The heat was unbearable.

Ice stood in the scant shade of the Ebon Hawk, glaring at the twin suns above as though sheer force of will might extinguish them. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck, soaking into her already-damp shirt. She had barely stepped foot on this godforsaken planet and already regretted every decision that had led her here.

"This planet is hell," she muttered, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Who in their right mind lives here?"

"Tatooine has a certain charm," Talan said from beside her, clearly enjoying her suffering.

Ice shot him a glare. "Yeah, if you're a moisture farmer or a sadist."

Carth stepped up beside them, adjusting his gloves. "Or both."

Ice groaned and adjusted the straps of her pack. "The second I find out if our dear mother is still breathing, I'm gone. I am not roasting to death with the rest of you."

"You're welcome to try," Bastila said as she descended the ramp, her usual composure holding firm despite the heat. "But unless you plan to wander the Dune Sea alone, I suggest you make peace with your suffering."

Ice huffed but said nothing.

As the others filed out, the oppressive heat bore down on them. Even Canderous, who never seemed to complain about anything, squinted against the sunlight. The only one unaffected was T3-M4, who chirped merrily as he rolled across the sand, his metal body gleaming in the harsh daylight.

"Let's find the nearest cantina and get some information," Bastila said, already scanning the town. "We should determine the location of the Star Map first. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can leave."

Ice had never been more inclined to agree with her sister.

They moved through Anchorhead, drawing a few curious looks but nothing more. The spaceport town was a mess of sand-caked buildings and wind-beaten awnings. Merchants hawked wares from makeshift stands, shouting about weapons, starship parts, and water purifiers. The air smelled of dust, sweat, and something suspiciously rancid.

Then, the trouble started.

A crowd had gathered near the marketplace, voices raised in heated argument. As they got closer, the cause became clear—a Twi'lek woman and a human man stood in the center of the growing circle, locked in a tense standoff. The Twi'lek's hands were bound, and the man—a balding brute with a thick gut and a cruel grin—had one hand clamped around her arm.

"I paid for her fair and square!" the man bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. "This is my property, and you've got no right to interfere!"

A younger Twi'lek man, barely out of his teens, stood defiantly in front of him. "You tricked my father! He would never sell her!"

A murmur ran through the crowd. Ice clenched her fists, already knowing how this was going to go.

"Slavery," she muttered under her breath. "Of course. This planet is the worst."

Talan stepped forward, frowning. "We should—"

"I've got this," Ice said, rolling her shoulders before striding toward the commotion.

The slaver noticed her approach, his grin widening. "Ah, another buyer, maybe? You've got the look of someone who appreciates quality."

Ice cracked her knuckles. "I've got the look of someone who's about to make you regret getting out of bed this morning."

The man's expression darkened. "Stay out of this, off-worlder. This is legal business."

"Legal?" Ice scoffed. "You mean a coward's business—stealing people's lives because you're too weak to earn anything for yourself?"

The crowd stirred. A few of them looked uneasy, but no one moved to stop her.

Bastila stepped beside her, voice low. "Ice, we do not need to—"

Ice didn't wait for her to finish. She was already moving.

The slaver barely had time to react before Ice's fist connected with his face. He stumbled back, roaring in pain, but before he could reach for the blaster at his hip, Ice grabbed him by the collar and drove her knee into his gut.

The crowd erupted into chaos.

The slaver's lackeys rushed forward, drawing weapons. Ice was already on the offensive, grabbing one of them and using his own momentum to send him crashing into a fruit stand. Talan and Canderous were at her side in an instant, while Mission and Zaalbar moved to shield the Twi'lek woman and her brother from the chaos.

The slaver, recovering from the initial hit, pulled a vibroblade and lunged at Ice. She twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike, then caught his wrist before he could swing again. With a sharp twist, she forced him to drop the blade.

Canderous took advantage of the moment, slamming a fist into the man's jaw, sending him sprawling. "You should've stayed down," he muttered.

Within moments, it was over. The slaver and his men were either unconscious or groaning in the sand. The crowd had begun to disperse, not wanting to get involved further.

The Twi'lek woman looked at Ice, her expression a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you. I—I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't—"

"Don't mention it," Ice said, brushing the sand off her knuckles. "Literally. Don't. I don't need some bounty hunter coming after me for breaking some backwater law."

Bastila sighed, rubbing her temples. "That was reckless."

"It was necessary," Ice shot back.

