I'm baaaaack! Geez, this is easily the longest I've ever gone without updating! Sorry, guys. Apologies to everyone for the lack of updates. As I've said before, I just don't have as much time to write though. Fear not, though. This fic is not dead. Just don't expect a lot of updates throughout the winter, thanks to my varsity sports. So, let's get to the story, shall we?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 16: Hunters and Hutts

"Rrraaaa! Let me go!" the inhuman voice cried.

The creature pounded on the stasis cell in which it was imprisoned. Its large eyes flashed from blue to red as sparks of force-lightning crackled over its body. The gray, corpse-like form of Darth Sion merely laughed mockingly as he paced the room.

The room itself was dark and ugly. The dark gray, metallic walls were illuminated only by small lights at the top of the ceiling. Computer consoles and controls lined the wall at one side.

"Spare yourself the exertion," Sion replied coolly. "My master has a great deal of interest in you. Don't make me stir his wrath by ending your life before he has a chance to see you."

"As if you would have the willpower, Sith," the creature spat. "Your only will to live comes from hatred. You are a hollow soul encased in malice. Nothing more."

A surge of raise boiled up in Sion, which he quickly repressed. He grinned at the creature. "That may be. But I have attained power greater than any Jedi could ever hope to achieve. Their empty philosophies mean nothing to me."

"And how do you define power, Sion?" the creature asked, this time returning the grin. "The power to slay others is a power least to be envied."

"You do not understand power, creature. I do not hold to the hindering philosophies of the Jedi. I am no slave to their code, and that is why I have ascended beyond them all. The Jedi have outlived their usefulness in this galaxy. The Sith will supplant them." He walked up to the stasis cell. "And you will help us."

The creature lowered its head. "So be it. Such is my fate to be a tool. But you will see, Sion that you are little more than a tool yourself."

Sion snarled and turned away. He walked up to the doorway and raised a hand to the control panel. "Good night," he said mockingly. With that, he turned out the lights and shut the door, leaving the creature alone in the darkness.

"The refugee section must be nearby," Quaid told the others. He just wished it wasn't so difficult to get directions on this planet. Many of the bounty hunters here simply refused to speak to them if they ever asked for directions.

As the rounded a corner, a man in dirty white clothes standing against the wall reached out his palm. "Excuse me. Spare five credits?" he asked.

"Threat: Do not block our way, meatbag! One word from my master, and I will-"

"Leave him alone, HK!" Quaid snapped. Sensing an opportunity, Quaid stopped next to the man. "Sorry about that droid. He tends to be…aggressive." He tried to put on a cheerful face. "But don't mind him. About those credits, I'll give them to you only if I get something in return," he told him.

The man looked nervous, no doubt from HK's threat and Quaid's request. "W-what do you want? I really don't have anything to give you," he stuttered.

"A little information will suffice," Quaid responded. He drew out a chip and showed it to the man. "Would you care to tell me where the refugee section is?"

The man let out a breath of relief. "Oh, that? Geez, it's right down there." He pointed off to his right. Follow those green signs, go through the docks, and you're there. Don't know why you'd want to go there, though. Most people these days wanna get out of that place."

"Why so?" Yuthura asked curiously.

"Where do I begin? It's a slum, for one thing. It's overcrowded, dirty, basically all-around miserable. And the Exchange isn't helping things at all. Lucky for me I'm not one of them. Being a human isn't so easy around here, though. Humans aren't exactly liked much on this planet."

"What is the Exchange doing to the refugees?" Quaid asked.

"Well, they keep 'em cooped up in there, for one thing! Those blasted crime lords force them all into these little slums, overcharge 'em, and don't let anybody out. Those poor people are nothing but more sources of income for the exchange. Sad, really." He paused. "Except recently they've been hiring out people to go to work somewhere secret."

"It's just as Ulussk said," Visas whispered to the exile.

"And before you ask, no, I don't know where or why the exchange is hiring out refugees. I don't really try to get too involved in the exchange's business. They don't bother me, and I don't bother them. Works both ways."

