Quinlan stood beside the computer station, crossed one ankle over the other, and slouched against the computer station, resting an elbow on top of the large screen. The purple-skinned woman tilted an eyebrow at him. Weird. He'd thought Nautolans didn't have eyebrows.

At his look, one corner of her mouth turned upward. "They are not real, of course," she said.

Quinlan shifted, pretending sudden nervousness. "Look, I know you said you aren't a witch, but . . ."

"I am not a mind reader," she said, her fingers tapping briskly away at the keypad in front of her. The password she typed in was twenty-two characters long.

"Uh-huh."

"I am not," she said again. "You, however, were fairly easy to read just now."

Whoops. This could be a problem.

Quinlan gave her a vague smile and gazed down at her. "You know . . . that's kind of insulting. Most people think I'm impossible to read."

She hummed a laugh. "You may be, overall. But it is easy to read anyone for certain things. I have drawn similar looks from those familiar with Nautolans many times before."

"Oh, gotcha." He felt himself relaxing minutely. "So, what's the job? Red Turban, outside the door, said something about working in teams, but I generally work alone."

"Hmm. I may still have a job for you . . . but overall, the Prince does prefer teams," she said slowly. "It is harder for his employees to betray him if they are all keeping an eye on each other. Bounty hunters are suspicious by nature."

"Yeah," he said, casting a quick look at the door. "With good reason."

"Of course," she said. "After all, most of you make your living doing illegal things."

"And the guys who hire us do illegal things by proxy," he retorted amicably. "Look, I left my ship unguarded. Can we hurry this up?"

"As I said, suspicious by nature." She turned back to the screen. "What is your name?"

" . . . Which one?"

She shrugged elegantly. "Most people working for the Prince are well-known, and prefer to use their real names, but perhaps you do not have a reputation yet."

"Not in this part of the galaxy," he admitted, truthfully enough. Once he wreaked havoc on the Prince's organization – and, if he were lucky, on Grakkus the Hutt's – he'd have a reputation to rival that of almost any bounty hunter. In the meantime, though . . .

"Hmmm." He chewed thoughtfully at his lip, then nodded. "Well, for this job, I'll be Quinlan Vos."

As he spelled it out, she typed it in.

Quinlan smirked. Pretend to be making up a name, and no one will think it's your real one.

Then she looked up again, so he quickly altered his expression to something less smug.

"And what, Quinlan Vos, is your field of expertise?"

"Infiltration, captures, that kind of thing. Good knife and hand-to-hand skills, strong psychometric abilities, fair shot, excellent pilot."

"I see." She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs, adjusting her skirt. "Do you have a bounty on your own head?"

"Never been caught, so – nope." Not apart from the million credits Dooku would pay for my death, but that's not an actual bounty. "But there are some guys I'd rather avoid. . ."

"Ah." The Nautolan woman smiled. "Before we finalize your payment, then, perhaps I should mention that there are a few very famous members of your profession already in the Prince's employ. You've met one of them – a Corellian named Dengar."

"Oh. Red Turban?"

"Yes. There are two others: a Kyuzo warrior named Embo, and a Duros, Cad Bane."

Cad Bane. That wasn't good. He'd recognize Quinlan in an instant. "Bane could be a problem," he admitted. "I might have cut in on his last bounty."

Sort of. After all, Quinlan and Obi-Wan hadn't been after a bounty when they hunted Ziro the Hutt, but Bane had, and the Jedi and Bane had discovered Ziro's corpse at the same time. Of course, it was kind of Obi-Wan's fault; Bane had been willing to walk away, but Obi-Wan had – somewhat idiotically – announced that he intended to bring Bane in for what he'd done at the Senate building.

"I see." The woman inclined her head thoughtfully. "That could be a bit problematic, but psychometry is a valuable talent, and one which the Prince specifically asked me to look out for. Bane is currently on Nal Hutta. I will ensure that he is not involved in the job I have in mind for you."

He nodded. "Okay. Since it looks like I'll be working for you, what should I call you?"

"I am Vythia Archane. You may address me however you prefer."

