The Quick and Easy Path

"Where is Iesha?"

"You mean she's not here?" Hannibal stammered worriedly.

"Why would she be here?" Granger inquired, his face became sterner than any of the team had seen it.

A sense of dread overwhelmed the younger Jedi. "She sensed her lightsaber….. she went to get it and was going to meet up with the rest of you." Hannibal dropped his eyes, not because he knew Granger was displeased, but because he knew he had screwed up.

Hannibal's eyes popped open and he sat up at the edge of his bed. He knew there would be no sleep for tonight. He sat on the floor and crossed his legs. Meditation was the discipline of every Jedi, but he usually did the bare minimum. He was typically too impatient to make it work as it should. For the last several hours, he had been far too angry. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. If the padawan could locate her lightsaber, then surely he could locate her. "Iesha, I'm sorry."

XXXXXXXXXX

Granger had poured over the scans of the courtyard a dozen times. There was no sign of his padawan. The only possible indication was the entrance of the mystery gangster with her lightsaber that Myriam said knew the meeting was a set up. Had he encountered Iesha? And what about Tristan? He appeared to have some knowledge of the Force. Just what had they stumbled on? The tired Jedi Master zoomed in on the stranger with the lightsaber. He closed his eyes. "Iesha…."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Iesha… Her eyes slowly flickered open. She was sitting in a chair her arms were locked in chains both of which were bolted to the floor on either side of her. Her feet were in restraints attached to the chair. She tried to wiggle, the chair did not budge. Attached to the floor as well it seemed. The light in the room was dim, but she slowly became aware of the two men across from her. One sitting, one standing. The one standing threw a bucket of water in her face with a laugh and suddenly the world was a lot clearer. "Nice of you to join us," Pierre huffed from the chair. "He turned to Crad. "Leave us alone for a bit."

Crad looked down at Pierre with a frown. "But we're supposed to be having a little fun…."

"You will get your chance," he flashed a crooked smile at Iesha. "We all will." Crad mumbled under his breath on the way out. Pierre sat up straight in his chair, eye-level with his captive. "Tell me what I want to know."

"Go frosh yourself, sleemo," Iesha spat back managing to rattle the chair as well.

Surprised, Pierre grinned. "Feisty, I like that. Everything that happens to you in here is up to you. I'll ask again: Tell me what I want to know."

"What do you want to know?" Iesha tried to reach out with the Force to get a feel of her restraints.

"Tell me…." Pierre urged.

"I don't know what you want," Iesha answered groggily.

"Fine," Pierre cleared his throat. "I will ask once more. This is what will happen: If you answer, you eat. If you don't, I leave and shut the lights out. You will sit in here for one week. No food, no water, no light, no human contact. If you are still alive when I come back, I will ask again. If you still refuse to answer, then my men will take turns entertaining themselves with you for as long as they want. Crad, that just left, will go first. He really likes you."

"I'm under the legal age," she lied.

"Do you think we care about 'legal'?" Pierre snickered.

Iesha shook violently with rage. The same power she felt when Zeakwon slapped her surged threw her. She knew she should pause and cleanse herself of the anger, but she also knew that within that anger lay the power to set herself free.

Pierre said with a finality, "Tell me what I want to know." The young Jedi stared at him coldly. After a few seconds, Pierre rose to his feet. He started to turn to the door, but spun around to face his prisoner again. He leaned in, stroked her cheek and kissed her forehead. "I lied. I'll be that one that goes first. Just don't tell Crad."

As he left the room, he turned off the lights. Iesha turned red with rage and fear as the door shut behind him leaving her alone in the darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I know exactly where it is. I…. I…. can feel it." Iesha's excitement echoed through Hannibal's mind. Hannibal… Please…..A rage he had never experienced welled up within him. He tried to focus on locating Iesha, but all he could think about was the lightsaber.

In Myriam's room, Iesha's lightsaber set on a corner table. It moved ever so slightly. Myriam sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, her own saber in her lap. She attempted to meditate with it as she had heard Hector suggest to the padawan. Her eyes opened slowly and focused on the other saber. "Padawan," she whispered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Hannibal reached the main control room, Myriam was already discussing Iesha with Granger. "I can feel her too," he added, getting the gist of their conversation as he entered. They both stared back not quite sure what to make of his statement.

