2

It was dark.

And hot.

The air was choked with smoke.

Move!

A blade of yellow energy cut through the air right above where his head had been moments earlier. He turned, his body moving of its own volition, simultaneously locking blades with the mysterious attacker who continued to press their assault and floating above the scene. The assailant was moving too quickly for Avner to make out who they were, the edges of his vision blurry, sweat and blood mixing on his forehead and sliding down over his eyes. He was running now, parallel to the mysterious individual keeping pace with him, exchanging blows back and forth. A flicker of brown leather armor, and the yellow blade was spinning at his head again. He deflected and pressed forward; his strange attacker was clearly not prepared for that. And Avner could see… her?

She was of a slender build with russet brown hair pulled back from a slim face, skin kissed by the sun, and eyes a stormy gray like a swell of thunderclouds heavy with rain. There was anger in those eyes. Anger and… sadness? The girl thrust out her hand, and an invisible wall of energy flung him back into oblivion.

"Hey! Wake up!"

Hands are wrapped around his shoulders, shaking him, and Avner did the one thing that had been drilled into his brain since day one of basic training. He grabbed the wrists of his assailant and twisted hard, throwing his weight into the motion and bringing the unknown subject up and over him and onto the floor. Avner followed the motion and landed on the individual's back, twisting their wrists sharply behind them.

"Shavit, stop it, you crazy bastard!"

Avner blinked and shook his head. Carth Onasi lay struggling beneath him, cussing and trying to push him off. All at once, the events that had transpired on the Endar Spire rush back. The Sith destroying everything… Trask…

He rolled off of Carth and stood, immediately regretting that as his head began to spin and his vision grew spotty. Pain lanced up and down his body, and he collapsed back onto his cot. Kriff, that ride down in the escape pod must have been a bit… bumpy.

Carth coughed and slowly stood. "Well, at least I know you don't have some kind of brain injury. You've been practically non-responsive for the past few days, just thrashing around and mumbling."

"What happened?"

"We crashed. I think that much is pretty obvious. Lucky for us, our… unplanned landing didn't attract much attention since we ended up in the lower sections of Taris," Carth explained. "When you passed out on the Endar Spire, I got you in the escape pod, then dragged you to this dingy hole in the wall. Tried to patch you up as best I could, but I'll admit I'm no medic."

A few kolto patches and bandages have been haphazardly wrapped around his arms, soothing away the still burning ache. "Thanks, I owe you one."

Carth shrugged. "Don't mention it; I don't leave fellow soldiers behind. Besides, I will need your help finding the other survivors from the Endar Spire and getting off this planet in one piece."

"What's the situation?"

"Well, to start, Taris is controlled by the Sith; their fleet orbiting the planet has placed this world into lockdown. No one without proper clearance can leave, but that's the least of our problems. There's no way the Republic can send any kind of rescue for us. The fleets were already stretched thin and would never be able to punch through the blockade," Carth explained. "Bastila and any of the remaining survivors are somewhere on Taris."

"How can you be sure? Their pod could have been shot down, or they may have been killed by the Sith when they first landed," Avner objected. It was crazy to think someone could have made it through the rain of fire surrounding the destroyed Endar Spire. He wasn't exactly sure how he and Carth had made it planetside without getting torn to shreds. Perhaps Trask was right when he said Carth was the best pilot in the Republic.

"Maybe, but I was scouting around while you were getting your beauty sleep. I've heard some rumors about how some crashed Republic escape pods were raided down in the lower levels of Taris and that there may have been survivors."

Avner tapped his head and offered Carth a crooked grin. "Best sleep I've had in a few years. Thanks for doing all the leg work while I was in a coma."

Carth chuckled and shook his head. "Hope it was good enough to prepare you for what's next because this is where the hard work starts. Before the Spire was attacked, I reviewed service records with Captain Yelna, and yours was quite impressive. A year with Advanced Recon, an expert in martial combat, and you have a remarkable understanding of multiple alien languages. A pretty rare combination of skills to find in an ordinary grunt."

