5

He was cute, in a rugged 'I can beat you senseless in three seconds' kind of way. Tall and broad-shouldered with skin dusted brown and ears pointed upwards at an almost impish tilt, clearly a Kiffar from his tattoos, though it was strange to see one on Taris. He carried himself with an air of strength, probably someone who was used to being in the thick of the action, barking orders, and solving problems. But his eyes… Mission focused on those the most. His eyes were a warm brown, deep pools of kindness with barely contained mirth shining just beneath the surface. He was a good egg, a bit odd but alright in her book.

'Avner.' She tested the name in her mind, flipping it over repeatedly while he chatted with Zaalbar. She was surprised he even knew Shyriiwook; most beings couldn't comprehend even the most basic growls of a Wookie, let alone hold an entire conversation.

He turned to her, those brown eyes studying her so closely her lekku nearly started curling. "You got a lot of guts dealing with those thugs, kid."

She usually despised it when someone called her a kid. She was fourteen, for Force sakes, living on her own with Zaalbar, and able to slice a system faster than anyone three times her age. But when he said kid… it was not him looking down on her. No, he sounded… impressed, and that set a warm ball spinning low in Mission's stomach. "It was nothing. Not the first time we've dealt with those two, and it most certainly won't be the last."

Zaalbar grunted in agreement.

Mission smiled up at him. "I'd offer you a once-in-a-lifetime tour of lower Taris, courtesy of me, but with the fighting going on tonight… well, it just isn't safe to be wandering the streets right now."

Avner nodded, then glanced between the two of them. "How did you two meet? It's not every day a Wookie and a Twi'lek become friends."

Mission shrugged and bumped Zaalbar with her hip. "We just sorta fell in together. Down here in the Lower City, everybody's looking to get a leg up on anyone else. If you don't stick up for yourself, you end up getting pushed down to the very bottom."

"Heh, yeah, I noticed."

"But with Zaalbar, it was different. When I met him, I knew we would be a good match; what with my street smarts and his muscle, nothing can stop us," Mission continued. Again her stomach twisted at Avner's goofy half-grin. Damn, what was happening to her?

"I wouldn't want to be on your guy's bad side," Avner remarked jovially.

Mission waved her hand and again offered the Kiffar a quick smile. "Hey, you stuck up to the bug brothers, so you're alright in my and Zaalbar's book. Guess you could say we owe you one, maybe."

"Mind if I cash in my favor now?"

Mission shrugged but nodded. "Sure, what do you need? I know just about every important player down here in the Lower City, Davik, the swoop gangs, even some of the bounty hunters."

"Yeah, I heard Davik is some Exchange boss," the man murmured, scratching at a scar on his left cheek.

"He's the Exchange boss! Here on Taris, Davik has his hand in everything: smuggling illegal goods, slave trading, rigging swoop races, you name it. The gangs pay him to let them operate down here; even the Sith think twice before crossing him." She glanced at his armor, and Avner shook his head, a deep chuckle rumbling up from his chest. Good, so he wasn't a square. "He even has a fancy new ship – the Ebon Hawk. Rumor says it's fast enough to blast through the Sith blockade. If you work for him or the Exchange, he'll show it off in his estate, or so I've heard."

"You said the gangs kick up to him?"

"Yeah, the two main swoop gangs, the Black Vulkars and Hidden Beks, have to pay… I don't know rent taxes for their turf. The Beks are pretty cool; Big Z and I sometimes hang out in their base. Their leader, Gadon Thek, looks out for us. He's a pretty laid-back guy who lost his eyesight in a swoop race but is still a good leader. Not like that traitor Brejik!" Mission spit at his name, and Zaalbar growled in distaste.

"I take it he's not one of your friends?"

Mission scowled and shook her head. "Before he took over the Vulkars, Brejik was a Bek. The ungrateful space slug was practically Gadon's adopted son! Creep was never satisfied though, always pushing Gadon into fights, wanting more control."

"Did Gadon throw him out of the gang then?" Avner asked, leaning forward, clearly interested in her story.

"Nah, he left after Gadon wouldn't give over control of the Beks to him. See, when Gadon had his accident, everyone was sure he would give the gang to Brejik, but Gadon didn't think he was ready. Told him he had to wait a few years, grow up a bit more. That didn't sit right with Brejik, the guy was always impatient and hotheaded, so he left and pretty much disappeared. Then a few months ago, he reappeared, gunning down every Bek in the Lower City and pretty much turning this place into a warzone!"

"I don't know… I've seen the Beks get pretty rough too," the man disagreed.

