoint. A good soldier. One of the last people to see her alive was your friend - so right now, he's just a suspect. But, if he did it, the punishment's death."

"Great," Mira muttered behind her, "of course it is."

"He's staying in custody until we either eliminate him as a suspect or find the actual killer. He's got quite the record with the authorities, so the Colonel doesn't think murder's a far stretch.

"I know him, though. He might be one of the worst doctors I've ever met, but I can't see him killing someone. Deliberately, anyway. He was one of the last people with Sullio, though.

Trista glanced at Mandalore, who shook his head. "He's the only person I know with the contacts you need."

At least he didn't sound happy about their newest fetch-quest.

"So we'd need to eliminate him as a suspect?"

"Yes, we could release him then."

Trista sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose a few times. "Are you the point person for this investigation? If I find something, should I bring it to you?"

"Right, how rude of me." He motioned to himself. "I'm Captain Riiken. I'm not in charge of the investigation, per se, but you're free to bring any information you find to me. If I believe it's satisfactory, I can release Ghent on his own recognizance."

"Great, thank you." She paused. "I have a quick question, if that's okay."

"It depends on the question, off-worlder."

"I'm trying to avoid getting caught up in politics," Trista said. "So, this situation. What does it stem from?"

He glanced back at his soldiers, who all seemed quite interested in this line of questioning.

"Well, we've got some troubled times in Iziz these days. You've no doubt heard that General Vaklu and Queen Talia are having some… disagreements." She nodded. "Now, Command warned me to keep my opinions to myself about that. So, I've learned my lesson and will keep my mouth shut otherwise."

"C'mon, Riiken," one of his subordinates taunted. "Tell them what you think."

He shot the kid a withering look. "I don't think so. I know you'd like nothing more than me getting drummed out of the service."

"You implying something, Riiken?" the same subordinate asked, still just as taunting.

"I'm implying that it's my duty to keep politics at home. On the job, I respect the rank and the chain of command."

Trista stared at the subordinate until his attention turned to her. "What? You got an opinion, off-worlder?"

"If one of my subordinates had back-talked me the way you are, I'd have court martialed them in a heartbeat," she retorted. "If this is the way Vaklu's supporters behave, it's no wonder he's struggled to fully repulse any off-world attacks."

Mandalore couldn't resist a snort to her left.

"How dare you," the soldier responded, taking a step forward. Trista crossed her arms. "Vaklu is a brilliant general!"

"Please, I've known brilliant generals." She turned back to Riiken. "Sounds like the situation is tough for you. I'm sorry for asking."

"It's no problem." Riiken sighed, motioning to his soldiers. "You can see how tense it is."

"Of course. I'll be back if I find any information for you."

"Thank you, off-worlder. I'd appreciate the help."

Trista nodded and took several steps away, wrapping her coat around her as they clumped together away from the tower. "All right. Hopefully, we will find something at the cantina. Back over by Ghent's office, yeah?"

"That's the usual one," Mandalore said. Trista nodded and started towards the checkpoint.

"Ghent better be worth it."

Mandalore only snorted again. "Not how I'd describe him, no."

They walked in silence, showing their visa to the checkpoint guard again and passing through.

"Before Vaklu gets off the shitter?" Trista asked as they exited the narrow blockade.

The pause before Mandalore spoke told her everything. "Nothing's perfect."

The comm crackled as they wove through the walls separating the two areas, interrupting them. "Statement: there appears to be a group of badly arrayed Beastmasters ahead, Master. They seem to be employed by a group of bounty hunters."

Trista tapped her comm."Copy that, HK-47. Stay out of sight and hit them as needed if they don't stand down."

"Observation: There is a 99.99967543% chance of hostilities. I will be prepared."

"So, where'd you find that relic?" Mandalore asked.

She shrugged. "I'm a Jedi, so I pick up strays. Isn't that how it works?"

