I ducked when another beam shot out from the scuffle that took place down the hall. Carth moved right when the wild laser beams missed the intended targets and almost hit us. Rodians, Biths, and Twi'lek were battling it out with blasters and grenades in the middle of the hall. Since I had no idea who to shoot, I kept my weapon close in case one of the gang members decided to be trigger-happy.

Carth was on the other side of the hall and his focus was entirely on the battle. The dark blue and black-dressed aliens were overpowering the brighter colored ones. Fortunately, none of them noticed the Republic soldiers that were hiding beyond the hall.

A few alien curses that would translate into standard "shit!" erupted after a few more moments passed. I gave the soldier another look that he didn't notice. So, since I had no instructions from my "upper officer", might as well be preemptive. I moved towards the group prepared to grab for my blaster as soon as the goons pointed their weapons at me. Hearing a forced whisper from behind that I ignored, I stood, my blaster in my raised hand when the darker-dressed gang members shot down all the other aliens they were trying to kill.

Since I had experience with gangs before, I could reason with them.

I gave them a nervous laugh when they all looked at me.

"No need to shoot, pal. We're not—"

"A Sith! Look scum we don't want to pay you a single credit, you hear!"

Great. I thought...well I did sort of forget that we were still dressed like Sith. Whoops.

I jumped back when one of the aliens went for me with a stun stick with intentions to claw me apart from tooth to groin. I pressed a switch on the Sith armor to activate my helmet and blue shield as I ran back. I cursed when a red blaster shot skimmed the surface of the armor. Carth was already shooting with his duel blasters.

The only remark he made upon my return—

"Good job."

I cursed again—I just missed getting a blaster bolt in the back.

"Shut up."

I shot off a round at some fat-looking Twi'lek—two burnt holes appearing in his forehead. I smiled at my precision and ducked again when the aliens returned fire. This time, a grenade had been added to the party mix. As if there weren't enough fireworks already.

Carth put new charges in his right blaster. I squinted past their firepower. Five of the criminals were still standing. Kriff, how tough were these guys? Normal gang fights never lasted this long. Actually, gangs like this never had proper weapons not to mention grenades.

Then, the flashing bolts ceased. I took my chance and pulled the trigger of my old blaster. Another gang member went down with a mark between his eyes. Carth, meanwhile, missed despite the extra coverage of two blasters.

And the four of them were drawing closer. Kriff, kriff, kriff. I grabbed the cortosis knife I kept in my boot and held it in my left hand while I shot through the grenade smoke. If they got any closer, I'll carve their eyes out of their sockets.

Then, silence.

I dared to peer out to see why the party stopped.

My curiosity was greeted with four corpses with blaster holes in their heads. Carth held his blasters up with a creased brow. And then, like a ghost from a haunted ship, a short man in a blue coat stepped out of the smoke holding a long blaster in his gloved hand. He wore perception goggles that covered his eyes and a white turban that probably covered a bald head.

Confused and worried that he would shoot at us, I stuck my blaster out and turned my helmet and shield on again as I stepped out of cover. Carth hissed at me but I ignored the precarious man.

"We yield. Hold fire!" My muffled shout barely rose over the settling noise of broken machinery. The man kept his blaster up and pointed in my direction. Hoping that he wasn't a bloodthirsty psychopath, I edged forward. "Look...thanks for taking out those—"

Turban man rose a finger.

"One."

"What?"

One?

Carth jumped out of cover and stormed towards me like a soldier on a mission.

Turban man rose another finger.

"Two."

I chuckled. "Look, guy. We can talk this over—"

A strong force grabbed my blaster arm and tugged me down the hall. Taken off guard, I was forced to follow where my arm was going. That is until I realized that it was Carth who was dragging around me like a worn toy.

"Hey! Ow, what the hell is your problem?"

I mean...was Turban guy going to kill us after he counted down or something? I knew a lot of bloodthirsty people but that was going too far.