"Thanks," Quaid said to the man, and handed him the credits. "Here. Take an additional five, too. If you have any more information later, it'd really help us out. It'll pay well, too, if you get my drift."

The man grinned. "I'll keep my ears out for you. Good luck, you guys, with whatever you might be doing."

The group headed down the walkway toward where the man had directed them. They came into a large, open area which must have been the docks they were told about. As they traversed the walkway, they neared a green Twi'lek who was busy typing at a computer consol. As they got closer he let out a loud curse and pounded the machine. "Curse those Exchange banthas!" he yelled. When he noticed Quaid's eyes watching him, he turned snapped, "What are you looking at, bounty hunters?"

"Oh, nothing," Quaid replied innocently. "May I ask what's causing you so much grief?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but we have been having major problems with getting our ships off the ground."

"We?"

The Twi'lek frowned. "This is Vogga's dock, of course. He has set up his trading operations here. Unfortunately, the Exchange has been blocking our ships from leaving these docks. Any one of our ships that leaves is intercepted by the Exchange. It makes for very bad business. I've been attempting to change our output signals so they match up with the Exchange's, but it's proved rather difficult so far. At this rate, it'd be easier to simply blow the Exchange ships out of the sky."

"What are you trying to get off this planet, anyway?" Yuthura asked him.

"I don't have to answer that!" the Twi'lek snapped. "I'll only tell you that thanks to the blockade, we weren't able to move out a humongous shipment of fuel from Sleheyron. Now we have no buyers and it's just sitting there, useless."

Quaid's heart leapt into this throat when he heard that last part. His mind flashed back to Telos and their fuel problems. Could this be a solution? "Where is Vogga, anyway?" he asked. "We're looking for some work."

"I figured. You'll find him in his 'office' through the pathway on the left. Don't get your hopes high, though. He is a busy Hutt."

The exile motioned for the others to walk along. "Well, thanks. We'll be going now." The Twi'lek grumbled and turned back to the consol.

"Don't think I didn't notice that," Yuthura whispered to him as they left. "Just what got you so excited?"

"Vogga has fuel, right? With Peragus gone, Telos doesn't have fuel. This might solve their problems."

"Quaid, you don't mean to deal with a Hutt, do you?" Yuthura hissed. "We don't know if we can even trust him!"

"I know, Yuthura. But we don't really have much choice here. Telos's situation is desperate. If that planet dies, then all their work will be for nothing. We can't let Telos fail simply because they don't have enough fuel to work it."

"There's got to be another way," Yuthura said angrily.

"If you can think of anything else, I'm all ears," the exile said. Visas was silent through all of this. Quaid could tell her mind was brooding on something. He decided not to pry for the time being.

"Before we go, I'd like to talk to this 'Vogga.'"

"Are you sure that's wise? We don't have much time, Quaid."

"Just trust me, Yuthura," he replied calmly.

The four of them, HK included, approached the doorway which apparently lead into Vogga's offices. It looked normal enough, but Quaid was well aware how gangsters could put up convincing fronts. Off in the distance, the exile heard a deep, guttural laugh.

"Yup. This is a Hutt's place, alright."

As they rounded a corner, an angry-looking Bith pushed past them. "I sure hope you don't intend on going in there," it hissed at them.

"And what if we are?"

"Fine by me. Just don't expect to get very far with that Hutt. If things go my way, I'll be the one he makes the deal with as soon as that blockade is taken care of. So unless you're looking for work, you might as well give up."

"Sorry, but I think that fuel is going to go to somewhere else." Quaid answered. The Bith huffed and walked away.

A three-eyed alien and a Gamorean stood guard outside a doorway. Upon seeing the group, the two guards stopped them. "Halt! What is your business here?"

"We'd like to see Vogga, if you don't mind," the exile answered.

"You'd like to see Vogga, eh?" the Gamorean answered mockingly. "Vogga is busy Hutt. Vogga no have time for more bounty hunters. He does not wish to see you."

