The assignment was simple: make contact with the Republic spy in Ord Anlata and recover any information regarding a Separatist conspiracy. The GAR intelligence division had been keeping an eye on the planet and it's black market dealings for a while. They had ignored this because of the information network the planet provided regarding the enemy, but now, with the ebb and rise of the tide of war, the loyalties of Ord Anlata's government were starting to fade. So in came a squad of three, a Jedi apprentice and two clones, to make contact with the spy and hopefully undermine the plot against the republic.

It had all been arranged for our arrival. We would be staying in a small apartment on the southern quadrant in Neo Cetara -the capital city. I would take up a job as a bartender at one of the bars royal officers frequented most, and Art and Sinker would take turns playing security at the Royal Palace. Not that Ord Anlata had been a monarchy historically, the local government was just drunk on all the profit their illegal activities provided. The assignment appeared to be quite straightforward. Get the intel, get it to the senate, prevent the separatists from gaining control over more territory.

It all seemed easy on paper, it always does, but it all faded in an instant when we made contact with our spy. The space port was as crowded as one could have expected after the arrival of a ship carrying refugees. That didn't stop us from finding our contact, who seemed to have gotten there before we had. The rendezvous point had been set in a more secluded area of the port, where warehouses storing cargo loomed in neat rows. A hooded figure stood against the outer walls of one of the warehouses, hiding from view in the alleyway between buildings. Even at a distance, I could not help the feeling of knowing in the pit of my stomach. It made me more uneasy than I cared to admit.

And when the figure turned to face us, I understood why.

Brendon Kail stood there with a confident grin on his face and a hand to his hip.

I suppressed the urge to reach for my lightsaber. He wasn't the enemy, he had done nothing to merit the hostility, but still I made a single hand sign to keep both my companions alert. Possible threat ahead.

"You've grown up nicely, Foreas." He said as a form of greeting, looking me up and down with pointed interest.

It felt quite unsettling, the Force around him moved peacefully without a hint of the dark side, and still, it didn't comfort me.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" I said, trying to mask my discomfort. "These are Art and Sinker."

He made a face, as if something I'd said puzzled him.

"I suppose they will need names for the mission-"

"They are people, Brendon. They have names" I interrupted. "And you best remember that."

Let us just say we were not up to a good start. I would have to brief the boys on who the man was later. But I would have to make sure not to try and judge him too much. I had no Idea what he'd been through since he'd been kicked out of the order.

"I suggest we move to a safer location, we can set up base and then make introductions." Said Sinker as he discretely looked around the landing platforms and warehouses.

"Right fellas, Milady, this way." Said Brendon with an exaggerated bow and a grand gesture. "I'll be your tour guide for the day."

…

It took all Art's training not to say a sarcastic brilliant out loud. First, Wolffe's little improvised moment of affection and now this guy? If the Commander managed to keep her head on straight at all the entire mission he promised himself he would buy all her drinks in the future. The Force really was testing her, and it was being a bitch about it. He hadn't been impressed with Kail when Kriari had told him about it, he was even less impressed now. It was almost embarrassing how a thirteen year old clone had more sense than a twenty three year old natborn. But that was natborns for you, they matured a lot slower.

Sinker wasn't amused either, he could tell, they were thinking the same. They'd have to keep an eye on the man and not leave him alone with Kriari, ever. Not that their Commander couldn't blast him a new one on her own, but they'd be damned if they let a Jedi dropout dirty her reputation in any way.

The apartment was placed on the first floor of a pound shop at one of the busiest corners of the local market. It was a single room with a kitchen and a fresher, and the windows on the walls that overlooked the market gave them an almost full view of the streets. A perfect sniping point and two escape routes should they need them. It was noisy and colorful outside, which gave them the advantage of not having to worry about noise carrying.

Ord Anlata was a pretty arid planet, it had it's oasis and farms spotted across the southern hemisphere, but the rest of it was mostly sand and dirt. It was a pallet of ochres, browns, reds, yellows and nudes that was both hostile, and warm and welcoming at the same time. Art caught Kriari looking at the brown buildings and the market vendors with something like sadness on her face. Dirt was starting to stick to all of them, but the only one who blended in because of it was her. The rest of them just looked dirty and ragged. Kriari looked like she had lived there her entire life, which was probably a good thing.

To him, it was all a little overwhelming if he was being honest with himself. It had been rare occasions when he hadn't been surrounded by brothers, officers and ship personnel. Rarer had been the times when people had looked past him like he wasn't either a curiosity or the source of all evil. He had never watched as people went about their business, their lives away from the war. He had never seen a market that hadn't been devastated by a battle or crowded with terrified civilians running for their lives. He had never seen life as it should be lived, as it was lived by normal beings when there was no war raging.

