Shifting slightly in the cramped hiding spot, Hunter checked his chronometer. They'd been in motion for nearly a quarter of an hour, but Dverik's place was supposed to be relatively close to Wistern's, which meant they were probably traveling slowly. Or Dverik had more than one place . . . Wait, didn't Chopa give Tech information on that?

He slid his sleeve back over his chronometer. "Tech, are we headed to a different address than the one Chopa gave you?"

"Yes," Tech said. "The building Chopa told me about is on the market level, and is a sort of outpost for Dverik. I'm sorry. I should have informed you."

"Details are important," Hunter said mildly.

Tech was silent for a few moments, and sounded faintly embarrassed when he spoke again. "We are nearing Dverik's fortress."

"Oh, good," the Jedi said. "Hey, wait . . . why'd you call it a fortress?"

"It is quite large."

There was a rustling sound over the comms, and then Crosshair said, "It's a lot bigger than 'quite large'."

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Bigger than the Prince's place?"

"Yes," said Tech. "That is, if my previous calculations were correct."

They usually were, so Hunter decided to go with that. "Which level is Dverik on, anyway? Fifty?"

"I am not certain."

"You're not?" Quinlan looked up. "I thought you had the address before now?"

"Well, I did." Tech sounded a bit piqued. "But Wistern was given the address of the building only, not the level."

"You're patched into the pilot's comm channel?" Hunter asked.

"Yes. Nothing as of yet."

"Okay." Hunter looked over at the Jedi, who was attempting to slouch and failing miserably, due to the lack of space. "Hopefully we'll land in a storage area."

"Tell me about it," Quinlan said. "It's always easier to hide when you've got a million boxes and crates around."

Hunter raised an eyebrow in agreement and turned back to his comm. "Bad Batch, here's the plan: once we land, we'll secure ground zero. Then Vos and I will go in and scout around. Wrecker, you'll stay ready in case we need help. Crosshair and Tech, you're the backup and support."

"Affirmative," said Crosshair. "We'll stay out of sight."

The hum of the speedertruck's engine lowered in pitch as it slowed.

"We are switching airlanes," Tech reported. "One moment. The pilot is receiving a transmission."

Everyone waited in silence until Tech spoke again. "She was told to unload the merchandise on level thirty-two, which, incidentally, is the highest level of the building."

When the speedertruck suddenly tilted into a sharp decline, Quinlan cast a nervous look at the crate, which inched its way towards them as the descent continued. "Okay," he said, putting his back to the partition and his feet against the container. "Guess Dverik was a lot farther down than we thought."

Hunter braced himself against the crate as well. "Does that mean anything?"

"Maybe - his influence might be wider than I'd anticipated. I thought he was just controlling one or two levels of the sector near the airfield."

"So . . ." Wrecker paused. "You mean he's controlling all the levels from here on up to the market level?"

"Or even more, below the thirty-second level – ugh." The crate slid an inch towards them. "Come on, how fast is she taking this descent?"

"Not quite as fast as I would," said Tech. "Which, admittedly, is not saying –"

"Tech, move!" Crosshair's voice cut in.

Hunter found himself listening intently to the brief rustling and scraping that followed. "Tech?"

Tech sounded a bit breathless when he answered. "This could be problematic."

"The fast dive?" Hunter grunted, shoulders aching against the continued strain.

"That, and the fact that Crosshair and I are now visible from the doors. The crate on top just slid down into the opening where I'd been hiding."

"Can you move it back?" Hunter asked. "Wrecker, you doing okay?"

"We can try," said Crosshair.

"I'm still good," said Wrecker. "Want me to get out first?"

"No, wait until –"

The speeder abruptly pulled out of its dive, then tilted upward. Hunter caught his balance, but Quinlan ended up faceplanting against the crate.

As Hunter smirked, the Jedi jolted upright, clutching at his nose, and hissed, "What the heck is wrong with this pilot?"

"She had to pull up to avoid a group of speeders," Tech said.

"Oh." The Jedi released his nose. "We on level thirty-two yet?"

"Yes."