"Please, if you could just give us a few minutes," Yuthura asked in a sweet tone. She turned and winked at the exile so the guards wouldn't see.

The two guards faltered, but the Gamorean still replied "No."

"Please?" Yuthura asked a little louder, this time lightly touching the three-eyed alien's chest. The Hutt must have heard her voice from his chamber, because his voice soon boomed from within.

"More bounty hunters? I have time to see a few more. Send them in, you half-wits!"

The guards looked at each other awkwardly before stepping aside to let them pass.

The four of them traversed the short hallway before entering a rather large room set with some comfortable furnishings. In the back against the wall was the huge, bloated, slimy form of Vogga. Flanking him on both sides were two female Twi'leks who were no doubt his slaves. Chained to the wall were three kath hounds which growled at Quaid and the rest as they entered.

"Observation: I believe those furry meatbags are hostile, master. Perhaps I should put them down?"

"No, HK. Just please don't kill anything," Quaid sighed.

The Hutt laughed his deep, guttural laugh. "Ho ho! I like your droid already. I always love the ones with personalities."

"Smug Statement: Even a droid must have some fun once in a while."

"You must be Vogga," Quaid said.

"Look who's the master of the obvious! Yes, I am Vogga. Now, is there a reason why you wanted to see me, or am I going to have to have my guards escort you out early? Perhaps you two lovely females would be willing to work for me? I could always use extra dancers."

Before Yuthura could respond, Quaid cut in. "We won't keep you long. We just heard about your recent problems with the Exchange, and would like to know if we could help out."

"Ho ho ho! I always welcome help against the Exchange. You see, they make business very difficult for me. I am an honest businessman trying to make an honest living. Surely you understand that."

"Quite," Visas replied, hiding her sarcasm.

"The Exchange doesn't like competition, you see. When more outside sources came to me for deals, the Exchange decided to ground all my ships. Now my buyers are starting to disappear. What's worse is I have a huge shipment of fuel from Sleheyron that nobody's buying. It's just sitting around doing nothing as of now. Not a good way to run a business, you see."

"So, how can we help?" Quaid asked.

"I am not one for small talk, so I'll tell you straight." He paused and tugged at a chain attached to one of the female Twi'leks at his side. She responded by taking a pitcher and filling a big glass with some strong-smelling beverage.

Quaid noticed a surge of angry emotions boil up within Yuthura. As a former slave herself, Yuthura had developed a strong dislike for slavery and slavers alike. Ever since leaving the Sith, one of Yuthura's first actions was trying to put an end to slavery wherever she found it. Quaid silently cautioned her to control herself. She regained her composure and stared ahead, trying not to notice Vogga's eyes studying her.

"Where was I? Oh yes. I want somebody, anybody to get rid of that blockade. I don't care how you do it, just get it done. If you succeed, I'll make the first deal with you. Got it? I think that's fair enough."

"That's fair."

"Fine. So, what do you have in mind?" Vogga asked. He slurped some of the beverage out through a long straw. "If it's credits you want, I have more than enough to spare."

"I hear you have fuel. I was wondering if perhaps you'd be willing to give it to Telos."

"Telos, eh? That planet? Why are you so worried about it?"

"Let's just say, I'm a patriot," Quaid replied.

"Ha! And what about Peragus, eh? I thought Telos already had all the fuel it needs."

"Actually, not anymore. Peragus was destroyed."

"Destroyed, eh? Pity. That was a good place for fuel, albeit a very dangerous one."

"The Republic is desperate, and they need that fuel. I'm sure they'd be willing to buy it off you. And just think of all the money you might make off this." He paused to give Vogga some time to contemplate this. "Just one final stipulation and we have a deal."

"Go on," Vogga growled impatiently.

"You promise to give Telos a fair deal, and it's agreed."

The Hutt laughed again. "Ha! I am always fair in business. Fine then. I am a man of my word. You get rid of that blockade, and I'll make sure Telos gets the fuel for a fair price."

