Hunter and his two squad mates had been walking along for several minutes when Tech slowed to an abrupt halt, staring at the tiny screen in his vambrace.

Hunter went a few steps further before realizing Tech wasn't going to move. Turning back, he said, "Tech! Come on."

Tech blinked at the screen and frowned as though Hunter had never spoken.

Wrecker sighed loudly. "Come on, Tech!"

Hunter had two options: wait patiently, or push Tech along. Since there was nothing immediately threatening in sight, Hunter opted to wait patiently. For all he knew, it could be something serious. Or . . . well, it could be something as simple as Tech suddenly realizing he'd forgotten to finish some upgrade or other to the Marauder's engine.

When Tech looked up at him, though, his eyes were fully focused. "We are still being followed, but they seem to have split up. Ten have disappeared – I suspect they are following the others. Currently, there are eight biosignatures approaching from the east, four hundred and thirty meters away."

"Eight?" Wrecker laughed. "That's all? Ha, I can take them on with one hand!"

"You can't," Hunter admonished him. "Now let's get moving. Tech, any word from the other two?"

"No . . . one moment. Hunter, they've disappeared from my scanner."

Hunter hesitated, glancing down the long road – honestly, it was more of a wide alleyway – that they'd just entered. In a place as crowded as this, Tech would track his teammates via transmission signatures rather than biosignatures. If the transmission signatures weren't appearing, it probably meant that Crosshair and Vos had just entered an area with heavy interference. It was more than probable, it was likely. The only other reason they'd have disappeared would be if their commlinks were crushed, and Hunter couldn't imagine that happening without some sort of alarm.

"Don't worry," he said, moving forward again. "They'd have called for help if something was wrong."

"Yeah." Wrecker sounded skeptical. "Except that Quinlan's used to working alone."

"So he says." Hunter skirted around a towering heap of rags.

Tech bounded up to join him, walking almost sideways to keep his gaze on Hunter as though the sergeant weren't wearing his helmet. "You think he is lying?"

"No. Besides, his mission records show that he works alone. But – hm. Remember that informant we picked up last month?"

Tech tripped on a piece of metal, caught his balance, and said, "The Arconan?"

"Yeah." Hunter checked the alley behind them again. "We saved his life how many times? And he still acted completely paranoid."

"That guy sure was weird," Wrecker observed, looking at the ground as he walked to avoid tripping. "It's like he thought we were going to kill him."

Tech rolled his eyes. "Hunter just said that."

"No, he didn't!"

"Well, he most certainly indicated – Wait. Hunter, they are closing in. They'll reach us in approximately thirty-four seconds."

'Approximately' thirty-four. . .? Hunter shook his head. Guess I should be thankful he didn't give me the time in decimals.

He slipped his knife free from its sheath. "Let's get 'em off our backs. Get to cover."

Tech moved dutifully into a nearby doorway, but his mind was still focused on the previous thread of conversation. "I think I understand what you're saying. Quinlan Vos is too trusting for someone who's always worked entirely alone."

Hunter shrugged, watching as a man slipped into view. Apparently, the man thought he was being stealthy, but Hunter had heard him well before he caught sight of him.

The attackers certainly were taking their time.

"I don't know, Tech," Hunter said, idly spinning his knife around one hand. "I could be wrong. Maybe being too trusting is just a Jedi thing."

He smirked at the thought of what Quinlan would say if he ever heard that Tech thought he was trusting.

The foremost enemies hesitated, twenty meters away – huh, they finally saw us – and Hunter reached for his pistol. "Then again, he's plenty suspicious when it comes to the enemy."

"Means he's not an idiot, anyway," Wrecker said, then jerked an elbow back against the wall in impatience. "Aw, this is taking too long."

"Wait, Wrecker –" Hunter gave up.

Stepping forward, Wrecker drew a deep breath and roared, "HEY!"

As one, their enemies froze, staring at the commandos. Then, with a sudden movement, one man armed and flung a grenade.

Hunter didn't stop to think. He rushed forward and jumped, caught the grenade in mid-air, and hurled it back. The thermal erupted in an incinerating blaze just in front of the enemy, and the pile of rags burst into sudden flame.

Those complete idiots, using a thermal in a populated area . . . !

But Hunter needn't have worried about the buildings. The walls were solid metal and duracrete, and there were no windows. The alleyway, though –

The alleyway was full of debris, which the fire eagerly devoured.

Someone rushed at Wrecker, who caught the lasers on his vambraces, picked the man up, and flung him back into the group.

Tech slipped beneath another man's strike and shouted, "We may want to retreat!"