"Keep going, and I may actually start blushing," Avner quipped back.

Carth only rolled his eyes and handed him some clothes: a pair of dusty cargos and a basic gray shirt. "Can't be caught wearing anything that ties us to the Republic. The Sith aren't the only ones on this planet with a bone to pick with us."

Avner nodded and took the bundle, pulling on the cargos, before slipping on his plastoid boots. He can feel Carth's eyes on his prosthetic right leg, the dark gray metal ending just above the ball joint of where his knee used to be, scarred skin webbing out from the stump. "Go ahead and ask."

"What?!" For his part, Carth initially had the decency to look startled at the suggestion, then his expression morphed into sheepishness. "Sorry, I've seen artificials before; I just…"

"Am curious about how I got it." Avner tapped the metal prosthetic twice before slipping on his boot. "Well, to be honest, so am I."

Carth looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

Avner shrugged and stood, strapping on his combat belt before turning to the other man. "I can't remember what caused it. Heh, it's funny half the scars I have, I don't know how I got them." Avner pointed to a long deep cleaving mark that ran the length of his chest, from the tip of his right shoulder to his left hip. "A complete mystery."

Carth just stared at him. "You're a weird guy, Marek."

Avner only smiled thinly. "So, what's our first move?"

"We have to find Bastila, she's the one who was in charge of this mission, to begin with, and we'll need her to defeat Malak and the Sith."

Avner scratched his head, vaguely remembering Trask mentioning that name several times as well. "Bastila… she's the Jedi, right?"

Carth looked at him like he was two screws short of a hydrospanner. "You must have smacked your head harder than I first thought if you don't know who Bastila is. She's the reason the Republic has had any success in fighting the Sith. She was on the strike team that defeated Darth Revan, Malak's Sith master. She's the key to the entire war, a hero, the Last Hope of the Republic!"

Again, flashes exploded across his consciousness at the mention of Revan and Malak, red and yellow streaks interlaced with blues and greens. "Yeah, right, a hero…"

Carth ignored him and continued. "The Sith must have found out about Bastila's mission and that she was on the Endar Spire, that's how they found our position and ambushed us. Bastila was on an escape pod before the Spire was destroyed. For the sake of the Republic, we have to find her."

"How do we even know she's alive? You said you heard rumors of survivors, but that was how long ago? She could have already been captured by the Sith and marched in front of a firing squad."

"Because Bastila is a Jedi, the Force gives her abilities ordinary beings like you and I could only dream of. She's also no ordinary Jedi; the Council calls her an unmatched prodigy, her skills second to none. Her unique power, Battle Meditation, can influence entire armies and sway battles."

Avner snorted. "What?" It wasn't that he didn't believe in the Force; oh no, he had seen it in action on multiple occasions, harnessed by both Jedi and Sith, lifting objects telepathically with nothing but thought and performing physical feats that should be deemed impossible. But he had also seen his own fair share of Sith and Jedi be felled by a well-aimed blaster bolt. Just because a being had mystical powers didn't make them impervious to getting their cranium caved in with a high-velocity round. And now Carth wanted to convince him that this Jedi princess could turn the tide of an entire battle just by thought alone… yeah, right.

"Battle Meditation," Carth emphasized, noticing Avner's incredulous expression. "Is where Bastila can inspire and connect her allies through the Force while simultaneously disrupting the mental cognizance of the enemy, effectively allowing one side to fight with clear cohesion while the other descends into chaos."

"And she can do all of this… with just her mind?" Avner questioned, spinning his forefinger in a quick circle at his temple. "Then why didn't she use this all-encompassing power on the Spire? I certainly didn't feel any, how did you put it, mental cohesion with anyone else aboard."

"Because it takes great meditation and concentration for it to work successfully, hence the name. The attack happened so fast that she probably didn't have a chance to use it."

"Right…."