"It's because of the Vulkars! They're the ones going crazy and shooting anyone who looks at them wrong. The Beks are just defending themselves; it's gotten so bad that Daviks had to send his personal hunters like Calo Nord down here to clean up the mess!"

"Calo… I think I saw him in here earlier," Avner said, glancing over his shoulder as if half expecting to see the sour-faced human behind him. Even though the Kiffar looked like he was built like a stone wall and could probably handle himself in a fight, he was still no match for the deadly bounty hunter.

"He likes to come here often and drink… or maybe pick out his next target. He's killed a lot of people and doesn't need any excuse to shove a blaster in your face. Just steer clear of him," Mission warned. She had witnessed the human murder people for the smallest inconveniences, and no one on Taris could outdraw him. It would be a shame to find this newbie face down in a ditch somewhere sporting several new blaster holes just because no one warned him about Calo's mood swings.

"I will; thanks for the heads up," Avner said, staring behind her for a second before returning his attention to their conversation. "Hey, Mission, are there any medical centers around here by any chance?"

She cocked her head to the side and shrugged. "Not really, well, I guess nothing official, but there are a few underground clinics scattered around. The best one is Doc Forns; it's not too far away from here. He'll take care of anyone, no questions asked."

"Thanks Mission, you take care-." Before Avner could finish, a loud crash interrupted him. Mission turned to catch sight of two humans standing by a pile of broken glasses, one a tall man with dark hair, his nose a bit too large for his face, and the other a small brunette woman trying to back away. The man had one large meaty hand wrapped around the woman's upper arm, pulling her uncomfortably close to his face.

She smacked him. Hard.

He reeled back cursing. "You fracking schutta! What's wrong with you, Dia?!"

"Holden, you're drunk, I don't-."

He lurched forward, his fist raised, clearly ready to strike the woman. Mission jumped to her feet, and Zaalbar also moved to come to the woman's defense, but they were both too slow. Avner got there first, planting his body in front of Dias. He ducked beneath Holden's sloppy punch and wrapped his arms up and under the other man's armpit while looping them over his opposite shoulder, holding him tight in a chokehold. He tried to break away, but Avner easily restrained him and tightened his hold, causing the other man's eyes to bulge.

"Calm down, friend," he murmured, and the other human's struggles began to weaken. "I'll release you once you calm down." He looked over to Dia and gave her a reassuring smile. "Are you okay?"

She nodded shakily. "Yes… I think Holden was drinking too much, and he… I don't know."

The man in Avner's grasp had stopped straining, so the Kiffar slowly released him. He coughed, rubbing his neck. "She wanted me; I didn't do anything she didn't ask for."

"I never wanted you, Holden! When you drink, you always take things too far!"

Holden opened his mouth to argue back, but Avner held up his hand. "It seems the lady has had enough of your company tonight. You should head home and sleep this off."

Holden stared at Avner strangely for a second, his eyes slightly glazed. "Yeah… yeah, you're right. I am tired. I'll… head home."

"Apologize to the lady," Avner said firmly.

Again, Holden took a second to respond as if the words coming from his mouth were not his but someone else's. "Sorry… Dia, I'm sorry."

Avner released the inebriated man, and he stumbled away, still obviously in a daze. Mission looked at Avner with a look of wonderment. How had he been able to talk Holden down so quickly? The man was one of Davik's lieutenants and was known to become a capricious flirt when drunk and when spurned, unleash a nasty temper. Poor Dia must have become the latest target of his unwanted advances.

"I can't believe you stopped him," Dia exclaimed, looking quite ready to throw her arms around Avner for a hug.

"I can't believe you got him to apologize," Mission added in amazement. Zaalbar grunted in agreement.

He shrugged. "I just have a way with people, I guess."

"Thank you for helping me. I won't forget it," Dia said before disappearing into the crowds.

"I should get going too," Avner said, collecting his rifle and helmet from their table. "Thanks again, Mission, Big Z."

She frowned, not wanting to part ways with her new friend so soon. Avner was a good person, funny, and seemed like someone who was dependable; hard qualities to find on Taris. "Who says the party has to end right now? Me and Zaalbar are going to head up to the Bek's base; you could come along."

"I have things I need to take care of," he replied.

"Yeah, I get it. Well, I guess this is goodbye then." She was sad to see him go, a feeling so unlike her.

Avner gave her one more cheeky half-smile before leaving. "I have a feeling we'll meet again, Mission Vao."

Mission exchanged a look with Zaalbar and the young Wookie growled. "You're right, Big Z; he is kinda weird."

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"You sure this is the place?"

Avner shifted the weight of the injured man thrown across his shoulders to his left so he could grab his datapad. "Yeah, this is the spot."

