Chapter 1: The Prize

The suspense was killing him.

He tapped the sides of his swoop bike with his slender fingers, keeping his eyes locked upon the leader board pole. "Come on... Come on," he pleaded beneath his breath. After what seemed like an eternity, his name and time flashed at the top of the pole as an announcer's voice boomed overhead: 'Penn Thayer, Hidden Beks - 32.2s'.

Unable to control his excitement, Penn pumped his fist in victory. Despite having never touched a swoop bike in his life, he had completed a near-perfect race. Throughout the high-stakes contest, he'd felt as if something was pulsing through him, guiding his hands as he steered the bike, but he shrugged it off as beginner's luck. What else could it be?

Fueled by his excitement, he unfastened the belts strapping him into the pod, leapt out of the bike, and hoisted himself onto the nearby platform bustling with Tarisian gang members. He locked eyes with Brejik, the sulking leader of the Black Vulkars who had tried to nullify his first run on account of perceived cheating, and lifted his fingers. "That makes two wins," Penn smirked in defiance, causing Brejik to ball his fists in anger. As leader of the Black Vulkars, one of Taris' most fearsome gangs, Brejik was unaccustomed to being disrespected, especially by some no-name Hidden Bek stand-in swoop racer.

With a sly smile firmly etched across his lips, Penn fearlessly brushed past the lord of the underworld and made his way to the race judges' booth. "Now, about my winnings," he addressed the judges, casually leaning against the circular counter. Behind the judges and the Ithorian announcer laid a pile of goods ranging from modified weapons and armor, to swoop bike parts, illicit spices, and stacks of credits. However, Penn had no interest in any of these prizes. Just behind the heaps of material goods stood a cage that contained the true prize: the famed Jedi Knight Bastila Shan.

As the Ithorian tallied his winnings, Penn took advantage of the lull to steal a glance at the Jedi chained by the neck in the small, plasteel-barred cage. The chains seem excessive if she's already in a cage, Penn thought. He wondered if the Black Vulkars had taken extra precautions because they'd learned of her true identity as a Jedi. However, he quickly brushed that thought aside. Who in their right mind would offer a Jedi Knight as a prize in a simple swoop bike race if they understood the value of their prisoner?

The sound of Bastila's chains rattling against her cage brought Penn's wandering mind back to the here-and-now. Given her dire situation, Penn felt somewhat guilty for staring at the captive Jedi Knight. However, Penn found himself hopelessly entranced by Bastila. The impossibly tight, impossibly form-hugging tanned-leather outfit the Black Vulkars had forced Bastila to wear displayed all of her assets. Bastila was fit and petite, yet curved in all the right places. Try as he might, Penn was unable to tear his eyes away from the stunning brunette.

As he admired her from afar, a Black Vulkar lackey stuck his hand between the bars of the cage to paw at Bastila. Penn instinctively reached for the salvaged vibroblade stowed on his hip, ready to defend Bastila no matter the cost. He quickly learned, however, that the delicate woman was more than capable of defending herself; Bastila spit in the offending Vulkar's face, causing the gang member to recoil in anger and the newly-crowned swoop race champion chuckle. "Looks like you've got a bit of an edge to you, Bastila," he whispered to himself with a half-smile.

The levity of the moment was short-lived.

His appreciation of the Knight was cut short by the sound of Brejik's voice booming over everyone else's, thanks to his commandeering of the race announcer's microphone. "He cheated! Penn Thayer and the Hidden Beks cheated!" the crime lord hollered, capturing the attention of all with his bold accusation. With narrowed eyes burning with fury, Penn hurdled over the countertop and bounded toward Brejik. "He cheated and the Black Vulkars don't deal with cheats. We're pulling our prize from the lot."

If any of the other competitors in the high-stakes underworld race had accused him of cheating, Penn would not have cared, nor would he have felt the need to defend himself. However, this was different. The whole reason Penn had subjected himself to the risky race on behalf of the rival gang was to rescue Bastila from the Black Vulkars by winning her fair-and-square. In spite of the fact that he was greatly outnumbered, Penn refused to back down or leave without her. "You know damn well I won without cheating, Brejik," Penn hissed as he boldly inched closer to the thug. Knowing the situation was devolving quickly, Penn kept his hand on the hilt of his vibroblade, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. "I'll be collecting all of my winnings, including the girl."

