2. Puzzle-box

Atton ran to Ebon Hawk, shoving people out of the way, ignoring protests and curses. His tension eased a little when he saw the ship still on the landing pad just as he'd left her, save for a new rusty spot or two. The hatch opened and Kreia's narrow face stared at him for a moment. When she came out, the others followed (the old witch had its uses). Disciple, of course, blond and plump; phlegmatic Bao-Dur; Visas, whom he didn't know what to make of; a Mandalorian who was, well, a Manadalorian; and a couple of rust-buckets.

"It's an open season," Atton said, "and we are the game. Look sharp." Disciple jumped off the ramp in a flash, and would be gone running, if he hadn't caught him on the swinging robes. That's why anyone with a grain of sense wears armor. "You are not heading for Jekk'Jekk, at least not right away." The young man scowled. "Now, now, don't stomp your feet at me," Atton said, "ain't my fault the locals spotted the target painted on her forehead by the Exchange and got creative. We'll have to clear them out to get to Jekk. Together."

"I will stay and land you a hand against the knaves. But after, not you, not anyone else—" Disciple glanced warily at Kreia, "…is going to stop me from looking for my Master." "Oh, good," muttered Atton, "we have so much in common."

"Here they come," Bao-Dur interrupted in the same even tone he asked a passerby to hand him a hydrospanner, please. In fact, he might have sounded more excited about the tool. It was hard to say with Bao-Dur. When Atton first saw Quinly tutoring the Iridonian in handling the lightsaber, he thought it was an elaborate prank. The joke was on him, apparently. Bao-Dur had a talent for manipulating the Force to impact the inanimate and the energies. He also treated a lightsaber as a pet, if it made any sense. And, his unwavering calm turned positively glacial when the push came to shove, a mark of an elite soldier. Mechanic, yeah, right.

The times must have been lean on Nar Shaddaa, for a surprising number of gangs flooded through the alleyways to try their luck at winning the bounty. Atton glanced gands, twi'leks, bith, duros—aim lower, aim higher, aim lower to hit the targets. That was pure pazaak, hitting the targets one after another. Not at all like the two women in the cantina, when it was all too personal. Not at all like – whatever. A human, take her on the side before she shoots—

"STOP!"

…or makes more noise…

"QUINLY!"

Atton reversed the blow's direction. "This one wants to talk," Bao-Dur said cautiously, jumping over from somewhere. Another annoying gift of his. Atton lowered the lightsaber an inch from the talking face. Towards the — May the Force be… wherever. His brows shot up: "The fashions in Nar Shaddaa slums are getting better and better."

The two assassins in the cantina were quite the sight, but couldn't hold a candle to this one. The red-haired she-devil was squeezed in a few straps of poisonously-green plate. What sort of protection it offered when the gal walked through the blaster inferno was anybody's guess, but then again, Jedi robes didn't seem like much either. If only they came in the same cut. A memory of Quinly wearing a dancer's costume to come before the mob leader Vogga was, well, pleasant. Not that she had a waist like the red-head one, but her body rippled, so tight, so able-

"Name's Mira," the owner of the tiny waist said. "You want to listen about your big-time Jedi friend or do I knock you out and talk to the one with horns?"

"Say your piece," Atton replied wishing he knew how to choke the life out of people. A dangerous power, straight out of the Sith' handbooks, but Visas seemed to cope just fine. Atton was sure he could use it with the same elegant discretion.

"Look, the short of it is that Goto got the Jedi on his yacht," Mira said.

"And the long story? You know, how you fit in, and why I shouldn't shoot you?"

"We don't exactly have time for an epic poem here," by the look Mira gave him, she was not opposed to chocking with discretion either. "Fine, fine, she was my bounty, but Visquis cheated. Then Goto cheated. Then – well, she is a prisoner at the Goto's yacht. My point is, lots of very angry people would love to know where the yacht is, and none could find out to date. So, ideas how to get to the Jedi?"

Atton scratched his head. The landing pad was still reverberating with the sound of fighting, and the Force pounded against him with pain, confusion and fury. Luckily, he was not a type to meditate to solve the problems. "Maybe I could hack power distribution grids," Bao-Dur said thoughtfully. "If I can find the diversion points not accounted for in the records—" Mira groaned: "This here is not called the Smuggler's Moon for nothing, genius." "She's right," Atton said. "When you can't find them, the only hope is to make them find you." Bao-Dur murmured: "It did not go well for the General." Atton waved his hand in the air: "Right. On foot. No egress plan. This red-head mixed in somehow. What could possibly go wrong? We will do it differently."

The plan was shaping up in his head and fast. "Does Goto still nab Vogga's freighters?" Atton asked Mira. "Yeees…" Mira said. "So we fudge the Hawk's signature and fly it in, like she's a freighter. A little gift for Goto. I bet he'd grab the package without looking too closely."

"It could work," Bao-Dur agreed.

"Because Vogga's going to share the codes with your lot?" Mira snorted. "If you've asked nicely? I wouldn't give you directions to a cantina!"

"Thanks, we can manage without," Atton retorted.

"Oh, I don't doubt," Mira yelled, "but the codes—"

"I have been helping Fassa to fix his freighter landing system, and copied a couple of codes. I've had a feeling it can come in handy." He was fixing a blazing landing system while on a shore leave. Swell. Well, some of us play pazaak-

"One more thing before we go," Atton nodded in Disciple's general direction. The man was in the middle of a flashy two-sword number that was surprisingly effective. Or at least a swarm of gands thought so, scattering out of his way and taking to blasters. "I owe him something. I think." Bao-Dur shrugged and rushed forward. By the time Atton caught up, Disciple stopped hitting the air with his fist. "Go," he said with a grim determination. "I will do what I must," he finally looked up at Atton. The young man's bright blue eyes turned icy. He is shaping up. Atton frowned, surprised that he felt a kind of pity for the boy. He's seen it too many times for it to start bothering him now. It was a good thing for the Disciple anyway; the bright-eyed got killed. Bao-Dur took Atton by the shoulder and turned him towards the Hawk. "Let us proceed, Captain."

Sure, he didn't care, but he still wanted to know. So Atton stuck his head into the engine room on his way to the cockpit. "She will be ready in a minute," reported Bao-Dur. "Erm, yes, thanks," Atton paused, before giving into his curiosity. "What did you tell him?" The mechanic looked at him levelly. "The truth. You fly. I cut through the security. He takes the rest to the docks and kills everyone eager to blow up Goto's yacht once the security is off and she is in plain view. Until Hawk makes her egress, Captain."

Atton took Ebon Hawk to the air, and focused on flying her like a freighter. Steady, slow, slow, slower… Bao-Dur came to the bridge and stood watching the lights of Nar Shaddaa impassively until blinding floodlight filled the pit and a mechanical voice announced that they were being diverted on Goto's orders. "We are in," Atton whispered. "Almost," Bao-Dur replied as they sprinted down the exit ramp, lightsabers at the ready. Atton shrugged. He only need to dispose of whatever or whoever stood between him and Quinly. And all will be well.