Muffled sounds of banging and wood on metal came over the commlink, and then Crosshair said, "We can't lift the crate to the top. We'll move it forward and stay behind it."

"Right." Hunter turned to the Jedi. "We're going to have to move fast. Are you sure this'll be the first one unloaded?"

"It's the first in line," Quinlan said with a shrug. "Beyond that, I can't tell."

The line was silent, with the exception of a faint sound which Hunter thought was Tech typing.

"Oh," said Tech. "Hm."

Everyone waited, but Tech did not elaborate.

"Tech?" Hunter asked. "Care to fill us in?"

"Yes. Sorry. When I said that Dverik's place was large, I meant that it occupied more space, laterally, than the Prince's warehouse. However, I traced the commlink used to contact the driver and was able to slice into the majordomo's system. Dverik owns four consecutive levels of the building: the thirty-second down through the twenty-ninth."

"That's definitely good to know," said Quinlan. "Who lives directly beneath him?"

"Hm . . . One moment . . ." Tech paused. "No one. Two levels beneath him have been entirely sealed off."

"What about the lifts?"

"There are two, but they do not appear to be running. The shafts may have been blocked off as well."

"Fun." The Jedi felt for his knives. "Hope we don't have to fight our way up too many stairways. Hey, I think we're landing."

At that exact moment, the speedertruck settled with a bump.

"The majordomo is talking to the driver," reported Tech. ". . . He is telling her to get the supplies unloaded as soon as possible. Dverik is sending men to help her and the other two drivers. . . Oh. And the drivers are approaching your truck."

"Okay, then we're out of here," said Quinlan. He scrambled to the top of the crates and lay flat. "Hunter – look sharp."

Hunter was halfway up before he'd finished speaking. "They're going to see us."

"Nah. Trust me, we're in black, they're bored with the job and just want to get it over with so they can leave."

That . . . was not actually reassuring. Still, Hunter wasn't the one who regularly performed infiltrations, so he obeyed and hoped that Vos knew what he was talking about.

The back doors opened and swung down to form a short ramp.

"All right," said a sharp female voice. "Get this stuff out of here."

"Where does Dverik want it?" asked a man.

"He didn't say. Just put it in a pile outside the landing zone."

Quinlan crawled forward on his elbows, and Hunter did the same. They were only a couple of meters away from the door, but the two men, who were busy struggling with a large crate, didn't look up.

The woman stood at the base of the ramp, watching them and tapping her fingers impatiently on her belt.

Beside Hunter, Quinlan whispered under his breath.

The woman's fingers stopped tapping, and she glanced away as though she'd heard something. "You know what," she said. "While you guys unload, I'm going to pick up our credits from Dverik."

"Make sure he doesn't short-change us," grunted one man. "Wistern'll be furious."

"I know my business." She left at a brisk walk.

Hunter glanced to one side. The Jedi's eyes glittered intently as he watched her leave, and he remained motionless for nearly half a minute before reaching out a hand.

The crate being lifted overbalanced and fell, hitting the edge of the ramp. One of the men cursed, and the other lifted a commlink. "Hey, where are those workers?"

"You have less than a minute until they arrive," Tech whispered while the other person answered.

The first man was still speaking. "Well, tell 'em to hurry up!" Cutting the connection, he stomped down the ramp.

The second driver followed him, grumbling. "You'd think a guy as rich as Dverik would at least have a loader nearby."

He hadn't even disappeared when Hunter crawled to the edge of the crate pile. With Quinlan close behind him, the sergeant swung quietly down, dropped to the floor behind the fallen container, and glanced to either side.

"Clear," whispered the Jedi. "Stay close."

They reached the second truck in a short dash and took cover behind it.

"Do we get the others out now?" asked Hunter.

"Wait – we need a good hiding area."

From what Hunter could see, there were plenty of good hiding areas around. The entire loading dock was filled with disorganized piles of boxes and crates and barrels. The doors which opened into the airlane were wide open, letting in the rain, which glistened in the light cast out from the room.

Then a door hissed open across the room, and a group of people entered loudly. "Hey! Wistern?" called one.