"Alright," Granger eyed Myriam carefully. "You two will go out and see what you can turn up. Numa and Hector are meeting with Zeakwon in a few hours. I will continue to work with Finly to see what we can turn up on this Tristan."

Myriam was hesitant about working with Hannibal, but if he was sensing the padawan, then he was the logical choice. She really wanted another shot at Tristan, but if the padawan was reaching out to her, then she needed to be on that trail. She turned to her new partner. "We'll start with Jessie. If he doesn't offer anything useful, then we'll see what we can turn up."

"May the Force be with you," Granger muttered as they exited the control room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Are you sure about this… Jessie?" Tristan offered more of a warning than a question from behind his new desk.

Zeakwon's eyes drifted from his boss to Pierre who was sitting on a nearby couch and back. "Well, we lost quite a few men lately and…. I know he doesn't exactly stand out from the pack, but he….. has his merits."

"Very well," Tristan shrugged. "You are in charge." He turned to Pierre. "You work for me now. We need to go see the boss." He turned back to Zeakwon, "Can you manage to make some money while I'm gone?"

Zeakwon shrugged, "We haven't really been making any while you've been here…." Noticing Tristan's dissatisfaction, but also sensing that he should stand his ground as a show of strength, he gestured at Pierre. "And if I can't utilize my men that are actually smart….."

"Be smart for them," Tristan warned. "It's part of being in charge."

Zeakwon sighed and shook his head, "I'll do what I can." He dismissed himself, but gave Pierre a careful eye as he left.

"You trust him?" Pierre pointed with his chin after Zeakwon left.

Tristan tilted his hand towards his new trustee. "He's proven himself….. even more than you, in fact." Pierre gulped suddenly remembering just how new he was. "Have you gotten anything out of our prisoner?"

"Not yet," Pierre conceded. "I'm gonna let her stew for a while." He carefully added. "It would help to know exactly what you wanted out of her."

Tristan pondered the question. "Whatever you can get. And if she can't be broken….. kill her."

Pierre was still young and inexperienced, but there was one thing that he had proven to be good at. "Everybody can be broken," he grinned.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Zeakwon wearily punched in the entrance code to his quarters. There was a lot of restructuring that needed his attention. He needed to fill some positons. He needed to crack some heads so that the crews did not get lazy and continued to bring in profits. But all of that could begin in the morning. Tonight he needed to sleep. Suddenly, without his command, the lights came on. Numa and Hector were standing by his dining table. "What the hell are you doing here, Jedi?" he demanded.

"We'll be asking the questions," Hector warned. "Where is Iesha?"

"Who?"

"Master Granger's padawan," Numa clarified.

"Maybe she ran away," Zeakwon offered wearily.

The crime boss was propelled back into his own door by a blast from the Force. A not quite angry Hector towered above him. "Sleemo, this is not time for politicking. Where is she?"

Zeakwon reached for his blaster, but it was knocked from his hand by another push from the Force from Hector. Numa propelled him back again and stepped next to her partner. "Tell us where she is or you will be arrested."

"How should I know?"

"She disappeared after the incident in the courtyard," Hector was fighting to maintain his patience.

"Maybe she was blown up?" Zeakwon offered.

"She was not in the courtyard," Numa moved closer. She glanced at Hector, then back at the gangster. "Who was the guy who came in the courtyard with the captured lightsaber?"

"That's Pierre," Zeakwon rolled his eyes, then something seemed to dawn on him. "Wait, when did the padawan disappear?

Hector took a deep breath, "Roughly the same time you and Jessie brought Myriam to meet Tristan."

Understanding began to appear on Zeakwon's face. "Pierre is a fairly new guy and Tristan just gave him a huge promotion….." He looked up slowly at the Jedi. "And somehow he knew Myriam wasn't really a prisoner."