"Looks a bit… abandoned," Carth remarked, kicking a scrap of metal away. Dr. Forn's clinic was hidden away among a series of abandoned warehouses, a small building tucked between two other derelict structures, one a droid maintenance shop and the other… well, the other was scorched refuse. Avner pulled open the door to the clinic and stepped inside. The lobby was a pale blue, with cracked tile lining the walls and floor, industrial lights strung across the ceiling flickering in and out. He approached the front counter and tapped the buzzer. There was no answer. He and Carth exchanged a look and approached the double doors at the back of the lobby.

"Maybe no one's here," Carth suggested.

"Or maybe they didn't hear the buzzer," Avner pointed out. He pushed through the swinging doors and trekked down a short hallway to another set of doors at the end. Beyond them was a large room with two industrial kolto tanks and cots scattered around medical equipment and outdated computer consoles.

"Hey! What are you doing back here?" A young man with dark hair came rushing up to them. He was dressed in plain blue medical scrubs, a datapad clutched in his hands.

"We need a doc-."

"All prospective patients must wait out in the lobby and be properly screened before receiving treatment," the man interrupted, pointing back at the doors they had just come through.

"Gurney! Where did you go? I need-." An older human came hurrying out of a room in the back, stopping abruptly when he caught sight of them all. "What's going on here?"

"Dr. Forn, I was just directing these intruders back to the lobby; I'm sorry they disturbed you!"

The older man waved him off and stopped before Avner. He was several feet shorter with a balding head and bright, intelligent eyes. "What seems to be the problem, soldier?"

Avner carefully laid the injured Bek down on an exam table. Somehow the man was still alive even after the Kiffar had dragged him a klick through the dark streets of Taris to this clinic. "We found this man barely alive in the street. He's been stabbed several times and has lost a lot of blood. We patched him up as best we could."

Forn set to work cutting off the man's clothes while his assistant ran a bioscanner over his body, the machine giving off a blip at every wound found. Forn peeled back the Bek's eyelids and shone a bright light into his pupils, muttering to himself all the while. "Five stab wounds to the back, pupils active but sluggish, cold and clammy… Damnit, Jek, what were you doing out there, boy?"

Forn straightened himself up and gestured to his assistant. "Prepare tank two for immediate submersion and prep all our cryo. We'll infuse several units before kolto treatment and hope for the best."

"Yes, doctor!" Gurney wheeled the injured man away, and Forn turned to regard both of them.

"Mighty fine of you two to help an injured gangster, what with you being troopers and all. I thought it was against protocol to assist known criminals."

"Well, you see, we didn't see-."

"We were just in the area-." He and Carth stumbled over each other's words. Perhaps they should have spent some time coming up with a proper cover story before rushing over. Forn looked between them, brows raised in clear suspicion, arms crossed stiffly over his chest.

Carth broke first. He sighed and tugged off his helmet, setting it aside. "Look, we're not with the Sith."

Forn was silent, posture still stiff. "This some kind of trick?"

"No! We're not Sith; we're just… borrowing their uniforms at the moment," Avner assured the man. "We really did find that man half dead, and I was told that your clinic helped anyone."

The doctor still looked unsure, but his expression softened at the earnest look on both of their faces. "I'm not sure what to make of your story, but I have never turned away an injured being before, and I'm not about to start now. I'm Doctor Zelka Forn, the chief medical officer here… well, I guess the only medical officer here."

"Avner Marek and he's Carth Onasi." Avner extended his hand, and the doctor met it with a firm shake.

"I'll see to it that Jek is well taken care of."

"You know that guy?"

Forn nodded sadly and glanced away. "I know many of the young kids in the Lower City. They get caught up in these gangs and inevitably end up here for treatment. Such a waste… do either of you require medical treatment?"

Carth shook his head. "No, but that's very kind of you. Brave of you to operate down here during a gang war."

"I've always provided medical relief to the citizens of the Lower City. The Upper City refuses to send help to those suffering down here, and since the Sith have taken over, it's only gotten worse. I'd heard rumors about their brutality before, what they did to the planets they conquered but never believed it. Now that it's happening here… it's all I can hope for that they won't shut my clinic down. Perhaps one day the Republic will free this world from their tyranny," Zelka explained, methodically wiping off a medical tool. "Though if it's not the Sith threatening me, then it's Davik and his goons."

"The Exchange boss?"

"Yeah, man's nothing but a thug, threatening every person in the Lower City, forcing them to pay protection payments or end up on his ever-growing list of people he's made disappear. And he's only gotten worse since the Sith and the swoop gangs started fighting over some crashed pods down in-." Forn caught himself and immediately turned away from them. But it was too late; he had said too much.