"He's not here," replied a driver. "You the guys Dverik sent to help unload?"

"Yeah. Don't you have a loader or something?"

"Don't you?"

"It's on a different level."

"Whatever," said another voice. "Get to work."

As a mild argument broke out, Quinlan tapped Hunter's arm. "Once they open this truck, we'll wait for them to move off with their crates. I'll make sure they stay distracted while you get Crosshair and Tech over to that side of the room."

Hunter followed his gaze. "Got it."

They ducked further into cover as two men walked by on their way to the first truck.

"What exactly are we going to do, Quinlan?" Hunter asked. "We can't just walk in and shoot Dverik."

"We can," started Quinlan, then smirked at Hunter's surprised look. "I mean, we're capable of it."

"He's not wrong," Crosshair commented.

"Technically, he is not," said Tech. "Morally, he is. We cannot just –"

"He knows, Tech," interrupted Hunter.

"Oh. Right." Tech sounded a little uncomfortable.

"As for a plan," the Jedi continued. "I don't have much of one. Apart from getting some information, we could just do what I usually do and cause a few problems."

"You usually cause problems," Hunter said, leaning out to check the progress the workers had made. "Care to specify what kind?"

"It varies." Quinlan smirked, as though well aware he was being unhelpful. "I figure we can start enough non-literal fires to keep Dverik busy with putting them out instead of expanding his territory. At least for a bit."

"What kind of fire?" Crosshair asked. "Kidnap and scare Dverik into backing off?"

"Actually . . ." Quinlan looked up, a glint of interest entering his eyes.

Hunter intervened before he could answer. "We can have Tech look through his security for a start. We aren't going in without some sort of plan."

It was well over an hour later when the last of the workmen left the room, shutting off the main lights but leaving the glowpanels around the ceiling's perimeter on. Relaxing slightly, Quinlan leaned past Tech to watch as the three speedertrucks vibrated to life and flew back out into the rain.

Once the loading dock doors rumbled shut, the warehouse was utterly silent.

"Scanning for lifeforms," whispered Tech. "We are clear."

"Finally," grunted Wrecker. He got haltingly to his feet and stretched. "Being still for that long always makes me stiff."

Crosshair, who looked perfectly relaxed despite not having moved a muscle in the last hour, smirked and got up easily. "Maybe you should take up sniping."

Hunter shot him a warning look. "How about security, Tech?"

"No cameras in the loading dock."

Quinlan hopped up to sit on a crate and swung his feet a few times to get the blood flowing again. "Tech, how long will it take you to get into his main system?"

"I am already in it, but I prefer working with a hard connection."

"There's a terminal over there," Crosshair said, gesturing towards a shadowed area of the room. Quinlan couldn't see a terminal, but Tech trotted off without hesitation.

"Any idea what we're looking for?" Hunter asked.

"Not yet." Quinlan shrugged. "In fact, I'm having second thoughts about the whole cause-trouble-for-Dverik thing."

Wrecker looked at him. "Why?"

Quinlan twisted his mouth to one side. "Well, because over the past little while I've come to realize that Dverik's got a lot more guards than I'd figured on. Still, if we can't find anything useful on Aurra or Grakkus or the Prince, leaving here without causing grief would be a waste of time and effort."

The sergeant leaned an elbow against the nearest crate. "We're not on a time limit, as such. We can do this the loud way or the quiet way."

"Let's do the loud way!" Wrecker said.

Crosshair scoffed. "You would say that."

"Yeah, because I hate all this sneaking around." Wrecker jabbed Crosshair hard in the shoulder, as if to emphasize his point.

Crosshair slapped his hand away. Wrecker grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back to shove him against a crate. Crosshair elbowed him hard in the ribs with his free arm, and Wrecker yelped.

Folding his arms Hunter sighed dramatically. "Are you done?"

The two commandos stepped apart and cast sideways glowers at each other, but said nothing.

"Good," said Hunter. "Now, listen up. Vos and I are going to scout around. Wrecker, Crosshair, I want you to work with Tech. You know the drill. Look at schematics, come up with ideas. I don't care what kind."

