A/N: It's been a while since I last updated, so if you're looking for a refresher on the set-up for this chapter, I'd recommend looking at the last half of chapter 45 (and possibly the middle of chapter 46). Happy reading!


Chapter 48: The Double-Cross

Mission knew virtually nothing about the goons who had stolen the Ebon Hawk, inadvertently kidnapping herself and T3-M4. However, one thing was abundantly clear: the thief flying the freighter was nowhere near as skilled a pilot as Carth.

After a short yet turbulent flight filled with bumps, lurches, and dizzying hairpin turns, the thieves lowered the ship with a thud that made her already-tight stomach do backflips. She pressed her fist against her mouth to ensure her queasy stomach would not betray her covert position. Then, with her free hand, she motioned for T3-M4 to scoot further into the shadows. Being careful not to make even the slightest of noises, Mission cautiously peeked over the crates to watch her kidnappers congregating near the ship's ramp, each rubbing their hands greedily and barely suppressing their giddy grins.

"It's a wonder no one else wanted this job," one of her kidnappers — a gaunt Kiffar boy who could not have had many more rotations under his belt than she — proclaimed with delight. "These were easy credits!"

"Weeeeeee don't have the creditssssss yet," the Trandoshan chided, rhythmically tapping his sharp claws upon the workbench.

The Trandoshan's words of wisdom seemed to fall upon deaf ears, however, as the Devaronian ringleader declared premature victory. "It don't matter if the buyer follows through with the credits. Either way, we still got the ship," he said before pointing at the Kiffar and two other grunts. "Start loadin' up our cargo. Once they unload the spice that's stowed on the freighter, we're gettin' outta here and headin' to Nar Shadaa."

Mission squinted. "All this racket for a bit of spice?" she mumbled to T3-M4, incredulous. Despite her trusting nature and sincere belief that the reformed mercenary had fully turned his back upon the Exchange, she wondered if Canderous had hidden stolen spice on the rickety freighter.

Had all this trouble truly been the Exchange getting even?

Surely not, she quickly decided. The Exchange had to have more important agendas to fulfill, underworlds to conquer, and bones of debtors to break. Tracking down a single shipment of stolen spice was hardly worth their time. No, this had to be something more.

As she pondered the true nature of the thieves' plans, the Devaronian perked. "And here they are, right on schedule," he declared with a clap of his hands. Swinging his arms as he went, he began sauntering down the Ebon Hawk's ramp, cool and casual as can be. "Howdy. You must be -"

The Devaronian's greeting was promptly interrupted by an individual speaking Rodese. "I would prefer our transaction remain anonymous," he requested, calm yet undeniably firm. "One never knows when prying ears may be listening."

"Out here in the sticks? Ain't nobody but them Onderonian beastriders live in these jungles, and they got enough sense to steer clear of us outsiders," the Devaronian chuckled, only to be met with a disconcerting silence that evidently threw him. He cleared his throat and absentmindedly fiddled with the worn holster resting at his hip before recovering. "Suit yourself," he grumbled with a shrug. "Let's get your spice so me 'n my boys can head on out."

Motioning for the buyers to follow him, the Devaronian and six of his fellow goons began walking toward the cargo hold. Although she knew doing so was perilous, Mission poked her head just a bit higher to catch a glimpse of the individuals who had hired the thieves to do their dirty work. As expected based upon the voice, a male Rodian boarded the ship. While not much taller than she nor Bastila, the Rodian's very presence felt imposing and oppressive. He walked with the pride and confidence of one who had never experienced fear.

Perhaps he hadn't.

Perhaps he was the one everyone else feared.

Mission shivered at the thought.

A lithe Mikkian woman walked a few paces behind the orange-and-green scaled Rodian. While the majority of people would undoubtedly have focused upon her vibrant red skin, flowing head tendrils, and sharp facial features, Mission's gaze drifted to the graceful woman's right hand, which was tightly bound with crisp white bandages.

Both appeared far too refined yet deadly to be run-of-the-mill Exchange enforcers. No offense, Canderous, she mentally apologized to the Mandalorian seconds after the thought entered her subconscious. Regardless of their true identity, Mission decided she and T3-M4 would not be journeying to Nar Shadaa with the thieves.