"Look, Bastila will need our help to get out of here. I have no doubt Darth Malak's followers are already hunting for her while we stand around chatting. We can't let them get her… we've already lost too many Jedi to the Sith in this war." Carth grew quiet and glanced out the window to his left as if he could see the faces of all those he had lost. It wasn't just Jedi who had been taken, but good soldiers as well. He wondered how many people Carth had personally lost to this war.

Avner knew the look. He had often reflected on those he had failed, soldiers who had died on missions he had survived, men and woman, human and alien alike, who had paid the ultimate price in this bloody war. A war that had already been dragged out for far too long and cost too much. Perhaps that was why Carth was so insistent on Bastila's safety. She offered the only real hope of ending this conflict. Something Avner could fight for. "Alright, let's start with some of this sector's local cantinas and underground shops. If anyone knows anything about these pods, they'll most likely be in those places. People tend to be looser-lipped when drunk."

Carth offered him a grateful smile. "From what I've gathered, we should start in the lower districts. That's where a few pods may have crashed." The man pulled a blaster pistol from his pack and handed it to him. "Here, Taris is a dangerous place, and it won't do anyone any good if you can't defend yourself."

Avner nodded his thanks and holstered the weapon. "Let's go; the faster we find Bastila, the better."

"Right, just remember to keep a low profile; the last thing we want is to be captured by the Sith. I've heard some grim stories about the Dark Jedi and their interrogation techniques. The Force… well, let's just say it can do terrible things to the mind, wipe away your memories and destroy your very identity…"

Avner again made a twirling motion at his head and whistled lowly.

Carth rolled his eyes. "Just don't do anything stupid. I don't want to end up in any situation where my mind can be turned into soup. With half the Sith fleet looking for Bastila, no one should pay any mind to us."

They stepped outside the ram-shod apartment and into the hallway. It stretched around in a large loop lined with tightly closed or somewhat ajar doors. Litter was scattered about the floor; stray blaster burns lined the walls, evidence of fights that had occurred in the past, and the viewports were so smudged it was nearly impossible to see out of them.

"So, what do we know about this place?" Avner asked. It would be best to establish a quick layout of the area and learn who they were dealing with and who they could trust.

"Taris? Well, the planet's one big city kind of like Coruscant, but its golden years are long gone, and frankly, things have only gotten worse since the Sith took over."

"I've been to Coruscant a few times; the planet can be overwhelming for those who don't know how to navigate it."

"Taris is the same in that aspect. One big mess, new buildings built on old, the wealthy living up top while the poor are pushed farther down into the lower levels, and the lower you go, the worse things get… there are things that live in the shadows… monsters," Carth described turning a corner and descending a flight of stairs. They're both silent for the next few moments, pushing through the mingling groups of humans and aliens alike. They are all dressed in workman's overalls and clothes pocketed with holes, postures stooped, most likely from a day filled with hard manual labor.

"You know, I'm surprised we made it to the ground in one piece; between the two of us, someone was looking out for our pod," Avner remarked amiably.

Carth doesn't even spare him a glance. "Yeah, that would be me. I've been a pilot with the Republic Navy for years. I've seen my fair share of dog fights and got into plenty during the Mandalorian Wars. However, I've never seen anything like the slaughter these Sith animals unleash. Not even the Mandalorians were that senseless."

Profound anger and hatred reverberated from Carth so strongly that one could almost see it rolling off him in waves. To Avner, it seemed like there was a deeply personal reason behind his fellow soldier's fury. "The Mandalorians could be just as ruthless as the Sith; anyone can be pushed to senseless actions if they feel threatened."

Carth shook his head. "Not the Republic, not the Jedi. We have boundaries and morals that we uphold. We don't bomb civilian targets, worlds with no value, into oblivion. We prevent those things from happening… or at least we try."

"You're talking like this is your fault somehow."

"It's not," Carth snapped. "I did everything right… I followed my orders and did my duty. That doesn't mean I failed them, alright!"