As the mounting tension threatened to reach its apex, the loud clanking of steel slamming onto the cracked durocrete floors echoed in the expanse. Much like everyone else, Penn turned to find the source of the disturbance and was shocked by what he saw: Bastila had defied the odds by somehow breaking free of her chains and had pushed the cage's door to the floor. The Jedi was free.

Before the Vulkar tasked with guarding her could react to her escape, Bastila extended her hand and choked him via the Force, snatched his rusted sword from his filthy hands, and began her onslaught against the fearsome Tarisian gang. At Brejik's command, almost all of the Black Vulkars in the vicinity rushed for Bastila. However, each was struck down almost as quickly as they arrived thanks to her mastery of the Force and skills with the stolen blade.

Although he had no doubt Bastila could handle the situation, Penn drew his vibroblade and engaged Brejik — the gang's most seasoned duelist — in combat. The same pulsing sensation he'd felt during the race tingling in his fingertips, Penn followed his instincts as he twirled, and slashed, and parried Brejik's attacks. Despite being a scout in the Galactic Republic's army and having no memory of ever using a melee weapon in battle, Penn bested the skilled swordsman. After delivering a killing blow, Penn withdrew his blade from the Brejik's abdomen and looked to Bastila, just as she defeated the final lackey.

Being the only two remaining in the grand hall, Bastila looked toward Penn and began sprinting toward him, vibroblade in hand.

Fully expecting Bastila to lower her weapon, Penn eased his handle on his blade and flashed his most charming smile at the beautiful Jedi. Instead of returning his friendly grin, she continued charging toward him with a ferocity burning in her large grey eyes. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Penn called out, tightening his grip on the hilt as he prepared to defend himself. "I'm a frie-" Realizing Bastila was indeed preparing to swing her sword at him, Penn interrupted himself as he swiftly raised his vibroblade in defense.

The deafening sound of steel-striking-steel reverberated in the nearly-empty expanse as their blades met.

Now just inches apart, Penn looked deep into Bastila's grey eyes as she stared him down over their crossed blades. While her eyes glowed with a seemingly unjustified anger toward him he could not explain, Penn's scowl eased. Although he could not explain why, something about her eyes seemed exceeding familiar. In spite of the strange timing, Penn voiced a question. "Have we... Have we met before?" he inquired, brows furrowed.

After a moment of hesitation, Bastila's heart-shaped face softened slightly before her lips molded into a devilish smirk. "Was that your attempt at seduction?" she questioned Penn, still keeping her blade firmly against his.

While the sound of Bastila's voice — which Penn could only describe as 'attractive' — ignited a heat in his chest, he ignored it for the time being. After all, attractive or not, she did just try to kill him and he was unwilling to lower his guard. "You think I'm hitting on you?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise, pushing the crisscrossed blades closer to her face. "So you think I find you attractive?"

"Yes," Bastila swiftly replied before wrinkling her nose, seemingly realizing how haughty the admission sounded. "I-I-I mean, no," she stammered. "Just... just... just leave me alone," she sighed as she lowered her blade, ending the standoff.

With a shake of her head, Bastila turned and began rummaging through the pockets of the deceased Black Vulkars as Penn slid his bloodied vibroblade into its sheath. "Actually, I'm afraid I can't do that," he announced. "You're coming with me, Bastila. I did just win you fair-and-square."

Snorting as she lifted herself from her squatted position, Bastila bounded toward Penn, stopping just a breath away from him. "You honestly believe I'm just some silly prize you won in a swoop race?" she sneered, looking him up-and-down in apparent disgust. "You have much to learn."

Undeterred by her surly attitude, Penn returned her fierce gaze as he folded his arms across his chest. "I came here to rescue you, babe. I was sent by -"

"Rescue me?" Bastila interrupted in disbelief. "You call this mess a rescue mission?" she laughed in exasperation as she motioned to the room full of dead Vulkars, most of which had fallen by her hands. "I was — and still am — doing just fine without you." When Penn matched her exasperated laugh, Bastila clenched her jaw and continued on. "I had the whole situation figured out. Your presence in my escape was inconsequential. A hinderance, I would argue. I was preparing to make my escape when you walked in, demanding your -" Bastila's self-assured tirade was cut short by Penn's finger pressed against her soft lips.