"We've only got one chance to do this, so we're gonna have to be quick," Mission whispered to the droid, eyes darting about the bay to ensure the coast was still clear. "I don't know where we are or what's out there, but whatever happens, we stick together no matter what. Try'n get a signal once we're out so we can contact Penn and Bas to pick us up. Mmmk, little guy?"

The trusted droid responded with a low boop, indicating it understood and agreed with the plan.

Before the escape plan could commence, however, a muffled blaster rang out in the cargo hold, followed by a sickening wheeze and loud thud. "WHAT?!" the Devaronian bellowed. "What're ya - NOOOO!" The rapid succession of blaster fire and final gasps for breath made Mission flinch in terror. Although she could not see what had happened, Mission knew: the buyers had double-crossed the thieves and murdered them in cold blood.

Despite being weaponless and barefoot, the young Twi'lek swiftly determined that whatever lay beyond the confines of the ship couldn't be worse than idly waiting for a grim fate to become her and T3-M4. Unwilling to waste another precious second, Mission gestured for Teethree to follow her mad dash to the unguarded ramp.

She sprinted toward the exit, glancing over her shoulder to ensure she and her droid were not being followed until –

"OOOOF!"

All the wind in Mission's body vanished as she rammed into an immovable force with all her might. She tumbled backward and slammed into T3-M4 on her way to the floor, tipping the droid onto its side with a crash that was absolutely sure to capture the attention of the lethal duo who double-crossed the hijackers. "Gaaaaahhhh," she groaned, rubbing the welt rapidly forming at the base of her skull. She looked up, thoroughly confused as to how she had bounced off thin air, but paid the oddity no mind for the time being. "C'mon, Teethree." Despite her fresh splitting headache, Mission ambled to her feet and hoisted T3-M4 to its casters. Hearing the footsteps of the Rodian and Mikkian who assassinated her kidnappers padding nearer, Mission sprinted forward, only for a colossal yet invisible hand to strike her cheek with enough force to make her instantly dizzy.

In a noble attempt to protect the teen, T3-M4 zoomed forward and zapped the unseen assailant. Mission's eyes widened with terror as the figure roared with pain. Her assailant's hulking frame was now visible thanks to the blue waves of electricity pulsing across their being… And they were massive. Far more massive than she and T3-M4 combined. Even more massive than Zaalbar, a feat Mission once thought impossible for any being other than a bull rancor.

This was a losing fight, and she knew it.

Yet, in true Mission-fashion, the plucky teen refused to surrender without a fight. Though still disoriented from the vicious blow, Mission shook her head and rolled onto her hands-and-knees. She was almost certain T3-M4's incessant attack would momentarily shock the figure into submission and give the two a small window of opportunity to escape, though she would quickly learn there would be no such luck this night. Instead of faltering as anyone else would have, the brute lashed out and twisted the mechanical arm extending from the droid's head unit, snapping it with ease and effectively ending T3-M4's assault.

Then, the figure moved in for the kill.

They disengaged the stealth generator that had shrouded them in anonymity, revealing themself to be a mighty Besalisk with four burly arms and a suit of armor unlike anything she had ever seen. With a guttural grunt, he swung one of his fists at T3-M4, shattering the defenseless droid's radar eye and sending it skidding across the garage.

Although Mission inherently knew droids were incapable of feeling physical pain, T3-M4's high-pitched screeches and squawks tore at her heart. The sight of sparks and white smoke billowing from its head unit allowed Mission to forget there were at least two more assailants onboard for a split-second. "Teethree!" Mission shrieked before she could muzzle herself.

As the Besalisk haughtily sauntered forward to demolish the loyal droid, Mission sprang to her feet. She rushed for their attacker, only to have him reach out with one of his four hands, manhandling her by the face and lifting her off the floor with startling ease. "Let. Go. Of. Me!" Mission mumbled against his sweat-dampened palm, flailing her fists and kicking with all her might in an attempt to loosen his grip.

