"--WE'RE COMING OUT OF HYPERSPACE, PEOPLE; BRACE YOURSELVES.--"

Walush's voice rang out across the FireStorm, and the crew prepared themselves for the slight jolt experienced when the cruiser burst into realspace. The sudden whiteness of hyperspace flickered into the black that was norm, and as if delayed a great sandy orb rushed into view, filling up the entire view before seeming to abruptly stop; a trick of perception as it was actually the ship which had slowed down and not the other way round. Piotr, who was on the flight deck with Walush, actually took a step back with a slight flinch.

"Cutting it a bit close, eh Walush? A millionth of a parsec more and we'd have been sucked into the gravity well!"

Walush chuckled a little to himself and began calibrating the cruisers entry sequence. "I've go it under control, Piotr; your T3 droid actually helped with the calculations."

Piotr grumbled to himself and muttered something about smart-alec little droids who should know better than to help hot-shot ex-podracing hooligan pilots, much to the amusement of the Dug.

Stepping down the exit ramp of the FireStorm the crew surveyed the harsh surroundings. A wisp of sand blew across the dusty street, where the twin suns shone down on a plethora of species; Rodians, Trandoshans, Zabraks, you name it, you could find one in Mos Espa. Yiddles, Walush, Piotr and T3-S6 went off to find the local cantina for a round of Bantha Blasters, leaving Orian, her droid HK-7, Daxius and the still amnesiac Achilles to wander the streets. Achilles had on a plain travellers poncho over rough clothing borrowed from Daxius, his only clone armour still usable, the boots and belt, pulled over it. Daxius had changed into more civilian clothes to avoid attention, although Orian had slipped into a more traditional Twi'lekki outfit, her shoulders, midriff and the majority of her legs bare. This actually took attention away from their faces and made them less recognisable if they were seen in their battle outfits, which was the point.

"It's also just plain common sense to wear less on a desert planet," explained Orian to the clone as he tried to make out the faces of several aliens cooling down beneath a tarp. "On Ryloth, if you didn't wear what apparently is revealing everywhere else you'd bake in your boots!"

"Makes for less defence in a gunfight, though," thought the clone aloud.

"Who'd shoot a bod like this?" laughed Orian, eliciting a grin from Daxius. HK-7 brought up the rear of the group, his assassin rifle held up to deter any thugs who might try something. Daxius took out a datapad from his pocket, and plugged in a small attachment, connecting to the Holonet.

"Okay... there're a few jobs we might be able to take while we're here. Security detail for a merchant junker?"

"Too little pay; plus it's only for a group of three," replied Orian, pointing at the details in the listings. The four stopped under an awning in front of a diner and ordered a round of chilled juma juices, sitting down. Daxius and Orian continued discussing possible jobs whilst Achilles surveyed the area in fascination.

"Extra muscle during a Hutt transaction?"

"No way, that's taking place over the Sarlaac pits..."

"Want to go podracing at the tracks?"

"What, and get exploded? Everyone plays dirty in these races!"

"...Well why not take up this nice dancer job they have available in this cantina down south, would that be more to your liking?"

"They actually have a dancer's job at the southern cantina?"

"...You're not taking it."

"Why not?"

"You can't be serious."

"You know I'm kidding around. What else is there?"

"An assassination job..."

HK-7's mechanical head whipped around and his eyes glowed bright orange with anticipation. Orian sighed and shook her head.

"No, HK."

"Why not, master?!"

"Because we're mercenaries, not assassins."

"I am!"

"That's not the point."

"It is too the point! I never get to kill anything! How would you feel if you weren't allowed to do what you did best?!"

"...You know what, HK? You're absolutely right. Daxius, I'm taking that dancer job."

"Ha, ha, master. Your wit is as sharp as ever."

"Well what about this, Orian? Some Hutt recently got word on a recently deceased Krayt Dragon fifty clicks northeast of the Lars farm, which is on the outskirts of Mos Eisley. Says he'll pay major credits for anyone who'll bring him the pearl from its belly."

