Chapter Six: The Flow of Goods

Dr. Maer's dying patient had provided him with a rendezvous point. A narrow street, a row of empty buildings. They had most likely been shops once, though they had long since been abandoned.

"Not empty," Qyzen said. "Look closer."

Few people walked on this street. Those that did moved quickly, averting their eyes from the derelict buildings. Ashara probed the area with her senses. The first thing she felt was the anxiety of the locals. Hearts beating fast, sweat glands overactive. A rush to move on.

Then she picked up the people within the buildings. No fear, no anxiety. Just predatory satisfaction. The Black Sun, looking out over their domain.

Ashara tucked the scanner into her palm, making sure it was activated. Then she and Qyzen picked a wall and leaned against it. They stood, arms folded. Ashara affected an indolent attitude, while Qyzen glared at anyone who so much as glanced their way. Given the area, a casual observer would mistake them for peddlers of spice or death sticks.

After about fifteen minutes, the scanner pinged. Ashara glanced in the ping's direction. A young woman. Not even that: a girl, maybe 16, maybe younger. She stumbled as she walked, agony written on her face even as she stubbornly pushed herself onward.

Ashara glanced at Qyzen, but the hunter was already in motion. She had to jog to catch up with him.

The girl drew back from them, eyes widening.

"Don't run!" Ashara said. "We're here to help."

The girl shook her head. "I need to go," she said. "My brother…"

"What? Are they holding him?"

She felt activity from inside the buildings. The gang members had noticed, were debating whether they should come out. A part of Ashara almost wanted them to... but this was not the time. If the girl was to have a chance, then they could not delay.

The girl shook her head. "He joined Black Sun, but he didn't complete his initiation. He was supposed to kill someone, but he backed out. If I do what they say, they promised to let him live. Even without the Sun, he can do manual labor, make enough money for our family. My parents need him. More than…"

She stopped, but Ashara could already finish the thought. "More than they need me." She saw the deadness in the girl's eyes. Doubtless stories were already spreading about what happened to the Suns' special smugglers. She didn't expect to survive.

Ashara felt rage rising in her. Again, a cold part of her brain wished for the Black Sun to come out of hiding.

She forced the anger down again, focused on projecting calm for the girl.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"L-Lissa."

"Lissa, I'm Ashara. I'm a Jedi padawan." The girl's eyes widened again, this time with awe. "My friend here is Qyzen Fess. We can help, both you and your brother. But first we have to save you. Wouldn't you like to live?"

A glint of hope. Ashara felt a pang of regret as she realized that the word "Jedi" still counted for something. Even after the Order had gone into seclusion for longer than this girl had been alive, that one word was enough to make her hope.

And if it were up to the Jedi, they'd probably let her die. That cold, angry voice again.

Before she could even process the thought, Ashara felt activity inside the buildings. The gang members were readying their weapons.

Somehow, Qyzen seemed to sense it as well. "Move now," he growled.

Ashara extended her hand. "Please, Lissa."

To her relief, Lissa took her hand. "Please help me. I don't want to die."

Most of the patients were gone when they returned to Dr. Maer's clinic. The only ones remaining were those too sick or injured to be moved. Ashara noted that old crates had been stacked in a makeshift barrier separating the patients from the rest of the converted warehouse.

She could see the worry on the doctor's face, but he still greeted Lissa with a reassuring smile as he took her back to the tented-off surgical area. As he withdrew, his eyes caught Ashara's.

"Don't worry," she said. "If anyone comes, Qyzen and I will be ready."

Qyzen climbed, crouching in the window above the door. He positioned himself expertly. He would not be seen by anyone outside; Ashara could barely locate him even knowing exactly where he was.

She opened the door and walked outside. She was unarmed: An unimposing young woman. She felt eagerness stirring in that unwanted part of her mind.

She closed her eyes, pushing the emotion away. She began running through the mental preparation exercises Master Caecinius had drilled into all of his students. The Force surrounded her, surrounded all of them, even in this neglected place. She focused on the connections it forged: Between her and Qyzen, hidden in the window above. Between her and young Lissa in surgery, her heart rate already slowing with anesthesia. Between Lissa and Dr. Maer, preparing his laser scalpel while performing his own pre-surgical mental ritual. Between them and the building, their shelter.

Even the connection between herself and the approaching men.

She could sense eight of them in total. All young, probably younger than her. She could guess their stories: Joining the Sun out of desperation, finding a place of belonging in the gang, and then becoming drunk on the power they wielded.

She opened her eyes as the leader of the group stepped forward. He was 17, maybe 18. Scars on his face spoke to the struggles he'd endured. Pain and power had made him cruel. He looked her over and leered.

