The Upper City platform stretched endlessly below Seth's feet, a sheer drop vanishing into the murky depths of Taris' Undercity. He sat on the edge, legs dangling over the abyss, staring at the twin dog tags clutched in his fist. Draven's tags were worn, the etching slightly faded from years of wear. Seth ran his thumb over the engraved letters, his grip tightening.

It should have been me.

The thought had circled his mind relentlessly since leaving the Sith military base. He could still see Draven's body—broken, lifeless—could still hear the rasp of his final breath, the way his body slumped off of Xayalith's blade. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memory didn't fade. It was burned into his mind like a cruel scar.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when Carth's presence registered beside him. The older soldier leaned forward against the railing, his elbows resting on the durasteel. He didn't say anything at first, just let the silence settle between them.

Finally, Carth spoke. "We'll give him a proper service once this is all over."

Seth let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah? Him and the rest of the Endar Spire's crew?"

Carth exhaled heavily, nodding. "Yeah. This mission's taken a lot from us. The least we can do is make sure no soldier goes forgotten."

Seth's jaw tightened. "Ever wonder why we were the ones to make it out of this mess, sir?"

Carth was quiet for a long moment before answering. "Every damn day." He turned slightly, eyes scanning Seth's face. "I used to ask that question all the time, and you know what? The only place it led me was the bottom of a bottle."

Seth let that sink in. He turned the dog tags over in his hands again, the chain biting into his palm. "So… what, you just stop asking?"

"No," Carth admitted. "But I started realizing something. If we survived, then there's gotta be a reason. Maybe it's dumb luck. Maybe it's something bigger. But I know this much—if the universe could make something out of a mess like me, then I sure as hell believe it's got plans for someone like you." His voice was firm, certain. "You got a future, kid. And you owe it to Draven to make sure you don't waste it."

Seth swallowed hard, looking back down at the tags. He didn't have an answer—not yet. But the weight in his chest shifted, just slightly. A quiet moment passed before he lifted the chain over his head, letting Draven's tags clink against his own beneath his shirt.

Carth clapped a hand on his back. "Now, let's keep moving forward. We owe that much to him."

Seth took a steadying breath, pushing himself up from the railing. He wasn't sure if he was ready to move forward yet—but he knew he had to try.

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly.

Carth nodded. "Anytime."

And with that, they turned toward the next step of their mission.

Javyar's Cantina was quieter than usual, but that didn't mean it had lost its edge. The air was still thick with the smell of cheap ale and the underlying tension of desperate people trying to drink away their problems. Seth barely noticed. He had bigger things to focus on.

Canderous Ordo was exactly where they'd left him—reclined in a booth near the back, massive arms stretched behind his head, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do than wait. He didn't even bother sitting up when he spotted them. Just let a slow, knowing smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

"I knew you were the capable sort," he said easily, cracking his knuckles as they approached. "No way a kid bold enough to take on the swoop circuit and live to tell about it wouldn't be able to handle a little military infiltration."

Seth barely slowed his stride. He might've had the emotional bandwidth to deal with Canderous' smugness when they'd first met, but that was before he'd seen a comrade killed in action. He tossed the datapad containing the stolen Sith codes onto the table and slid into the seat across from the Mandalorian. "Got what you wanted. Now tell us how we're getting off this planet."

Canderous picked up the datapad, giving it a casual once-over, clearly unfazed by Seth's lack of pleasantries. "Not bad," he mused, pocketing the device. "Alright, kid, listen up. We're taking the Ebon Hawk."

Seth felt more than saw Mission go stiff beside him.

"What?" she blurted.

Zaalbar rumbled a growl low in his throat. "[Are you insane?]"

"The Ebon Hawk?" Mission repeated, voice laced with disbelief. "You can't be serious."

Seth glanced between them, confused. "What's wrong with the Ebon Hawk?"

Canderous barely blinked. "Nothing. It's the best damn ship on the planet."

"It's Davik Kang's ship," Mission shot back. "You know, the Davik Kang? Crime lord who's run Taris for twenty years? Guy you don't steal from if you like breathing?"

"Oh, him," Seth said dryly. "Yeah, sounds bad."

