The supply store was quiet and dim. As Hunter led the way in, he couldn't help but wonder if anywhere on Nar Shaddaa was brightly lit and lively. Some parts of Hutta Town had a lot of lighting, but people were few and far between. Same with the marketplace. Rimmer's Rest hadn't counted, either. The cantina had been loud, all right, but he couldn't exactly call the people there lively, and the lights went from bright to dim with unnerving frequency, to say nothing of the fact that they changed color constantly. . .

Just thinking about it was giving him a headache. He focused on the aisle in front of him, observing the crowded shelves. "Is anyone even here?" he asked in a low voice.

"I could run a scan," offered Tech.

The Jedi glanced between them. "Or you could, you know, just ask."

"Okay." Wrecker put both hands around his mouth and yelled, "Hey, anyone around?"

"One moment!" called a faint voice from deep in the warehouse.

"There," said Quinlan. "Now we can look around."

"Why now?" Hunter asked.

"Think about it. If we'd intended to rob this guy, we wouldn't have asked whether anyone was here, so now he knows we're customers and not thieves, which means he won't sic security on us."

"Right . . " said Hunter. The words did make sense, but the sergeant still found it strange that anyone could think in such a roundabout way.

"That doesn't make sense," Wrecker said. "How would he know we weren't lying?"

"It is obvious." Tech said, rather snappishly. For once, he didn't follow up with a long, drawn-out explanation.

Wrecker gave a cheerfully accepting shrug. "Well not to me, it isn't."

Tech huffed and paced a few steps to one side. He always got grouchy when he wasn't feeling well, and there was nothing for him to focus on. Burns were painful at the best of times, and while Tech had been feeling all right this morning, he'd gotten increasingly twitchy as the morning wore on. He'd swallowed down a couple of pain meds at breakfast, but Hunter could tell that they hadn't been enough to really cut down the pain level.

But he'd insisted on coming with Hunter, rather than staying on the Marauder with Crosshair. Given the fact that both of them had incredibly sharp tongues, Hunter figured that was probably for the best. Still, if Tech kept it up by tonight, the sergeant would probably raise the issue of giving him a hypo, if only so Tech, and everyone else, could get some rest. . .

It occurred to Hunter that every so often – not frequently, but every so often – he felt more like a cadet instructor than a team leader.

"Oh, Tech!" said a voice, and the Ithorian, Chopa, appeared between two rows of shelves, moving slowly towards them. "You did come."

Tech nodded, brightening a little. Truthfully, Hunter was also glad to see Chopa – he'd been concerned that the Ithorian might not have made it back to safety last night.

"How may I help you?" Chopa asked in his slow manner, glancing between Hunter and Quinlan.

"We're here to get supplies," Hunter said, since he knew that the Jedi had no intention of helping him out.

"You'll want to speak to the boss," said Chopa. "He will be here shortly."

He hesitated as though considering whether or not he should speak, then added in a low voice, "Everyone was talking last night about Dverik."

"Yes," said Tech, with a satisfied quirk of one eyebrow. "He – how shall I say it – ran into a bit of trouble."

"Too bad," Quinlan mourned. "Dverik was a nice guy."

Chopa gazed uncertainly at him, and Tech looked caught between a frown and a smirk.

Wrecker guffawed. "Quinlan, you sure are weird sometimes."

"Yeah." The Jedi studied his fingernails. "And Hutts are ugly, and so on. Tell me something I don't know."

"Quinlan?" Chopa looked alarmed. "Quinlan Vos?"

The Jedi's hand twitched towards his knife just as another person's footsteps sounded briskly against the duracrete floor. Hunter shifted so he could keep an eye on both Chopa and the new arrival.

Chopa shook his head once, as though telling them to wait, as a neatly dressed human came into view. "Sorry about the delay," the man said. "Hey, Chopa. What are you doing here?"

The Ithorian turned away from the Jedi. "I thought it was a supply delivery," he said with a slow gesture. "But these men are here to buy."

"Ah." The man nodded. "Okay, what can I get for you?"

Quinlan smiled blandly and glanced at Hunter.

The sergeant stepped forward. "We'll need dry rations, drinking water, meals, and some basic survival gear."

"Right. How much of each thing?"

"Depends on the price," said Hunter. He had watched Quinlan carefully during their trip to the marketplace, and it hadn't been for nothing.