"Vythia. Pretty name. And what's the job?"

Her friendly manner became suddenly business-like. "My employer is always looking for artifacts. There are some in particular that he wishes to obtain. One of them is rumored to be hidden in a labyrinth, deep underground. Psychometry might be the best way to locate it."

"A labyrinth? Isn't that a little – I don't know, old-fashioned for this planet?" Quinlan asked, glancing at the entrance to the warehouse. It was still shut. Red Turban, or Dengar or whoever, wasn't around, and he sensed no other lifeforms nearby, but the sensation of being watched was very strong.

Realizing that the woman hadn't answered, he glanced curiously at her. She was staring at nothing, a strange gleam in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was low and reverent. "There has been nothing new on Malachor for thousands of years. . . Not since the Great Scourge."

Quinlan knew his expression hadn't changed, but inwardly his mind felt as though it were on fire. Malachor. The ancient planet of the Sith, where the most infamous of all Sith Temples had been built, and later lost. Malachor, so steeped in the Dark Side that it had been removed from galactic maps throughout the Republic. Malachor, untouched for nearly four thousand years, ever since Darth Tanis' superweapon had been activated, petrifying all life on the planet's surface.

Some hours later, Quinlan Vos took his starfighter out of the atmosphere to make a report to the Jedi Temple. It was standard procedure to let the Council know that he'd at least arrived at his destination alive and in one piece, but normally he didn't have much else to tell them at this stage of a mission.

This time, though . . . Malachor, Nautolan woman with an awakened kyber crystal, Malachor, artifacts and psychometry, Malachor . . .

A small light blinked, letting him know a connection was being established, and he took a moment to still his whirling thoughts.

The short figure of the Grandmaster appeared. "Master Yoda, this is. Quinlan Vos, safe, are you?"

"Sort of," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But there have been unexpected developments."

"Expected developments, were there?" The old Jedi cackled delightedly, then regained his composure. "The trouble, what is it?"

Quinlan told him about everything – the strange Nautolan woman, the hunt for the artifact that was to take place on Malachor, the fact that his psychometry seemed to be a key point, and the bounty hunters whom he knew to be in the Prince's employ.

"Troubling, this is," said Master Yoda when he had finished.

"Yeah, I kind of had the same thought," Quinlan sighed. He didn't describe the sudden rush of fear that had filled him when Vythia spoke about Malachor. Whether it was a foreboding from his connection to the Force or whether he had some superstitious fear of the Sith planet, he couldn't say. It was probably better not to think about it.

"Go to Malachor alone, you must not. Help, to complete this mission, you will need."

Quinlan frowned, concerned. "I don't need to actually go to Malachor, do I? All I've got to do is bring the Prince back to Coruscant."

"Dealing in Sith artifacts, we thought he was. Dealing in Sith artifacts, we now know he is. Dangerous for the galaxy, this is."

"No kidding. But if I capture him, the bounty hunters won't have anyone to pay them and the deal will fall through. Problem solved."

Yoda eyed him. "So simple, you think this to be?"

"I mean, yeah," Quinlan said, more optimistically than he felt. "Cut off the head and the snake dies, right?"

"The head, the Prince is not." Yoda shook his head, ears drooping slightly. "Fear, I do, that the mysterious Sith Lord is behind this. To locate him, we will try. . . But if not, stop Darth Sidious from gaining more artifacts, we must."

"I think the Prince already has some artifacts at his place," Quinlan said, recalling the odd sense of foreboding he'd had on entering the warehouse. "I could find them, see what they can tell me."
"Yes," said Yoda. "Locate the artifacts and destroy them so have them he cannot, you should. But prioritize that, you should not, and do it alone, you should not. Hm. Grave danger I sense in your future."

Quinlan tried to ignore the feeling of building unease. "Hey," he said flippantly. "You're the one who says, 'always in motion, the future is'."

Yoda huffed. "Difficult, you are being."

Despite himself, Quinlan chuckled. "Apologies, Master."

"Always in motion, the future is, yes; but take foolish risks, you must not. At Toydaria, Master Kenobi's fleet is."