Eventually, we both turned the corner to the long balcony hallway. And my arm was beginning to hurt.

"Just stop alright. I'm not going to go back to that weirdo. I swear."

The soldier released my arm and looked back at me with terror in his eyes. I leaned against the wall and took stock of what happened to the Sith armor after that battle. Part of the shield was damaged when I checked the percentage and my blaster charge was still going strong. Other than that, I was okay health-wise. And Carth looked about the same.

The soldier shook his head in mild astonishment.

"I can't believe that man is still alive..."

I reopened the helmet and mask.

"You know him?"

The commander's frown was strained and his grip on his blasters tight as if the short man would ambush us at any second.

"He's Calo Nord. An infamous bounty hunter. The holonet news gobbles him up like rare steak in Coruscant. That man...he kills then disappears into thin air like a phantom. Apparently, he works for the Exchange too, and deals with smuggling and counter-fitting. We're lucky we even got out of that encounter alive."

Calo Nord? I gazed down at the cold steel floors in thought. Why hadn't I seen or heard of this man before? I worked as a smuggler myself. Wouldn't I have run into this bounty hunter? Huh, guess not. It is a large galaxy, after all.

Carth moved and peeked down the hall. I followed. When we ran, we must have been turned around. We were completely lost now. Fortunately, before long, loud music and seducing laughter flowed from a cantina. A Rodian bouncer watched us like a kath hound.

I gave Carth a smirk.

He sighed. "Right now? Really? It's not even noon."

"I mean, we almost died." I shrugged. "Also, we need information."

"Take this seriously, recruit."

"I'm always serious, Onasi. Believe me."

This cantina was different compared to that Upper City snobbish one. Smoke drifted around tables and Twi'lek girls danced around poles to the sleazy music from a warm tuba. I sniffed the alcoholic and hormone-infused air. And smiled.

This. Now this was home.

I eyed the Pazaak tables with eagerness. Unfortunately, I couldn't play because my deck blasted to pieces along with everything else that I owned. Maybe it was for the best—I didn't have any credits on me to gamble anyway.

Carth glowered while I eyed the gambling and dancing tables. His thoughts were more than likely the following:

"I have morals. I hate having fun! This recruit is a nerf herder. La-di-dah-di-dah!"

Carth's thoughts needed to shut up.

We were still in the Sith uniforms so we were getting strange looks. I tried my best to blend in. And what did a Sith look like? Evil, of course. And stupid. I think it was working too because a few people looked to the ground when I gazed in their direction.

Yep, I blended in. Definitely.

Unfortunately, my intimidation didn't last.

A Wookiee over seven feet tall stood before me like a carpet wall. One that was crawling with fleas.

"You're a..." the Wookiee growled in his language.

"Big Z!"

A high-pitched voice called from the dancing floor's entrance. The Wookiee gave me a suspicious look with his dark eyes before turning and answering a blue Twi'lek that was about half his height. Rather comical-looking. The Wookiee stood before a group of blue and black-dressed Rodians. They looked almost the same as the gang members that attacked us earlier.

Their antennas shivered when the walking fur blanket stomped up to them with heavy feet.

"Mission." The Wookiee growled. "I wasn't done with lunch and now I have to scare these Vulkars off again?"

To the untrained ear, the Wookiee sounded menacing. Carth looked pale, almost as if the beast had said "Roar, I eat people for breakfast."

The Rodians looked at each other. The Twi'lek, her lekku swishing over her shoulder, smirked.

"Come on, Big Z. They don't deserve that."

One of the green Rodians turned a beautiful shade of tin.

"N-Now look here, little girl. Stop hiding behind your walking carpet—"

"Big Z?"

The Wookiee growled again. Something about being hungry. The rest of the Rodian group blanched.

"Alright, alright!"

The Rodians turned away from the two and bolted. Before they escaped, I stuck out a leg and tripped one of the gang members. His friends glared at me with red and black eyes. It was an accident. Really.