"What crashed pods," Carth pressed, stepping towards the man.

"N-nothing! I know nothing about the Undercity pods! Why would you think I would know anything about that?!" His voice was rising in pitch and intensity, the good doctor starting to edge away from them.

"Relax, Doc, no need to get defensive," Avner said, trying to placate the man. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"I'm not defensive! I just don't like being accused of knowing something about those Republic pods!"

"Who said they were from the Republic?" Avner asked, and the doctor's shoulders slumped in defeat. No point denying anything now that he had been caught.

"You're not the first people to bring someone to my clinic," Zelka began motioning for them to follow him into the back of his clinic. Within the cramped room were several old kolto tanks humming softly. Inside the chambers were two men, both severely burned and suspended in gelatinous blue fluid, peacefully unaware of their surroundings. Zelka approached one of the tanks and gently touched the smooth glass. "Several Republic soldiers have been brought to me in the past few days. Most didn't make it, and these two's injuries… well, the least I could do was make them comfortable."

Carth came to stand beside the man and also laid his hand over one of the tanks. They're quiet for a few moments, only the occasional blip on a monitor breaking the silence. "Thank you. What you've done for my people… thank you."

Zelka nodded. "They were found deep within the Undercity; I believe all of the pods from the battle a couple of days ago landed there, though whether there's anything left in them… scavengers most likely took anything of value, and if anyone was left, then they're most likely being digested by the rakghouls."

"We have to find a way into the Undercity. Do you know of any way to get down there?" Carth asked.

"Well, the only registered lift in this area that goes down that far is restricted from public use, not that anyone in their right mind would want to venture down there, to begin with. There are a few off the book's routes, but I don't know any of them. I suppose you could ask Gadon Thek; he might know of a way down," Forn mused as he adjusted a few knobs on one of the tanks.

"You mean the leader of the Hidden Beks."

"Yeah, I can put you in communication with him; let him know you saved one of his boys. He's lived in the Lower City all his life and knows every nook and cranny of this place. If anyone can get you into the Undercity, it's him," Forn explained, then sighed. "You best stay here tonight; it's not safe to walk the streets at this hour especially dressed in Sith armor. I can put you up in the back."

"Thank you."

He and Carth settled onto small cots in the tiny second-story apartment situated above Zelka's clinic. They chewed on tasteless ration bars, Carth staring absentmindedly at the floor, his mind probably on the soldiers dying just below them. His soldiers. Avner felt a pang of sympathy for them; how many losses would they have to endure before this was all over?

His mind drifted back to Trask Ulgo as he sat awake staring up at the ceiling later that night. Carth was sleeping fitfully beside him, or maybe he was not. It was hard to tell with the other soldier's back turned towards him. He thought back to his friend's face disappearing behind the blast doors, the Sith warrior in black whose eyes had shown like twin dying suns, pure hatred pouring off him in waves. He wondered if Trask had suffered or if, like the soldiers downstairs, he was blissfully unaware when the final blow came.

'Trask… I'm sorry.'

Sleep came upon him without his realization. It felt as if he was still awake but no longer on Taris. No, he was within a dense jungle, the trees so tightly packed together that very little light illuminated his path. Flashes of lightning arced overhead; rain, mostly blocked out by the thick foliage, pattered softly on his head. The air was hot and sticky, the storm doing little to lessen the humidity. A growl echoed off to his left.

"Did you hear that?" The voice had a deep timbre and came from behind him, a voice he had heard before, many times though he could not place where. Its haunting familiarity sent a deep pang radiating throughout his chest, but Avner couldn't turn to see who it was though he tried with all his might. No, his eyes remain trained firmly ahead. The growl came again.

"Force, Marek, have a ration bar before your stomach eats itself!"

Something hit his face hard, and Avner groggily opened one eye. A ration stick was perched across his forehead courtesy of Carth's infallible aim. He sat up, rubbing his eyes ruefully as the last vestiges of his strange dream played out behind his eyelids. Well, that was new. For once, his sleep wasn't haunted by the mysterious girl leaping amongst the flames. Perhaps he had suffered a brain injury on the Endar Spire; it was the only thing that would explain these bizarre dreams he kept having. Maybe he could get Zelka to scan his head before they left.

Dr. Forn met them at the door as they leave. "I commed ahead and told Gadon of your predicament. He said to come by the base, and he'll see what he can do."

"You really think this guy can help us?" Carth asked, looking a bit skeptical at the prospect of asking a gangster for help.