"Obi-Wan?" Quinlan frowned. "Master Yoda, he'll get both of us caught and probably killed in no time flat. He's the worst undercover agent the Jedi Order has ever seen."

"An exaggeration, that is. A worse undercover agent would I be, hmm? And a worse agent would Master Rancisis be?"

"Yeah, I suppose, but –"

"Think he should help you personally, I do not." Yoda paused, frowning thoughtfully, and thumped his gimer stick against the floor.

"I don't suppose Aayla's available?" Quinlan asked, despite knowing perfectly well that she was busy on her own mission. It was worth a shot. He and his former padawan worked seamlessly together.

Yoda did not bother to respond. "Busy with establishing the supply base, Obi-Wan has been," he mused. "But special forces, he has available. Aid, perhaps, he could send."

"Long as he doesn't send clones," Quinlan agreed. "They're the only ones who could possibly be more noticeable than Obi-Wan."

"Another exaggeration, that was," Yoda commented. "Speak with the other Council members about Malachor, I will, when present, they are. Speak to you later, I will, if reach you, I can."

"I wouldn't count on being able to reach me," Quinlan warned. "Depending on what happens, I might have to maintain comm silence."

"Understand this, I do." Yoda frowned and shook his head, then thumped his stick against the floor again. "Use your own judgment, you will, but shrouded is the Force concerning the Sith. . . Very shrouded. Careful, you must be, Quinlan Vos."

He hadn't exactly been planning on being careless, but – "Yes, Master Yoda," he said, bowing his head.

The blue holographic figure vanished.

That was one thing off his list. Now to call Obi-Wan . . .

He punched in the Fleet's high-priority frequency and added the four-digit code that would reroute his signal to Obi-Wan's fleet.

The call was answered almost immediately by a clone officer in a uniform. "This is the Negotiator. Identify yourself."

"This is Quinlan Vos, Jedi Knight." He sent through his ship's ID number and waited.

There was a brief pause before the clone spoke. "Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Is General Kenobi there?"

The clone checked something on a screen. "Not on the ship, sir. He's flying escort for the supply shuttles. I can transfer your call to his fighter, though."

"Yeah, thanks, that'd be great."

The clone disappeared and was replaced by a rotating holograph of the Republic insignia. Quinlan kicked his feet up to rest on the control panel again and put on his most annoying smile.

This was Obi-Wan, after all.

An instant later, Obi-Wan appeared, sitting properly, hands correctly spaced on the steering yoke. "Quinlan. What's this all about?"

"Master Yoda thought I should call you."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah."

Obi-Wan waited with an obvious attempt at patience, and Quinlan decided to have pity on him. "Long story short, I've got a potentially high-risk mission on Nar Shaddaa, and it looks like I'll need help."

His fellow Jedi hesitated. "Quinlan, I've been given specific instructions to personally oversee the construction of this base. . . And it's going to take at least a week."

"Yeah, yeah." Quinlan gestured dismissively. "Yoda says you've got some special forces under your command."

Obi-Wan's face brightened. "True. The sector fleet's tied up around Toydaria right now, so they should be available. Cody would know. I can't tell you what the team's specific skills are, but –" He broke off to answer an official-sounding voice. "Quinlan, I'll have to cut this call short. King Kutuunko is on his way to the landing pad."

"Wait, you've already landed?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan sounded confused.

"Okay . . . then why are you still holding onto that steering yoke like your life depends on it?"

An offended expression crossed Obi-Wan's face. He removed his hands from the yoke, folded them in his lap, and gave no response.

"Rough flight?" sympathized Quinlan, knowing full well it could not possibly have been a rough flight. Flying escort in a non-combat zone was about the easiest job there was, but with Obi-Wan, it just didn't seem to matter. Obi-Wan's dislike of flying was probably Anakin's fault, and Quinlan said so.

After treating Quinlan to one of his best glowers, Obi-Wan reached across to transfer the connection. Another clone in full armor appeared, half-turned away and pointing at something out of sight – presumably, he was directing some activity or other – as he answered the call.