The market was busy and rowdy in the way the canteen was, but the people there were all strangers from different species and planets. The market felt like complete anonymity, and while he had tried to avoid being no one his entire life, he found that here, he didn't mind as much.

This was good.

…

Kriari had to give it to Brendon, he had set up everything with such attention to detail she might have been impressed if she hadn't been working with the clones for the last year and a half or so. Such level of proficiency was rare, and whenever she saw it outside the clone army of the Jedi themselves, she was always pleasantly surprised. Not that people outside them couldn't excel in anything, she wasn't that arrogant, but when it came to military affairs, it was hard to compete with the GAR.

Their jobs were perfect for information gathering, the apartment was strategically well placed and well stocked, and their schedules usually aligned perfectly. All they had to do was get to work, and hopefully get it over and done with as soon as possible.

She felt right at home in Neo Cetara, and that was not good. She wanted to get off the planet as fast as possible and onto a cruiser and back to her life with her battalion, nostalgia was not her friend. She did realize, as she maditated that first night, that she might be running away from something, which was just as bad. The place reminded her too much of the market at Mos Eisley, but that had never been a problem before. So why now?

She tried something she hadn't done in a very long time: Kriari tried to search for her tribe's presence in the Force. As a child, it had been something that always comforted her, and made her feel closer to her roots. But now, as she searched the galaxy for those warm presences, she found none. She might have been out of practice, or maybe the Force was telling her to let go of her attachment to the Tribe.

She'd have to figure it out some other time.

She was also not entirely comfortable with Brendon's presence, and she could feel Art and Sinker had the same concerns. Art he could understand, after all, she had told him about Brendon; but Sinker's reaction had been a surprise. She would keep it in mind, ignoring a soldier's intuition was stupid, even more so when undercover.

…

Brendon looked into his glass as if in drunken reflection as he extended his awareness into the bar. It wasn't Kriari's first night as a bartender, but he had made it a habit to tagg along every now and then to lend her a hand.

He looked up and watched as the Padawan joked around with one of her customers and then back down at his drink. It had been a while since he'd stopped resenting her. Self reflection was a hard habit to shake off when one had been raised by Jedi. It hadn't taken him long to realize he had been wrong, and the Jedi had probably saved themselves the trouble of a power hungry Knight.

They hadn't completely abandoned him, of course, the Jedi had always been about preserving life, so he hadn't exactly been left out on the streets. So he had been allowed to become a Jedi informant. He had started in Coruscant, which had hardened him to the realities outside the Temple pretty fast, and in time, he had been sent on missions off world. Every time he got deployed, he'd go further and further away from the core planets, and he had grown to love the unpredictability of his job.

He supposed he should have been grateful, he had found his true purpose in life. Leaving the Jedi Order had opened a galaxy of possibilities to him and it hadn't taken him long to learn to love all those things about life that Jedi rejected. Yes, his job was hard, dangerous and pretty emotionally and mentally draining, but he'd had Jedi training, and he knew his own limits.

He took another sip of his drink and looked at the bar again. He hadn't been lying when he'd said Kriari had grown up nicely. She was attractive and looked strong, confident, like she could take the entire galaxy on if she was given a good enough reason to. Brendon shook his head to himself.

She's a Jedi. You messed with her once already and it went horribly wrong, this would be pushing it.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel like something, a lot of things, about her had changed, and that somehow, his ideas weren't as far fetched as he thought. He'd have to keep it under wraps though, she was force sensitive after all, and she had two loyal guard dogs that would die for her. Brandon just needed to bide his time and maybe, just maybe, he'd have a chance.

…

Wolffe sat across from his General, still reeling from their first few conversations. They had made it a habit to have tea together once a week. It had been a little jarring at first, it had felt like a blatant violation of protocol and military etiquette, but ever since Kriari had left, the thought seemed quite silly to him. Of course he was still the perfect soldier when there were others to witness their interactions, but somehow, this felt different to him.

His General, Jedi Master Plo Koon had called him his son. When he first heard the words, Wolffe had almost burst into tears, not that he'd let his General see, but it was the truth. Wolffe had always considered the 104th a family, Jedi included, but he had never dared make assumptions on how the Jedi felt about it with their rejection of attachment and all. That, of course, did not include Kriari. Wolffe knew how Kriari felt about them, they all did. So to have the man he looked up to, his superior and emotional anchor, call him his son was something he'd never thought he'd experience.

If Wolffe's loyalty had been strong before, well, the galaxy was not ready for this.

"Something on your mind, Commander?" Asked Plo Koon, Wolffe's father.

"Just my family, General," said Wolffe with a little smile. "Just my family."