"Understood." Crosshair wandered off in Tech's direction.

As Wrecker started to follow, Quinlan glanced up at him. "Stay ready, big guy – we might need backup."

"You got it!" Grinning, Wrecker cracked his knuckles. "Just say when!"

Quinlan gave him a thumbs-up. He hoped they wouldn't need to call Wrecker for help, because if they needed help it would probably already be too late. Oh, well. He'd gotten himself into this one, doing exactly what he'd told the commandos they shouldn't do. Getting involved, helping people they had no particularly mission-relevant reason to help . . . Nothing new there, though.

When he reached the terminal, Tech was still standing motionless and staring at his datapad, which was wired into the terminal.

Quinlan waited a few seconds, then drummed his fingers on Tech's shoulder and made him jump. "Hey. Got anything yet?"

Tech adjusted his goggles. "I have the building schematics. The security is quite good, but nothing I cannot get through, given enough time."

"Well . . ." Quinlan glanced at his chronometer. "That's the one thing we've got plenty of. As long as no one sets off an alarm or anything."

"Everyone, keep your comms on, same as we did in Wistern's place," the sergeant ordered. "We'll keep the channel open."

Quinlan obeyed, testing the connection of the small earpiece he wore, then raised an eyebrow at Hunter. "Ready?"

The sergeant nodded. "Split, or stay together?"

"Stay together for now." Quinlan headed for the door. "There's less chance of our being discovered if we're just another team of bounty hunters."

"Right. Tech, keep us updated on security measures."

Quinlan stepped out of the loading dock and directly into a wide room furnished with a bar, tables and chairs, neon lights, and a dubiously green carpet. "Guess this is Dverik's private cantina."

"And no one's in it," Hunter answered. "Wait . . . this is the highest level of Dverik's stronghold, which means he probably lives up here."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Quinlan set off at a brisk walk, leaving Hunter to follow him. "So, the question is, what's our objective?"

Hunter let out his breath with a huff. "Remind me why we didn't we plan this out before coming? Or at least some of it?"

"Not enough data." Quinlan snapped his fingers impatiently at his side. "If I really wanted to infiltrate and take him down, I'd spend weeks on this assignment. Maybe get hired as one of his hitmen."

"You like that tactic," Hunter observed as they stepped into a dark, carpeted hall.

"Yeah." Quinlan touched the wall lightly, but it told him nothing. "Being able to walk in and out of a place at will is invaluable. Also you're less likely to be shot without warning."

"Be careful," Tech said. "You are coming up on a hall where there are security cameras every few meters. I could shut them down."
"Not yet," said Quinlan. "If things go wrong, you can take out security to your heart's content. Until then, we don't want to raise suspicion. Any doors unlocked?"

"Only one, at the very end. If you want to get anywhere else in this level, you would have to go through one of the locked doors."

"Okay." Quinlan led the way straight past the cameras, then turned through the unlocked door. This room appeared to be an office of some sort, except that the desk was covered in dust, and there were no other furnishings.

Planting his hands on his waist, the Jedi looked interestedly around. Dverik didn't seem to use this room often – maybe he'd just moved in? Or he did use this room as an office and was a slob, which was probably more likely. Moving quickly around the small area, Quinlan brushed his fingers over the desk, the covered window, and the edge of the door. Nothing.

"We haven't seen anyone," said Hunter, who seemed on edge. Not that he looked on edge – in fact, he looked bored. But Quinlan was excellent at observing and at noticing little details like the cadences of voices, and he'd bet a hundred credits that Hunter was nervous.

"All the better for us," Quinlan said. He couldn't blame Hunter – he was a little on edge himself.

"Maybe," said Hunter. "If it doesn't turn out that they've been watching us all along, just waiting to ambush us."

Quinlan turned to look at him. "I take it that's happened before?"

"Half a dozen times."

"Huh." He brushed his hands free of dust. "Well, in this case, everyone's probably out terrorizing the . . . what, twenty-four different levels that Dverik probably has control of?"

"Many of them are out on jobs," affirmed Tech. "There is more activity in the floors beneath you, however."