As the heat of the rapidly growing fire mixed with the cool air, a dry wind rose in the narrow alley, fanning the flames even higher. Hunter killed the man attacking Tech as the shorter commando focused on an attacker behind Hunter.

A Twi'lek yelled in pained alarm as his clothes caught on fire. The flames flickered up towards his ammo belt and the grenades on it. Instead of putting out the fire, the Twi'lek panicked, rushing away from the blaze and towards the commandos.

The heat of the encroaching flames clashed with the ice in Hunter's stomach. He shot the man in the head, stopping his approach. "Leave it, Tech!" he shouted, twisting around to run. "Wrecker! MOVE!"

The commandos had only gotten a few meters when the grenades went off, and a concussive wave hit the three of them, flinging them down the alley. Hunter slammed painfully against a wall and dropped to the ground, then stumbled upright, dragging Tech to his feet as the fire grew fiercer and hotter. The surviving enemies had been caught in the blast, and the explosives they'd carried now added increasingly intense bursts of heat to the flames.

A large hand closed around Hunter's arm and shoved him into a narrow, almost tunnel-like corridor that he hadn't noticed. "Safe in here," Wrecker announced.

Hunter skidded to a halt a short distance down the alley and looked back, still gripping Tech's wrist. The mouth of the tunnel was illuminated by a flickering red. "We've got to keep this thing from spreading before it draws attention."

"I don't see how we can," Tech said, tugging against Hunter's grip.

Hunter absentmindedly released him. "Why not?"

"For one thing, it would require clearing the entrance of each alley all the way back along that street."

Hunter hissed between his teeth. "Then what can we do?"

Wrecker shrugged. "Don't think we need to do anything. It's burning out. All the trash and stuff was in the biggest alley."

Hunter glanced down at the duracrete. The narrow alley was, indeed, clear of debris.

". . . Oh," Tech said for him.

Hunter shook his head. There were definitely times when Wrecker was more observant than he or Tech. "Lucky for us."

"Hardly," Tech said. "Now that I think about it, it is likely that the narrow alleyways are kept clear for exactly this purpose. It doesn't much matter if everything in one street burns, since the houses are immune to the effects of fire, but it would be troublesome if the fire were to spread to the entire city, even if the buildings are chiefly constructed from duracrete and steel."

He adjusted his visor and looked up at Hunter. "It is a simple, yet effective, fire prevention system. In fact, it is quite possible that they periodically set fires in the larger streets, thus using it for a trash disposal system as well."

Hunter sheathed his knife and did his best to appear interested.

"Yeah," Wrecker said dubiously. "But the city looks like a dump."

"I did not say it was a good idea," Tech said.

Hunter hoped this 'prevention system' was citywide. Otherwise, Quinlan and Crosshair might be in a lot of trouble. He tried to contact Crosshair, then the Jedi, but received no answer. For an instant, he thought of going to look for them, but wandering the streets with no idea of which way they'd gone would be pointless. Besides – Crosshair was used to working solo against overwhelming numbers, and this time he had Quinlan with him. . . Of course, Hunter still wasn't exactly sure whether that was a help or a hindrance when it came to battles.

He checked the rapidly dwindling fire. "All right," he said. "We'll wait a minute more, then head to Rimmer's Rest."

Quinlan moved slowly backwards, trying to get his back to a wall while still keeping the attention of the surrounding enemies. They were hanging back, unwilling to attack at the moment – which, in Quinlan's experience, meant that they were either waiting for reinforcements or simply thought he was an extremely dangerous adversary . . . which would be flattering and all that, but as far as he knew, these guys had no way of knowing whether he was dangerous or not. Which meant they were waiting for reinforcements.

Across the alleyway, and safely outside the ring of approaching enemies, Crosshair got unsteadily to his feet and caught himself against the wall with one hand. Quinlan hadn't seen quite what had happened in that initial rush after the grenade went off, but it didn't look like the sniper was badly injured.

When a Gran got too close, Quinlan slashed out with his knife, catching him across the arm. The alien stumbled back, and Quinlan broke past him, out of the ring, then spun again to face the attackers.

Crosshair suddenly whipped his rifle up and fired twice – over Quinlan's head.

The Jedi had barely sensed two deaths in the Force when a deep voice above him shouted, "Attack, NOW!"

Quinlan channeled Force energy into his perception until everything around him seemed to slow as he launched himself into an attack. He brought down one Twi'lek with a quick thrust to the ribs, shot another in the leg, dropped beneath a human's club and hit the ground, catching himself on one elbow. Reaching up as the human turned, he sliced through the ligaments at the back of his knee, and the man crumpled with a cry.