Canderous sighed, sitting up at last. "Look, you just broke into a high-security Sith base, stole military codes, and you're worried about a little residential burglary?"

"Not the same thing," Mission insisted. "Stealing from Davik? That's an invitation for every Exchange assassin in the sector to come after us."

"[She's right]" Zaalbar rumbled. "[The Exchange does not forgive.]"

Seth took a breath, weighing the risk. Then he met Canderous' eyes. "You really think we can pull this off?"

The Mandalorian grinned. "I know we can."

Seth exhaled, glancing at Mission. "What do you think? They can't kill us if they can't catch us, right?"

The Twi'lek hesitated for only a second before scoffing, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm in. Someone's gotta be there to keep you from getting shot."

Seth smirked. "I knew you cared."

"Shut up."

Canderous leaned in, lowering his voice. "Alright. Here's how this is gonna work. Davik saw you race, kid. He's impressed. Enough that I can push for him to bring you in for a tour of his estate, maybe even a job offer."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "And you're vouching for me why, exactly?"

"Because I need off this rock just as much as you do." Canderous sat back again, tapping his fingers against the table. "Davik trusts me. Or at least, he thinks he does. I get you guys in the door, and once we're inside, we make our move."

"Hold on," Mission interjected. "You keep saying we—but you're talking like I'm coming too."

"You are."

Mission blinked. "Excuse me?"

Canderous' expression didn't change. "Your Jedi friend here is on enough Sith wanted notices that Davik would recognize her on sight," he said, nodding at Bastila. "And Fuzzy over there? He'd be sold into slavery before he even stepped foot on the property. That leaves you."

Mission looked between them, then pointed to herself. "Me?"

"You've got street smarts, you're quick on your feet, and you know how to work people." Canderous shrugged. "I've seen you in action, Twi'lek. You've got enough charm to impress Davik, enough to do the talking for both of you. So what do you say?"

Mission hesitated. For once, she had nothing to say. Seth watched as the weight of the moment settled over her, as she realized this—this was a moment she mattered.

"…I'm in," she said.

Canderous grinned. "Good. Get some rest, kids. Tomorrow, we steal ourselves a ship."

The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the city beyond its thin walls. The others had long since settled in—Zaalbar was packing up their belongings so that they could make a hasty escape when Seth, Mission and Canderous swung by the apartment's landing pad in the Ebon Hawk the next day. Bastila was insisting they be well-rested for tomorrow. Carth was doing… whatever it was Republic captains did before a mission.

Seth hadn't even tried.

Mission spotted him as soon as she stepped outside onto the complex's rear balcony, silhouetted against the neon glow of Taris' skyline. He leaned against the railing, arms folded, gaze distant. His expression was unreadable, but she could guess well enough.

She approached slowly, boots scuffing against the platform. He didn't turn, but his voice came quiet. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

She exhaled, stepping up beside him. "Guess not."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The city stretched below them, its lights pulsating and lively reflected in Seth's eyes. A million people moving on with their lives, oblivious that one had been snuffed out by the Sith less than 24 hours before. Mission tried not to think about that.

Seth let out a soft chuckle, humorless. "Crazy to think we'll be off this planet by tomorrow."

Mission turned, watching him closely. "You don't sound all that excited."

"I am," he said, too quick. Then he shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line. "I don't know. Feels like I should be." He drummed his fingers against the railing. "Feels like Draven should be here."

She winced, heart twisting. "Seth…"

He let out a sharp breath, forcing a smile. "Sorry. I know I should be focusing on the mission."

"Forget the mission for a second," she cut in. "You don't have to be okay yet."

He swallowed hard, but didn't argue.

Mission hesitated before slipping her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. He didn't pull away.

"I've never really lost anyone before," she admitted quietly. "Not like you have. Not like this. So I don't… I don't know what to say to make it better."

He turned then, green eyes locking with hers. "Just you being here helps." His voice was raw, stripped of bravado. "You always do."

Mission's breath caught.

His fingers curled tighter around hers, and suddenly, the air between them felt different—charged, humming like a live wire. Her heartbeat stuttered as Seth took a slow step closer, his free hand lifting, knuckles ghosting along her jaw. His eyes flickered to her lips, and Force help her, she wanted him to close the distance.

More than anything, she wanted it.