Carth folded his arms. "You do realize we're trying to lay low, right?"

Ice rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. If we're on Tatooine for more than an hour without pissing someone off, I'll be shocked."

Bastila looked like she wanted to argue, but finally let out a slow breath. "Fine. But we should move before the authorities arrive."

The Twi'lek woman and her brother gave them one last grateful look before slipping away into the crowd.

Talan glanced at Ice as they turned to leave. "So, what was that about not getting involved?"

Ice shrugged. "I changed my mind."

Canderous smirked. "About time you admitted you've got a conscience."

Ice scowled. "Shut up."

As the dust settled from the brawl, the group naturally began to disperse. Canderous and Carth took the lead in searching for a reputable weapons dealer, while Talan and Mission headed toward the docking bay to gather information from anyone who might have heard rumors. Zaalbar stayed back to ensure the Twi'lek siblings got somewhere safe, his towering presence discouraging any onlookers from intervening.

Ice leaned against the shaded wall of a nearby building, shaking the lingering stiffness from her fingers. Her knuckles ached from the impact, but she felt better than she had since they'd landed. She was about to move on when she noticed Juhani lingering nearby, her golden eyes fixed on the fallen slavers. The Cathar's expression was dark, her tail flicking with barely restrained tension.

"You alright?" Ice asked, rolling her shoulders.

Juhani exhaled sharply. "I despise slavers."

Ice nodded slowly. "Yeah. Same."

There was a long pause. Juhani's claws flexed slightly before retracting. "When I was a child," she said, voice low, "slavers came to my home. They took my parents, my friends—our entire village was burned, and those who survived were sold off to the highest bidder." Her jaw tightened. "I was taken too. I spent years in chains, forced to serve men who saw me as nothing more than property."

Ice remained silent, watching her closely. It was rare for Juhani to speak so openly.

"The Jedi found me," Juhani continued, "freed me from that life. Gave me a purpose beyond anger." Her eyes flicked to Ice, studying her. "But you… you did not hesitate. You saw injustice, and you fought without concern for consequence."

Ice scoffed. "Yeah, well, I don't like standing around when there's something I can do about a situation. And slavers? They deserve every punch they get." She ran a hand through her hair, letting out a breath. "Not that everyone agrees with my methods."

Juhani glanced in the direction Bastila had gone. "Perhaps not… but sometimes, the only way to fight evil is to stand against it. That is something I have struggled to understand. The Jedi teach restraint, but restraint does not erase suffering." She looked at Ice seriously. "I believe you did what was right."

Ice tilted her head slightly, surprised by the admission. "That's a hell of an endorsement from a Jedi."

Juhani allowed the ghost of a smile. "Perhaps. But I believe you and I are not so different."

For a moment, Ice didn't respond. She wasn't used to feeling understood, let alone by someone who walked the path of the Jedi. But something about Juhani's quiet intensity, the unspoken understanding between them, felt… familiar. Comfortable.

Before she could say anything else, Bastila approached, looking slightly impatient. "Come on, Ice. We're going to the cantina. We need to find someone who actually knows something useful about this place."

Ice glanced at Juhani, who gave a small nod before stepping away. "Be careful, Ice. This planet breeds cruelty."

Ice sighed. "Tell me about it."

With that, Juhani moved off to help the others while Ice followed Bastila toward the cantina.

The Krayt's Fang Cantina was dimly lit, the air thick with smoke and the scent of cheap ale. A slow, rhythmic tune played in the background, almost drowned out by the low murmur of conversations and occasional bursts of laughter. It was the kind of place where people came to make deals in the dark, where trust was a rare commodity and betrayal was just another form of currency.

Ice leaned back against the bar, her arms crossed as she scanned the room. "You know," she muttered to Bastila, "I don't know what's worse—the heat outside or the stink in here."

Bastila ignored her, standing with a rigid posture that practically screamed Jedi. "We are here for information. Try not to antagonize anyone."

Ice scoffed. "Oh, please. These people probably haven't bathed in weeks. They deserve a little antagonizing."

Bastila sighed and turned to the bartender, a grizzled-looking Twi'lek with a jagged scar across his right cheek. "We're looking for someone. A woman named Helena Shan. She would have arrived here in the past few months. Do you know anything?"

The Twi'lek gave them both a long, calculating look before smirking. "Information costs, sweetheart."

Ice rolled her eyes. "Of course it does."