When the alien got up, he rose a hand to punch me but the carpet behind my shoulder roared. The Rodian and his friends scattered like the cowards they were.

Smiling, I faced the Twi'lek and the Wookiee. The Twi'lek, Mission, scanned our Sith armor with a frown.

"You're Sith, aren't you?"

I was starting to regret getting these uniforms. But before I could convince her that we weren't Sith, my brow furrowed...

"You speak fluent basic?"

The Twi'lek scoffed. "So what? Is that weird to you or something? I don't know about you, but I just think it's easier to speak this way, you know?"

"We should go, Mission." The Wookiee roared this and drew closer to me. He was using the same tactic that he used with those Rodian bullies. "These Sith aren't to be trusted."

I waved my hand. "Whoa, wait, don't leave! We aren't..." I trailed off when I realized halfway that they were wasted words.

However, Mission tilted her head.

"You understand Big Z?"

I blinked. "Yeah, what about it?"

Her face grew bright. The Wookiee calmed his stance.

"You aren't Sith, are you?" Mission said. "Sith don't understand Wookiees. So...who are you and why are you acting like Sith soldiers?"

I sighed. That would be a long story. I sort of appreciated this girl's perceptiveness though. I was getting tired of this ruse.

Carth took over this side of the discussion and sat down at a booth, the teenage Mission sitting across from the soldier. Since neither was scooting over, I stood over them like a frozen statue.

Carth began.

"We...aren't exactly—"

"We're Republic soldiers."

Might as well get to the point with this perceptive girl. She didn't look patient either.

The soldier gaped at me with open hostility.

"You—"

"We need information, don't we?"

Mission bent over the table and leaned her chin onto her open blue palm.

"Republic soldiers?" She snapped a finger. "Oh, so you're one of those people the Sith are looking for. From the escape pods."

I laughed nervously.

"Right...yeah."

I forced myself to sit next to Carth. He grimaced when I sat a bit too close before he slid away to give me space.

Carth growled at me. "We shouldn't be telling the whole planet who we are, recruit."

"Why shouldn't we? If we don't trust anyone then we won't get anywhere. Do you want to be stuck here forever?"

Mission waved her hands. "Oh, no! Don't worry. The Hidden Beks don't like the Sith so I'll keep quiet about you two."

I gave Carth a nod, looking for approval, however this soldier's paranoid energy was infinite in scale and dangerous in level.

"Whatever. It's too late now." He crossed his arms. "We came down here in search of the Jedi Bastila Shan. She should be somewhere in the Under City. Do you have any idea how to get down there?"

The Twi'lek frowned.

"Wait...Bastila? The Vulkars' share of the swoop race prize?"

Both of us looked at each other and then glanced back at Mission. Then, we bombarded her at the same time with questions.

"You know where she is?"

"Swoop race prize?"

Mission stuttered. "Um...well..."

"Is she alright? Is she safe?"

"They made her into a prize? Like...to do what?"

"I don't know...the Vulkars—"

"Who are these Vulkars?"

"Is the prize a sexy lap dance?"

"Wes!"

"What?"

I was interested...

Mission sat back in shock, looking between us as if debating on which question she would answer first.

"Wait just...guys...just one at a time..."

Carth took the chance and spoke first.

"Where is Bastila?"

The Twi'lek sat forward. "She's the Vulkars' share of the victory prize. You really shouldn't get involved with them though. They used to be a part of the Hidden Beks before Brejik...betrayed us. All of the gangs in the Lower City are placing their stakes in this race. Bastila is one of the prizes."

I held my chin. "You're acting like you're a part of the Hidden Beks...but you're not, are you?"

"H-How did you know that?"

I snorted. "Well, now I know for sure."

It was obvious. I didn't see any symbols on her nor was she old enough to participate in gang warfare. Of course, age didn't really matter in Outer Rim planets when it came to crime and violence.