He chuckled as they turned the last corner, and promptly came face-to-face with a group of about fifteen people. Many were Beastriders, with about five off-worlders. One, a Rodian, stepped forward.

"Ah, I thought it was you," he said, and Mira bristled next to her. "Trista Morace, captain of the Ebon Hawk, is it not? Imagine what the soldiers would do to you if they knew you were wandering their streets. You're a wanted criminal now."

Force, she was tired. She drew a deep breath, capturing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "And what if I am?"

"The Exchange has quite a bounty on you. Your head's worth many credits… as long as it's recognizable." He drew his blaster and clicked the weapon's safety. "I'd take you alive, but I doubt I could keep a Jedi from escaping. Dead will have to do."

Mira put her arm across Trista's body. "Back off, wormhead, this bounty's mine. Don't do something you might regret."

The Rodian blinked a few times before recognition dawned in his large black eyes. "Ah, Mira. I thought you were still collecting two credit bounties on Nar Shaddaa. It's a shame to die here, so far from home, with a wanted criminal."

Trista sighed, pushing Mira's arm down and drawing her holdout blaster from her robe. The Sith could take this entire sector. "If you're threatening me, then let's get on with it."

"A thousand credit bonus to whoever kills her. The Exchange sends their regards, Trista Morace!"

A shot rang out and left the Beastrider next to the Duros with a hole in his chest, sending him crashing to the ground. It didn't slow the brewing fight. Mira shoved her behind a stack of crates as she deflected a shot away from her head with her hand.

"What?" she asked as Mira leaned out to fire.

"I've seen you shoot."

"I can shoot just fine."

She leaned out and fired, the rounds flaring off the leader's shields. Trista grimaced and glanced over the crates, shooting down a Beastrider's shields until a single round from the nearby rooftop dropped him.

"Force, I wish I could use my lightsaber," Trista grumbled, taking refuge back behind the crates. "I'm going to do something."

"Oh, don't say that," Mira retorted. "I still want that bounty."

Trista rolled her eyes and popped back up over the crates, reaching out into the Force. She shifted focus away from the organics to their blasters, frying the circuits that connected trigger to ignition. There were a few more shots, and the next time she looked out, the bounty hunters were on the ground with the Beastriders in cover.

"You're free to leave," she called. "Just don't mention this to anyone."

After a moment of silence, one of them answered. "Yeah, we're leaving, okay? Don't shoot."

Trista motioned for Mira and Mandalore to lower their guns as the Beastriders slunk into the various alleys without even looking back. With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself up using the crate. Before she had gotten to her feet, a cold, hard circle pressed itself into her neck. She froze. Mira glanced back, then launched herself away from Trista in a diving roll.

"Ah, great." Mandalore turned his carbine toward her, and she noted with tunnel-visioned concern that it seemed much bigger from this angle. "You lot."

"Smug Greetings." Trista couldn't help her audible groan, and the blaster barrel pressed even harder into the base of her skull. "You have been a most difficult quarry, Jedi."

Mical took a step forward, and several guns clicked behind her. "Warning: That is close enough."

"I simply hope we can come to an arrangement without violence," he said, in a tone that may have worked on organics.

"Obvious appeasement: if the Jedi does not resist, we will ensure a cessation of hostilities."

Behind Mira, Mandalore turned his head. "You have the shot, 47?"

"Explanation: something odd is happening. I seem… unable to fire at these pathetic mockeries. Addendum: when l assisted the trash can, l noticed a similar effect. However, targeting the area seemed to—"

"Does it look like I'm resisting?" Trista asked. As invisibly as possible, she slipped her hand into her bag, curling her fingers around a grenade.

"Assessment: It is rumored that you 'did not resist' Goto, yet his yacht was destroyed. Analysis: It must be assumed that you are always in resistance."

Trista met Mira's eyes and hoped she got the message.

"Thank the Force someone noticed."

With a flick, she pressed the top in and released it.

There was a fifty-fifty shot that she'd just triggered either an ion grenade or a thermal detonator. She was sure of the former, but in the second she had to doubt as she waited for the blast, she worried she'd misjudged.