Bastila slid a few credits across the counter. "Does this refresh your memory?"

The bartender eyed the credits, then shrugged. "Might be I've heard that name. There was a woman matching that description asking questions a while back. Seemed desperate, looking for someone."

Ice's stomach twisted. She didn't want to care, but the idea of their mother desperate was unsettling. Helena Shan was not the kind of woman who begged for anything.

"Where is she now?" Bastila asked, her voice betraying the slightest trace of urgency.

The bartender smirked again. "She was last seen dealing with Motta the Hutt. He runs his business out of the back rooms. If she's still around, he'd know."

Ice groaned. "A Hutt. Of course. Because this day wasn't miserable enough already."

Bastila shot her a look. "We should be cautious. Hutts are not known for their generosity."

"Yeah, no kidding. Come on, let's get this over with."

They made their way through the crowded cantina, slipping past groups of traders, bounty hunters, and smugglers. Ice could feel eyes following them, but she kept her head high and her expression indifferent. Let them watch. She wasn't afraid of a few bottom-feeders.

As they reached the back rooms, a pair of Gamorrean guards blocked their path. One of them snorted and brandished a vibro-axe, clearly unimpressed by their presence.

Bastila stepped forward. "We need to speak with Motta."

The Gamorrean grunted and shook his head.

Ice sighed dramatically. "Okay, look, we can do this the easy way, or the fun way."

The guards looked at each other, then back at her, snorting in amusement.

Ice grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Before either of them could react, she drove her knee into the nearest Gamorrean's gut. He let out a wheezing grunt, doubling over in pain. The second raised his vibro-axe, but before he could swing, Bastila's hand shot out, and the weapon was yanked from his grip by the Force.

The guard staggered back, confused. Ice grabbed the handle of the axe mid-air, spun it once, then smashed the blunt side into the Gamorrean's face. He crumpled to the floor with a pathetic squeal.

"That was unnecessary," Bastila huffed.

Ice twirled the vibro-axe before tossing it aside. "What? It worked, didn't it?"

Bastila sighed and pushed the door open.

Inside, Motta the Hutt lounged on a massive stone dais, surrounded by guards, droids, and various hangers-on. His slimy yellow eyes regarded them lazily, a deep rumble of amusement vibrating through his massive form.

"Ahhh… visitors," Motta drawled in Huttese. "And such lovely ones at that. What can Motta do for you today?"

Ice grimaced. She hated dealing with Hutts. "We're looking for someone. Helena Shan."

Motta's expression didn't change, but Ice saw the way his stubby fingers tapped against his armrest. He knew something.

Bastila, ever the diplomat, tried again. "We were told she came to you for help. We need to find her."

Motta gave a slow, deliberate chuckle. "Many come to Motta for help. Few leave satisfied."

Ice stepped forward, resting her hands on her hips. "Listen, slug, we don't have time for games. Either you tell us where she is, or I start making a mess."

The guards tensed, and Bastila shot her a glare. "Ice, please."

Motta let out a belly laugh. "Ahhh, feisty. Just like your mother."

Bastila's breath hitched slightly. "So you do know her."

Motta grinned. "I might. But information is valuable. Perhaps a favor is in order?"

Ice clenched her jaw. "Oh, come on—"

Bastila cut her off, inhaling deeply before speaking. "What do you want?"

Motta's grin widened. "There is a man who owes me a great deal of money. A merchant, out in Anchorhead. I require his debt repaid—one way or another."

Ice crossed her arms. "So what, you want us to collect or break his legs?"

Motta gave a lazy shrug. "Motta does not care. As long as the debt is settled."

Bastila hesitated. Ice could see the conflict in her face. Jedi did not interfere in such petty dealings, but they didn't have a choice. If Helena was still on Tatooine, this was their only lead.

Bastila sighed. "Very well. Give us his location."

Motta gestured to one of his attendants, who handed over a datapad with the merchant's details.

"Pleasure doing business," Motta said with a slimy grin.

Ice scowled but grabbed the datapad. "Yeah, sure. I'll be so thrilled to work with you again."

Motta just chuckled.

As they left the room, Bastila exhaled sharply. "I cannot believe we are actually doing this."

Ice smirked. "Oh, come on. You always wanted to get your hands dirty."

Bastila shot her a look, but Ice just grinned. "Relax, sister. This is gonna be fun."

Bastila sighed, rubbing her temples. "Why do I get the feeling that your definition of fun and mine are very different?"