Neelo leaned forward, folding his webbed hands. "I take it you already know Coran'res'halanveros is sending a transport to Mandalore at sunrise. I want you to destroy it, and everyone inside."

Ahsoka folded her arms, absorbing Neelo's demands. "You want me to kill civilians."

"Please, lady Tano," Neelo waved. "There are no civilians on this transport, only mercenaries under Coran's employ. All of them are being paid to be there."

"Why sabotage Coran, Neelo?" She didn't like the smuggler, but she didn't want to create any more bad blood than she had already. She might have offended him, but this would be hitting his livelihood; he would never stand for it.

"He and I have never seen eye to eye for the future of Mali-Zenai. He's interested in partnering with the Mandalorians, forming a trade route, putting us on the galactic map. I want to keep those warmongers out of our business – out of my business, in particular. If his precious shipment is destroyed in Mandolorian space, the Mandos don't get their shiny new armor and blasters while Coran believes they shot his ship down, an act of war he can't retaliate on with his paltry forces. It will spoil their relations and halt Coran's momentum. You will just be deemed a casualty of the Mandolorian's ruthless attack."

Ahsoka considered this, looking over to Harena. She also seemed thoughtful, but it was hard to tell without seeing her face.

Finally, Harena spoke up. "Should word come back that it was you who sabotaged my brother, make no mistake, he will kill you. He was never exactly known for his forgiveness. And if by some chance he doesn't discover your involvement and thinks I died in that attack, he will storm Mandalore himself."

"You won't be on the manifest, my dear. You're the pickup."

Harena balked. "Are you out of your mind? I won't be able to enter Mandalorian space with my ship."

Neelo tapped something into a datapad on the arm of his chair. A hologram appeared looking into a tucked away corner of the junkyard, where several droids were hard at work repairing the body of an decrepit mandalorian fighter. "Fully kitted out. Clean title, leather interior," Neelo chuckled to himself as the hologram spun slowly. "You get this fighter into range of Mandalore, their scanners won't know the difference between you and one of their own. Then its just as easy as landing on the planet and catching a shuttle out of the system. We'll have your ship waiting at a rendezvous point along the outer rim in full working order with a brand new identification number. Everyone wins."

Except Coran, Ahsoka thought, but that went without saying.

"How are we going to destroy the ship," she asked.

Neelo shrugged. "You've got that blade for a reason, don't you?" he pointed at her waist. Her saber was hidden under her cloak; it must have become visible at some point in the course of their conversation. "Blow the airlock, try a jedi mind trick, just do something. Mahriss-thrall," he swore, throwing his hands up, "if you cut communications long enough the Mandos will blow it up for you. Just get it done somehow."

Ahsoka frowned.

"Fine," Harena said abruptly before Ahsoka could further discuss the arangement. They looked at each other. Ahsoka believed she could see a glint in Harena's eye – like it had when the clone troopers were bearing down on them, something went unsaid between the pair. "We'll do it."

"Excellent, excellent!" The Nautolan clapped. "Rest up, both of you. Tomorrow you will continue with Coran's plan as scheduled."

Ahsoka and Harena left the junkyard at separate times, both disguising their features as heavily as possible to avoid detection. Ahsoka wandered the backstreets just in case there was a tail on her, but the force told her otherwise; she couldn't sense any of the beings that had followed her before. Coran wasn't concerning himself with her, she had already shown herself to be a non-factor. All the better, she figured.

Ahsoka had returned to the JumpMaster long after the massive sun had set on the horizon, though the night sky on Mali-Zenai was constantly tinted a shade of dark red. The planet's small size and relatively quick orbit meant that they would have only six hours of night, and already one of those hours had been wasted. It was better than no sleep at all, Ahsoka sighed.

Harena was already inside the ship when Ahsoka entered. She noted the Dug that was working on repairs already gone for the evening, but it seemed as though he had made quite a bit of headway in her absence. X2 was on standby in the corner, covered in a layer of grime and grease. Ahsoka slowly wandered up the length of the ship's cargo hold and into the cockpit. Harena was seated in the pilot's chair, the interior lights dimmed to a low glow. Harena's face was exposed; it appeared as though she had removed the cloak from her shoulders and thrown it aside upon entering. Ahsoka could see a stimpak pumping bacta fluids into the wound on Harena's exposed shoulder where her blaster shot had hit in the warehouse.

Ahsoka wasn't sure if she was meant to approach or not. She stood for a long moment in the doorway.

"I never was fond of my brother's business tactics," Harena finally said. It wasn't directed to Ahsoka, more just an outward statement. "I appreciate him for his power, but we were never particularly close with each other growing up."

Ahsoka sat down in the co-pilot's seat. "It seemed like he liked you. You were the only reason our conversation didn't end up in a fight."

"Coran'res'halanveros was always quick-tempered. I should have predicted you two would have words."

A long moment passed in silence before Harena shrugged her shoulders. "Ah, well."

Ahsoka watched as a YT-2400 took off in the distance, streaking away from the spaceport.

Harena spoke quietly. "You aren't planning on going along with Neelo's scheme, are you." It was only half a question.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, feeling the flow of the Force around her. It was a vortex that provided no answers, no direction. "I guess we'll see."

Harena didn't need force sensitivity to know what Ahsoka would eventually decide. This petty conflict wasn't her fight, they both knew it. Getting involved would draw attention, and attention would draw imperials. It was a losing proposition. She wouldn't be able to rush into things as she had when her master was at her side. The galaxy had changed.

They left the conversation at that.

Eventually, the gentle rocking of the floating city beneath lulled them both to sleep.