"Them?" Avner watched Carth's expression go from angry to completely deflated.

"Look, I don't want to talk about past events; let's just focus on the mission." And with that said, the conversation was closed, Carth purposefully marching a few steps ahead of him before quickly turning a corner out of sight. Avner followed and ran directly into his back.

"Carth, what-?"

"Shh."

Ahead of them, two Duros, green-skinned aliens with large red bulbous eyes, stand cornered by several assault droids and a human male wearing the dress grays of the… Sith.

Shavit, it had to be the Sith.

The officer was of average height, skin bronzed and smooth, his voice deep with an Inner Core accent. "Move, you alien scum! Up against the wall, mandatory searches for everyone."

"We were just searched yesterday, sir, and nothing was found. Why the continuous raids?" One of the Duros asked meekly, his head bowed in deference and hands raised slightly.

The officer flicked his finger at the alien, and the assault droids fired. The man dropped to his knees, a painful gasp leaving his lips before he toppled over onto his side, body shuddering with its last breaths.

The Sith soldier turned his gaze onto the remaining Duros. "Get up against the wall now."

"Please… don't shoot," the man whimpered, backing away. The officer moved to raise his hand again, but a blue bolt of energy seared through his first two fingers, cleaving them from his body. He screamed and reeled back, flinging bits of charred flesh around him as he swung his injured limb about. The droids immediately whipped around, blasters raised and locked onto their position.

"Avner wha-." He pushed Carth to the side before he could finish and aimed his blaster at the nearest droid unloading several bolts into its head. It fell back, head sparking and limbs twitching sporadically. Its twin unleashed a salvo of shots that sprayed the hallway he stood in. Avner ducked and rolled forward, shooting the droid through its left photoreceptor, dropping it instantly. Now just to deal with the-.

"That's quite enough," a voice hissed from his right. He turned slowly to see the Sith officer firmly holding his blaster in his direction. "Drop your weapon, scum!"

"I can explain," Avner began, lowering his pistol with a disarming smile.

"Shut up!"

A bolt suddenly ripped through the man's chest, and the officer toppled over, mouth agape in a startled gasp. Carth stood behind him, blaster raised as he scanned the three downed targets. When he was certain they were all dealt with, he turned in fury towards Avner. "Are you crazy?! What part of keeping a low profile did you not understand?"

"He was going to kill an unarmed man!"

"We have a mission; we can't afford to fight every thug on Taris threatening an innocent civvie," Carth argued back.

Avner ignored the pilot and approached the remaining Duros crouched over the body of his friend. "Ixgil, I'm sorry… I should have…"

"There was nothing you could have done," Avner murmured, laying a hand on the man's shoulder. He was silent for a few moments, trying to come to terms with his companion's sudden and violent end before he turned and smiled sadly up at Avner.

"I… I know I couldn't save him from the Sith, but what right do they have to just…" He doesn't finish; instead, looking helplessly down at his clenched fists.

"I'm sorry," Avner said, sliding his hands over the Duros' lifeless eyes, closing them one last time.

The worker shook his head. "Don't be; if you hadn't stepped in, I would be dead too. Thank you."

"I just did what anyone else would have."

The man chuckled humorously. "Trust me, no one would have helped an alien like me. We're second-class citizens, not even worth a second glance by the humans."

Avner didn't say anything. He could sympathize with how the Duros felt on some level with himself being a Kiffar. While his species looked mostly humanoid, the Kiffar's startling tattoos and pointed ears set them apart just enough to be classified as… nonhuman. Avner knew he drew looks wherever he went, as his people were rarely seen straying from their homeworld. That and his own appearance could be a little… intimidating. He was quite tall, standing well over two meters, arms and legs thickly muscled from years of hard work and training, his skin a warm dusty brown with his dark hair cut close to his scalp like a mere shadow passing over his head. Two-edged yellow markings cut across the right side of his face covering his temple and eye before tapering off down his neck, the ceremonial tattoos of his people. His jaw was strong, a long deep scar traveling the length of his left cheek and disappearing under his mandible bone. Scarred, tattooed, and vaguely alien made Avner stick out like a sore thumb. And while he had hazy memories of people pointing and whispering about his presence, he never let it hold him back. In his mind, it only made him want to work harder to prove their assumptions were wrong about him and his people. But not everyone could adopt an attitude like his, most sinking deep into degraded esteem that kept them quiet.