The Jedi was holding back a smile – probably looking forward to seeing how much unnecessary spending Hunter would do.

Well, Hunter hadn't spent three hours researching today just to prove Vos right. He rested his weight on one foot and glanced back at the storeowner. "I want to order ten days' worth of rations for five men."

"Packaged meals or field rations?"

"You got both?"

"Yes."

"Okay. . ." Two meals and two ration bars per day per person, so . . . "I'll take a hundred of each. We'll also need drinking water."

The storeowner nodded. "Anything else?"

"Let's start with that," said Hunter. "I'll pay you up front, and we'll load the crates ourselves."

"Works for me. Chopa, two crates of ration bars and four of meals."

"I'll get them right away," Chopa replied, and shuffled off into the depths of the warehouse.

"Okay." The storeowner folded his arms. "Payment?"

Hunter reached one hand into his pocket. "Five per meal, one per ration bar. Six hundred credits."

"Hmm." The man rubbed his chin.

Quinlan's gaze was flitting from the storeowner to Quinlan in mild surprise.

Hunter tried to keep his amusement from showing as he pulled out six of the hundred-credit chips. "I compared the prices offered by the supply stores in this sector. The next one over has lower prices."

"And inferior products," retorted the man.

"Which is why I'm currently here instead of there."

"You're going to need other supplies?"

"Yeah."

"Well . . ." The storeowner acted reluctant, but Hunter knew perfectly well that the payment he was offering was more than sufficient. "Fine."

Hunter handed him the money and chanced a look over at the Jedi, who gave him a thwarted frown. The sergeant grinned faintly, and Vos rolled his eyes.

"How much water will you want?" the man asked. "I've got it bottled, I've got it in pouches. You want plain?"

"Bottled is fine. Two hundred plain, one hundred with salt." That was twice what they should need, even if the mission did take ten full days, but Hunter didn't want to take a chance on running out of water when they didn't even know where Malachor was. If the planet had drinkable water on it – something which Hunter doubted, given the Jedi's vague references to the lack of life on Malachor – well and good; they could use the supplies later, but it was a lot better to be prepared.

"Okay," said the storeowner. "I'll go fetch that. Water's got a set price. One and a half credits per."

"Fair," agreed Hunter, quickly counting out four hundred and fifty credits. Water was the only thing he'd noticed that had the same price no matter what warehouse or supply store you went to. It had been the same on Nal Hutta. Probably a sector-wide thing.

As the storeowner disappeared into the maze of boxes and crates, Quinlan turned to Hunter. "You actually researched the prices."

"Yeah?" Hunter gave him a deliberately confused stare. "We always gather intel before proceeding with an operation. . ."
Laughing, Wrecker clapped him on the back. "Hunter, I'm just sayin' – you don't play dumb very well."

"I am inclined to agree," said Tech.

Hunter shrugged, half-apologetic. "That's just 'cause I haven't practiced enough."

His earpiece clicked faintly and Crosshair drawled, "Well. I'm sure Commander Cody would love to hear that."

The Jedi laughed, then clutched at his side. "Ow. Stop."

There was a faint scraping sound as someone moved crates around deep in the warehouse. Hunter fidgeted with the credits in his pocket. "We should ask Chopa how he recognized you."

"Grakkus," said Quinlan.

"Hm," said Crosshair, sounding smug. "That's not a sentence."

Before the Jedi could do more than look outraged, Chopa appeared, dragging a hovercart loaded with crates. "I will help you load these," he said in a low voice.

Wrecker stepped forward and grabbed the cart. "Nah, don't worry about it, Chopa, I got this!"

"Wait a moment," said Hunter, realizing that Chopa wanted to tell them something. "We could use his help."

The storeowner reappeared, lugging along a trolley loaded with water. The wheels squeaked under the heavy load as it slowed to a halt. "What else do you guys need?"

"Collapsible lanterns, a couple spools of cable, blankets, medical supplies," Hunter said. "If you've got it, we could use antivenom and stim shots along with the usual stuff."

"I've definitely got those," the man said with a touch of wryness. "You said cable – is that for blaster attachments, or are you wanting something else?"

Hunter removed the cable attachment from his belt and showed him. "This kind."

The storeowner nodded. "Okay, you'll probably want to pick out that stuff for yourselves. Chopa, bring these guys over so they can get what they need. I've got a couple of suppliers to deal with, but I'll join you in a few."