"Pretty outsiders like you shouldn't come down here," he said. "Where's your big friend? Did he leave you all alone with the big bag corrina?"

He swaggered forward, expecting her to shrink back.

Then halted, confused, when Ashara grinned instead.

"Oh, he's around," she said. "So you saw him?"

"Big lizard man." He shrugged, and his arrogance returned with the gesture. "You'd need ten of him to protect you from us."

Ashara shook her head. "My friend is a Trandoshan." She spoke loudly, making sure all the gang members could hear. "You've at least heard of them, right? The most skilled hunters in the galaxy. They honor their god with the hunt, earning points for each kill. He could pick off any three of you in a second, and you'd never even see him."

Her words were having the desired effect. The gang members were exchanging looks, seeming less certain.

The leader's eyes narrowed. A hand strayed toward his belt, where a long blade waited.

"That still leaves five of us," he said.

"So you can do math," Ashara congratulated him. "I am impressed."

The blade seemed to jump into his hand, and his eyes grew even harder than they had been. "Last warning, little girl. You and your great hunter took something that doesn't belong to you. Return it, and we might still let you go."

He stepped toward her.

And stopped instantly as a blaster bolt ricocheted in front of his feet.

All was still for a moment. The gang members, far from veteran soldiers, glanced around frantically, trying to trace the direction of the shot. Their eyes swept across Qyzen's hiding place multiple times. Not once did any of them actually see him.

Ashara stepped forward, extending her hands to either side.

"My friend gave you a warning. He must be feeling generous. Now here's mine."

She lifted her hands. In time with the gesture, the gang members lifted off the ground, crying out in shock.

"I am a Jedi padawan," she announced. "You have taken things that belong to the Order. We want them back."

The gang leader slashed at the air, screaming threats. "Jedi? I'm supposed to be afraid of Jedi? Everyone knows they don't fight. They meditate in temples and run away when any real fight comes!"

Ashara turned the boy upside down and jerked him high into the air. His knife clattered to the ground.

Her heart pounded. That hidden part of her exulted in this, urged her to do more. To take revenge for the people these ruffians had hurt.

She forced herself to stay calm. She knelt to pick up the knife. The blade was jagged, notches carved into the hilt. The kills that had earned him his leadership spot?

She stood and, with a wave of her fingers, lowered the boy so that his eyes were even with hers.

"You're right," she said. "Jedi do a lot of meditating. That's because we have to learn to control our emotions. We're taught to avoid fighting whenever possible. Not to protect us from you, but to protect you from us."

She let go of the knife, but she didn't let it fall. She let it fly toward the leader, who screamed.

She stopped it, hovering half an inch from his right eye.

"Jedi believe in restraint," she said. "You violated our temple and we did nothing. It' s a ruin anyway. You stole our artifacts, and we stood by. Holocrons are easily replaced, and not worth even lives as degraded as yours. But now you're smuggling them inside people's bodies, poisoning innocents with our technology. Restraint has its limits."

The young man stared at the knife. "The Jedi don't want a war with the Black Sun," he gasped.

"The Black Sun doesn't want a war with the Jedi," Ashara snapped. "I am a single, lowly Padawan." She flicked her hand upward, and the gang members rose into the air. She brought them slowly down again. "I'm still a student," she added. "How would the Black Sun fare against Knights? Or Masters? The Jedi aren't police, we aren't concerned with petty crimes. We've left the Sun alone. But tell your bosses: The Temple is off limits. Return whatever you haven't sold yet, and don't touch Jedi property again. Is that understood?"

The young man glanced at the knife, nodded tightly.

"Good."

Ashara let go. The youths fell to the ground. She carefully adjusted the leader's fall to make sure he didn't break his neck on the way down.

She smiled brightly. "Oh, one more thing," she said. "Dr. Maer's clinic? It's under our protection. Think of it like a shrine. A place of peace."

The young man swallowed, nodded. He and the other gang members ran from the building as if a demon was chasing them.

"Not hunters at all. They react like prey." Qyzen stood in the doorway. She had been so focused on the youths, she had failed to track his movements. "Biggest fish in a small pond thinks it's a shark – unless it meets a real one."

"So I'm a shark? I thought I was 'small hunter.' "

Qyzen grunted, glancing in the direction of the fleeing gang members. "No, not small hunter. Not like Herald either. You have instincts of a predator."

Ashara frowned. She wasn't sure she liked that assessment.

"Question," Qyzen said. "Wouldn't Jedi be unhappy with you claiming to still be one of them? Or with using them as threat?"

Ashara pictured the Jedi Council, the members glaring judgmentally at her for helping Canlyn back on Tython.