"Okay." Quinlan considered. "Well, let's get to work with some good, old-fashioned sabotage."

"Right here?" Hunter looked dubious. "What's there to sabotage?"

"The floor."

A gleam of realization flickered in the commando's eyes. "What's beneath us?"

"Well, hopefully it's another room and not a long, empty shaft."

Hunter smirked. "Tech?"

"It is a room, and there are no lifesigns present."

Wrecker cut in. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Winging it," said Quinlan. "Hunter?"

Lightsabers were much faster than vibroblades when it came to cutting through metal, but Quinlan wasn't in much of a rush. Which was good, because he didn't have his lightsaber.

He and the sergeant knelt, using the outside wall as a reference, and set to work cutting in opposite directions.

It took a couple of minutes, but at last they had a cut a relatively neat square in the floor, and the metal was held in place only by its roughened edges.

Sheathing his knife, Quinlan stood and kicked the panel out. Then he dropped to his stomach and leaned into the room beneath, glancing around. When he saw nothing, he gripped the edge and somersaulted down.

Hunter dropped soundlessly to the floor beside him. "Are we going to keep that as our getaway?"

"Yep. Always better if we can exit in a direction they don't expect us to."

"You sound like you expect to be caught," Wrecker said doubtfully.

Quinlan sauntered toward the next door. "It's not unlikely. I learned a long time ago that you should always prepare for the worst, and then you won't be surprised when it happens."

"I see," said Tech. "Is that a Jedi saying?"

"No." Crosshair cut in with an audible smirk. "It's a Quinlan Vos saying."

Blinking, Quinlan covered his transmitter. "Hunter, how does he know that?"

For the three commandos in the loading dock, the next half hour passed slowly. Crosshair switched his rifle from one hand to the other and glanced at Tech, who was providing occasional updates to Hunter in between looking over schematics with Wrecker.

Ever since they'd moved down to the third level, Hunter and Vos had been silent, apart from the occasional whispered comment or question. They hadn't said anything in nearly five minutes, so they must have reached a more heavily populated area of the fortress.

Wrecker got up with a loud huff of boredom. "Cross, you see anything new?"

Crosshair shook his head and went back to the wide doors which opened onto the airway. He'd discovered a tiny viewport in one panel about half an hour ago, and since then he'd been looking outside every few minutes. It was crowded in the loading dock, and looking outside gave him a sense of space.

"Hey," said Vos suddenly. "Hunter, take a look."

". . . Okay," Hunter said in a low voice. "Lads? I think we found him."

"Dverik?" Tech asked.

"Yep." The Jedi sounded wary. "And wouldn't you know it, he's a freaking Devaronian."

Crosshair tilted his head. "Something wrong with that?"

"Well, I admit I was kind of hoping for a weak-kneed human . . . I've had my share of run-ins with these guys and being a Jedi only goes so far. Devaronians have a lot more mass than humans, so getting punched by one feels like getting hit by a speeder."

"I won't ask how you know that," Hunter whispered back, and Crosshair smirked.

Tech tapped his datapad, then shook his head and tapped it again, as though hoping that would change what was on the display. "Are you standing there talking about him when he is in plain view?"

"He's in the next room," said Hunter. "We're pulling back to an empty room."

Tech narrowed his eyes, then nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay, so we found him." Wrecker twisted from side to side, cracking his spine obnoxiously. "That's great. You want me to come join you now?"

"Depends," said Hunter. "Quinlan, you want to hold him at gunpoint and terrify him into leaving the planet?"

"Nah, that wouldn't work . . ." Vos sighed. "He's powerful, probably got a whole bunch of tricks and traps ready . . . I'll bet he could take both of us with no problem."
The Jedi was underestimating Hunter, but Crosshair decided not to say that. "Do we have any other options?"

"Easiest one is, we rob him blind so he can't pay his guys, and then they'll hopefully jump ship. It'll at least put a crimp in his day."

Tech rolled his eyes. "That would take a significant amount of time, and we have no assurance that his men would leave. It won't really help Chopa and the others."