This is why I like working alone, he thought, wincing at the pain all around him. I can just escape instead of having to fight my way through people to save other people –

A club crashed down on his shoulder, and he crumpled to one knee, dropping his pistol. Jumping up and back, he slipped beneath another blow and struck out at a nearby attacker. He was getting overwhelmed. Maybe he should use the Force, even though he was supposed to be undercover –

A second blow slammed into his side, and he fell. Hands grabbed at his arms. He couldn't see where Crosshair had gotten to. Calling on the Force, Quinlan threw his attackers back in all directions with a powerful shove, then rolled to his feet. "Crosshair!"

The sniper didn't answer.

Quinlan spun in alarm, then realized that he'd accidentally caught Crosshair in his Force-push. "Oops."

He could sense the sniper's mind, though, so he hadn't knocked him out. Small blessings, he supposed, and ducked as a Gran swung at him.

"Crosshair!" Quinlan landed a solid punch directly beneath the Gran's three yellow eyes. "We've got to get out of here!"

Crosshair pushed himself to his feet, shot the last standing enemy in the leg, and glanced swiftly around. "The Besalisk?"

Quinlan checked the unconscious and dead enemies that surrounded him. "Uh, wait, what Besalisk?"

A huge, four-armed figure towered suddenly behind the unaware clone, and Quinlan sprinted forward. "Look out!"

The sniper spun and raised his rifle sideways to block the first blow. The Besalisk closed his top pair of hands over Crosshair's shoulders and shoved him to his knees, then sent one lower fist crashing into his stomach.

As Crosshair doubled over, Quinlan reversed his knife, leaped into the air, and snapped a kick into the alien's face. One huge hand caught his ankle and flung him towards the wall. Quinlan jerked his knees up to switch direction mid-flight, hit the wall with both feet, and kicked off, tackling the Besalisk around the waist with all his strength.

The Besalisk grunted and took a single step back, and Quinlan lost his grip and tumbled to the ground.

Crosshair went from motionless to a blur in an instant, swinging his rifle across the alien's ankles.

The Besalisk staggered, and Quinlan helped him on his way with a Force-assisted punch to the knee, then followed up with a backwards slash. He misjudged, though – the knife left a long cut, but didn't damage the ligaments.

Crosshair vaulted to his feet without using his hands and stepped back to line up a shot.

The Besalisk seemed to realize he was outmatched. He caught Quinlan by one arm and hurled him headlong into Crosshair before jumping up to catch on to a thick cable, which retracted rapidly.

Crosshair shoved at Quinlan, who rolled off him and lay flat on his back, watching as the Besalisk gained the rooftop and disappeared.

The alleyway fell silent, except for Crosshair's rapid breathing and a few faint groans from their enemies.

Quinlan took a moment to ensure that none of those enemies were inclined to make any further attacks before glancing at Crosshair. "You alive?"

Crosshair's helmet turned toward him, then back up at the black sky.

Quinlan snorted.

After a nice, long, peaceful thirty-second rest, he sat up with a groan. "Okay, sniper guy, we've got to make tracks."

Crosshair rolled onto his side, then pushed himself to his knees before carefully standing. He finally seemed to catch onto what the Jedi had said, because he performed a very slight double-take. "Sniper guy?"

"Well – yeah. Unless you want me to call you toothpick."

Crosshair's posture showed exactly how unimpressed he was by Quinlan's choice of names.

"You have another concussion grenade?" Quinlan asked loudly.

Before the sniper could do more than look questioning, Quinlan reached towards him and said, "Thanks. Wait here."

He turned and walked to the center of the group of enemies, crouched, ran back, caught Crosshair's elbow, and pulled him a few meters away.

Crosshair resisted. "What are you –"

"Quiet a sec." Quinlan shut his eyes and sent a powerful sleep suggestion to all the still-living thugs. "Okay, you can talk now."

"I don't have any concussion grenades."

"I wanted them to think we did." Quinlan rotated his shoulder gingerly, hoping it wasn't broken. Ow, nope, not broken. He'd have some severe bruising there, though, which was just awesome. On the bright side, nothing seemed to be shifting around in his chest.

He walked back through the group of sleeping and dead aliens, stepping over a Twi'lek here and a Gran there, and headed for the end of the alley with Crosshair beside him. "I needed those thugs to have an explanation for my Force-push that . . . well, didn't involve the Force. A concussion grenade fits with what they experienced when I blasted them away."