"You need to move; someone will eventually come searching for this patrol," the soldier said, standing and pulling the Duros up with him.

The other man nodded, temporarily shaken from his grief. "Yes, of course, you're right, I'll take my friend… I'll take him."

Avner nodded and gave the poor soul one last final pat on the shoulder before returning to Carth, who glared at him with a frustrated look. "Finished?"

"Yeah, let's go."

They reached the ground floor, an open space with no apartments but several small seating areas and a hunched-over Twi'lek standing near a products and receiving counter. He caught Avner's eye and waved them over. He was tall and lanky, with dark green skin and wrinkled around his slitted brown eyes.

"Gentlemen, my name is Larrim, fine purveyor of goods, anything you see that catches your eye?" He spoke in a thick Nal Huttan accent, spreading his arms wide over the eclectic assortment of items haphazardly placed on the different shelves.

Avner shook his head, not seeing anything that would be useful, except perhaps a few spare powercells, and… wait, was that a Mandalorian shatter rifle? Were apartment staff allowed to even sell those?

"Are you sure? I have state-of-the-art shield tech! I have it on good faith that it's strong enough to deflect a lightsaber!"

He paused and eyed the Twi'lek. He doubted the man truly had anything worth buying in his kiosk, but perhaps he knew something. Shop owners like him were usually up to date on any local gossip. He cast a casual look at the goods feigning interest. "Anything happening around these parts?"

Larrim shrugged but gave him a shrewd look. "I hear things every now and again. If you're looking for something specific, I could… offer a discount."

Avner glanced at Carth. "Don't look at me; I barely had enough credits to get this apartment."

"So we're broke," Avner muttered back.

"Pretty much."

"If you gentlemen are short on creds, the swoop races and dueling pits are always looking for new talent," Larrim suggested leaning back in his chair.

"And where would we go to find out about those things."

"Some of the Upper City cantinas have recruiters who hang out in them, though they may not appreciate a nonhuman up there," the shopkeeper replied, looking at Avner pointedly.

"Why's that?"

"Some of the laws prevent aliens from entering certain establishments and levels of Taris unless they have special permission to do so. These regulations have been around for years but frankly have only gotten more stringent since the Sith took over," Larrim explained, flicking away some flies hovering by his produce.

"Great, that will cause some problems," Carth grumbled. He cast his eyes about the wares and plucked a long red strip of cloth from the table. "How much?"

The Twi'lek grinned and held up five fingers.

"Seriously? You know what, fine, here." Carth handed over the credits and then tossed him the cloth. "For your ears, no one should question your tattoos."

Avner nodded and tied the red wrap across his forehead, tucking the tips of his ears inside the cloth. "How do I look?"

"Like a holo-action hero," Larrim replied, flashing a full smile.

Avner returned the grin with two finger guns while Carth rolled his eyes. "Right, let's go, hero."

Carth led him out of the apartment building and to the main lift that would take them to the upper levels of Taris. Carth had mentioned doing some reconnaissance work up above while he had been recovering and knew the best places to start searching. They crowded onto the main lift, filled mostly with humans though a few Twi'leks and one Quarren were among the bunch. As they rose from the darker under levels, the air became clearer, and the buildings shone brightly, most likely coated in arodium and bronzium. Huge sweeping gardens and art installations intertwined around the buildings while speeders and shuttles traveled high above in preset ship lanes. It was so much like Coruscant and yet so different.