"They wouldn't like it," she agreed. "But I'm not going to tell them. Are you?"

Qyzen's grin was all the answer she required.

It was almost morning before Dr. Maer emerged from surgery. He looked exhausted, but he managed a nod.

"You got to her in time," he said. "She'll live."

He withdrew to his office to sleep. Qyzen and Ashara continued to stand guard. They had sent a message. Someone would come to answer it.

About an hour later, a man approached the clinic. He was alone. Well-dressed, carrying a briefcase. No sign of a weapon. From the way he carried himself, Ashara sensed that he didn't really need one.

"That is a hunter," Qyzen hissed.

This time, he did not take up his position at the window. He stood at Ashara's shoulder, watching the man's approach, as Dr. Maer's assistant let him in.

He didn't even glance at the assistant, turning directly to Ashara and Qyzen.

"You would be the Jedi padawan?" His voice flat, no trace of emotion.

"Ashara Zavros."

The man looked at Qyzen. "You must be the Trandoshan Milo mentioned. You could have gained several Jagannath points last night. Why didn't you?"

Qyzen bared his teeth. "No honor in hunting cubs."

He nodded, accepting the answer. "Is Dr. Maer here?"

Maer's assistant shot a nervous look at Ashara, who gave a nod in return.

"I'll get him." The young woman's voice cracked with fright. She managed to walk to the back office, but it was obvious that she wanted to run.

Maer emerged a few minutes later. His hair was unkempt from sleep, but his eyes were sharp.

He greeted the well-dressed man. "Tereth."

"Dr. Maer," the Black Sun leader replied. "You look tired."

"It was a long night. Do I have a long day to look forward to, as well?"

"No. Your Jedi friend already negotiated on your behalf." Tereth turned back to her. "I spent much of the night discussing the situation with the other heads, and then with Nar Shadaa. It has been agreed that the terms you conveyed to Milo are acceptable. The Sun will not touch the Jedi Temple. And we will leave the clinic alone, so long as Dr. Maer continues to extend his services to us."

Maer nodded. "I would never turn away anyone in need."

"I know, Doctor. I already told that to Nar Shadaa. The Jedi relics weren't proving that profitable in any case, so it was no great loss to let them go."

Tereth snapped his fingers. Two young men entered, carrying a large box. Ashara recognized one of them as Milo, the scarred boy from the previous night. He flinched when she made eye contact.

"Consider this a gesture of goodwill," Tereth said. "These are the artifacts we have on hand. Any that have been sent to Nar Shadaa will be returned as soon as practicable. Anything already sold... Well, even you can't turn back time, Jedi."

Milo and the other boy set the box down in front of Ashara. The leader snapped his fingers again, and Milo and the other boy left.

Tereth gave a thin, unamused smile. "I think you broke Milo. A pity. He was a promising enforcer."

Ashara wondered what would happen to the boy, decided she didn't want to know.

"Will Lissa and her family be left alone?" she asked.

Tereth looked confused. "Who?" Then he realized. "Oh, the courier. We have nothing to gain by harming her. She won't be paid, but neither she nor her family will be harmed. Is that adequate?"

Ashara nodded. It left Lissa's family exactly where they had been: in squalor. But at least there wouldn't be a death mark against her or her brother. The rest was a problem beyond her ability to solve.

"OK," she agreed.

Now it was Tereth's turn to press. "Can I tell Nar Shadaa that no Jedi will enter Black Sun territory?"

Ashara had expected this, and already had her answer prepared.

"I can't promise a Jedi won't come here on a separate mission," she told him. "But they won't come here for this."

Tereth reflected, gave a curt nod. "Adequate." Then he smiled. "I have met Jedi twice before. You are nothing like them. Maybe there's hope for the Order after all."

Then the well-dressed man withdrew. Maer and his assistant took a deep breath at their absence.

"So we can stay," Maer was clearly amazed. "Jedi, I…"

Ashara waved off whatever he might have said. "I'm happy we could help. But what about Lissa?"

"We have no lack of work here," Maer said. "It won't be easy. But if she's willing to work hard, then we'll make sure she and her family don't starve."

Ashara nodded. Then turned to the box.

Qyzen was already spreading the artifacts out on the floor. Several holocrons. A projection cube. Two lightsaber hilts. Ashara picked them up and tried them. The crystals were either drained or broken; they would not activate.

"Noetikon not here," Qyzen said.

Ashara sighed. Well, she hadn't expected any differently.

"Was good thing you did," Qyzen said. "Yuon would not have wanted this to continue. So what next?"

Ashara began returning the artifacts to their box.

"We take these to Attros," she said. "And hope Lyn's had better luck with the Gand."