Since I left her question unanswered, she turned to Carth. "I can take you to the hideout if you want. Gadon wouldn't mind a few Sith uniforms as tribute. Though Zaedra..." She paused then waved a hand. "Nah, you'll be fine. Just behave and they'll welcome you with open arms."

I really doubted that. Carth didn't look convinced either. Mission looked at Zaalbar who was pigging out on nerf steak steeped in spicy Durosian sauce. She grumbled when she saw the many plates stacked onto the table.

"Ugh...Big Z. I told you."

"I paced myself. Promise."

Then he chomped the steak whole and almost consumed the fork with it. The Twi'lek swiped the saucy plate and shoved it on top of the others. She grabbed the bill that sat on the table.

"When I said pace, Big Z, I meant at a normal person's rate of digestion. Not yours."

The Wookiee wasn't too happy and stood. He grabbed a credit slip from his belt and placed it on the filthy table.

"I'm paying, don't worry."

"You better."

We had been walking for hours. Hours of walking downstairs into the heart of the Lower City and riding elevators down into unknown territory. Swoops and speeders raced past us with howling drunks and laughing scantily clad Twi'leks. The further we went, the darker the halls became.

I walked close behind the odd duo of Twi'lek and Wookiee—holding my blaster close. I wasn't going to take any chances. The commander held both of his blasters with an even tighter grip then my own. Mission and Zaalbar on the other hand were walking through the halls like we were skipping through the beautiful fields of Alderaan. How could this little kid be so...relaxed? She was starting to creep me out.

When we stopped, I flinched. Carth hadn't even noticed the young girl stopping to begin with and continued walking.

"We're here!" she announced.

Nothing but steel walls and crazy swoop drivers were nearby.

I really hope that this girl wasn't crazy too.

"Look kid...can you stop leading us nowhere?" Carth asked.

The Tarisian sun was already setting in the sky—yes, that's how long we'd been walking.

Mission crossed her arms. "I'm not a kid and I am leading you somewhere. Watch."

The blue Twi'lek rubbed her hands together and licked her lips. She then stomped the ground in a strange rhythm. After she did this five times, lines the size of hair strands appeared below us. Mission—the little masochistic—smiled as the very ground began to shake and propel downward.

A hidden elevator? When I looked up, what we had thought was the solid ground closed with a mechanical noise and orange lights flashing.

Mission was still smiling proudly as if she had invented the elevator.

"The Hidden Beks live in an old shopping center. They used to use these elevators to bring high-priced speeders into stores. And all the doors leading to the old shopping center collapsed. Pretty smart huh? Makes a perfect hideout for us."

I would have agreed with her, but she was still scaring me with her blasé attitude.

After only a few floors, a mechanical sound flipped and we were moving horizontally instead of vertically. Carth jerked. I smiled behind my shoulder towards the commander and received a look in return. The commander's eyes must hurt after glaring at me so much.

The elevator wobbled. I wondered how old this place was.

"Hopefully Gadon will accept you guys. If Zaedra bothers you...don't worry. She's sort of like an older sister to me. I'll convince her," she said.

"You mentioned a Brejik before," Carth said, "and he used to be a part of the Hidden Beks?"

The Twi'lek's energetic face wilted and the moving platform shuddered with its old age.

"Brejik...Gadon treated him like he was his son. Of course, I hadn't known him before, but other Beks told me that he was a reckless and immature brat. Even so, Gadon wanted him to be his successor. But when Gadon got into that accident...well, Brejik wanted to take over. Gadon said no of course—the Hidden Beks are fine under his leadership—but Brejik didn't agree. So, he joined the Vulkars. Now, they're even more powerful than they were before."

The lift stopped before a cargo door and opened up into the ceiling of an ancient garage. Mission strutted in when the door opened enough for her to slide through and waited for us taller folk by the door. When the garage opened enough for the Wookiee to step through, I followed into the open space that was the Hidden Bek base.