They weaved through the crowds of people moving about the main promenade, coming to and from shops, eateries, and bars lining the main pedestrian walk. Most were humans wearing fine clothes, a few aliens walking amongst them, talking amongst themselves, or just meandering about.

"Oh, I wouldn't go there; the Lower City is full of gangs," an older woman exclaimed to her younger charge. He only rolled his eyes and quipped back that the best swoop races took place down there.

The Jaded Ackley stood off by itself, consisting of several floors and two massive bars surrounded by holoscreens showing the latest gravball and moto surfing games, along with a few swoop races. Humans and aliens mingled around the tables sharing drinks or hookah pipes, the air heavy with smoke and cooking spice. Numerous multicolored banners were tacked up across the dark gray walls providing a kaleidoscope of colors in the darkened rooms.

"Let's spread out and see what we can find; just be careful; the Sith frequent this bar often," Carth said, moving towards the stairs. Avner pushed off to the bar at the center of the room. Carth had split their last few credits between them; hopefully, one of them could grease the gears of some being and get them talking. Or, at the very least, enjoy a stiff drink.

Off to his left, a shout went up, followed by several curses. "You fracking schutta! You cheated!"

A large burly man whose face was turning as red as the drink in front of him towered over a well-dressed individual with close-cropped dark hair who only leaned back, smirking. "Lady luck was on my side tonight, friend."

"I am not your friend," the brawny man growled, fists clenched. He looked about ready to strangle his opponent. Before he could throw a punch, though, two assault droids melted out of the shadows and grabbed his arms. He spluttered and struggled to break free from their iron hold but instead was dragged away towards the exit, the droids intoning on how hostility would not be tolerated.

"Niklos, you truly are the best Pazaak player on Taris." A slim woman with blond hair tied up in an elaborate braid draped her arms around the remaining card player. "All those credits… just make a girl so flushed!"

Niklos turned and offered her a slick grin over his shoulder. "Christya, my dear, he wasn't even a challenge."

Avner eyed the pile of credits on the table in front of Niklos as he approached the man and his… lady friend. An idea was forming in his head. An idea that involved making a few credits. He was a pretty decent Pazaak player, having played any chance he got with the other grunts he was stationed with. "Any chance I could buy into a game?"

"Depends, would an Undercity… denizen even know how to play? Do you even own a deck, friend?" There was no denying the air of superiority in the other man's voice, but Avner just let it go. Better to have the man underestimate him.

He shrugged and settled into the seat opposite. "I don't, but I'll be fine just using the Main Deck."

"Ha! As if you could stand a chance against Niklos! He is the best card player in all of Taris!" The young woman still hanging on the Pazaak player's shoulders boasted.

"We'll see," Avner murmured, laying out his only credits and placing them in the pot. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to buy him into at least one game. And he was pretty sure he could beat this guy. The man had the basic skills of the game but none of the finesse. He was a smooth talker, one who could win by intimidation or bluff alone, not skill.

Niklos patted her hand and turned back, shuffling the deck before putting it into the card distributor and adding his own ante to the pot. "My beautiful attaché, Christya, is right, you know. The name Niklos Balan is talked about around every Pazaak table on this planet."

"Well, I'll just have to take your word for it since this is the first Pazaak table I've been to since arriving here."

Niklos let out a deep chuckle. "You're funny, and I like that. What do I call you?"

"Avner."

"Well, friend Avner, may lady luck smile upon you."

His firsthand wasn't a bad deal. He could discard two cards if needed, and a plus five he could lay down right now. Niklos forewent putting any cards down and instead discarded three while drawing three replacements from his own subdeck. He smiled over the tops of his cards.

"You from Taris, Niklos?" Avner put down a plus-four and a negative-three, ending his turn with an even six.

"Not originally, but I've been playing the card scene for a few years now." They exchanged a few more hands, with Niklos sitting comfortably at fourteen while Avner ended with a twelve. The game could go in either of their favor, but his opponent did have the advantage by having his own subdeck. He would know what cards were left in his personal hand while Avner was at the mercy of the Main Deck and whatever it decided to spit out at him.