Numa pondered the implication. She glanced at Hector, "He must have caught Iesha trying to retrieve the saber." She turned back to Zeakwon. "Where is she?"

"I have no idea," Zeakwon reasserted.

"Find her," Hector warned. "You have one day. We will meet you back here tomorrow. If you don't show…."

"Not at my house," Zeakwon objected.

"We make the rules," Numa reiterated. "The only reason you are in the position you are in is because Master Granger let you go after he…. Relieved the Magistrate of his duties."

Zeakwon remembered seeing the Magistrate impaled in his own office. "What do you think Tristan will do to me?"

"Tell us more about him," Hector interrupted.

"He's the boss's number two," Zeakwon shrugged.

"He knows the Force," Hector directed the inquiry.

A new understanding flooded across Zeakwon's face, "That makes sense. I have….. seen things…."

"Like what?" Numa raised an eyebrow.

"Well….. like deflecting laser blasts with his hands. I'm pretty sure he strangled Barth without touching him…."

"We were wondering what happened to him," Numa turned to Hector who motioned with his head towards the door.

"We'll be back," he warned as they exited. "If Iesha's not here you will be arrested. If you don't show, we will find you and you will….. join the Magistrate."

Outside of the gangster's quarters, Hector lifted his comlink, "Hannibal old buddy."

"Yeah," Hannibal's voice came back, but sounded strained.

"Zeakwon doesn't know anything about Iesha…. And we believe him. Check out a guy named Pierre."

Hannibal's voice came back again, "We just visited Jessie. He told us about the same. We have a lead on a couple of guys in his crew."

"Alright," Hector responded. If we turn up anything else, we'll let you know. He signed off and replaced the comlink.

As he and Numa entered the lift, Numa asked, "Did Hannibal seem different to you?"

"Yeah, Iesha was technically his responsibility. He feels bad I guess."

"And he should," Numa paused. "Guess Myriam will not have to endure as many inappropriate comments as usual?"

Hector chuckled as the doors shut. "I know he hides it well, but he's quite the capable knight. Guess you should have pulled the straw to work with him while he's in this mood."

Numa answered, "That's what I mean. I've only found him to be quite the capable knight. I do not get the same comments that Myriam and Iesha get….." Her voice trailed off awkwardly.

Hector could not believe his ears. Was it jealously that he detected in his senior's voice? Did he really want to know? "You want his inappropriate side?"

Numa pondered the question, "I just expect to be treated the same as the rest of the team."

Hector decided that it was not jealousy he detected. It was a slight hurt. Not hurt about not getting attention from a male, but the hurt that anyone would feel about being an outsider. He was surprised, but Numa had gotten close to Iesha. Like Hannibal, the whole team was concerned. Just as his own anger nearly bubbled to the surface with Zeakwon, each of their emotions would be attempting to spill out in their own way.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kleed and Sturk stumbled into the alley, not quite drunk, but certainly more than tipsy. They noisily joked their way down a side alley back to the hovel they were calling a home. They both had a job the next morning. It would be their first in nearly a week. Sturk was half-way through a joke about his partner's mother when Kleed stopped suddenly and hushed his companion. "Nuthin' personal," Sturk tried to explain assuming the other had been offended.

"Listen," Kleed whispered and pointed at the corner they were nearing. Sturk could hear stumbling footsteps and inaudible voices. They were not the only ones who drank that night.

Sturk's ears began to hone in on a male voice. "….always knew he was basically a bantha's birth canal…."

Then a female voice, "Yeah, that Pierre, I couldn't do anything with him. Hear he likes little boys…."

Hearing their new boss's name, Kleed and Sturk gave each other a glance, drew their blasters, and stepped around the corner. Kleed began, "You two should be more careful who you gossip about…." There was no one in the adjoining alley.

The two gangsters had half a second to give each other a confused glance before a powerful blow from behind knocked them off their feet and into the wall on the other side of the alley. Both men lost their grip on their blasters. Sturk was the first to clear his eyes. When he did, his neck was between the crossed blades of a blue and green lightsaber. A hooded woman's eyes peered into his from just above the blades. "Your turn," she smiled.