"Look," said the Jedi. "I want to help, too, but like I said earlier: infiltrating and taking down guys like Dverik takes weeks – months, even."

"He's right, Tech," said Hunter. "We don't have that kind of time right now. We can at least inconvenience him, though. What did you guys end up figuring out?"

Wrecker took the datapad and switched to a different screen. "I've got six places marked for explosives – won't take the building down, but it'll cause a lot of damage."

"Yes," said Tech, and snatched the datapad back with a peeved look. "Fortunately for us, Dverik is on the top floors. I have also located two master terminals, either of which I could use to slice into his personal system. I could cause a good deal of damage from there, including wiping all the data he has on the citizens."

"I like that idea," said the Jedi.

"Same." Hunter paused thoughtfully. "Crosshair, what about you?"

Crosshair set down his rifle and motioned for the datapad, then flicked through screens until he found the schematic he'd been working on. "Don't have any plans, but I've memorized the layout of the levels."

"All four of them?" Vos sounded impressed, and Crosshair rolled his eyes and didn't answer.

"Okay," said Hunter. He'd know that Crosshair had already noted all the possible escape routes. "Wrecker, you head down to us and set explosives on the first and second levels – they should still be empty."

Wrecker grinned. "Be with you shortly, Sarge! I mean, Hunter."

He barreled gleefully out the room, happy to be destroying something. Crosshair sat down beside Tech and watched over his shoulder for a moment, but Tech was overlaying and transferring and working so fast that he couldn't figure out what he was trying to do.

"First one set," said Wrecker. "I hid it, too."

"Good," said the Jedi. "Okay, I'm thinking we'll –"

As soon as he broke off, Crosshair was on his feet. "Hunter?"

"We're in trouble," said Hunter quietly. "Dverik just walked in."

And they'd had no warning. So much for Jedi and their Force powers. "What do you want us to do?"

"Stay out of sight. Tell Wrecker to back off." Hunter was speaking so quietly that Crosshair could scarcely hear him, which meant that Wrecker wouldn't have heard. Just as well – he'd have gone rushing down.

Crosshair met Tech's questioning gaze and jerked his head towards the doors.

Tech nodded. "Wrecker, we have a new plan, but Crosshair and I will need your help up here."

"Okay!" Wrecker replied. "Just finished setting the second explosive. Want me to do the others before coming back?"

"No," said Tech. He went on, but Crosshair scarcely heard him, too intent on listening to whatever was going on at Hunter's end of things.

"I'm cutting comms," said Hunter, and then there was a sharp, distinct crackle as he crushed his commlink.

Crosshair stalked to the door and kept watch for Wrecker, coolly drawing inferences from what he knew of the situation despite the seething impatience in his chest. Hunter never cut comms. Either Vos had just had another of his brilliant ideas, or Hunter didn't want Dverik to find out about the rest of the team.

"That means he expects to be captured," he said aloud.

"I assumed as much." Tech joined him, staring out into the empty hallway with a guilty frown on his face. "I only looked away from the lifesign scans for a moment."

Crosshair didn't say anything. Tech couldn't have known that Dverik would choose that exact moment to move, but saying it wouldn't change matters.

Shifting, Tech glanced down at his datapad, which he'd removed from the terminal. "I cannot see them now. Something is interfering."

A faint whisper of sound from his earpiece caught Crosshair's attention, and he tilted his head. "Tech, boost the receiver's signal."

Tech obeyed silently.

" . . . but two visitors?" A deep, amused voice crackled in and out slightly, but was still audible. Vos had not gotten rid of his comm.

Wrecker entered the hall and waved to them. "What's going on?"

Gesturing impatiently for Tech to explain the situation, Crosshair ran into the hallway, away from his companions' voices and closer to the signal's source. Skidding to a halt, he pressed two fingers to his earpiece and listened intently.

"What do you intend to do now?" Dverik asked.