"Hey, Commander," Quinlan said with a casual wave.

"General Vos," said Cody in a neutral tone. His datapad beeped, and he glanced down at it. ". . .Hm. General Kenobi says you could use some help."

"He usually thinks so."

Cody continued to watch the datapad for a moment, but then put it away, helmet tilted in mild exasperation. "He didn't give any details. Care to elaborate?"

"Yeah." Quinlan sat upright, growing serious. "Listen, Commander. I was sent to Nar Shaddaa to spy on a powerful crime lord, find out if he's selling Sith artifacts, and, if so, to find a reason to bring him back to Coruscant. My investigation so far indicates that the Prince is buying and selling artifacts, and that he carries out all his transactions through a Nautolan woman named Vythia Archane." He frowned. " . . . I'm not sure how much of this I was supposed to tell you."

"We're on a specially encrypted channel, sir," Cody reminded him. "Or is it because it's Jedi business?"

"It's Jedi business, yeah." Quinlan considered for a moment. The Jedi were serving in this war as generals or commanders, and Cody was a senior commander, which meant he technically outranked most of the Jedi, anyway. He smirked at a sudden thought. "Hey, Cody, if you were a Jedi, would you be a Knight or a Master?"

For a long moment, it looked as though the holograph had frozen, but then Cody moved a hand helplessly. "General, what –?"

"Point being, you're at least the same rank as I am."

Cody's hands fell at his sides. "General Vos," he said slowly. "Maybe you should –"

"Nope, we're good." Quinlan interrupted with a wave of his hand. "If I'm not supposed to have told you, Yoda will have to take it up with Kenobi, since he's the one who transferred the job to you. So, yeah, we're all good. Anyway, it seems I'll be needing help for the rest of the mission."

". . . Yes, sir. What are the mission parameters?"

"I wish I knew." Quinlan drummed his fingers on the steering yoke. "They've changed once already. Taking down the Prince is only secondary now. I'll still be destroying artifacts, but mostly I'll be focused on trying to identify the person who's buying them."

"Understood. What kind of team will you need?"

"You tell me. It's possible I'll be heading to a planet no one's been to in thousands of years. I may or may not need them for that. I signed a contract to hunt artifacts down for the Prince . . . so I might be working with a team of bounty hunters, which could be a problem if any of them are likely to recognize clones."

The clone commander nodded slowly. "General, I do have a squad currently on Nal Hutta – I can re-task them to assist you. Considering the situation, that might be best."

Okay, that sounded bad. "Uh – what situation?"

"Their current mission is to track down a bounty hunter named Cad Bane and find out what he's up to. I understand you and General Kenobi ran into Bane last time you were there."

Quinlan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Commander, Bane is working for the Prince. If he gets suspicious, this whole mission is off!"

"Yes, sir. One moment. I'll call them off right away."

Cody disappeared, leaving Quinlan alone in the cockpit of his fighter as it drifted in space.

It could never be easy, could it? Quinlan slouched lower in his seat and fidgeted with his fingerless gloves, snapping them against his hands.

A slow minute passed before Cody reappeared. "General Vos, I've contacted the squad, and they're pulling back. What coordinates should I give them?"

"Tell them Hutta Town, main landing platform." He thought for a moment. "They'll be asked for identification and probably for their reason for showing up. . . I'm using my real name, but your guys should give their ship name and say they're there to refuel and pick up work or something."

"Yes, sir. They should be there in a few hours."

"Right." Quinlan wasn't sure about these special forces, but it was too late now. He nodded to Cody. "My thanks, Commander."

"Always a pleasure, sir." Cody signed off.

Quinlan blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. He'd always worked alone, except for those rare occasions where he'd been teamed with a fellow Jedi. These special forces guys, whoever they were, had better be at least as skilled as padawans.

"Guess I'll find out fast enough," he muttered, feeding power to the engines. It was time to head back to Hutta Town. A little reconnaissance was in order.

Hunter knelt on the soft ground, knife clenched in one hand as he observed the Havoc Marauder through the dusk. There were droids on the other side – he could sense them moving from place to place, their electronic signatures faint specks of static at the edge of his mind.