Rubbing his head, Kleed glanced sideways at his partner, then turned to look for his blaster. Another cloaked figure stood a few feet in front of him. The stranger's hand was extended. In front of his hand, both blasters hung in mid-air. "Tell me what I want to know," Hannibal nearly growled from beneath his hood.

"Go frosh yourself, Jedi….."

Hannibal swung his hand sideways. The blasters slammed against the wall, then fell to the pavement. "Where is she?" Myriam eyed her partner carefully as he angrily demanded more than asked.

"Who?" Kleed shot back.

Hannibal brought his hand back in front of him. He pulled back his hood and clenched his fist. Kleed began to gasp for air. "Where is she?"

Myriam could hear the anger in her partner's voice and see it on his face, but more importantly she could sense it through the Force. Still she let the thug choke a little longer. Moving her lightsabers just enough to regain Sturk's full attention, she asked, "Iesha, the Jedi padawan. Where is she?"

"How would we know," Sturk's horrified glance shot from the sabers to Kleed and back.

Myriam paused another second, then turned back to Hannibal. "I believe him."

Hannibal was undeterred. "Where is she?"

Kleed could only respond with gags and gurgles.

"Hannibal, if he can't breathe, he can't talk." When Myriam realized that her fellow Jedi was still unrelenting, she screamed, "Hannibal!"

Reluctantly, Hannibal unclenched his fist. Air came flooding back to Kleed's lungs as he collapsed to the ground.

Myriam closed the lightsaber blades and squatted to get eye-level with Sturk. "Then tell us where to find Pierre."

Sturk glanced at his partner one last time. "Probably at the new hide-out."

"Where?" Myriam asked firmly, but calmly.

"I don't know," Sturk eyed the Jedi nervously, "Everybody moves every couple of days now…."

"Where are you supposed to meet him?"

"We weren't. We have a job in the morning. We probably won't see much of him anymore. Word is he got a bump up the ladder."

Myriam frowned. She glanced up at Hannibal who was still fuming. "OK," she sighed and raised her hand, refocusing on her captor. "Sleep," Sturk instantly slumped back at the suggestion.

Hannibal spun on his heels leaving the gagging and sleeping gangsters behind him. Myriam rushed to catch up. "What was that back there? You almost killed him."

"Since when do you worry about some punks dying on you?" he shot back.

"We needed information. We weren't capturing or punishing him," She grabbed the sleeve of his robe and spun him to face her. Her dark eyes seemed to penetrate something deep within him. Until this moment, he had only appreciated them as part of her beauty, but there was something more powerful in her gaze. "You were acting in anger. I don't have to tell you, that is the Darkside."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Finly kept the hologram of Tristan up as faces flashed across the screen from the official Republic and Jedi records. Faces also flashed across the screen of his own data pad from his own personal files. He could not help but stare in the hologram of Tristan's eyes. "Who are you?"

Finly heard a throat clear to the side, "Any luck?"

He turned to face Granger, "You know we don't do luck, Master. But no, nothing on the mysterious Mr. Tristan."

Granger sighed and stared at the hologram, "Who are you?"

"It's not surprising there is no record. The Vespecio Family is centered pretty deep in the Outer Rim. If that's where he's from, I'd be surprised if we do turn up anything."

"And most Force-sensitives that escape the attention of the Jedi are also from the Outer-Rim…." Granger thought aloud. "So there's nothing at all?"

"Well," Finly began, "not as far as an identity and not even much of an official criminal record. Some local authorities have him listed as a person of interest, but he's not on anyone's official Wanted lists either. However, he does have quite the reputation. He is very smart and as we saw has at least some knowledge of the Force."

"A powerful combination," Granger muttered.

Finly paused before carefully wording his next thought. "Master, what makes you so sure he's not a Sith?"

"Wellllll…" Granger sighed knowing that they were overdue for this conversation, "History records that the Sith were destroyed around…. Seven centuries ago?" Finly nodded in confirmation. So the Jedi Master continued, "Plus, it is not the first time the Jedi have encountered a Force, even a Darkside, user who has no formal training. The Sith were a Darkside discipline, just as the Jedi are disciplined in the Light. Like you said, he's smart, cunning, but he doesn't strike me a particularly disciplined." Granger dropped his eyes at the younger Jedi.