To the surprise of absolutely no one — including Mission — the Besalisk did not listen to her demands. Instead, he began slamming the Twi'lek's head against the unforgiving metal wall with brutal force. Again. And again. And again. And ag-

Just before the assailant could beat her against the wall a fifth time, a blaster bolt streaked dangerously close to the Besalisk's skull, boring a hole in the wall just left of his head. "Enough," the melodic voice of a woman commanded.

Through the spaces between the Besalisk's widespread fingers, Mission watched as the orange-and-green Rodian neared, quiet yet teeming with self-assuredness. "What have you found, Lepper?" he casually drawled in Rodese, resting a deceptively gentle hand upon the Besalisk's shoulder. "A little Twi'lek stowaway? Release her."

Lepper huffed. "Why, Hul-"

"Release her and know your place," he snapped in his native tongue. With Lepper now subdued and humiliated by the tongue-lashing, the Rodian renewed his focus on Mission, adopting an eerily calm tone as he addressed his captive. "What is your name, Twi'lek?"

In all her years by his side, Griff had taught Mission next-to-nothing. One lesson he had managed to instill in her, however, was that playing dumb could work to one's advantage, especially when physically outmatched. For years, Mission had routinely been dismissed by rival gang members on Taris due to her youth and stature, much to her vexation and advantage. It was a 'skill' Griff relied upon heavily throughout their travels.

Or perhaps Griff truly was stupid and no acting was necessary…

Regardless of the truth, she employed this skill with flawless expertise, just as she had so many times before. "I don't understand stinkin' Rodian-talk," Mission lied, teeth bared and doing her darndest to convey courage. "I speak Basic, Twi'leki, and know some Huttese, so unless you know one of those, we're done here."

For several agonizing seconds, the Rodian stared at Mission in distressing silence, seemingly contemplating her claim's validity. Withering beneath his gaze, Mission feared her lie had been sleuthed out. However, she breathed an internal sigh of relief when the Rodian finally repeated himself in heavily-accented Basic. "I asked for your name, little Twi'lek."

Although Mission was anxious and in no position to bargain, she knew she needed to lead with bravery. It was what Penn, Bastila, and the rest of the crew would have done in similar situations, of this she was certain. "Tell me yours and promise you won't hurt my droid, then I'll give you my name, sleemo."

The Mikkian who had undoubtedly saved her life by ending Lepper's assault snorted back a laugh in response, seemingly amused by Mission's brash spirit — or perhaps her stupidity. The apparent leader of the trio seemed unfazed by her backtalk, however, and evenly responded to her demands. "Your droid is safe," the Rodian assured Mission. "These are my colleagues Evelti Ki," he signaled to the Mikkian woman before pointing to the Besalisk still lurking within striking distance, "and Off Lepper. Now, tell me, little one: what are you called?"

"You never gave me your name," Mission boldly reminded, eyes narrowed. "Spill."

The Rodian glared at Mission, boring into her to the point of discomfort until, finally, he answered. "Hulas."

Despite all logic and reason telling her not to do so, Mission pressed her luck. "Hulas what?"

The ringleader responded with a coldness that made goosebumps crop upon her arms. "Just Hulas," he said. Though subtle, Mission noted a sharpness to his tone that had not been present a moment earlier. Perhaps she was pressing her luck too much. "What are you called?"

Mission evaluated her options. Given their calloused, methodical execution of the crew that initially hijacked the ship, she knew this was anything but a random attack. It was calculated. Targeted. She considered lying but thought better of it; she sensed they knew more about her and the Ebon Hawk's crew than they were letting on. "Mission," she begrudgingly replied.

To no surprise, Hulas mimicked her earlier question, though he delivered it with far more authority and thinly-veiled aggression. "Mission what?"

She pursed her lips and balled her trembling hands into fists before bitterly answering. "Vao."

Hulas seemed pleased by her honesty, almost as if she had passed a test. Perhaps she had. "Mission Vao," he airily repeated. "A fine name. I apologize for Lepper's earlier exuberance, Miss Vao. You will be treated with respect and dignity during your stay with us, of that I can assure you."

A tense silence followed as Hulas knelt and began repairing T3-M4; his accomplices remained silent, studying their leader in quiet reverence.