"Very well. Pleasure doing business with you, Vogga."

Once outside, Quaid turned to the others. "Let's get to the refugee section before it gets dark."

Visas was still silent. Quaid could tell something was bothering her. "Visas, is something wrong?" he asked her.

She looked up at him. "No." She was lying.

"Visas, what's bothering you?" he asked with concern. She sighed.

"I'm sorry. It's just…" she paused uneasily. "I haven't been completely honest with you on everything. I tried to control myself, but I just can't stop thinking about it."

"About what?" Quaid asked confused.

Visas looked around, well aware of the fact they weren't alone. "Please, some other time?" she asked sincerely.

"Okay."

"Well, this must be the elevator to the refugee sector," Yuthura observed.

"Well, only one way to go now," Quaid mused. The doors opened and the four of them stepped inside. When the elevator at last came to a halt, they stepped outside into a small corridor. A Gamorean guard and a reptilian Trandoshan stood guard on either side.

"Halt! What do you want?" the Trandoshan hissed.

"We're going into the refugee sector," Quaid answered.

"Too bad. The sector is off limits," the Gamorean huffed.

"Perhaps some credits could get me through?" Quaid asked. "How about 50?"

The guards laughed. "Ha! 100 and no less!" the Trandoshan demanded.

"Could I persuade you to go lower?" Quaid pleaded.

"No!"

"Observation: Judging from your anatomy, heat output, and pulse, your reflexes are rather slow. In other words, it would be no trouble at all for me to blast the both of you before you even lifted a finger. Perhaps I could persuade you to go lower?"

The guards paused nervously and nodded. "Okay, fine, 50 credits will be fine," the Gamorean consented.

"Mocking compliment: Oh, very good! I always knew you meatbags were logical beings!"

Quaid and the others grinned. "Good work, HK," Quaid said to the psychotic droid.

"Humble statement: I am merely doing my part, overseer," HK replied with a hint of pride.

They walked down the narrow, dimly-lit hallway. Finally at the bottom, they stepped once more into the gray world. Needless to say, the refugee sector was no Coruscant. The place was filled with small, tightly packed living spaces. Refugees in dirty white jumpsuits littered the place. The entire place seemed to be rather dead. Then again, none of them expected it to be a cheerful place.

The people around them seemed to pay no heed to their arrival. It was a sad sight to behold. A thick cloud of misery seemed to hang over the place. Near their left, a man was squatting against the wall, looking up lazily. A woman with a crying child stood outside one of the cramped living quarters, trying in vain to hush her.

"There is such angst here. The place is thick with it," Visas commented. Quaid didn't disagree with that.

"Well, we'd better do what we came here for," Yuthura suggested.

Bastila.

Revan cursed on the inside. There practically wasn't a moment where she didn't come up in his mind. Every day he hoped to the force that she would hold out long enough. As they were searching on Nar Shadaa, she was on Dantooine, dying. "Please, hold on, Bastila," he thought to himself.

Though he hated to admit it, he now understood more why the Jedi feared emotional attachments. Revan knew the galaxy was more important. He knew Bastila would want him to do his duty. And yet, he found it maddening to focus on his task. Perhaps the worst part about was that he knew with each passing moment, Bastila faded bit by bit. She was strong willed. Revan knew that if there was one person who would fight hard to live, it was her. But it could not last forever. Unless they could find that "thing", she was doomed.

"Well, here it is," Atton said at last. They stood in front of a large gray door in the wall.

"This is a cantina?" Mission asked in disbelief.

"Of course not. This is just the elevator. The cantina's down below," Atton corrected.

Sure enough, the doors slid open revealing a small elevator platform.

"Ladies first," said motioning with his hand.

"Gee, thanks," Mission replied sarcastically.

Atton was the last one to step in. Once inside, he pressed a button on the control panel and the platform descended.

A few seconds later it came to a soft halt. The doors slid open to reveal a small hallway with two more doorways. The faint sound of music could be heard emanating from behind the doors. Just as they stepped out, one of the doorways to the right opened and out stepped two reptilian aliens which gave a slight hiss as they walked by.