Forn shrugged. "Not sure, but he's your best bet. I told him Jek would be okay; a few more days in the kolto tank than some physical therapy, and he'll be back out racing bikes. The base is a few blocks west of here, but steer clear of the southern quadrants; that's Vulkar territory."

"Thank you, Doc, for everything," Avner said as he slipped his helmet on.

Forn waved them off. "Thank you for saving one of my boys. I hope we meet again."

"Me too," Avner murmured. He and Carth set a brisk pace through the streets sticking to the route Zelka outlined for them. It's thankfully straightforward, and no one stopped them. The violence from the other night seemed fresh in every being's mind as no one approached them, and few people lingered on the streets for long. The entire block was walking on pins and needles, obviously waiting for the next fight to erupt. Not an exactly ideal way to live.

The Bek base was nondescript save for a few red banners strewn across the viewports and the several clearly armed guards milling around outside. It appeared to be an old military installation, something from well before the Mandalorian Wars, with thick reinforced durasteel gates and permacrete framing. Avner wasn't sure why a swoop gang would need a verifiable fortress as their base of operations or how they even managed to take the place over. Then again, the gangs seemed to be the only semblance of order down here on the lower levels, with any proper policing force having left long ago, so perhaps it was abandoned by the authorities, and the Beks saw an opportunity and took it. They approached slowly, not wanting to startle the guards and start a firefight. While Zelka may have commed ahead to alert Gadon of their arrival, they were still dressed in Sith armor, making them an easy target.

"Hey, you two! Not a step more!" A short woman with dark skin and closely cropped hair stalked forward a few feet, blaster held at the ready should they try anything. Her companions flanked her on either side, weapons at the ready. "What're two bucketheads doing skulking around here?"

Avner slowly raised his hands above his head, and Carth mimicked his actions. They both peeled off their helmets and let them drop to the ground with a dull thud, hands still raised. "I'm Avner Marek and this is Carth Onasi. Zelka Forn sent us to speak with your boss."

"Hmph, so you say, but how do we know you're not some Vulkar spy come to kill Gadon?" They're getting closer now, blasters still pointed at their chests and eyes glittering with mistrust.

"Look, we just came for his help!" Carth shot back, clearly becoming uncomfortable with how things were unfolding.

"Lots of people come to Gadon for help. He is a hero to the common folk and never turns anyone away, even if it's to his own detriment. We Beks don't have an open-door policy, especially to scum who come parading up to our front door dressed up as Sith!" the woman spat, indicating with her blaster for them to start backing up.

Avner held his ground. "We're not with the Sith or the Vulkars. We're just here to ask for help. We saved one of his men, Jek."

The three Beks paused as the name slipped from his lips. There were hurried whispers amongst them, and Avner strained to catch what they were saying but could barely make it out.

"Jek! That's our boy Doc is patching up… I thought-."

"Maybe they're okay, Gira, besides Gadon did say to look out-"

"Zaerdras in there, she'll keep 'em straight."

The woman, Gira, stepped forward and motioned sharply for them to follow her. "You can come in but try anything funny, and your brains will paint the walls before you can even twitch."

He and Carth exchanged a look and followed the woman inside. The heavy doors clicked open and cool air washed over Avner as he stepped within, driving off the last feverish vestments of his dream. The Hidden Bek's base was as eclectic as the beings gathered within. Twi'leks, Weequays, Ithorians, and humans walked the gray and blue halls ducking in and out of rooms as they went. Banners, flags, and posters lined the walls of the base, most denoting the Bek's sign and a few the Black Vulkars, clearly trophies. Hints of the sharp acrid scent of exhaust hung in the air, and the dull roar of swoop bike engines could be heard throughout the base. Gira led them to a large domed room filled with crates and heavy machinery. All around them, people were moving back and forth carrying large containers or directing droids, while other Beks lounged around hastily built tables smoking cigs and trading Pazaak cards.

Gira stopped and pointed them forward to a tall, well-muscled man standing at the front of the room. His skin was a deep brown creased with wrinkles that pulled at his lips, and the scarred puckered skin around his wounded eyes, a thick beard shadowed his mouth and chin. He was speaking quietly with a slim, pale blue Twi'lek, her lekku a beautiful indigo and purple ombre curled tightly around her neck. He barely caught the end of her sentence. "-Vulkars are putting up some captured Republic soldier as their prize. She'll fetch quite a few credits on the galactic slave market."

Her sharp gaze settled on him as he approached. "Hold it right there – who are you, and what business do you have with Gadon?" Her hand settled on the grip of her blaster, and the tips of her lekku were twitching.