Finly mulled over the logic, then nodded in agreement. "Still it's fascinating….."

Granger sighed again. He shut off the hologram and paused the search on the monitor. "Finly, be careful. Mind your interests as well as your feelings. Even an academic fascination with the Darkside is still….."

"A fascination with the Darkside," Finly completed Granger's thought with an air of understanding. "I know Master and I am. Promise."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

When Iesha opened her eyes, the room was just as dark as it had been during her meditations. How long had she been there? Days? Hours? She had no idea. She moved the chains slightly and tried to move her legs. They were still bolted. Why had she been unable to free herself? Was it the will of the Force for her to be here? Why would the Force want her to endure torture? Sure she had struggled with her anger since her encounter with Zeakwon, but she had not given into it…..yet. By acting hastily, she had been captured. By being in captivity, she had finally taken the time to slow down, meditate properly. She had no choice. Maybe that was what the Force needed her to do. On the other hand, she still felt something gnawing away at her. Beneath her anger there was something else, the power that she felt telling her to give in and let go with full vent of it and she would be free, but her master had trained her too well. She knew that this was the Darkside. "Journey inward," Master Granger's advice echoed through her mind. "If you can defeat the Darkside within, then you can overcome any obstacle you may face from the outside." The proper power of the Force came from being at peace. She had not been at peace since she lost her lightsaber. She took a deep breath and let her eyes slowly shut.

XXXXXXXXX

"Are you packed," Tristan asked his new protégé.

"Yeah," Pierre looked up from his data pad seemingly a little distracted.

"What's the problem," Tristan was legitimately concerned, but also hopeful that Pierre did not turn out to be some sort of whiner.

"We've only had the Jedi for a couple of days. Don't know when we'll be back. I won't be able to crack her properly."

"Eh," Tristan mulled it over. "Toss her to the boys. You can interrogate what's left when we get back."

"If there's anything left," Pierre huffed. "Too bad, I wanted to test my skills with a Jedi….. and I wanted to have a turn too."

Both gangsters grinned at each other. "Well," Tristan offered, "We don't leave for a couple of hours…."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Crad and his associate argued as they made their way down the hall. "I'm tellin' you Pierre promised I could have a go at her. Keep your mouth shut and you can go next."

"But he said wait a week, it's only been a little over a day," the second gangster reminded Crad.

"She's been in there with no light, food, or water. If we tell her it's been a week, she'll believe it. She's probably crackin' up already."

Inside her cell, Iesha thought she could hear voices coming from the outside the door. Had it been a week already? A moment of panic gave way as she continued to focus on her breathing. She visualized the restraints holding her feet to the chair. Clink. The right one popped open. New found energy flooded through her. Clink, the second opened as well. She reached out with her senses outside the door.

"But she is a Jedi, Crad," his comrade offered.

"Only an apprentice," Crad corrected as he began to punch the entry code.

Iesha tried to swallow another moment of panic. She visualized the wrist restraints as she had done with her feet. Nothing happened. The sound of the keypad sent a surge of fear and desperation through her. Crad's words rekindled her simmering anger. She grabbed the chains with her hands and in a burst of rage stood up, tearing both chains from the floor.

The door opened. Crad turned on the lights to see an empty chair. "Where is she?" he muttered angrily.

His associate moved in to examine the chair, "Maybe Pierre already took her….."

Iesha dropped down from her perch above the door. She slammed her feet into the back of Crad's knees driving him to the floor and wrapped her chains around his neck. With a glance, she Force-pushed the other thug to the ground as well. She eyed him carefully as he struggled to get up and reach for his blaster. He only made it to his knees when he felt his throat close. His hands shot up trying to find the invisible hands that were choking him. Iesha leaned down to whisper in Crad's ear. "Watch carefully."