So much was going on at once. Twi'leks and humans were all busy either talking or working on swoop bikes or taking breaks and eating. They were all dressed brightly in reds and yellows—colors that reminded me of the Republic soldier uniforms. An ancient repair droid was messing with a panel causing the old plasma lights to flicker and spark above our heads.

Mission led us towards a slick-looking swoop. A bald white-eyed man and a pale Twi'lek stood beside it. The swoop's duel engines were turned on and an Ithorian laid on his back underneath the chassis.

"The accelerator will have to be placed below the pit in order for both engines to maximize the output," the mechanic said. With a swift nod from the Twi'lek, the Ithorian mech turned on a beamed hydrospanner.

Mission waved at the two over the buzzing.

"Gadon! Zaedra!"

Both of them faced Mission. The bald man—probably Gadon—called for the mechanic to stop. The pale Twi'lek unsheathed her blaster.

"Mission, why have you brought Sith into the Hidden Bek base? You know that you're not supposed to bring in outsiders without permission."

The blue girl crossed her arms and pouted. "I'm not a kid anymore, Zaedra. And these people aren't Sith. They're Republic soldiers."

The older Twi'lek gave us a second look. When her gaze passed over me, she gripped her blaster tighter.

"You don't know that. The Sith are great deceivers—"

"Enough, Zaedra. If these men were Sith then they would have started threatening us by now. And I have all of the Hidden Beks and you to protect me."

Carth took a step forward. "We were wondering if you knew about a Bastila and where the Vulkars might be keeping her."

This guy had a one-track mind, huh? Maybe he had some sort of crush on the Jedi. It was his funeral.

Gadon nodded. "Let's go where we have a bit more privacy."

I looked back at the mechanic. He was adding more parts to the swoop bike—a larger engine sat beside him. Was that the accelerator? I didn't really know much about swoop parts. Sure, I gambled and watched swoop races before. Most of them were held in Outer Rim planets since the Republic banned the dangerous sport. The races usually had a death or two if not half of the participants on bad days.

In any case, I'd never considered racing myself. Humans were not good at the sport—we had slow reflexes compared to other species. And I liked my life. Very much. So, hopefully, we could find a way to get Bastila without having to resort to racing for her.

The Hidden Bek leader Gadon led us into a small office. The automatic doors swished closed behind us. Zaalbar was forced to be left behind due to his size. Gadon sat behind a glass desk and Zaedra still held her blaster close.

The leader sighed. "For the love of—Zaedra, put that blaster down!"

"I won't until these two give me a reason not to."

A reason, huh? Really? I smirked before pressing a button at my waist. The Sith armor retracted into the smaller belt version. It still weighed a ton, of course. I kicked the armor towards them without comment. Since Carth's uniform was his actual clothes, he would be in his underwear if he offered the outfit too. Just picturing that scene almost made me crack up.

"This good enough for you? These weren't ours to begin with anyway," I said.

The older Twi'lek took a second to hear my words while Gadon's previously unsure face brightened. Zaedra hesitated before hefting up the armor and placed it down on the desk.

"Fine. Whatever. I believe you."

Something told me in her tone of voice that she didn't believe me at all. Still. I mean, what Sith would give up his own armor? This Twi'lek was almost at Onasi's level of paranoia. Almost. After all, she didn't beat the commander himself.

Feeling exposed, I crossed my arms. "So...Bastila is a prize in the upcoming swoop race." Gadon nodded—his eyes stuttered and glistened as they gazed towards me. I blinked. "What's wrong with your eyes, old man?"

The Twi'lek growled. "Don't you dare insult Gadon, worm!"

I was making an observation not an insult you bitch. I knew if I said that, however, she would shoot my balls off.

"Zaedra, it's alright." Gadon didn't look too perturbed compared to his bodyguard. "I was blinded by flying machine parts during a swoop race just a couple of years ago. My eyes have implants and I can see just fine, but I can never race again."