He left at a brisk pace.

Wrecker gestured to Hunter and reached for the trolley. "You go on, boss. I'll load up the ship."

"Thanks, Wrecker. We won't be long." Hunter followed Chopa and the others into a small, partitioned area and glanced around. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with loaded shelves.

"I'll get the medical stuff," the Jedi offered. "Since I apparently have more experience than you with that kind of thing."

"Hm," said Hunter neutrally. He caught Tech's gaze and tilted his head towards Chopa, then went to check the lanterns, moving quietly so that he could still hear the muted conversation behind him.

"Why were you asking about Quinlan Vos?" Tech whispered.

"There is a planet-wide bounty," the Ithorian replied. "Grakkus the Hutt posted it yesterday, for a Kiffar named Quinlan Vos."

Quinlan, already holding several boxes, paused beside Hunter to whisper, "Good thing we're clearing out of here tonight, then."

"Yeah." Hunter tested a lantern, which lit up brightly as soon as he twisted it open. "I'm still surprised he put one on you, considering who sent you here."

"Oh, well . . ." Quinlan gave him a sardonic look. "He's probably claiming I tried to assassinate him – he doesn't have to fake those lightsaber injuries."

"Is he Quinlan Vos?" Chopa whispered.

"Yes," said Tech easily. "He is the one who helped us infiltrate Dverik's base."

The Jedi looked a little surprised that Tech had answered, but Hunter didn't think it much mattered. Like Vos said, they'd be leaving tonight, and Hunter doubted Chopa was inclined to betray them. Besides, judging by the attack made by the Besalisk and his men, Grakkus had presumed on their still being near the Prince's warehouse.

"I thought as much," Chopa said. "Dverik is furious. There were several explosions in his stronghold last night, and then he was attacked twice more by various rivals before morning . . . Black Sun, and one other. I was surprised to hear that Dverik had a stronghold apart from the one on this level."

"So were we," said Tech. "I should mention that the man you were dealing with is not Dverik. He is one of his top men, though – the place you thought was Dverik's is actually the human's."

When Hunter heard footsteps again, he hurried over to Tech and handed him the lanterns, interrupting the conversation. "Someone's coming."

"What is Dverik, then?" whispered Chopa, accepting the boxes of medical supplies from Quinlan.

"A Devaronian," replied Vos, just as quietly. "Look – we didn't take Dverik down all the way but we caused him a lot of grief. We can't stay around, but hopefully you and the others get at least a little respite."

"I have already." Chopa opened one hand to show them the hundred-credit chip Tech had given him at the cantina. "The storekeeper is a good man. He is now allowing me to keep my money here when I leave each day – and with Dverik busy, perhaps I will not be forced to pay for protection." He replaced the chip in his pocket and bowed his head jerkily in what seemed to be a gesture of gratitude. "Thanks to you, I will soon earn enough to start a new life elsewhere."

The storeowner spoke, a short distance away, and another voice replied, sounding a bit argumentative.

Hunter hoisted two spools of cable and gestured Quinlan toward the shelf that held tightly rolled and vacuum-sealed blankets. "Five of those, and we'll be ready to head out," he said.

"My boss will be here in a moment," Chopa said.

Hunter wasn't so sure. The storeowner and two more people were now arguing quite loudly in a different language. Difficult customers, perhaps. Or the storekeeper was having some sort of disagreement with his suppliers.

A red flash was briefly visible around a nearby set of shelves as a blaster discharged into the duracrete. The argument cut off abruptly. Then the storeowner snapped out a command, and there was the distinct sound of running.

The man approached a moment later, holstering his pistol. "Sorry about that," he said in disgust. "Just a couple of sneak thieves, trying to convince me they had a pickup scheduled. Might've been more convincing if they could tell me what they were supposed to be picking up."

"Sounds like you had it handled," Quinlan commented. He seemed completely unconcerned by the fact that the man might make a connection between the fact that he was a Kiffar and the new bounty. Then again, the storeowner had seen Vos before they really knew there was a bounty on him, so for the Jedi to act now as though he had something to hide would do nothing but make this guy suspicious.

Hunter hoped that the two men who'd run out weren't actually spies from Grakkus.

The storeowner, who'd started looking over their purchases, paused to shoot Quinlan a wry look. "Yeah, I had it handled alright. Apart from the new hole in my floor. You find everything you need?"