Gadon let out a deep laugh and gently patted the Twi'lek's shoulder before taking a seat behind the rusting metal desk in front of them. "Calm down, Zaerdra. These are the men I was telling you about, the ones who saved Jek. Forn told me they were coming."

"You're too trusting sometimes, Gadon. We can't be sure these two are the ones Forn meant. They could be Vulkar spies here to kill you! It's my job to keep you safe!"

Gadon sighed and shook his head. "Forn said a human and a Kiffar dressed in Sith armor would come knocking on our door, and look what we have here – a human and a Kiffar dressed up as Sith; now how many duos like that do you think are wandering around Taris? Besides, even if they are spies, do you really think they would try something in the middle of our base? It'd be suicide." At that, he looked sharply at him and Carth, a silent warning to not cause any trouble.

Zaerdra huffed but didn't argue any further with Gadon. Instead, she turned her hard gaze on them. "Try anything, and I'll vaporize you before you can say 'Vulkar spy.'"

Gadon was much more welcoming than his Twi'lek counterpart. He settled back in his chair and offered them an easy smile, gesturing for them to take a seat. "You'll have to forgive Zaerdra; ever since… well, since the Vulkars started this war against us, she's been a little over-zealous in her security duties."

"Hmph, you mean vigilant," Zaerdra muttered from behind her boss.

Gadon ignored her comment and continued on. "It doesn't help that the Sith came along and invaded our homes, imposing their martial law and locking down anything they wanted. Damn, schuttas! Good thing they're too scared to come down here anymore; if they did, every swoop gang would unite and drive them out of the Lower City, hit-and-run attacks, guerrilla tactics, you name it! Their casualties would be enormous."

"Don't fool yourself," Carth cautioned, leaning forward in his seat towards Gadon. "The Sith would never commit to that kind of operation. They're too smart to waste resources like that. They'd probably do something much more grand and deadly to put you down."

Gadon waved him off. "Heh, those bucketheads aren't as bright as you paint them out to be. Although…" He quieted and leaned back in his seat, clearly contemplating something. "Things would be much easier if the Vulkars weren't keeping us tied up in this stupid war. I tried to tell Brejik… ahhh, but you didn't come here to listen to me complain about my problems. No, you need to get into the Undercity."

Avner nodded. "Some escape pods crashed down there, and we need to get to them. Forn told me you may know of a way to get down there."

"Yeah, I've heard rumors about those pods. The Sith have been asking about them in the Upper City, even sending a few unfortunate patrols down here and even lower to look for them, but you two… you don't strike me as Sith."

"They could be spies, Gadon! Sith spies!" Zaerdra interrupted her hand now fully wrapped around her blaster pistol, which she started to slowly edge out of its holster. She was clearly itching to put a bolt in both of their heads.

"Zaerdra," Gadon warned, and she backed away. "If these two really were Sith, then they wouldn't have saved Jek, and if the Sith thought we had any useful information, then there would be an entire battalion of troopers knocking down our front door. These two are after something else."

"We're not with the Sith, Gadon; we're with the Republic," Avner revealed, and Carth surprisingly nodded in agreement. "We're looking for the survivors from those pods."

Gadon scratched his chin thoughtfully. "From what I know, the Vulkars stripped those pods clean within hours of them crashing. They pulled a few survivors from the wreckage, including some high-ranking officer named Bastila."

Avner felt a jolt run down the length of his spine. So the Jedi Princess was alive after all.

"Vulkars took her prisoner. They'll probably auction her off on the slave market or ransom her back to the Sith, whichever one fetches them the most credits," Gadon explained.

"We have to get into their base and rescue her," Avner said. He didn't know Bastila personally, and honestly, his opinions about the Jedi weren't the best. Still, no one deserved to be sold as a slave, especially someone who tried to dedicate their life to helping others. He could feel his nerve endings alighting with a rush of adrenaline, fuck, it was time to tear apart some Vulkars. "How will they sell her?"

"Well, normally, the Vulkars sell their slaves off to Davik Kang. He's got a lot of connections with the Exchange, but sometimes they'll use an off-world slaver. However, a Republic officer is no ordinary catch."

"Hmm, if they still think Bastilas is a normal officer, then that could work to our advantage," Carth murmured low enough so only he could hear. "She may even be working on a way to escape. How do we get into their base?"

"Ha! She's much too valuable to be left at the main Vulkar base. No, Brejiks got her hidden away until the big swoop race. You'll never find her," the older man objected. "And he's not stupid enough to leave her in any position where she could escape."

"Wait, swoop race? What does racing have to do with this?" Avner asked.