"Are you finished?" he smugly questioned, seemingly unafraid of the Knight's rage. "Because I wasn't quite done explaining myself." Once confident she would remain silent and listen to his account of what led him to track her down, Penn removed his finger from an incensed Bastila's pillowy lips. "What I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted was that I was sent by Carth Onasi." He noted the way Bastila's eyes lit up at the mention of the Republic commander's name. "But, since you've got this whole thing figured out, it's probably best if I leave. See you around, Bastila."

As he walked away from the heated exchange, Penn mentally counted down how long it would take Bastila to swallow her pride and ask him to lead her to Carth. Three... Two... On-

"Carth Onasi, you said?" Bastila called out. Quickly wiping the smirk of satisfaction splashed across his face, Penn turned and nodded. "Will you take me to him?" Once more, Penn replied with a simple nod. In an attempt to call a truce to their incivility, Penn extended his hand to Bastila. Instead of taking it as he had hoped, Bastila glanced at his hand before brushing past it. "Lead the way," she dismissively demanded over her shoulder.

Although Penn hardly appreciated her aloof attitude or commands, he stayed the course and focused on the broader mission at hand. "Oh, you're going to be a handful," he muttered beneath his breath. As he began walking in Bastila's direction, he noticed a silver cylinder he knew to be a lightsaber peeking out from beneath a deceased Vulkar. Shaking his head in annoyance, he stooped low to scoop the weapon before jogging to catch up with the fleet-footed Jedi.


By the time the two trekked to the Upper City apartment Penn and his growing band of companions had been using as a base of operations, night had fallen upon the bustling city-world. "Here we go," he said, motioning to an unmarked, discolored door of the modest apartment complex. As he squatted to reach for the security lock Mission, a Twi'lek teen who had joined their motley team, had rigged for safety, Penn looked to Bastila and uttered the first full sentence either had spoken since the rescue. "Everyone in there's probably asleep by now, so you'll have to wait until morning to talk to Carth," he quietly instructed before shifting his focus on the lock once more.

Based on Bastila's response, it was clear she was not concerned about the sleep patterns of the others. "I'll speak with him now," she insisted.

With a deep exhale of frustration, Penn released his hold on the lock and glanced at the Knight over his shoulder. Even in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway, Bastila's grey eyes seemed to shine. The glimpse of her forced Penn to take a moment to collect his thoughts; in spite of her decidedly-poor attitude, he still found Bastila to be positively stunning. Her prompting for him to work faster helped break his trance. He mentally promised himself he would never admit his attraction to the pompous Jedi. She doesn't need a bigger head than she already has.

"Look, Bastila," he began, doing his best to keep his tone steady and firm yet friendly, "this whole 'rescue the Jedi from the underworld' mission has eaten up quite a bit of our time and resources. I'm not sure if you've noticed — or if you even care — but I almost got myself killed in a swoop race today. I know you're eager to talk to Carth and get off Taris, but the least you can do is let everyone get a good night's rest. Alright?" Satisfied he had put Bastila in her place, Penn turned his attention back to the lock. However, his attention was broken when Bastila tugged at his arm, forcing him to face her. "Yes?"

With a wary look in her eyes, Bastila tilted her head and squinted at him. "I know you," she softly revealed. "You were on the Endar Spire. You're the scout the Jedi Council recommended I send for."

Although Penn had been unaware that Bastila was the one responsible for his transfer to the Endar Spire, he nodded. "Yep," he agreed, grateful to learn he truly had met her at some point in the past. Given the horrific head injury he'd sustained during their escape pod's freefall onto Taris, remembering anything had been difficult for Penn. "How do you think I met Carth?"

While this hardly seemed like an appropriate time to ask questions, Bastila persisted. "So you serve the Republic?"

"It would appear so," Penn replied. "Yes."