"So, Atton, what is this place?" Revan asked.

"Well, the door to the right leads to the cantina. The door to the left is a pazaak den where I used to play. It's a good place to hang out." He stopped. "And for getting information," he added slyly.

They stepped into the doorway on the right. Before them lay a seemingly placid cantina. Off to the left against the wall was a bar in front of which sat two aliens. The floor was dotted with round tables, some of which were empty, the others holding one or two occupants. At the very back, a small Bith band played. Like the rest of the planet, there weren't many humans inside. In fact, the only human Revan saw was the bartender.

Noticing Atton, the bartender perked up and waved. "Hey, Atton! Long time no see! Where have you been?"

"Hey, Malton," Atton said casually. He, Revan, and the leashed Mission walked up to the bar and took a seat. "Where have I been? Well, prison for one thing."

"Really? Can't say I'm surprised. What – did the Republic catch ya?"

"Pretty much. Luckily, they didn't have much on me, though. Actually, it's partly thanks to this fine guy right here." Atton playfully patted Revan on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah, I've never seen you two before! What's your name?"

"You can call me…" Revan caught himself just in time before he uttered his real name. Frantically, he went through names in his head. Trask? Bandur? Skywalker? "Corto," he finished.

"I see. And who is this blue young lady next to you?"

"She is my servant as of now," Revan interjected. "I'm trying to look for a buyer for her so I can get her off my hands." He pinched her cheek playfully, pretending not to notice her sour expression. "But she's a good girl; a good investment. You just have to handle her gently."

"Oh yes, the master is so kind," Mission said with fake enthusiasm. "He gives me clothes and doesn't beat me as often as he used to."

Atton resisted his urge to laugh.

"I see…" the bartender mused. "Well, I doubt you'll have much trouble finding a buyer. This place is loaded with gangsters."

"Excellent," Revan grinned.

"So Malton, what's been going on, lately?" Atton asked. "While you're at it, give us two rounds of Juma juice."

"Gotcha. Well, not much has been really happening. The only thing I can think of is the Exchange is being kind of active as of late. Not that it really matters on this planet, but they haven't exactly been stealthy in their operations lately. They've intercepted a bunch of Vogga's freighters, for one thing. And for some reason, they've been doing a lot of hiring. They've been enlisting bounty hunters and everything. Don't ask me why."

"Interesting," Atton muttered.

"What's this I've heard about the Exchange working with the Sith?" Revan asked quietly.

The bartender paused and leaned in. "Well," he whispered. "It's really nothing more than a rumor. But I'd be willing to bet it's true. Just the other day, there was word of Sith freighters making a landing here in Nar Shadaa. There was word going on around about some 'precious cargo'. But uh, you didn't hear that from me."

Revan's heart leapt. Sith ships? Precious cargo? Could they have been the same ones from Dantooine? "Any idea where?" Revan asked anxiously.

"Shh! Not too loud!" The bartender looked around, then focused once more on Atton and Revan. "Nope. That's all I know. But from what I hear, the Exchange hasn't said a word about it." He leaned out and refocused his attention on mixing the drinks.

"Ah. Well, thanks, Malton," Atton said.

"No problem," the bartender replied. "By the way," he added. "I would be careful around here, Atton. Word is Visquis isn't too happy with you. Turns out you getting arrested kind of put a dent in his plans. I'll bet he might be out hunting for you right now."

"I figured," Atton said sarcastically. "Well, I suppose Visquis is eager for a chat, anyway. I don't think we'll have a hard time finding the exchange."

"Well, good luck with it. You're gonna need it."

Well, sorry for the wait guys. I'm sorry if this chapter is a little less exciting then the others, too. It's another one of those annoying transitional ones. I promise it'll get more exciting, though. As I said above, don't expect very many updates through the winter. School, sports, and college apps are currently getting in the way of things. Darn my personal life:)