The Jedi padawan could have killed Crad's accomplice quickly, but she let him linger. She wanted Crad to watch the life slowly ebb out of his friend. When his body finally hit the floor, she spun Crad around to face the door. "Now, punch in the entry code. Don't try anything funny and I promise you will die quicker.

Reluctantly, Crad lifted his hand and typed in the code. He always wondered how he would act when his time came. He did not want to go out on his knees before a woman, but more importantly, he would not cry or beg for his life. With a ferocious yell, Iesha jerked the ends of both chains. Blood squirted from Crad's severed arteries as she nearly took his head off. She ripped each restraint from her wrist then spit on her would-be rapist. She looked around. Blood covered the floor, the control panel and the front of her robes. Her Jedi robes. She dropped to her knees and began to dry heave. She would have been sick, but there was nothing in her stomach.

Realizing that she was not out of danger, Iesha quickly gathered her senses and slowly made her way down the hall. There was a lift at the end of the hallway just beginning to open when she arrived. The doors split and the Jedi padawan stared into the eyes of a startled Pierre. They held the gaze for half a second before Pierre reached for his blaster. A hatred welled deep within Iesha. Before her captor had his blaster all the way from his holster, it was snatched from his hand and was flying into Iesha's. Without a moment's hesitation, she fired a shot sending Pierre slumping to the floor. She thought it unfortunate that it was only a stun blast. She examined the weapon. This was her first time using a blaster, but as if she had used one a thousand times, she switched it to full power and aimed again at the unconscious gangster. Before she could pull the trigger again, she caught another sight of her blood soaked robes. She looked at her would-be victim and moved the blaster back to stun. She had killed enough in cold-blood for one day. They would meet again, but next time she would be sure she had a lightsaber.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hannibal and Myriam looked down at the hideout from a roof across the street. They had scoped out many possibilities, but none produced Iesha, Pierre, or Tristan. This place had five guards in front of it, but all of them had been guarded. Nothing obvious made this one any different. Hannibal took a deep breath. "This one's it."

Myriam gave him a puzzled look. "How can you be sure?"

"I can feel her."

Myriam reached out with her senses. "There is something here, but I can't sense the padawan." She glanced at the guards through her binos. "How do you….." Hannibal was already in midair with his lightsaber open. "Fool."

Hannibal gave the guards a twisted smile when he hit the ground. Deflecting every blast they fired, he stuck out his hand to unleash a Force-push so violent that in knocked them all down and dented the door. "You didn't save any for me," Myriam landed behind him.

"Try to keep up," he half-heartedly joked back.

Myriam grinned igniting both lightsabers. She stepped in front of her partner and with a glance the door seemed to rip itself down. There were only a few guards in the entrance. Myriam easily deflected their attack. She looked back at Hannibal, "How's that for keeping up?"

The two Jedi made their way down the hall to another door. Before either of them could make a move the door slid open and several stun blasts shot from the darkness which were easily deflected by both. The blood-covered Iesha stumbled from the shadows ready to fire again. Myriam closed her sabers on the sight of the blood. "Padawan….. are you alright?"

Locking eyes with both of them, Iesha dropped the blaster. Hannibal rushed to catch her just before she collapsed to the ground.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Myriam tended to Iesha's wounds and started an IV before joining Hannibal in the cockpit of the transport. She glanced back to make sure Iesha was still sleeping. "So we should talk."

"About what?" Hannibal sighed.

"About you using the Darkside," she answered firmly.

He glanced up at her. "Are you going to snitch to Granger? Are you perfect? The Darkside lurks within all of us. You've never acted in anger?"

"I follow the path of the Jedi, when I feel anger rising, I remind myself of what I have been taught. I'm certain you are not the first Jedi to give vent for a time, but you can't blow this off like it's not a big deal."

"I guess we all weren't lucky enough to be trained by Yoda. I'll meditate as soon as we get back," Hannibal tried to sound sincere.

"You are not taking this seriously, that's the issue….."

"Not taking this seriously? You act like finding Iesha wasn't a priority. We found her. We accomplished the mission. What's the difference?"

"We were irrelevant," Myriam corrected. "She had already freed herself. There are many paths to reaching our goals. The Darkside just presents itself as a shortcut."