But the way his breath shuddered, the way his shoulders were still carrying the weight of today, of yesterday, of the loss he hadn't fully processed yet—

Not like this.

"Seth…" she whispered, gently pulling back just enough to stop him. His eyes snapped back to hers, questioning.

Force, she hated the flicker of hurt she saw in them.

"I want this," she admitted, and it felt important to say, to let him know. "More than you know. But you're hurting. And the last thing I want is to build… whatever this is, whatever we are, on a shaky foundation cemented in your sadness."

He exhaled slowly, dropping his gaze. She thought he might argue, might try to push past it, but instead, he nodded. "I get it."

Mission searched his face, hesitant. "Are we okay?"

His lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile. "Yeah." Then, softer, "We're okay."

She squeezed his hand one last time before letting go, ignoring the way her fingers missed the warmth of his almost immediately.

"C'mon, Hotshot," she said, nudging his arm as she turned back toward the apartment. "We should at least pretend we're getting some rest."

He chuckled, falling into step beside her. "Yeah. Big day tomorrow."

As they stepped inside, Mission chanced a glance at him, watching as he ran a hand through his hair and took a slow, steady breath. The weight on his shoulders wasn't gone.

But maybe—just maybe—it was a little lighter.

The next morning, Seth pulled the high collar of his borrowed jacket up against the chill of the Upper City's air vents as he, Mission, and Canderous strode into Davik Kang's estate.

The crime lord's mansion was opulent. Everything about it dripped with excess—from the shimmering chandeliers overhead to the polished marble floors reflecting the glow of violet mood lighting. The whole place smelled like expensive spices and rich, exotic perfumes, and everywhere Seth looked, bodyguards stood at attention, blasters resting easy in their hands.

He had to remind himself to breathe.

At his side, Mission walked with her usual confidence, but he could tell by the slight tension in her shoulders that she felt the eyes on them too.

Canderous, on the other hand, was the picture of ease, striding ahead of them with the kind of casual menace that only a Mandalorian could pull off. He had his hands hooked behind his belt, his gaze sweeping the room like he already owned the place.

It wasn't long before Davik Kang himself appeared, stepping onto a balcony overlooking the estate's main hall. Even from a distance, the man exuded authority—lean and well-dressed in a deep purple tunic, his graying hair slicked back. His smile was sharp, predatory.

"Mike Fure," he called out, spreading his arms in welcome. "The rising star of Taris' swoop circuit."

Seth hesitated for a moment, thrown off by the use of his alias, before dropping into a relaxed stance and allowing what he hoped looked like a cocky smile ease across his features. "Mr. Kang. I hear you're a fan."

Davik chuckled as he descended the stairs, his personal guards falling into step behind him. "Fan is a strong word. Let's say I appreciate talent when I see it." His dark eyes flicked toward Mission. "And you must be the Twi'lek girl Canderous here keeps vouching for. You've built yourself quite the reputation."

Mission's lips curved into an easy smile. "What can I say? Word travels fast."

"Indeed it does," Davik mused, stopping just in front of them. "That's why I was very interested to hear you wanted to join my… enterprise."

Seth kept his expression relaxed, even as his stomach coiled into knots. "Figured I should start putting my skills to good use. Racing's fun and all, but a guy's gotta think about his future."

Davik hummed, watching him carefully. "Ambition. I like that." He turned slightly, motioning toward the hallway ahead. "Come. Let's take a walk."

Canderous shot them both a look that plainly said keep up, then followed as Davik led them deeper into the mansion.

The estate was even more extravagant inside. They passed through lounge areas filled with lounging nobles and off-duty mercenaries, spice dens thick with fragrant smoke, and weapons caches locked behind reinforced durasteel doors.

Seth made sure to look impressed. Davik was watching for a reaction, after all.

"This is a well-oiled machine," Davik said conversationally as they walked. "It takes strong leadership to keep an operation like this running smoothly. That means knowing how to reward loyalty… and how to handle betrayal."

They passed a torture room without stopping, but Seth still caught a glimpse of the poor soul strapped into an interrogation chair—a scrawny human male, moaning weakly. A pair of guards stood nearby, seemingly indifferent to his suffering.

Mission barely kept her expression neutral.