Then, electric static drifted over her skin, the hair prickling in its wake. A burst of static erupted from the droids' vocabulators, and she rolled away from them to the sound of sudden blasterfire. Without getting up, she threw her hand out and focused, coursing the Force through the wake of the ion blast.

By the time the haze of adrenaline had cleared her vision, Mandalore had drilled the sparking bodies with a couple extra shots. Mical was already only a few feet away, and she drew several deep breaths and caught herself on her knees.

"Are you all right?"

"You're asking me that a lot," she replied.

"Well, you attract most of the galaxy's bad luck, so it seems appropriate."

She laughed. "I'm fine, that just came out of nowhere."

"You sure?" Mandalore toed through some of the fragmented remains. "You don't seem sure."

"Quite sure." Trista straightened and drew a deep breath, pocketing the last remnants of the rush of fear and adrenaline back into the empty void. "Let's go, before anyone comes running to investigate. I've heard horror stories about this place's legal system."

"Yeah," Mira said, falling in after her as she passed. "I hear it's murder."


"Okay, see if you can find something."

Mical and Mira nodded and did so, heading into the crowded cantina. Mira moved with more grace through the crowd than Mical, but he seemed fully engaged. Trista sighed as Mandalore leaned up against the doorway into the main room.

"I guess your presence here doesn't equate to helping, huh?"

"I'm just your chauffeur on this trip, remember?"

"Ghent's your friend."

He waved his hand. "No one will talk to me here — I'd just make your job harder. But I'll see if I hear anything."

Better than nothing. Trista nodded and made her way around the exterior of the main room, eavesdropping on the random conversations she passed. A stranded off-worlder here, worried about transporting live cargo to Telos; a local there, angry at Talia for a lack of leadership while his friend raged at Vaklu for prioritizing politics; a Beastrider frustrated with being unable to sell his stock.

"Hey." The voice was soft enough to stand out, and she turned toward it. An older man motioned to her, glancing furtively to the side. She made her way over, and he motioned for her to join him. His booth was shadowed, tucked back into the corner — and after a moment's hesitation, she sat down.

"I thought it was you." It was a whisper above the din of the cantina. "I served with you in the Wars."

She squinted. There was something familiar about him that plagued her. "You look familiar, but I'm afraid I can't place you."

"I'm not surprised. I'm sure you fought with a lot of us ground troops. Back on Daegary Minor, early in the Wars. Or, early in Jedi terms."

"Right." One of the least traumatizing battles. It was no Serroco or Dxun… no Malachor. If they hadn't lost it, she was sure it wouldn't have even stuck out. "We, uh, didn't win that one."

"Yeah," she mused. It'd been a feint attack so Revan could take on a more important strategic target. They weren't supposed to win.

He waved his hand. "Enough of that, though. The galaxy isn't safe for Jedi… or former Jedi. Especially here. Three different wars — three fallen Jedi." He shook his head. "Are you still with the Republic?"

Trista frowned, looking at the table. "We aren't on speaking terms, but I'm not its enemy."

"Good enough for me. I've got a bit of a… situation. I don't know if you can help me, but you're my best chance."

"Go on."

"Certain bodies in the Senate sent me to investigate certain… delicate matters here, and it's worse than we thought. I need to get back to Coruscant to make my report, but they started requiring starport visas before I could leave."

Trista raised her brow. "How serious are we talking?"

He shook his head. "The sector might collapse if we lose this planet and, if it collapses, the Republic might too."

"The entire thing? That doesn't seem possible. This isn't Corellia or Alderaan."

"No. If a collapse happens, it will start on the Rim and move inward. Like, if one strut collapses in a building, the rest collapse as well. This world would only be the start. Other Rim worlds would follow. Lose too many, and the system breaks. Trade collapses, prosperity stops, hundreds of little, petty wars break out over years of smoothed differences. The Republic dies the death of a thousand cuts."