"Hm." Crosshair sniffed, and his voice sounded odd when he answered. "You got a little carried away with that."

"Yeah – sorry." Quinlan reached up with his uninjured arm and rubbed at his head. "I kinda . . . forgot?"

Crosshair didn't answer. Quinlan was just about to comment on his lack of response when the sniper suddenly removed his helmet and turned to the side, spitting blood.

The Jedi gave him a sharp look, then relaxed. "Your nose isn't broken," he diagnosed, then added unnecessarily, "But it is bleeding."

"I know that," Crosshair hissed, rolling his eyes.

"It probably happened when you got whacked by the Besalisk," Quinlan went on, turning into the next alley.

Crosshair jerked a piece of gauze from one of the many pouches on his belt and held it against his nose. "It happened when the Besalisk threw you into me."

Quinlan eyed him. "You serious?"

He nodded.

"Huh. Obi-Wan always said my head was hard, but . . ."

"Don't give yourself too much credit," Crosshair snipped. "It was my helmet."

"Whatever makes you feel better. Hey – look, there's the market."

They stopped at the end of the alley, gazing out into the open square, and Quinlan pointed. "There's Rimmer's Rest. And there's Hunter. I'll bet he's scaring away the passersby with that death glare of his."

Crosshair observed the distant figures of his squad for a moment. "He's talking to Tech," he said, too obviously relishing Quinlan's inaccuracy. "And he has his helmet on."

". . . Oh."

"They are late," Tech said for the third time.

"Yeah, I know," Hunter said. For the third time. "Why don't you try locating their transmission signatures again?"

Tech nodded solemnly and tapped away at his datapad.

"Anything, Wrecker?" Hunter asked into his commlink.

"Nope. Cantina looks clear. I'm on my way back."

"Okay, good."

"Hunter!" said Tech. "I found their – oh."

Hunter had just turned to look at him when a hand clapped onto his shoulder, and he swung around, only managing to stop his punch when it was halfway to Quinlan's face.

The Jedi smirked casually, utterly undisturbed by the fact that he'd very nearly lost a few teeth.

"Vos." Hunter let his hand fall to his side. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Good to see you, too." The Jedi glanced up at the sign above the cantina. "Sorry we're late. Ran into a bit of trouble."

"I can see that." Hunter quirked a questioning eyebrow at Crosshair. "Everything okay?"

Crosshair let out an irritated sigh and retorted, "Is everyone standing?"

Tech glanced up in mild annoyance. "That is not the definition of 'okay'. Even Commander Cody says it isn't."

Quinlan Vos looked interested. "Even Cody says it isn't? I knew it. He's nuts."

"Yeah . . . ?" said Hunter slowly. "I thought everyone knew that."

Wrecker stumped around the corner to join them just as Quinlan grinned. "Nope," the Jedi said. "Not everyone knows that. See, Obi-Wan didn't believe me when I told him I saw Cody punch a droid in the face."

"Why not?" Wrecker guffawed. "Cody loves punching droids!"

"Yeah, he does it all the time," Hunter said dismissively. He glanced across the open square at a couple of Bith. "Are we headed in? We're starting to draw attention."

The Jedi checked his chronometer. "It's not really rush hour yet."

Hunter glanced quizzically at Tech. "Rush hour?"

Tech shrugged.

"Busiest time of day for cantinas," Quinlan filled in. "So, let's start by gathering supplies like we originally intended. You guys get ambushed?"

"Briefly," said Tech. "However, there was a bit of a mishap with a grenade."

"Oh, one of those."

They headed to the nearest market stall while the Jedi briefly filled Hunter in with the details of the attack.

"So that Besalisk's still running around loose," Hunter mused. "We'll have to keep an eye out for him."

"No kidding." Quinlan stopped in front of the stall and nodded to the female Weequay who ran it. "Hey. What've you got in the way of vibroblades?"

She eyed the five men briefly. "How much money you have?"

The Jedi leaned a hand against the counter. "That depends on how good your merchandise is."

She handed him a blade.

The Jedi set it down immediately. "This one's worth ten creds at most."

Hunter eyed it curiously. It wasn't that bad a vibroblade, actually – nowhere near as good as his own, but still serviceable. And no vibroblade was worth ten credits. They were too hard to make. He hoped the Jedi knew what he was doing.

The Weequay female drew out a locked box and opened it. "This one more to your liking, Kiffar?"

"Better," he said reluctantly. "It'll do, in a pinch . . . if that's the best you've got."

"Best I've got," she replied. "Five hundred."