"Yes," said Hunter. "Prices?"

"Twenty per blanket, seventy per cable spool, ten per lantern. I'll have to take a look at the medical stuff."

Hunter handed him three hundred and the storeowner tossed him a ten-credit piece before quickly glancing through the medical supplies. "You've got eight hundred credits' worth of stuff here, easy."

Well . . . that was problematic. Hunter had a little over one hundred credits left – he might have to return some of what they'd already bought, since medical supplies were so important. He looked questioningly at the Jedi.

Quinlan squinted, apparently doing some quick figuring in his head. "We don't have that much. We can give you one hundred – are you willing to trade?"

"Depends." The storeowner accepted the hundred credits from Hunter. "What are you guys in the market for?"

The Jedi glanced at Hunter, as though telling him to handle it.

"Weapons and information, mostly," the sergeant said.

Quinlan raised a congratulatory eyebrow.

The storekeeper rubbed his jaw in consideration. "Anything else?"

"Potentially." Tech raised a hand. "I specialize in computers and data retrieval."

"Hmm. . ." The man nodded. "Okay. You, computer specialist – you think you can get my security systems fixed?"

"Of course."

"I'll show you where to work." The storekeeper jerked his chin toward the supplies Quinlan was holding. "Once you get your ship loaded, I'd like to take a look at these weapons you mentioned."

"They're explosives," Hunter clarified. "Trip mines, breach charges, the like."

"Oh, I've got a market for those. Meet me out back when you're ready. Chopa, the next shipment's ready for labeling."

"Oh, goody, sounds like we've got ourselves a job," Crosshair commented.

Hunter did not roll his eyes.

"I'll start as soon as these supplies are loaded," Chopa said.

The owner headed off, leaving them to return to the ship. When they left the warehouse, they saw that the Marauder's boarding ramp was lowered and Wrecker was pacing around, swinging his arms and looking generally bored.

Crosshair, meanwhile, was lying flat on top of the ship and studying something through his rifle scope. As the others drew near, he propped himself up on his elbows and glanced down at them.

"Hey," scolded Quinlan, planting both hands on his waist and looking up. "What are you trying to do, make people think you're a hitman?"

Ignoring the question, Crosshair slid off the roof to land beside Hunter. "Those two who came tearing out of the store are still hanging around. Dengar's been watching us from the warehouse."

"No surprise there," Quinlan replied. "He see you?"

Crosshair nodded. "I had the drop on him, so he didn't get too excited. Just called in my position. The Kyuzo warrior showed up."

"Long as it wasn't Bane," said Quinlan easily.

"Cross –" began Hunter.

"They know we work for Vythia," the sniper defended.

Hunter rubbed his forehead. "I thought I told you to keep watch in the ship."

"Sorry." Crosshair gave an eloquent shrug. "I heard 'on the ship' . . ."

No, you didn't.

Chopa set his supplies down on the boarding ramp. "I must return to my work, so I will say farewell now. Thank you again. I would tell my friends about your help, but you might prefer to keep your identities secret?"

"Yes," said the Jedi. "Especially now that there's a bounty on my head."

Chopa looked concerned. "Be careful, and good luck to you."

"Bye!" Wrecker called from where he was lugging the spools of cable inside.

Crosshair gave Chopa his usual two-fingered salute and got to work helping Wrecker load the ship.

Quinlan bowed, apparently forgetting – or maybe not caring – that bowing was a very Jedi-like way of saying farewell. Chopa didn't seem to notice anything strange about it, though, so maybe Hunter was wrong and it wasn't just the Jedi who did it.

"Good luck," Hunter told the Ithorian.

Tech shook Chopa's hand. "Goodbye. I hope things work out."

"I'm sure they will," Chopa replied. "I still do not know why you and your friends went to so much trouble to help me, but I am thankful."

It was late in the evening when the team finally returned to the Havoc Marauder after a long afternoon of work. Well – most of them had worked. There hadn't been much for Quinlan to help with, due to his injury; he'd mostly hung around in the background in between trying to make himself useful.

Wrecker and Hunter had spent the afternoon shifting crates and boxes and restacking them under the storeowner's direction. When the man left to attend to other tasks, Quinlan helped them by carrying or lightening the crates with the Force. The problem with this was that the two clones were always caught off-guard when he suddenly lifted half the weight of the boxes, making them lose their balance or stumble a few steps forward. Finally, when Quinlan nearly dropped a crate on Wrecker's foot in his hurry to set it down – the storekeeper was returning unexpectedly – Hunter told him to go find someone else to bother.