The Jedi's snide voice came through next. "When you're done gloating, you can tell me to drop my weapons. Then I'll refuse, then you'll try to hit me, and then my buddy here will stick his own oversized excuse for a toothpick into your back. After that, the rest of the moon will thank us for ridding it of y –"

Crosshair held his breath as Vos' voice faded into a surge of static. The odd stress the Jedi had placed on the word 'toothpick' – somehow, Vos knew Crosshair was listening, and . . . what? Was he trying to give an order? A warning?

Wrecker said something in a demanding tone, and Crosshair vaguely overheard Tech hushing him. He resisted the urge to snap at them to be quiet, because Dverik was speaking again. "What if . . . and then you can . . . hired you."

Then Quinlan. "You'll know soon en . . . plenty of members . . . wish you hadn't . . . us."

Plenty of members, otherwise known as three commandos with very little idea of what was actually going on. And if the Jedi was trying to scare the Devaronian into not killing them, it didn't seem to be working.

Tech ran up to him, hastily typing away, and boosted the signal again.

To the sniper's surprise, Hunter's voice came in clearly. "Are we taking him?"

Vos didn't answer, but he must have signaled, because a flurry of sound erupted on the other end. Wrecker joined them, holding his blaster ready as he kept watch on the hallway.

"There are more," whispered Tech, signaling at his datapad. Five tiny red dots wavered in and out of focus next to the two green dots that marked the others' position.

Then a sharp screech of static made Crosshair wince as something – probably a stun pulse – passed too close to Vos' commlink. It cut off abruptly . . . all the sound cut off abruptly.

"Is it dead?" Crosshair muttered.

"No," said Tech. "The transmitter's still alive."

They exchanged dark looks, and then the sound returned with a sharp click.

"Well," said Dverik, much louder this time. "You gambled and you lost."

"Drop dead," Vos began in a strangled voice, then broke off with a gasp. "Our odds were fine until you brought in your thugs."

"Take them down to the holding area," Dverik directed. "Search them for any further weapons. I'll keep these. Once I locate your employer, humans, I'll return them to him – in your bodies."

"Okay, but just remember, two of them are mine," Quinlan informed him. "Don't mix them up. They cost a lot of money."

"Good," said Dverik, his voice growing fainter. "I'll make sure you're returned to your employer with both knives through your throat."

"Vicious," complained the Jedi. "I really don't know what this galaxy is coming to."

Tech tilted his head, looking as confused as Crosshair felt. "Is Hunter with him?" he whispered.

Crosshair shrugged.

"Come on!" ordered a new voice, and faint sounds of shuffling broke out, followed by a muffled curse. "Scan them."

Crosshair narrowed his eyes and whispered, "Vos. Can you respond?"

A quiet tap was the only reply.

Good enough. "Is Hunter with you?"

Another tap.

Crosshair hesitated, unsure of what to ask next. "Tech's tracking your position. We'll get you out."

Two taps.

"Yes, we will," Tech hissed.

There was a short pause. "Dangerous," whispered the Jedi.

"Didn't stop you," the sniper said. "Don't tell me you think you can get out alone."

". . . Maybe?"

"Encouraging," Crosshair said bitingly. "We're coming down, but it might take us a while. We're going to give Dverik something to chase after first. Can you keep your commlink on?"

There was a soft rustle, and then he whispered, "I don't think so. They're searching Hunter now – I just hid the link in a vase."

"I cannot track you any further," warned Tech.

"Lowest level's where we're headed. Don't get caught."

"Dverik hit this one too hard," said a female voice scornfully. "Look, he's talking to himself."

"You sure he's not talking to someone else?" asked a distant voice.

"No, I just scanned him. He's clean."

The Jedi sighed in a world-weary manner. "No need to get excited, lady, I was just keeping myself company –" There was a thud, and he broke off with a pained grunt, then wheezed, "Seriously, you hit like a girl."

The last thing Crosshair heard before Vos was dragged off was another blow. The Jedi didn't seem to know how to keep quiet. Or perhaps he didn't care.

Crosshair turned to his teammates. Tech was staring at his datapad and biting his lip, and Wrecker kept shifting his blaster from one hand to the other.

"What now?" Wrecker muttered.

Spinning on his heel, Crosshair strode back to the loading dock. "Now, we set up our base of operations."