Ten. Hooray. Or whatever. We'll be off Taris soon enough.

Disclaimer: Nope, not getting KOTOR for Christmas.

Zara reveled in the chaotic atmosphere of the track. The muddle of emotions was at once confusing and energizing, setting every one of her nerves on high alert as she pulled at the skintight leather racing gear. Only her discblade rested on her back, as easily as the vibros and blasters the other riders had.

She thanked the Ithorian mechanic and headed for the Rodian at the desk. Flexing her hands on the swoop's handlebars while she waited for the lights to turn green, she spent a moment sharpening her mind. There was no harm in her having her mind sharp.

She went easy. Zara didn't remember ever swoop racing, but her reflexes and instincts were finely tuned. And racing the swoop felt familiar.

"I haven't seen anybody race like that in twenty years!" The Ithorian gushed upon her return to the pit.

She smiled a little. "Well, I'm like nothing you've ever seen, then."

She watched the board, knowing that her time was likely to be beaten. She wanted to see the margin. One racer ended up getting a second faster, sneering at her as she passed.

Zara merely smiled and went to register for another race.

It was easier, the second time, gliding gracefully along, hitting the accelerator pads and making the engine whine with strain. It was thrilling to cross the finish line, sliding to an easy stop. Her ears pounded with adrenaline, throbbing to the wild screams of the ecstatic crowd.

She could sense the insane energy, taste the rage of the Vulkars who knew they'd lost. Her eyes drifted up to a man in purple armor, Calo Nord on his left and Canderous on his right.

"You don't want to cheat me, Brejik." Zara allowed herself to sink into a well of calm, preparing. "I dislike being cheated." She was ready to smash his skill into tiny bits.

"Kill her!"

Zara didn't hesitate, slamming two Vulkars to the ground with deadly kicks, catching the vibroblade that came down towards her shoulder and snapping it, thrusting the point through armor and flesh before swinging a wicked right hook at Brejik, shattering his skull with ease and toppling him.

Bastila broke out of the cage, snagging a double vibroblade and neatly decapitating two Vulkars. Zara kicked in the skull of the last one, blood and brains spattering.

"And who are you?"

Zara sneered a little. "Zara Nixie the mechanic, at your service." She knocked the blade aside contemptuously. "Back off, Lady Jedi. I'm with Carth Onasi."

The Jedi relaxed. "Oh. Then we should go."

"After we clean up. You look like a prostitute and I've got blood on my hands."

Her blush was very bright. "Excuse me?"

"Unless you haven't noticed, Brejik had you dressed for the occasion." Zara smirked. "Never seen clothes like that, have you?"

The Jedi's flush heightened. "I—you…"

"I have a place we can go." Zara went to the bench, taking the cloak she'd worn to the track over her tight leather and handed it to the Jedi girl, who looked to be barely into her twenties. "So put the cloak on and make sure your face is shaded." Zara raked her hair back. "Let's get out of here. I don't feel like killing any fools who decide that taking a shot at us is worth it." Zara pulled Bastila's lightsaber from Brejik's belt. "And try not to lose this. I know you Jedi stake your lives on these toys."

"Toy?!" She spat indignantly.

"Stow the temper, princess. It'll do you no good here." Zara beckoned, a quick little jab of her fingers through the air. "Let's go."

Bastila glowered, but followed. Zara led her on a twisting dance through the Lower City, sticking to the sleaziest alleys and streets. It was safer than the streets that would be patrolled by Vulkars out for blood. While Zata knew that her and him would easily take them, she felt no need to bloody her hands further for the day.

Gadon was amiable when they came in, though Zaerdra was on the ferocious side. Obviously, she was a bit disturbed by what Zara had done to Brejik and his Vulkars with just her hands.

"My friend needs some decent clothes and I need a shower."

"Of course." His sightless eyes seemed unusually keen. "How did you manage that?"

"I've had some bioengineering done." Her eyes were hooded. "I'm a little stronger than most."

"A little?" Zaerdra snarled. "You smashed his head to nothing."

"That's the idea. Dead enemies don't come after you." Zara said unflappably. "And I don't have a problem with getting my hands dirty." She eyed her bloody fists. "Though I would like to wash it off."

"You remember where to go?"

"I never forget. I just felt it would be respectful to clear it through you. We'll be out of your way before you know it." Zara moved away. "Thanks for the hospitality."