Gadon sighed and steepled his fingers together. "I'm afraid your friend has become an unwilling pawn in Brejik's game to take over the Lower City. Word is he's offered her up as the Vulkar's share of the prize in the big annual swoop race opener. By offering her up, Brejik can convince most of the smaller gangs to side with him and bolster his forces. It'll be a disaster for the Beks if that happens."

"That's why we should just kill this Bastila at the swoop opener, eliminate any chance of anyone siding with Brejik," Zaerdra suggested narrowing her eyes at him as if daring either of them to speak.

"You're not touching her," Avner ground out, and he was a bit surprised at the protective swell he felt rise up in his chest at the thought of anyone hurting this woman he didn't even know.

"Avner's right; killing Bastila is not an option. We need her alive; without her, the war against the Sith is lost, but we also need to formulate a rescue plan. We can't fight all the gangs," Carth said, glaring back at the Twi'lek, who held his gaze without flinching.

"Your only hope is to somehow win the big season opener of the swoop race," Gadon said, tapping his fingers together slowly.

Avner leaned forward, locking eyes with the blind man in front of him. "How do I get into this race?" He was familiar with racing swoop bikes, having partaken in the odd race when he had been stationed on the desert world of Ambria; the absolute adrenaline that came with barreling through tight canyons at high speeds and barely missing rocks was unmatched.

"I think we may be able to help each other, gentlemen, considering we both have something to gain here and much to lose."

Avner looked at Carth, and he shook his head. "How do we know we can trust you, Gadon?"

"Well," Gadon started leaning back. "You really don't have a choice. Not if you want to get your friend back. At least listen to what I have to say before you make any hasty decisions. The swoop race is for the Lower City only; it's a way for the gangs to reorder alliances and reassert themselves within the power structure of the underworld here. Racers can only enter if they're sponsored by a gang. I can sponsor you as a rider for the Hidden Beks this year. You win the race; you win your friend's freedom and keep Brejik from wiping us out. Or, at the very least, I get you close enough to break her out should you lose."

"Why do I feel like there's a catch to all of this?" Avner asked.

Gadon chuckled and brought up a complicated engine system's hologram before highlighting a specific part. "Because there's always a catch, son. If you want my sponsor, then you have to get my prototype accelerator back from the Vulkars. My engineers developed this part specifically for my bike, but those thieving Vulkars stole the prototype before we could install it. I know they plan to use it to guarantee their victory this year. Break into their base and get that part back, and I assure you you'll have my sponsor."

"And how do we know you'll keep up your end of the bargain once you have your prototype back?" Carth challenged the other man.

"My word is my bond. Ask anyone in the Lower City; my reputation speaks for itself. You can't do this without me. Be smart, kid; you know this is the only way."

Avner sighed and leaned back, rubbing his head. Everything Gadon said made sense. He was their only ticket into the swoop race and at rescuing Bastila, but on the other hand, the man was a criminal and probably wouldn't think twice about kicking them to the curb should it benefit the Beks in any way. Zaerdra certainly wanted them gone. He stared back into the gangster's milky white orbs; for eyes that were blind and dead, they certainly conveyed a lot of sincerity and… hope. Perhaps Gadon really did need them as much as they needed him.

"Alright, we're in." There were no objections from Carth; the other soldier must be feeling truly desperate to not even offer up one objection to this ludicrous scheme. Still, Avner had a good feeling about this; for him, the crazier the plan, the more successful he tended to be. "Now, how do we get into this base?"

"It won't be easy – the front doors are locked tight and heavily guarded. However, I do know of someone who can get you inside a back way - Mission Vao."

"Mission?! Gadon, you can't be serious," Zaerdra exclaimed incredulously. "She's just a kid! How could she possibly be any help?"

"Don't count her out because of her age. Mission's explored every inch of the Lower City and knows the Undercity sewers like the back of her hand. If anyone can get them inside the Vulkar Base, it's her," Gadon defended the young Twi'lek.

Zaerdra just rolled her eyes. "Your funeral."

"Heh, can't believe we'll be meeting again so soon," Avner muttered, remembering his first meeting with the spunky Twi'lek girl and her Wookie protector well.

"What'd you say?" Carth asked, eyeing him closely.

He shook his head. "Nothing, I'll fill you in later. Where can I find her?"

"She and her Wookie friend Zaalbar are always looking for excitement. Despite the danger, they said they were going to the Undercity to salvage whatever they could. Precocious kid," Gadon chuckled, shaking his head. "Problem is you'll have to find some way past the Sith guard post at the lift."

Avner tapped his gray breastplate once. "Not a problem. Carth and I can sneak past with these uniforms."