The sight of the very people who had nearly destroyed her companion trying to repair its shattered parts angered Mission "Hey!" she howled, incapable of tempering her emotions. "What the heck're you doin' to my droid?!"

Although the trio ignored her question and it was abundantly clear she would receive no answers at this point in time, Mission continued pressing. "So are you gonna tell me why you hired those jerk-offs to steal our ship? I'm guessing this ain't about spice like those losers thought it was."

Still, all three ignored her questioning, focusing on T3-M4's repair.

Growing increasingly impatient and frustrated, Mission waved her hands back-and-forth to gain their attention. "Helllloooooo?!"

"Give us a moment, little Twi'lek, then all will be revealed," Hulas responded with manufactured politeness. Apparently believing Mission's claim of having no knowledge of Rodese, he adjusted T3-M4's poorly mended sensor just enough to record a brief yet chilling holomessage:

"Greetings, my friend," Hulas began. "Enterprising members of the GenoHaradan have a proposition for you. My colleagues and I have your companion: one 'Mission Vao.' She is safe in our care… for now. As a sign of good faith, I have released your droid and input the coordinates to my position in its memory core. I trust you will not keep me waiting, Master Jedi."

He glanced at Mission before lazily motioning for his comrades to make way for T3-M4 — a wordless demand they followed with great haste. "Go forth, little droid," Hulas commanded in Basic. "Relay my greeting to your master at once."

In a brave display of loyalty to Mission that was uncommon for most people, let alone a droid, T3-M4 refused to move. The act of defiance made Hulas' star-filled eyes blacken in a manner that made Mission shiver. "If you wish for your young companion to survive this night, you shall lead the Jedi to me," he hissed in Rodese.

The threat made Mission's breathing quicken, though she did her best to control the rapid rise-and-fall of her chest, lest it alert her captors of her ability to understand Rodese. Being sure to choose her next words with care, Mission gave the droid a reassuring nod. "Go on, Teethree," she encouraged. "Just do whatever he says. I'll catch up with ya soon. Promise," Mission vowed with an unconvincing smile.

Although it was clear T3-M4 did not want to abandon her, the droid followed its programming to obey Mission, just as Penn had requested. It slowly rolled down the ramp — which she now noticed was stained with the blood of the Kiffar boy and the other unfortunate thieves who disembarked earlier — and into the darkness of night.

Mission wondered if she would ever see the brave little droid again.

Her pondering was short-lived, however, interrupted by Hulas placing a hand upon her shoulder, ushering her toward the soiled ramp. "Now, as we await your droid's return, tell me more about your special Jedi companion."

Believing he could only be referring to one person, Mission frowned, mentally preparing to tell convincing lies and half-truths about the Ebon Hawk's most famous crew member. "What'd you want to know about Bastila?"

Hulas scoffed. "No, no, no. You're mistaken, Miss Vao. I already possess all the knowledge I could ever wish to learn about the esteemed Bastila Shan," he corrected before his countenance enlivened in an unsettling manner. "Tell me about the one you call Penn Thayer..."


A/N: Thanks for reading! Yep, we're bringing everyone's favorite secret society of assassins into the mix. This wasn't the original plan, but when the idea to include the GenoHaradan popped into my head, I just couldn't get it out since they were such a neat yet not-fully-explored aspect of KOTOR. I also wanted to make Hulas a little more unpredictable and menacing since he felt a tad goofy in-game. Hopefully folks like this change and are excited to see the assassins in action.

The remaining portions of Onderon will focus on Mission (and her captors) and Penn / Revan and Bastila (a pairing I'm eager to return to). The rest of the crew will have their time in the sun soon, just not now.

And finally, I sincerely apologize for the delay of this upload. To say 2022 has been the most difficult year of my life would be a vast understatement. Thankfully, with the help of God, family, and friends, I'm coming out on the other side. To be honest, I never thought I'd return to this fic or casual writing given all that happened, so this upload means quite a bit to me on a personal level. And, more good news: I've already gotten a jumpstart on the next chapter, so this is just the start of the new uploads!

As always, thank you for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing (reviews are especially helpful since they let me know if folks are enjoying the original content or not). Until next time.