Seth forced himself to stay casual. "Noted," he said lightly.

Davik chuckled again. "Smart boy."

The next door they passed slid open with a hiss, revealing a dimly lit hangar bay.

And there, at the center of it all, was the most beautiful ship Seth had ever seen.

The Ebon Hawk was magnificent—sleek, powerful, armed to the teeth. The bronze-finished hull gleamed under the hangar lights, and even from here, he could hear the low, steady hum of its finely tuned engines.

He had to fight the grin threatening to break across his face.

Mission, however, played her part wonderfully, allowing her jaw to drop in mock awe, sooning a little. "The Ebon Hawk?" she blurted out. "Are you kidding?"

The crime lord's eyes lit up with amusement. "I take it you're familiar with my ship?"

Mission nodded, allowing a starry-eyed expression to cross her features as she looked between Davik and the Ebon Hawk. "Familiar? It's legendary—The pride of the spice lanes…here on Taris! I'm surprised no one's tried to slip it out from under your nose, sir."

"That's because no one's stupid enough to try," Davik corrected smoothly. "She's secured with a state-of-the-art defense grid. Completely impregnable."

Seth felt his stomach drop.

"Impregnable?" he repeated. "You mean completely?"

Davik nodded. "No one gets in or out without the access codes."

Seth shot a sideways look at Canderous, whose expression remained maddeningly unreadable. Well, that would've been nice to know ahead of time.

"Shame," Seth said, forcing an easy smile. "Would've loved to take her for a spin."

Davik laughed. "Stick with me, kid, and maybe one day you will."

Back in their quarters, Seth threw himself onto one of the bunks with a groan. "We are so screwed."

Canderous, leaning against the doorframe, sighed. "Relax. We'll figure it out."

"We need those security codes," Seth muttered. "And something tells me Davik doesn't just leave them lying around."

"He doesn't," Canderous confirmed. "But I know someone who does."

Mission perked up. "Yeah?"

"Hudrow," Canderous said. "Davik's pilot. He's been here long enough to have those codes memorized, but last I heard, he got caught skimming spice off the top. That means Davik's got him locked up."

Seth groaned. "Let me guess. Torture room?"

Canderous smirked. "You catch on quick, kid."

"Great," Seth muttered. "So we bust him out and get the codes."

"Still need the keycard," Mission pointed out. "Even with the codes, we can't get past the hangar shields without one."

"Then we steal one," Canderous said simply. "The guys in the spice lab make regular shipments to the hangar. They've got the clearance."

Mission snorted. "Yeah. Simple."

Seth stood, rolling out his shoulders. "Alright," he said, voice steady. "Let's get to work."

The halls of Davik Kang's estate were eerily quiet.

Seth, Mission, and Canderous moved through the corridors like shadows, keeping their steps light, their voices low. The plan was set. Now it was just a matter of executing it.

Canderous stopped at the intersection of two halls, glancing toward them before nodding down a separate passage. "I'll handle Hudrow. Meet you at the hangar when you've got the keycard."

Mission gave a mock salute. "Yeah, yeah. Try not to get tortured while you're at it."

Canderous smirked before disappearing around the corner.

Seth let out a slow breath. "Alright. Spice lab should be this way."

Mission tapped at the datapad she'd swiped earlier. "Looks like security's light in this section. But we're still gonna need to be careful—Davik's guys are trigger-happy."

Seth nodded. "Let's move."

The two of them crept down the corridor, stopping just short of the lab's heavy doors. Mission crouched at the security console, her fingers flying across the interface. The lock's indicator flashed green, and with a low hiss, the door slid open.

The lab inside was massive, filled with rows of processing equipment, shipping crates stacked high against the walls, and the unmistakable acrid scent of refined spice hanging in the air.

Several workers were present—Rodians, Twi'leks, and a few humans—all dressed in simple labor jumpsuits. But the real problem was the guards—three hulking mercenaries lingering near the spice containers, each armed with a blaster rifle.

Seth pulled back behind the doorframe. "Fantastic."

"Yeah, uh… lot of people in there," Mission muttered. "Any ideas?"

Seth peeked around the door again, quickly analyzing the room. The guards weren't exactly patrolling—they were mostly standing in place, talking amongst themselves. The lab workers kept their heads down, moving between the processing machines and crates.