"Can I smash them?" begged Wrecker in a loud whisper.

"Hmm . . ." Hunter tilted his head. "There's only a few. Okay, but keep it quiet."

Honestly, he didn't know if Wrecker knew the meaning of the word, but the Bad Batch did need to get off the planet as quickly as possible.

The big clone charged forward and disappeared into the fog. Hunter stood up and turned to face the swamp, keeping half his attention on the sounds of ripping metal and yelling droids as Wrecker tore them apart.

The bog surrounding the ship was particularly oppressive at this time of day. Long strands of limp moss hung from the branches of the grey trees, shifting unwillingly at each warm breeze. Oily water lay in every depression in the ground, and yellowish fog spread from the surface, rolling across the landscape. The air was thick. Even through his helmet filters, Hunter could smell the heat and humidity.

The swamp was silent now. Wrecker had finished destroying the droids and was onboard, readying the ship for its next flight.

A harsh, croaking call sounded to his left, and Hutner cast a quick look at the featherless, bird-like creature that perched above him. It spread pale wings and leaned forward to snap its long beak at him.

Hunter turned back to the bog as the bird cawed again. The squad had been on Nal Hutta for two standard days now, tracking down Bane's whereabouts. The bounty hunter had been preparing to leave the planet when Cody called in.

And now the team was on to a different mission. Cody had given no details, just told them to get away from Bane as fast as possible.

Just as well, in Hunter's opinion. Bane had only been on Nal Hutta to pick up payment from some Hutt and to buy supplies – presumably for an upcoming job. Nothing really important.

A beep signaled that he was receiving a long-range transmission, and he accepted it quickly. "Commander?"

"Hunter," Cody's voice came through.

"You got further intel for me, sir?"

"Further instructions, anyway. Go to the landing platform at Hutta Town on Nar Shaddaa. You'll be asked for identification. Vos says to use only your ship name. If you're asked what your business there is, tell 'em that you're there to refuel and look for work."

"Got it. What name will we meet him under?"

"He's using his real name."

"Hm. Any particular reason for that?"

"I assume so. Vos is – very good at what he does."

Hunter glanced into the bog again, sensing the approach of his teammates. "You have reservations about him, Commander?"

"He's a little crazy," said Cody diplomatically. "But that's not what I have reservations about. He'll give you the full briefing, but this mission involves Sith artifacts."

"Well," said Hunter. "Can't say I know anything about those, but we'll do some research. Good luck with your mission, Commander."

"You, too."

The comm clicked as the connection was broken, and Hunter glanced thoughtfully at the darkening sky. Two figures came out from beneath the trees, and he took a step towards them. "Tech, Crosshair. What took you guys so long?"

Tech, who had a pistol in either hand, lifted them in a slight shrug. "There was an unexpected development."

Crosshair hummed, switched his long rifle from one shoulder to the other, and spoke in his usual clipped tone. "He means he fell into a pond."

Now that they were closer, it was obvious that Tech was soaked.

Hunter smirked. "How did you manage that?"

"It is quite dark," replied Tech matter-of-factly. "I also believe that Crosshair saw fit not to warn me."

"Is that right?" It sounded right. Hunter led the way back to the ship. "Wrecker, let's get out of here."

"Where are we headed, Sarge?" Wrecker asked, sitting down in the co-pilot's chair.

"Nar Shaddaa. We're to meet up with a Jedi named Quinlan Vos."

"A Jedi?" asked Tech curiously. He slid into the pilot's seat and started the take-off sequence.

"Yeah. We don't have much to go on yet. Cody says there are Sith artifacts involved."

Wrecker turned around in his seat. "Sith what?"

"Artifacts," said Hunter. "Anyone know anything about them? What they could have to do with the war?"

"Potentially, they could have a good deal to do with the war," said Tech, guiding the ship in a wide circle as they gained altitude. "After all, the leader of the Separatist armies is a Sith lord."

"True enough." Hunter pulled out a datapad. "All right, Bad Batch. Let's see what we can find out before we reach Nar Shaddaa."