Quinlan had obeyed and gone to the terminal where Tech was working, trying to get all the security measures to function at the same time. While Tech frowned and typed, occasionally muttering about incompatible software, Quinlan had sat and pestered him with random questions about plant life on Naboo, a topic about which he had zero interest. At length, Tech threw a hydrospanner at him, so Quinlan decided it might be safer to find Crosshair. First, though, he'd snatched his datapad from the ship so he could do a little research into the bounty set on his head.

For two hours, the Jedi sat on the warehouse roof, studying the various bounties and doing what research he could into the Prince while Crosshair wired sensors to the perimeter for Tech and made caustic remarks about the natives' piloting abilities or lack thereof.

This led to a conversation about podracing, since Quinlan had participated in a few of those. After he described the time he'd raced just so Jabba would lose a bet – which Quinlan had succeeded at, except for the slight problem of an explosion right at the end due to how much he pushed the engines – Crosshair told him he'd better not mention the sport to Tech, because Hunter would kill him. At which point Hunter cut in to inform them that the comm channels had been open all afternoon.

Wrecker made an unnecessary comment then. "Oh, man, you guys are so dead if Tech ever tries podracing!"

"Yeah, you are," Hunter agreed, over Tech's infuriated, "Wrecker! He was about to describe how he won without his starboard engine!"

Quinlan and Crosshair had stared at each other in silent commiseration before going to fetch explosives from the ship.

The storekeeper was happy with their 'merchandise', as Hunter called it, and the mines and charges they sold him, along with the work they did, not only paid for the medical supplies, but left them four hundred credits richer.

The work had actually been unnecessary, Quinlan knew – the explosives had been worth over a thousand credits on their own – so he was pretty sure Hunter had accepted the job only to keep his squad busy. It had probably been a wise decision.

"What time is it, anyway?" Quinlan asked, as everyone trailed into the galley.

"Nineteen fifty," said Wrecker. "Is Vythia supposed to contact us, or should we go over to meet her?"

"She knows we're here," Hunter replied. "She'll let us know when she's ready. Now, let's eat and get these supplies packed for the flight."
Tech seated himself stiffly on the bench and leaned on the table. "It is just as well we will not have much to do the next couple of days."

"Yeah," said Quinlan, sliding gingerly in next to him. "And it's a really good thing we're leaving tonight. Look how much I'm worth."

He turned his datapad so they could see the pixelated image of a male Kiffar running down a corridor, head turned towards the camera as he looked over one shoulder. "Grakkus' security may have been lousy, but it looks like it wasn't as lousy as I'd hoped."

Hunter leaned closer. "The tattoos show up pretty clearly, too. Wait, no; that's impossible. You'd covered your face."

Shaking his head, Tech zoomed in on the picture. "It looks as though the tattoos were added to the image. . . That is definitely a picture of you, though."

"Yeah." Quinlan held the datapad out at arms' length and squinted at it. "I guess you were right that he guessed who it was. See, this is when clan tattoos get to be a problem."

Crosshair eyed the screen from across the room. "The bounty's fifty thousand credits?"

"Yeah." Quinlan put away the datapad. "I'm valuable."

Crosshair sneered. "You're worth two hundred and fifty B-1 droids."

"Thanks, sniper guy, that means a lot . . ."

"What about Hunter?" asked Wrecker, sitting down across from him. "Did Grakkus get a picture of him?"

"Nope. He does mention him, but says only that anyone who can bring him 'the human who works with Vos and has a black tattoo covering the left side of his face' will be paid ten thousand credits. Sorry, Hunter; I guess you're only worth fifty B-1s."

"Hm," said Hunter, sliding him a ration pack. "That just means they won't be searching for me as hard. And they don't have anything to go on apart from that description, so . . . I'd say it's a win."

Quinlan nodded. "You know, it's weird he didn't mention you other three."

"Perhaps he thought we were merely hired for the one job," suggested Tech.

"Maybe."

They'd been eating quietly for a few moments when the silence was broken by Crosshair's amused sniff "Well. We know what to do if we ever really need credits."

Hunter shot him a curious look and took another bite.