"Yeah, that's…" Trista drew her fingers together across her eyelids. "Not great."

"No. No, it isn't. And if I can't leave, we may not get an appropriate response from the Republic to keep it from happening."

"Was that all of your mission?"

His eyes shifted again, taking in the area. "I can't say more about that. But... stay away from Vaklu. His ambition knows no bounds. And the people of Onderon are correct that a civil war will break out, sooner rather than later."

"If I may suggest — head for Telos instead of Coruscant. It's cheaper and faster. Ask for Lieutenant Grenn of the TSF and tell him I sent you. He can connect you with the right people."

He stopped and considered it for a moment. "You're right. Thanks for the tip. But I still need to get off-world."

"You can't get a visa?"

"The process is long, indelicate, and risky. Vaklu would not be above arranging an 'accident' for me, even if he doesn't suspect me of… you know. The 'Republic spy' excuse is growing more and more common these days. Even talking to you is a risk, but I'm out of options."

Trista frowned. She couldn't hand over their visa, for many reasons. No, wait — Mira had found something on one of the bounty hunters. Trista held up her hand and dug through her bag until she found the small datapad.

"Would this work?" She handed it to him and he switched it on, and his face lit up.

"Yes! I won't ask how you got your hands on an open visa."

"Probably for the best."

"Indeed." He stood and held out his hand, and Trista shook it. "You've done a great service for the Republic today. And I need to get off-world." He paused, releasing her hand. "You should, too. Leave the city while you still can. They'll close the checkpoints any day now."

"Stay safe."

He nodded and slunk off along the wall towards the cantina exit as Mical appeared at the edge of the table.

"We may have something."

Trista nodded. "Lead the way."

"Who was that?"

"Don't worry about it."


It was a bit after 14:00 hours when they re-approached Riiken's A-D tower with the head of a serving droid and a charismatic pazaak player named Nikko in tow.

She had felt eyes on her the entire time they'd been traveling throughout Iziz. Though the bounty hunters had been the immediate threat, the thought that Vaklu may be bold enough to target them had not left her mind. The others had said nothing more about it, but Mandalore was a hard read and Mira's head was on a swivel anyway after an earlier near-miss with an angry, pro-Vaklu mob.

The sooner they could resolve this, the happier she'd be.

Riiken saw them coming and stepped forward, away from his still-excitable men.

"Nikko, correct?" Nikko nodded as they stopped. "And the off-worlders. What brings you back here?"

"The Ghent case," Trista said. Riiken nodded, though an immediate look of resignation crossed his face. "We can prove he didn't do it."

"That's a tall order. What did you dig up?"

"Well, first, there's Nikko." Trista motioned, and he cleared his throat.

"Yes. You see, Captain, I was in the cantina playing pazaak that night—"

Trista glanced back at the others as Nikko continued, laying out the entire structure of the evening point by point, compared to timestamps from a pazaak round tracker on his datapad.

She was pretty sure Atton didn't have one of those.

"Think this will work?" Mandalore asked, voice low.

She shrugged. "Hope so. Entire mission's screwed if it doesn't."

"And I was behind Sullio as she left the cantina. Enough to see Dhagon coming from his office, after the killer fired the shot. Plus—" He looked back at her, and she cleared her throat.

"This serving droid has a recording that shows the shot coming from the main square — the opposite direction of Ghent's office." She handed it to him, and Riiken played it back. "It's impossible for Ghent to have killed her."

"Hm. Well, you can't argue with that." He frowned. "We still don't know who killed her, but this should help our investigation. I'll have Ghe—"

"Trista," Mical hissed, and she turned back. An older, grizzled man was striding towards them, a deep scowl already etching more lines across his face. She felt her own mouth tip downward.

Don't you dare.

"Oh." Riiken saluted. "Major."

"Captain, we've ordered you off the Sullio investigation." He cast a disparaging eye over the rest of them. "I hope you can explain yourself."