That sounded inexpensive for the quality Hunter was looking at – it was much better than the Jedi's current knife. Hunter was surprised she wasn't charging more.

"Two hundred," said Quinlan. "And that's a generous offer."

She met his gaze. "Four fifty."

"Two twenty."

"Four hundred."

He hesitated for a long instant. "Two thirty."

"Three fifty."

"Two thirty."

She shrugged and closed the box.

He shrugged back and turned away.

Hunter was beyond confused by this point, so he waited. The Jedi took a few steps in the opposite direction, and the others started to follow.

"Wait," the woman said. "Two fifty. Final offer."

Quinlan looked incredibly reluctant for a moment, but after a long pause he pulled out his credit chip. "Fine. You got solid cash for change?"

She eyed the chip. "Yeah. I can do that."

It took only a few minutes for her to hand him change in the form of gold credit chips, and then the commandos were following the Jedi again.

Halfway to the next stall, Hunter finally said, "Quinlan, why all the bartering? That knife is well worth what she asked, and it's not like we don't have the mon –" The Jedi spun to face him, and Hunter broke off in surprise. "What is it?"

Quinlan glanced around, then back at the commandos. "Listen, guys. In case you haven't noticed, we are in one of the biggest crime centers in the known galaxy. People get murdered for fifty credits, let alone thousands."

Hunter considered for a moment. "Right. So – don't mention credits. But what about that Weequay woman? She knows you've got hundreds, at least."

"She has no motive to point us out. She just got a large amount of money on a small, easily portable credit chip. If she values her business and her life, she'll keep her mouth shut about it."

Hunter nodded. "I see."

"No, you don't," Quinlan said happily. "But you will."

Hunter gave him a suspicious look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you're going to do the bartering once we get back to the airfield. There's a warehouse there specifically for servicing ships and loading them with cargo, fuel, food, water, whatever. The guys running it live by their reputation, so I'm not too concerned about their double-crossing us. If you make a few mistakes, no big deal."

". . . Thanks," said Hunter.

The Jedi smirked, and Tech gave him a questioning look. "If we are purchasing most of our supplies up there, then why are we down here?"

"Because you can only get the really good stuff down here. And because we need to hang around the cantina for a bit, try to pick up info about the Prince. . ."

"That sounds boring," Wrecker observed.

"Trust me, it is." Quinlan paused to study a nearby market stall. "And to answer your other question, Hunter – that woman would never have been willing to part with the knife for half-price if she hadn't gotten it for almost nothing. In fact, she's probably making a killing on it. Possibly she already made a killing on it – or with it – literally."

Crosshair and Tech looked at him.

"Point being," said Quinlan, and grinned a little. "Money works differently here than it does most other places."

Hunter shook his head. "I thought you said you'd never been here before."

"Hey. You've seen one crime planet, you've seen 'em all. Well – except that Nar Shaddaa's a lot more dangerous than even the low levels of Coruscant." The Jedi cut off his lecture in favor of observing a small group of people across the plaza.

Hunter followed his gaze. A Twi'lek and two humans stood against one wall, talking casually. Nearby, an Ithorian accepted some money from a vendor, then wandered toward the alley.

The Jedi flinched.

Hunter eyed him curiously, then glanced back.

The Twi'lek stepped forward and said something to the Ithorian, who paused in confusion. While he was distracted, the two humans attacked, striking the Ithorian from either side us he backed away, cowering from their blows.

"Hey –" Wrecker started forward.

Quinlan grabbed his arm, jerked him to a halt, and turned away. "Come on."

Hunter stayed where he was as the Ithorian dropped to the ground and the Twi'lek stole his money. When the three bandits had run off, the Ithorian got up slowly and limped across the plaza, headed for the Rimmer's Rest.

Tech's eyes narrowed in outrage. "Why didn't we help?" he whispered.

The Jedi dragged a hand down his face and turned to regard him, expression uncharacteristically serious. "Because helping means involving yourself. Involving yourself means you're now a target. Being a target means the job doesn't get done."

"That doesn't make sense," grumbled Wrecker. "Why would helping make us a target?"

The Jedi stared at him for a moment. "What don't you get about this place? We're being watched, constantly. Right now there are at least a dozen people trying to figure out what we're doing here, who we are, how much we're worth, whether there's a bounty on our heads. . ." He trailed off. "Come on, let's get going."

Hunter glanced at Crosshair, who gestured ever so slightly to their right. As the four commandos trailed after the Jedi, Hunter turned a bit. Sure enough, there were several civilians watching them.

Hunter felt his shoulders tense. He wasn't used to civilians being the enemy.