"Yeah," Quinlan agreed immediately. "I was actually just thinking that. You guys could turn me in, pick up the bounty, and then rescue me."

Hunter stopped chewing to glance between the two of them. Then he blinked and swallowed. "Vos, are you serious, or –?"

"Of course I'm serious." Quinlan stirred his stew around a few times before taking another bite. "Why?"

Hunter eyed him for a moment, then shook his head and went back to eating without saying a word.

There was a short pause.

"It is not entirely a bad idea," Tech said, poking fastidiously at his stew as though it were some specimen in a lab. "We could always have an escape ready before even turning Quinlan in."

"Yeah!" Wrecker said. "It would be easy!"

"Way easier than stealing lightsabers," agreed Quinlan.

Hunter set down his spoon in disbelief. "Guys –"

Tech ignored him. "If three of us formed the extraction team, the last one could turn you in and collect the money."

"I'll do that," offered Wrecker. "I look like I could capture you, right?"

The Jedi nodded.

"And as long as you weren't slated for execution," Crosshair added consideringly, "we could rescue you anywhere from two to twenty hours afterwards, which would give us time to come up with a solid alibi in case he got suspicious."

"Cool," the Jedi said. "Sounds like a plan."

"No," said Hunter loudly. All four of his teammates looked back at him, disappointment clear on their faces. "We're not turning Quinlan over for credits."

"Awww. . ." grumbled Wrecker.

"Why not?" Quinlan asked. "Grakkus' money could be spent in a good cause for once."

Sighing, the sergeant got to his feet. "Come on, let's finish up and get everything in order."

He set to work rearranging the galley shelves and making room for the new supplies while the others finished eating – except for Tech, who simply shoved his food toward Wrecker before getting up.

"Tech," said Hunter, without turning to look at him. "Eat your food."

"I am not a cadet," muttered Tech rebelliously.

"No, you're not," Hunter concurred. "So stop acting like one and eat."

Wrecker stood up and gave Tech a sympathetic pat on the head. Tech picked up his fork like a dagger and shifted his weight in preparation for a blow.

" . . . I'll go get those boxes," Wrecker decided.

Quinlan was just following him when his comm beeped and he answered. "Vos here."

"This is Vythia. Are you ready to leave?"

"Oh, definitely."

"I imagined you would be," she replied, sounding amused. "Grakkus seems to have put a price on your head for what the others did."

"I know," Quinlan said, sounding irritated. "And I didn't even get to commit the crime I'm being hunted for."

"A pity, indeed; it is just as well you are leaving tonight. Is Hunter there?"

"Right here," Hunter replied. "We're ready to take off when you are."

"Then do so. I will send you the coordinates to Malachor once both our ships are safely out of the atmosphere."

"We'll keep our ship comms open," Hunter told her.

"Very well." She signed off.

Tech got up and hurried into the cockpit. "Starting pre-flight check!"

The other commandos gathered quickly, and Quinlan stood in the doorway of the cockpit, watching as they checked and double-checked each station.

Hunter flipped a switch. "Sensors, check."

"Shields, check!" called Wrecker.

"Navigation, check," Crosshair said.

The Havoc Marauder came to life, the deck vibrating beneath their feet. Tech glanced over his shoulder at them. "Engines, check!"

"Sensors clear," said Hunter. "Ready for lift-off."

"Weapons, check," said Wrecker.

Crosshair turned away from the commstation. "Comms, check."

With a quick nod, Tech initiated the take-off sequence.

"Heads, check," said Quinlan.

All four commandos turned abruptly to look at him, and he grinned. "Sorry."

As the ship lifted into the air, Quinlan moved to stand beside Tech, looking over his shoulder at the fast-retreating landing pad. For good or for bad – probably both, come to think of it – they were finally on their way to Malachor.

I had to go back through the story and add up all the credits these guys spent. Accounting. It's important. :D

Here's the list, just in case you're interested:

350 - Quinlan's vibroblades

700 - disguises

100 - given to Chopa

75 - cantina (in all, including food and gambling, since Quinlan won back most of what he bet)

2000 - given to the girl

300 - fuel

600 - food supplies

450 - water

290 - other

100 - medical supplies

4965

So, yeah, they had a grand total of 35 credits left, plus a few odd credits here and there that Quinlan had, before the storekeeper paid them. And yes, B-1 battle droids were 200 credits apiece.