"I, ah, I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"This message you sent earlier today. An off-worlder cannot meddle—"

"Excuse me," Trista interrupted. The Major whirled on her, and she straightened up to her full height. Whether by genetics or age, she had the advantage there. "This off-worlder can speak for herself, thank you."

"I do not know what you think you're—" He raised his hand, and she held up one finger.

"Any part of you that touches me, you aren't getting back."

The Major lowered his hand, narrowing his eyes — perhaps to keep his shock at her back-talk hidden.

"If Onderon had anything even resembling due process, rather than a slavish fascination with the death penalty, then I wouldn't have needed to 'meddle.' As it is, I've uncovered enough verifiable, exculpatory evidence that should ascribe to the… relative simplicity of Onderonian case law without further verification. That should be enough to release Ghent on his own recognizance."

He crossed his arms. "We already have more than enough evidence that Ghent was the killer. Reports of him and Sullio fighting — he had ample motive."

"They argued like that all the time. For fun."

"Have you read the report? What they called each other was vile."

"Yeah, they were friends. Some friends insult each other."

"You expect me to believe friends would carry on in such a—"

"Uh, excuse me." Nikko butted in, finding his voice again. "Yes, it's true. I'm friends with both — was friends with both of them. They've done this dozens of times. Bahima, the bartender, and half a dozen other people can confirm that. They were odd, but they didn't hate each other."

"And that he was right there?"

"He came out of his office after they fired the shot," Nikko said.

"He was within blaster range when Sullio was killed, and he doesn't have an alibi. That's all that matters to me."

"The shot came from the main square, not his office," Mical interjected. "He could not have taken it."

The Major scoffed. "There's a direct line of fire—"

"Not according to this serving droid's recording." Trista plucked it out of Riiken's hands and dropped it into the Major's. "Again, the shot came from the main square. Unless you can explain how a man could teleport, it's impossible for Ghent to have taken the shot."

He looked between her and Riiken. "What? I'm sure you're just misinterpreting it."

"It's true, Major, I've seen the recording myself," Riiken said. "And Nikko isn't the only one who saw Ghent come out of his office. Ghent can't be the killer."

"This wasn't even that hard to find. It only took us about five hours. If you'd done a proper investigation, you would have turned them up."

"We did our job, off-worlder." The finger was back in threatening range, and she raised a brow at it. "And an hour or two of meddling on your part gives you no right to say that."

"You were going to put an innocent man to death, Major. I have every right to say that."

He scoffed. "Captain, see that Ghent is released. But if it turns out he did it, it'll be on your head."

"I'm fine with that." Riiken motioned to a few of his soldiers who disappeared, grumbling, into the A-D tower. Trista took and handed the serving droid back to Riiken.

"As for you, off-worlder, I recommend you find your way back off-world."

Trista laughed. "Oh, no arguments here."

As the Major retreated out of earshot, the Captain sighed. "Well, he sure isn't happy. We'll process Ghent out of custody. Some of my people will drop him off at his office."

"Is he going to cause you any problems?"

"Oh, for sure, but I knew justice wasn't being served. Good work — the both of you. Dhagon's lucky you got involved."

"Given the state of things here, he sure is." Trista shook Nikko's hand. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem. Captain, I'll be in the cantina if you need me."

Niko headed off, and Trista turned back to Riiken. "We'll wait in Ghent's office for him."


They were only waiting for around thirty minutes before two Onderonian soldiers escorted an older human man into the clinic. Trista straightened from where she'd been leaning, quiet, against the back wall. The soldiers left, and the man looked around the office and whistled.

"They sure trashed my place, huh?" With a sad shake of his head, Ghent set a knocked-over chair upright.

Mandalore responded with a gruff eh. "As if you were ever organized."

"Whatever." He and Mandalore clasped hands. "I take it I have you to thank for springing me?"

"More her than me." He jerked his finger back at her. "She needs a favor."

Trista stepped up next to him and held out her hand. "Hello, my name is Trista."

