"Give it time, Gat. He'll come around."

Gatlin looked up from the coordinate console. At the sight of her, a slow smile spread across his face. He patted the copilot seat beside him and leaned back away from the beeping flat screen. A tall, slender woman dropped into the chair and kicked her long legs up onto the dashboard. His copilot, Spryte, stretched her arms over her head and sighed, gazing out at the milky stars streaming by outside the ship. The silver blots reflected in her dark and smoky eyes.

"Thanks," Gatlin said. His head ached, whether from exhaustion or frustration he couldn't tell. "I wasn't… Totally honest with him."

"Whatever it takes," she said matter-of-factly, shrugging. "Right?"

"Right."

Spryte straightened up for a moment, grappling with her long black hair, pulling it back into a high, severe ponytail that spilled like a fountain of oil down her back. Through her clinging bodysuit Gatlin could make out every single bump of her spine. She made a little mewling yawn like a kitten and curled up in the copilot chair, dangling her legs over the armrest. Grinning, she gazed across the cockpit at him, her sleepy smile reminding him of how little rest he'd gotten in recent days.

"You think he'll cooperate?" she asked.

"He will. I dropped the magic word."

"Ahh," she said, drawing out the sound with a giggle of pleasure, "Jedi."

"Mm. And tonight, or tomorrow maybe, the idea that he'll find her again, that she's the one we're after will become too tempting to resist. He'll help us, reluctantly, but he'll do it."

The screen in front of them lit up like a cantina stage, a row of red lights blinking at them insistently, a little siren buzzing and whirring. Gatlin stamped one of the buttons with the toe of his boot and a holograph sparkled to blue life. He recognized his boss at once, a stiff, upright man in a starched Republic uniform.

"Captain," the holograph said, the image distorting for a flickering second, "I trust your mission progresses with speed. I'm afraid the next phase of your task has to be bumped up. Our operators on Onderon have been hard at work and we feel the target will fall for the bait, striking soon, possibly within the next forty-eight hours. Set course for Iziz and make your way there with haste. The trap has been set, Captain, now we must trust that our mark is foolish enough to spring it. End transmission."

The holograph image went black and then reappeared, the message repeating itself. Gatlin ruffled his messy, sandy hair and hit the button again with his toe, cutting off his boss in mid-sentence.

"Idiot," Gatlin muttered. "We're trying to catch a Jedi, not a lungfish."

"They must have struck again," Spryte said thoughtfully, running her fingers through the slick strands of her ponytail, "He sounded desperate."

"Yeah. There's nothing a blowhard like Kantu hates more than looking like an ass in front of the entire fleet. He must be chasing a promotion." Gatlin punched the intercom on the dashboard, "Akil, get up here."

"Do you think Onasi knows?" she asked.

"Carth? No. The Republic's hushed it up. There's no way Kantu would let it leak to the planetside press. And besides, he's been too deep in his cups to notice much of anything," Gatlin replied. Footsteps in the hall drew his attention and he spun the pilot's chair to find their third crewmember, Akil, lurking in the corridor.

"Good, you're here. Change of plans," Gatlin said. He tried hard to keep a note of exhaustion from creeping into his voice, but it was impossible. He was drained and there was no way to hide the deep purple smudges under his eyes. "We need to make Onderon, yesterday. Can you arrange accommodations? Some place quiet in Iziz, out of the way and cheap."

"Of course," Akil replied. He was a Zabrak, short but sinewy and muscular. He wore a black, ribbed jacket and gray trousers striped with several leather holsters of varying sizes and purposes. His skin was patterned in sharp leopard spots of black and mottled bluish gray. His eyes, as always, remained hidden behind a pair of tinted welder's goggles. "Will the Admiral be joining us on Iziz?"

"He will," Gatlin said definitively. "He should. He bloody well better."