"You won us the race. I wouldn't begrudge hospitality."

Zara nodded her acknowledgement and walked off, Bastila following.

"People have nicknamed you."

"Huh?"

"I was at the cantina, watching." Mission grinned at me. "They're calling you Zara the Skullsmasher."

"Zara the Skullsmasher?" Bastila scoffed. "How crude."

Zara shrugged. "What's done is done. And a good reputation never hurts."

"Good reputation?" Carth snapped. "Now everybody knows your face."

"We're not going to be here much longer." Her eyes narrowed. "And now people know what the Skullsmasher is capable of—people won't cross me without a very good reason. And I have a feeling Davik will be more interested in me, since I have a reputation. If anyone has a way off planet, it's him."

"You don't have a way off planet?" Bastila half-shrieked.

"Sorry if we've been busy saving your Jedi behind." Zara sniped. "There's only so much we can do in less than a week. Sorry if I got injured and needed a bit of time to recuperate. Sorry if you don't like my methods or my personality." She stepped into the Jedi's space, a little intimidating. "And Skullsmasher isn't the worst name I've carried, princess. So you can shove your attitude and command—you don't know anything about command. You're as green as they come." Her eyes were cold. "And you're one of those who sat back and watched the galaxy burn."

Bastila was white with shock at Zara's bitter outburst, breathing shallowly as she took a half-step back.

Zara sensed the fear and reared back, nostrils flaring. "Are you so frighted of me, Jedi?" She spat scornfully. "Am I so terrifying?"

Bastila's color returned. "I fear no one."

She snorted. "Sure, princess. I'm going out for a drink. Don't get seen—I'm sure the Sith know who you are." She picked up her cloak, shrouding her face and body with familiar ease, noting Bastila's shudder. "I'll try not to kill anyone while I'm out." She added, with a bite of acid to her tone.

She almost bowled over a Twi'lek who jumped back when he saw her. "You're the winner of the swoop race?"

"Who's asking?" She growled.

"Canderous Ordo. He's at the cantina."

Her lips spread into a smile. She gave the Twi'lek a tip, padding quietly through the lamplight streets of upper Taris, which were teeming with people. The suns had barely set. It was pleasant to be out, people parting seamlessly around her anonymous form.

The buzz of people at the cantina was welcoming. Conversation would be difficult to overhear, difficult to be eavesdropped on. She ignored Canderous, occupying a booth in the back corner, and went for the bar.

"Drinks are back here, Skullsmasher!" Canderous rumbled, loudly enough to be heard.

"Tihaar. Two bottles of your best." She said to the bartender.

He nodded a little, obviously recognizing her. She put her credits on the counter and uncorked one of the bottles.

"I know you can hear me, Skullsmasher."

She paused in lifting the bottle, looking around. "Didn't see you." She said across the room, her Mandalorian as smooth as his.

Canderous snorted as she slammed the bottles on the table in front of him. "Didn't see me. You up for sharing?"

"They're both for me. My prize just gave me a headache."

"Why keep her, then?"

"I have my reasons, Mandalorian." She gulped down some tihaar. "And I'm curious as to why you want to talk to me."

"Because I want off this planet and you look like the woman to help me."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be." He smirked. "You're as good a fighter as you are a woman."

"Don't count on any more of that from me, boy. I rused you."

"Great ruse." His eyes narrowed. "The Sith have the launch codes at the base. You get them and I can get us close a fast ship." He poured two glasses of tihaar. "This is from my private stock."

Zara sniffed the glass, smiling appreciatively. "Good brew. The Ebon Hawk as fast as they say?"

"Every bit. And I know you have a pilot, Skullsmasher. We have a deal?"

She cocked her head, grinning. "Yeah, we do." She downed the tihaar in a gulp and wiped her lips. "I'll be at the Lower City by dawn tomorrow."

"You work fast."

"Not too fast." She purred flirtatiously, rising. "Anything I should know?"

"Janice Nall has a droid for you. Say I sent you and she'll hand it over."

Zara nodded and waved her fingers, stowing the unopened bottle in her pack, holding the other by the neck as she walked out. There was no reason to involve the others, not yet.

She could feel the discblade on her back, heavy and imbued with the Force and wickedly sharp and dangerous.