He shook it. "Dhagon Ghent, but you know that. Thanks for springing me. As detainment cells go, it was classier than usual, but I'd rather be out here."

"So, did you do it?"

"Do what? Kill Sullio?" He scoffed. "Not a chance. We knew each other, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Real shame, though. She was good for a drink, and not bad to look at."

"Any idea who did?"

"Nope, could be anyone in Iziz at this point. Don't care to find out, either."

Trista frowned. "You don't care?"

"Caring won't bring her back, will it? I deal with death all the time in my line of work. Loses its sting at some point. But, I'm sure you didn't break me out just because."

"No," Trista said, "I need to get into the Palace, and you have contacts that can help me."

"Mm. Tall order. With all the unrest…" He drew his fingers across his mouth. "Given the assassination attempts, they've locked the place up tighter than a Hutt's vault."

"Of course they have." Trista sighed, rubbing her forehead. "What about a message? Would that be doable?"

"That I could swing. Who are you trying to contact?"

Trista studied him for a moment, her arms crossing of their own accord as she glanced at Mandalore. He shrugged. Helpful.

"You didn't hear this from me," she said, "and remember, I saved your ass."

"I'm not about to forget."

"I'm certain there's a Jedi Master in there, probably serving as an adviser."

"Hm…" Ghent stared into space for a moment, toying with some surgical tools left scattered on the table next to him. After a long period of silence, Trista interrupted his thoughts.

"Well?"

"Sorry, that explains a lot. If there is one, I think I know who."

"You do?"

"I'm not sure, but the man I'm thinking about is smart, keeps to the shadows, has Talia's implicit trust, and is cryptic as hell. If he's not one, he should consider a career change."

Trista held her hand to about Kavar's height. "About this tall, blond, not native to Onderon?"

"I've only seen him from a distance, but that checks out."

"So can you get him a message? It's imperative I talk to him."

Ghent rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…"

Oh, no. Trista dug her palms into her eyes. "I will be upset if your next word is not 'yes.'"

"Sorry," Ghent said. To his credit, he sounded genuine. "There's an issue. Scavengers already looted most of my stuff. Lot of it isn't worth shit, though, so it's not so bad. But I had my holodiscs out right before the soldiers dragged me off and…" He tapped the table next to him, right by his terminal. "Didn't have time to hide them again, and it looks like they're gone. But that's got all my contacts on there. You don't just walk up to the people I know — there's a procedure. The holodiscs have the procedure."

"Fine," she groaned into her hands. "Who has the damn things?"

"Bakkel's gang runs these streets, so her. She'll…" He checked the time on his terminal. "She's in the cantina about now. And, just so you know, the owner's not a fan of blood getting onto his floors."

"Right, fine. We'll take care of—" Trista snapped her fingers as an idea came to her. "HK, please join us."

Ghent nearly jumped out of his skin as HK appeared by the door. "Statement: HK-47 is ready to serve."

"Did you catch all that?"

"Recitation: A troublesome meatbag known as 'Bakkel' has a set of holodiscs you require, Master. Location: likely within the local cantina."

"Yes. Please relieve her of them."

HK was quiet for a moment, something clicking once or twice before he spoke again. "Query: When you say 'relieve,' Master—"

"Give her one chance to hand them over. After that, use your discretion. Just try to keep blood off the floors — the owner doesn't like that. And limit it to her people, I don't want to hear about civilian casualities. Consider it a challenge."

"Gleeful Confirmation: Yes, Master, I will return shortly."

The droid disappeared again, and Mira pointed after him. "So, is it smart to unleash the crazy murder droid on the cantina?"

"Given how welcoming Iziz has been so far, it would have ended in bloodshed anyway. And now, I have time to encode this damn message so we can send it when he returns."


(A/N: Also, I realized I've been spelling KELBORN's name wrong this whole-ass time, but I'm just gonna keep going with the H for consistency's sake, lol. We'll call it a translation error.)