"I heard there was a skirmish above Taris a few days ago," Avner phished while discarding a few more hands.

Niklos passed on his turn. "Yeah, the Sith have blown the entire thing out of proportion. Putting the entire planet into lockdown just because some escape pods landed down in the Undercity pfft."

Avner raised his brows but didn't press the subject.

"Final round," Niklos announced, slapping down his final card bringing his sum to eighteen, a strong hand to end on. "Well, friend Avner, can you beat that?"

"Please, he has nothing on you," Christya chimed in.

Avner only smiled and laid down his final card bringing his total of sixteen to a straight twenty. "That's Pazaak."

It took a second for Niklos to realize he was lost, but Christya caught on much quicker. She slid across the table, her attention fully focused on him now, a flirtatious smile curving her full lips upwards as she feathered a hand across one of his broad shoulders.

"I always had a good feeling about you, Avner; figured you were a natural with cards," she said, pressing up against his side.

"What? But how… I've never…"

"Seems luck was on my side," Avner said. He pocketed his credits, now having a heftier sum than what he started out with.

"I-impossible," Niklos spluttered; he was on his feet now, looking a lot like the brawny man he had beaten earlier. "I never lose!"

"There's a first time for everything."

Niklos shook his head vehemently. "No! This isn't possible! You must have cheated! It's the only explanation!"

Avner wasn't even going to dignify that accusation with a response. He instead stood and made for the bar with Christya following on his heels.

"If you're looking for some fun…" She trailed off and bit her lower lip.

He stopped at the bar, and Christya nearly ran into his chest. "Uhhh, I'm actually here with a friend of mine."

"Well, the more, the merrier," she replied, flashing him a full smile.

"Shove off, young thing. Can't you see he's not interested?" An older man stood to his left. He had a full head of snowy white hair, and wrinkled face, with lines pulling at his mouth and eyes.

"Excuse me-."

"Don't pay Christya any mind; she's known around this bar to hang around the patron with the most credits to waste." He made a shooing motion at the young girl. She looked like she wanted to argue but instead only shot the elderly man a nasty look before flouncing off into the mingling crowds. He chuckled as she disappeared. "Don't worry; she'll find a new sap soon enough."

"Thanks," Avner murmured, taking a seat and waving down the bartender.

"Don't mention it. Name's Garouk; try the Tarisan ale if you want something cheap but smooth."

"Avner. You come here often?"

Garouk shrugged and finished off his ale. "From time to time. I like to watch the Pazaak games. Used to play me."

"You don't anymore?" Avner asked, taking a long drink from his glass. Damn, the stuff was quite smooth.

"Nah, too old to keep up with the gambling habits of the younger kids these days. Game used to be about skill; now it's only how many creds you can make and whatnot," Garouk grumbled. "But I'm sure you don't want to hear my misgivings about the changing nature of Pazaak."

Avner laughed and shook his head. "Not really. I actually was wondering if you knew anything about this blockade that's going on?"

"Sith set it up a few days ago. There was some salvage or something that crashed onto the surface in the Undercity, I heard, and ever since then, they've been scouring all of Taris for it," the older man replied swirling his drink around.

"You have any idea where this junk landed?"

Garouk eyed him warily. "Why are you so interested?"

Avner shrugged. "Maybe I'm working for the Sith."

"Ha! You don't work for the Sith. If you did, you would have had Niklos arrested for calling you a cheater."

"Let's just say my reasons are my own."

Garouk considered this for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough. Doesn't matter to me either way. If you want to find any of the salvage, you should start by talking to one of the swoop gangs that runs Undercity. The Hidden Beks are generally more approachable than the Black Vulkars, but either one could shoot you just for trespassing on their turf. Frankly, they're not the biggest threat you need to worry about down there."

Avner motioned for him to continue.

"Monsters infest the lowest levels of Taris, Rakghouls."