"That won't work; the security down here is much stricter. The only way into the lowest levels is with the proper authorization papers. Luckily for you, some of these papers… heh found their way into my possession." Gadon reached into his desk and produced two pieces of flimsi, holding them up. "Since we're all friends now working towards the same goal, I think a trade would be most beneficial for us all. My passes for your uniforms."

"What would you need Sith armor for?" Avner asked.

"I like to be prepared. One day the Sith will get serious about trying to force us out of the Lower City, and when that day comes, I want to give my people every advantage I can; besides, with these passes, you won't even need the uniforms anymore."

"You drive a hard bargain, Gadon," The Kiffar said as he swiped the passes. He and Carth stripped out of the armor in a small adjacent room, changing into the civvies they had taken in their packs, and Gadon's flimsi passes were safely tucked away.

"Can't say I'm sad to see this go," Carth remarked, tossing the helmet down into the pile at their feet.

Avner shrugged. "I don't know. In the right light, it can be rather intimidating." He snagged a discarded brown leather jacket from a crate beside them. It fit well, a little snug around his shoulders, but nothing restrictive. They waved to Zaerdra as they left, and she gave them a final scowl.

"Force, I won't miss her," Carth muttered as they approached the Undercity lift.

He laughed. "I don't know, Onasi; you and she have a lot in common. Sour dispositions and the uncanny need to disagree about everything."

Carth doesn't even dignify him with a response. They could move more freely and blend in better with the crowds of beings walking the streets now that they had shed their Sith armor. No one eyed them with mistrust; they were just another couple of down-on-their-luck individuals stuck in the Lower City scraping by to survive. It's like he was seeing the Lower City for the first time through the eyes of the people who had to live here. Yes, it was cramped and dirty, but there was life here, too, with shops selling fried food and the faint sound of thumping music echoing through the streets. The crowds thinned as they drew close to the main Undercity lift, only a few people loitering near the entrance cloistered around metal barrels that were hollowed out and lit with low fires. It seemed that most tended to avoid this area except the most destitute.

"Hey you two!"

He and Carth turned to see a tall, muscular man striding toward them. His arms were thickly corded with heavy loops of muscle, while sharp angular features cut his scarred face distinctly. His hair was a salt and peppering of blacks and deep grays that blended well with his steely eyes. A large assault cannon was slung across his wide shoulders, which he carried with ease. Avner turned to address the large man, but he just shoved past them and stalked up to a pair of Weequay huddled around one of the smoking bins.

"You guys are behind on your payments. What, you think that just because you're in some gang means you don't give Davik his money?" The big man growled, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

"C-Canderous?! We d-didn't know y-you were still working for Davik." One of the Weequay's stuttered out while his friend looked around wildly for a place to disappear. "W-we don't want no trouble with a Mandalorian. Here's Davik's cut." A Mandalorian? Rare to see one these days, what with their people scattered amongst stars after their sound defeat at the hands of the Republic.

Canderous caught the money deftly, counting it slowly while the two Weequays fidgeted. "Hmph, don't be late next time, or I'll crack your heads wide open, credits or no."

He and Carth skirted around the edge of the trio and slipped inside the processing zone. There was no one else on the narrow walkway leading towards the massive rusting lift except for a lone Sith guard leaning up against the far wall. The entire area smelled of exhaust and grease, almost as if every toxic fume from Taris had been funneled down this hole directly toward the Undercity.

"Hold up there, civilian! Only those on official Sith orders are allowed beyond this point. State your business!" The guard straightened up and shouldered his rifle in their direction.

"We're scavengers hired by the Sith," Avner started as he removed his pass from his belt. "We have the proper security papers right here."

The guard took their passes and stared down at them for a few moments. "Huh, these look to be in order. Alright, you're good to go down. Heh, can't say that I envy you, though." He handed them back their passes and punched in a security code to unlock the lift. "If you think the Lower City is the armpit of Taris, then the Undercity is its arsehole. Crawling with mutants that will tear your face off; best bet is to shoot anything that moves."

"Thanks for the heads up," Avner said, and he jumped onto the lift. It swayed back and forth, creaking in protest at his weight, the metal giving a harsh groan as it settled back into place. Not an entirely comforting sound to hear.

"When was that thing last serviced?" Carth asked, hesitating before entering.

The guard shrugged before pushing him inside. "I don't know, probably before the Great Hyperspace Wars. Have a nice ride."

The entire lift began to shake and rattle as it descended slowly into the murk below their feet. Carth cursed, and the last thing Avner could clearly see before they were swallowed up by the darkness was the other man's deep scowl pointed in his direction.

"You look just like Zaerdra."

"Marek… shut up."