Apparently, his answer was not enough for the Knight. "So you are loyal to the Republic and, by proxy, the Jedi?"

"I would assume so. At least, that's what Carth told me," he quietly answered, rubbing the back of his neck as Bastila glared. "Things have been a bit... sketchy for me. When we were escaping the Spire, I hit my head and I can't seem to remember much of anything about my past or even why I was on the ship. Carth has been filling in the blanks for me over the past week or so. Maybe you'll be able to, too." While Penn was fully aware of how ridiculous his claim must have sounded, the look on Bastila's face somehow made him feel worse about his tale. Although he was unable to read her expression, he continued. "My story doesn't matter here. The important thing is that we've found you and you're safe. By the way, since we'll probably be working together for a few weeks, I should probably formally introduce myself. I'm Penn Thayer." His extended hand was, yet again, ignored by Bastila.

Try as he might, Penn was unable to withhold his disapproving snort at her rude behavior. With hands shaking with growing anger, he turned once again to work the lock. The light click that followed informed him he'd succeeded in cracking Mission's code. For better or worse, only he and Mission seemed capable of cracking her complicated security codes. Solving puzzles and matters of security seemed to come naturally to him; he imagined it was part of his scout training coming into play.

As Bastila moved to press the opener at the door's center, Penn blocked the button by extending his long arm across it. "One last thing," he said in a low voice. "There are only two beds left in the apartment. One by the door, the other three beds over. I'll take the one closest to the door. Is that alright?" Nodding her approval, the two tiptoed into the dark room, praying the light from the hallway hadn't disturbed anyone's slumber.

Since he arrived at his bunk the moment they stepped inside, Penn stripped away his shirt in preparation for bed. Before he could make his way to the mattress, however, he felt a delicate hand touch his lower back before quickly pulling away. "Why are you not clothed?" Bastila quietly hissed.

Doing little to hide his aggravation, Penn turned to face Bastila. "Calm down, babe," he pithily whispered. "It's just my shirt. I'm getting ready for bed. I didn't think you were going to try feeling me up."

Bastila ignored his assertion. "I thought you said there would be a bed I could use. And stop calling me 'babe'," she icily chastised.

Exhausted, annoyed, and suddenly confused, Penn craned his neck to where an available bed should have been. A deep sigh crossed his lips when he caught sight of the problem: Zaalbar, Mission's hulking wookiee companion, had laid his massive, hairy body across the closely-spaced beds and was occupying his bunk and the one he'd promised Bastila. A quick scan around the dark room revealed there were no other available beds. Only his. "Take mine," he offered. Penn may not have liked Bastila, but he still felt the need to be polite.

Bastila folded her arms across her chest, seemingly unmoved by his kind gesture. "Absolutely not," she fumed. "I am not sharing a bed with you. It's improper."

Feeling his blood beginning to boil at the hint of disgust in her voice, Penn crossed his arms in return. "And I wasn't asking you to, princess. I'm offering you the bed. As in, 'I'll sleep on the floor.' I just want to go to sleep, alright?" Annoyed by Bastila's glower, Penn subtly rolled his eyes as he lowered himself to the floor between where Bastila would sleep and where Carth already lay.

Before he reached the floor, Bastila grabbed his chiseled upper arm. "Don't you dare call me princess."

"Babe, princess, honey, whatever. It doesn't matter. Please, just go to bed," he pleaded as he freed his arm from her grip to lay on the cool, hard floor. After loosening his dark hair from its tie, Penn closed his eyes and began to drift into a well-earned slumber... until he felt pointed toes poke his leg. Since he already knew who was disturbing him, Penn didn't bother to open his eyes. "What?" he groaned.

"I need something to sleep in," Bastila whispered before motioning to her leather ensemble. "You cannot possibly expect me to rest in this."

Growing more ornery by the second, Penn sat up and glanced about the room for something suitable for her to wear. Nothing. Trying to maintain his standing as a gentleman, Penn reached behind and picked up his balled shirt. "Here," he presented her with the shirt he had planned to use as a pillow. "Take this."

After unraveling the bunched cloth and holding it in front of her, Bastila frowned. "Your shirt?" she questioned with skepticism, glancing at Penn from over the garment. "Really?"