While that sounded depressing and all, it was his fault for even trying swoop races in the first place. Only suicidal people tried those. I mean...I guess it was also suicidal to ram a collapsing ship into the ground. And who would be stupid enough to do that?

For some reason, Mission hid in the corner. She probably thought that the older Twi'lek would yell at her for leading us here. I felt a little guilty about that.

"Anyways, I'm sure you don't want to hear about me," the Bek continued. "You want information on that Republic soldier, don't you?"

I tilted my head. "Republic soldier? But Bastila's a—"

"Yes, we do," Carth interrupted. He really wanted to hide the fact that she was the Jedi everyone was searching for? These guys didn't look malicious. Compared to those Vulkars, they actually had morals. Probably. I mean, a man could hope, right?

Gadon raised his eyebrows. "Well, we have no idea where your friend is. Brejik is probably keeping her locked away somewhere nice and safe. We won't see her until the race."

Carth didn't like that answer. "She has to be down here somewhere. We don't have much time—"

"If you go off and steal the Vulkar's share of the prize, Brejik will point his finger at us and all of the neutral gangs will fall into the palm of his hand. We can't afford to go against this tradition."

This Gadon probably knew where she was but because he didn't want us ruining his little gang war, he wouldn't tell us anyway. Sneaky bastard.

What were we to do now? I asked this mentally but Onasi remained oblivious to my silent question. Because there was no way—

"I know!" Mission shouted. "One of them could win the race and get their friend back! And even if a Bek won we could return her to them."

I found it interesting that Mission referred to the Jedi like some washed away and lost item. But she had stated the possibility I had been avoiding. I didn't like the idea of entering in a swoop race. At all. Carth didn't seem to like the idea either.

I laughed. "Um...but we don't have a swoop bike. And we're not suicidal."

Gadon chuckled at my statement. "Well, we could fix that problem. Do you remember that swoop we were working on? That bike is custom to this course and is being fit with a high-tech accelerator as we speak. However...no one is crazy enough to ride it. Those accelerators have been known to be...unstable. We will give you this swoop if you want. We have no other spares."

This guy had his bases covered, didn't he? As if participating in a swoop race wasn't crazy enough, he was also offering us an exploding bike?

Hmm...do I burn myself slowly or implode myself with a grenade and get it over with? Which sounded better? If I was honest—and if I had to do it—I would choose the latter.

But I didn't have to choose because I wasn't going to do it.

Carth, however, was intent on getting his precious Jedi back.

"We'll do it."

"We are not doing it." I interrupted. "Do you know how crazy a swoop bike race is? Not to mention participating in one with the ticking time bomb?" I addressed Gadon. "Do you think we're stupid, old man?"

"So you won't? Racing with the accelerator may be the only way you can win your friend back. You sure?"

Oh, come on. "Honestly, I wanted to escape this planet days ago."

Carth glared at me. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. We aren't getting off this planet without her, recruit."

I could feel my face turning red with anger but I kept my thoughts quiet. After all, there was only one swoop bike. He could ride it to his death if he wanted to. I wasn't going to sacrifice myself for some Jedi I barely knew.

Gadon looked between us. "Whatever you decide to do, the swoop race is tomorrow evening. You don't have time to fight between yourselves."

"Tomorrow?" we both shouted.

We were really cutting it close there. If we hadn't found Mission today, the Jedi would have been long gone. Carth would have failed his little mission and I might not have had a chance of getting off this planet. I was beginning to wonder when our luck would run dry.

Mission beamed beside Carth. Zaedra—who had been silent during this discussion—glared at me.

"You can't be serious, Gadon. You're going to make an outsider ride that bike?"

The leader of the Beks sighed and shook his head. "Do you want to ride that swoop bike, Zaedra?"

Her silence was an answer enough.

"I don't have much time to prepare, huh?" Carth muttered.

I rolled my eyes. "You asked for it."

And if he dies in the race—screw the Republic and the Jedi. I'm going to find my own way out.