"What's the catch? Sounds like routine salvage to me."

"It's near Tusken territory."

"If you think we can pull it off without confrontation..."

"Should be simple enough, provided we don't meet up with any other people who're after the pearl."

"Tusken Raiders, otherwise known as Sand people, are the indigenous peoples of the world Tatooine. They are considered hostile civilians. Tatooine is run by the Hutts, gangsters hailing from the world of Nal Hutta."

Daxius and Orian turned to stare at Achilles. The clone's eyes widened in slight shock as he processed what he had just said.

"How do I even know that?"

Achilles turned his head to the others, and Daxius exchanged glances with Orian.

"Maybe they trained him up on intel, all of them, make them more independent if they were on solo missions," suggested Daxius. Orian nodded at this.

"Makes sense. Should we even tell him what he is? I know I wouldn't want to know if I were in his position."

"We have to tell him, it's not our choice, it's his."

"Tell me what? What do you mean, 'tell me what I am'?" asked Achilles in a confused tone.

"Well... you're a clone. A clone of the last Mandalore, Jango Fett, bred to serve in the Grand Republic Army. It's your brothers who are fighting in the clone wars that ravage the galaxy now."

Achilles blinked. "Funnily enough... that doesn't shock me. Though I guess it shouldn't." He rubbed his forehead, his eyes squeezed shut. "A clone. This Jango fellow must have been quite the specimen to have been picked to be the template of a whole army, eh?"

"He was the next best thing before a Jedi Master. Better, even, in some ways."

"Daxius, how do you know this Jango Fett?" asked Orian.

"Uh... long story. It was before we met, so yeah."

"Huh. Go figure."

Achilles gave a sigh, and rubbed his forehead again. This caused Orian to look at his strangely. Achilles, noticing this, looked back.

"What?"

"Your head... there's no scar."

"What do you mean?

"You were cut up pretty badly before. We applied some synthflesh and a bit of bacta, but usually that leaves a noticeable scar. You don't have one."

"Lucky me I guess."

"Master, since it is obviously causing you distress, shall I give the meatbag a new scar?"

"No, HK, he doesn't need to be given a new scar."

"But I need to give him one! Let me cut on him a little bit, please master!"

"No, HK."

Meanwhile, another group of four sat down at the table in a cantina. Sighing with relief, Piotr sagged into his seat, stretching his four arms outwards, one of them signalling for the waitress. Walush and Yiddles settled in too, and T3-S6 stood under the table.

"Three bantha blasters please," said Piotr to the droid waitress, who trundled off after taking the order. Reaching into a pocket, Piotr took out the slightly worn pazaak deck and dealt out cards, Yiddles insisting on T3 coming out from under the table and for all four of Piotr's hands to be in sight at all times, which Piotr sheepishly agreed to. A couple of relaxed rounds of pazaak later, Walush took out his blinking commlink and opened channels.

"Walush here."

"--Walush, we've found a suitable job, meet us back at the ship in a couple of hours.--"

"What, is Orian going to do a dancer gig?"

"--No.--"

"Oh c'mon cap'... He closed channels on me! What a lack of humour, that one."

"Your turn it is, your cards put down already!"

"Yeah about that... Piotr's cheating again."

"What?!"

"Bweep-BOOT-Dwoo!"

"T3 says he's holding cards in his feet."

"Essix you treacherous little--!"

"Skin you I will!"

One barfight and several bruises later, the FireStorm crew met back at the ship. Outlining the details for the job, Daxius showed the location of the supposed krayt dragon corpse to Walush. As a finisher, Daxius pulled a tarp off three speeder bikes.

"I got these broken old speeders off a Toydarian merchant. They weren't working, but I managed to find the parts necessary to get them functional. Piotr, you and Essix repair them. We'll leave for the corpse in the morning."

With that the crew sauntered back into the ship, Daxius staying behind to help Piotr load the speeders into the dock.

They didn't notice the shadow watching them from afar. It stood still for a while, then as quick as a blur darted away.