"Alright," Seth whispered. "You cause a distraction, I'll grab the keycard."

Mission gave him a deadpan look. "Oh sure, let me get their attention."

"Hey, you're the one with all the street smarts."

She rolled her eyes but grinned, then straightened her posture, adopting her best cocky swagger. "Watch and learn, Hotshot."

Before Seth could even process it, she strode through the doorway like she belonged there.

"Hey boys," she called casually, drawing the guards' attention. "That's some real nice spice you got there."

One of the guards—a burly Weequay—arched a brow. "Who the hell are you?"

Mission feigned offense. "Oh, ouch. That hurts, boys. Davik sent me down here to make sure you're keeping your numbers straight."

The guards exchanged uncertain looks.

Seth took the opportunity to move. Keeping low, he slipped behind a row of spice containers, scanning the workers' belts for a clearance card.

"…Never seen you before," the Weequay was saying.

Mission leaned against a crate. "Yeah, well, that's 'cause I just got promoted." She jerked her chin toward the lab workers. "You guys got all of these folks accounted for? Don't want anyone sneaking spice off the top."

As the guards turned their attention to the workers, Seth spotted his opening. A human technician was kneeling near the main control terminal, his ID badge and security clearance card clipped to his belt.

Seth slipped up behind him, as silent as he could be, and snatched the card off his belt.

The worker froze.

"Hey—!"

CRACK.

Mission punched the Weequay across the jaw.

The entire room erupted.

Seth bolted as Mission ducked a retaliatory blaster bolt, diving behind a crate just as the first guard fired wildly in her direction. She yanked out her blaster and fired back, dropping him in an instant.

The remaining two guards scrambled, but Seth was already moving. He pivoted behind them, raising his own blaster—one shot, then another—both went down before they could even register what had happened.

The spice workers all froze.

Seth held up his hands, lowering his blaster. "Nobody else needs to get hurt. Just… go."

The workers didn't need to be told twice. They scattered, some grabbing whatever they could carry before bolting for the nearest exit.

Mission exhaled. "Well. That was subtle."

Seth tossed her the clearance card. "Let's just get out of here."

Canderous Ordo was never one to waste time.

Hudrow, Davik's captured pilot, was slumped in a force cage, his pale skin mottled with bruises. He groaned, barely lifting his head as Canderous stepped over the unconscious torturer sprawled out on the floor.

"Hudrow."

The pilot's eyes fluttered open. "Canderous?" His voice was weak. "What—what are you doing here?"

"Making deals," Canderous replied. "You want outta here? You give me the hangar security codes."

Hudrow blinked. "You—you're stealing the Ebon Hawk?"

"Ding ding," Canderous muttered, already working on the force cage's control panel. "Make this easy, Hudrow. Give me the codes, and you live."

Hudrow didn't hesitate. "They're stored on my datapad over there. I—I can get them for you, just—please."

Canderous nodded. "Good answer."

With a final input, the force cage deactivated, and Hudrow stumbled forward, gasping for breath.

Hudrow rubbed at his bruised wrists, looking up at Canderous. "What now?"

Canderous shrugged. "Now? You get lost."

The pilot hesitated. "Davik'll kill me if he finds out I talked."

Canderous smirked. "Then I suggest you start running. I won't stop you."

Hudrow hesitated only for a second before taking off, disappearing down the hall at a full sprint.

Canderous shook his head. "Poor bastard."

Then he turned and headed for the rendezvous point.

Seth and Mission reached the rendezvous point first, the clearance card burning a hole in Seth's pocket.

Canderous arrived minutes later, shaking his head. "Hudrow took off. Probably halfway to the Lower City by now. We got everything we need?"

Seth held up the clearance card. Canderous tossed him a datapad with the codes.

"Perfect," Mission said. "Now we just—"

She was cut off as an explosion thundered above them. The entire estate shook violently, sending Seth and Mission stumbling as dust and debris rained down from the ceiling.

"Oh, hell," Canderous muttered.

Another blast followed, and the distant sound of sirens began blaring.

"The Sith," Seth whispered, his blood running cold. "They're bombing the city."

They were out of time.