Iesha quietly roused herself from the bench behind her seniors. In theory she agreed with Myriam's words, but she also knew that her training had let her down today. It was the Darkside that had freed her.

Hannibal did not like being rebuked, but he recognized the wisdom in Myriam's words. "I know," he sighed. "It's just….. it was my fault she got captured. I had to get her back."

"What are you two talking about?" Iesha approached as though she had not heard the entire conversation.

"Just debriefing," Myriam offered. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Iesha mumbled looking down at her mostly cleaned robes. "Thank you."

"You would do the same for us," Myriam smiled. "Oh and I believe you were looking for this," Myriam unhooked the padawan's saber and handed it to her.

Iesha received it with her first smile in some time. "You looked pretty comfortable with two blades."

Myriam pondered the suggestion. "Green is not my color."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few days had passed, since the Jedi rescued their team member. Pierre recovered from his stun blast and he was off with Tristan to see the big boss. Zeakwon passed the information along to Granger. He hoped that since they were so eager to learn more about Tristan, they would chase him for a while and give him some breathing room to rebuild things on Syllian. As he typed the access code to his new office, his worries crept back into him. Money would fix everything. And if he didn't start making some soon, he would be the boss with the shortest reign in the history of Syllian's very limited underworld. He would start with gambling, then get the bootlegging back on track. The Jedi did not seem to mind criminal activities as long as it did not turn violent. Otherwise he would have no cover and they would have no contact in to the larger underground world.

Zeakwon stepped inside and began to take off his jacket and holster. A violent force knocked him back into the door just as it closed. From the ground, he looked up into Iesha's eyes that seemed to flare with rage just as powerful as the flare from the green blade of her lightsaber. "Your boss know you're here little girl?"

Iesha lowered the blade and burned a spot high on Zeakwon's thigh, just below his crotch. He howled in pain and surprise, "What the frosh is this?"

Iesha raised the blade to illuminate her face. "If you ever treat me with anything less the same respect you show my master, ever again, you will become….." She glanced down at the burn, "less of a man." Zeakwon started to protest. Iesha raised her hand and clenched her fist. The crime boss of Syllian began to grasp for air. "If you ever lay a hand on me again, I'll kill you." She unclenched her fist. Zeakwon relaxed, but gasped for air. "And if you tell Master Granger that I was here, you will wish you were dead long before I kill you." She opened the door and stepped over his gasping body to leave.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Myriam entered Granger's quarters as he sat at a small table studying a data pad. "You wanted to see me, Master?"

"Yes," the Granger acknowledged, setting down the pad. "I've read your reports, what is your assessment of your mission to rescue Iesha?"

Myriam knew what her leader was getting at, but played slightly confused. "You want an oral report?"

Granger rose from his seat and walked to his window. "You know what I dislike about the Jedi Council?" He did not wait for a reply. "When they play politics, pitting Jedi against each other. So I'll be direct. Did you sense anything odd about Hannibal on this mission?"

"What do you mean?" Are you going to snitch to Granger? Myriam felt no particular loyalty to Hannibal, but she did understand his struggle. Surely it was common to all Jedi. If he was making an honest effort to overcome the Darkside within him, would it help or complicate things to alert Granger? And where exactly was the line in being deceived by the Darkside and crossing over to it?

Granger understood Myriam's reluctance to report on her teammate, but they both had a greater obligation. "I thought I sensed something about him. You were around him the entire time, perhaps you sensed it too. I understand this puts you in an awkward position, but Jedi Myriam, we have a code to follow. Did your fellow Jedi succumb to the Darkside?"

Did he succumb? And if he did once, does that guarantee that he will again? "Master… I sensed….. the seeds of the Darkside. I can't really say if he gave into it or not."

Granger pondered her answer. "Fair enough. Thank you. We have to keep our eyes out for each other. Any of us could be guilty if we're not careful, even me. We all have the seeds of the Darkside with us. We cannot have them sprouting right under our noses."

"Of course not, Master," Myriam nodded and dismissed herself.