Struggling to remain calm, Penn pinched the bridge of his long, thin nose in frustration. "Yes," he answered coolly. "Unless of course you'd like to sleep in the nude, which would make for all sorts of interesting conversations in the morning. Your call."

"Fine," Bastila huffed. "Don't look."

"Wasn't planning on it," Penn muttered as he laid down and turned to rest on his side.

Once he finally found a comfortable position — or, at least a position that was as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances — Penn closed his eyes and attempted, yet again, to sleep. However, his attempts at slumber were interrupted by the sound of Bastila struggling to free herself from her Black Vulkar-issued ensemble. Lazily cracking one eye open and turning his head, Penn watched through the corner of his eye as Bastila jumped and wiggled, desperately fighting to break out of the impossibly tight outfit. Seeing as she seemed to be growing louder by the second, Penn pushed himself off the floor to aide her and ensure she wouldn't wake everyone. "I can help."

Moving at lightning fast speeds, Bastila spun around to slap his hands away from her back before they arrived. "I do not need your help. Leave me be."

"Fine," Penn replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Struggle for the rest of the night. I'd try to keep it down if I were you though." He narrowed his eyes as he adopted a mocking tone. "I've heard wookiees aren't exactly pleasant if you wake them from a deep sleep."

The two glared at one another for several moments before Bastila curled her lips inward, signaling retreat. "Fine," she relented, rolling her eyes as she turned her back to him. "But do not look." Bastila lifted her toned arms above her head, readying herself for Penn to undress her.

For his part, Penn was far too annoyed to be excited by the fact that he was disrobing a beautiful woman. Minutes passed as Penn struggled with the cropped top. He channeled all of his energy and strength into pulling the garment over her head to no avail. Finally, Penn decided to employ a different strategy. Pulling a dagger from under the pillow on his bed, he moved his lips close to Bastila. "Don't move," he whispered, inadvertently brushing his lips against her ear.

Ever so carefully, Penn slid the blade beneath a strap he concluded was holding the top so tightly against her skin and, with a swift upward motion, he sliced the leather.

The scandalous top slipped off Bastila before she could hold it in place. Shocked and embarrassed, Bastila gasped as she scrambled to cover her ample breasts with her arm. "I told you not to look!" she angrily whispered as she began searching for Penn's borrowed shirt on the floor. Bastila's bare back was illuminated by the faint light provided by the neon signs glowing just outside the apartment's window. Penn did his best to look away, but had difficulty doing so. The petite woman's back was smooth yet toned; the soft curvature of her lower back was almost more than Penn could handle. Before he could break his enchantment, Bastila sprang up and slapped him across the face. "You're looking."

Although the statement could not have been further from the truth, Penn said the first thing that came to mind. "Not like there's much to see." The moment the words crossed his lips, Bastila's expression morphed into one of rage. Looking directly into her eyes, Penn readied himself for yet another slap. Sensing her free hand moving to strike his face once more, Penn stopped her wrist in mid-motion, just inches from his cheek. "Go. To. Bed," he quietly commanded before releasing her wrist and sitting back on the floor.

With an oddly feminine grunt of frustration, Bastila turned, grabbed Penn's shirt from the floor, and threw it over herself before turning her attention to the equally tight pants. She fumbled in the dark for a few moments before finally freeing herself and laying down on the mattress. Inching her face close to the edge of the bed nearest Penn, Bastila complained once more. "Do you have to lay there?"

Having finally reached his limit, Penn opened his eyes and slapped his hand on the floor. "Look," Penn began as he quickly rolled upward to face her, "I -" The moment he realized he had moved his face within a breath of Bastila's Penn stopped speaking. Both gazed at one another in silence, hopelessly spellbound. Penn searched for some sort of explanation for the seemingly inexplicable heat between them.

Wishing to be free from the moment and the ever-tightening knot deep in his core, Penn shook his head as he turned his back on Bastila to lay down for the final time. "I'm laying here and I'm not moving. Get used to it, babe."

"Fine," Bastila sighed as she rolled her back to face Penn. "Lay there."