8

"You sure this is the place?"

"Yeah, the Vulkars put up that energy barrier to keep out the rakghouls." Mission darted forward to the terminal once they were sure the coast was clear, her nimble fingers flying across the interface with practiced ease.

"Where are the guards?" Carth asked, peering around each dark corner carefully.

Mission shrugged. "Inside. This terminal is locked by a rotating passcode, so the Vulkars don't guard it. They also probably think no one would be crazy enough to sneak through the rakghoul-infested sewers to get in."

"So how did you get the codes?"

Mission gave Carth a cheeky grin as the energy field fizzled out. "I picked them off a Black Vulkar who had too much to drink one night in Javyars."

They all moved forward cautiously along the catwalks, thankfully leaving the putrid sewage behind the further they walked. Avner weaved through the empty cargo crates and debris littering the walkway, taking each corner slowly, looking for any sign of the gang. It was quiet amongst them; no one spoke, instead only communicating with hand signals and the odd snap of the fingers. The only safe way to approach this situation was to avoid any confrontation at all costs. The last thing they needed was to alert the entire base to their presence and rush their position. Avner's a good shot, but he doubted he had enough charge in his thermal clip to take out every Vulkar holed up in this place. His rifle would probably overheat before then. The sewers around them were slowly transforming; little by little, the rusted metal chipped away to reveal smooth ferrocrete and brighter lighting.

"We're close now," Zaalbar growled softly. The narrow corridor they were in continued for a few more meters, a bifurcation breaking off to the right about halfway down. Avner stopped short and held up his hand, peeking quickly around the corner, catching the backs of two Weequay guards standing close together. He pulled back and pointed two fingers across from him. Carth and Zaalbar slipped across the opening unnoticed.

"We can't risk them raising the alarm," Avner murmured.

"Got it. So we need a distraction," Mission whispered back.

"Wha-?"

Mission darted out and limped towards the Weequays before Avner could stop her. "Oh, help! The rakghouls!"

'What the hell?' Carth mouthed, and Avner just shook his head. The girl certainly had a flair for the dramatic, and it oddly appeared to be working. The Vulkars turned around, eyeing Mission as she swayed back and forth. They approached her, both smirking and tucking blasters back into holsters, the one closest reaching for her arm.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, we'll take care of you."

Avner glanced sharply at Carth and nodded. They jumped out from behind their prospective corners, firing two consecutive blasts at each guard. The Vulkars dropped to the ground before either knew what had happened. It was a tense few seconds; he and Carth's blasters aimed at the blast doors waiting for other gang members to burst through the hatchway. Two, four, eight, thirty seconds passed, and nothing happened. The Kiffar stood and grabbed the guard closest to him, easily slinging him over his shoulders. Carth grabbed the other, and together, they deposited the dead guards behind a stack of crates. Avner snagged one of the Weequay's passes and hurried to catch up with the others, swiping it over the decoder. The doors creaked open and cool air washed over him, pushing back the humid stench of the sewers.

The Vulkar base was vastly different from the Hidden Beks. It's cluttered with rows of crates stacked high in the hallways, and bright industrial lighting bounced off the buffed metal walls. Avner easily slipped through the orderly chaos; at the very least, they would have adequate cover if forced into a firefight. It seemed as if he was traveling into a nest of insects; the deeper they went, the more Vulkars crawled out of the recesses of backrooms and alcoves. Mission was undoubtedly in her element, though. She crept between roving patrols and sliced into security terminals along their way, jamming comms and sealing off doors, making it nearly impossible for the Vulkars to move freely around their base.

"Kid's got a knack for tech," Avner said softly as they both watched the young Twi'lek set a pair of electrical conduits to overheat; a passing pair of droids was caught in the discharge and summarily shut down.

"I'm just glad she agreed to help us," Carth whispered back. "It would be hell trying to fight through this base."

"Hey, chatty chila's, the garage is this way!"

Avner stepped out in front of Mission and took point, sweeping the hallway for any signs of bogies. All clear. He slipped down the stairs and into the landing housing, the main lift that led to the garage and, hopefully, their stolen prototype accelerator. The room was empty save for a few disabled droids in the corner and a litany of speeder parts scattered about. He waved the others down.

"The garage will be full of Vulkars working on their bikes," Zaalbar grunted, checking the blaster rifle he had picked off a Gamorrean slaver.

"Too many for us to fight in such a small space, even for you two super soldiers," Mission agreed as she sliced the security camera's feeds in the garage. The space was filled with numerous gang members working on their swoops and lounging around smoking cigarettes or playing cards. While the garage was spacious, numerous bikes and speeders assembled and disassembled, littered the room, cargo containers stacked high against the walls, and numerous parts were thrown about. The minute they stepped off the lift, they would be reduced to four bodies littered with more holes than the moons that orbited this planet.

"Kriff, no way we can get through that. Mission, is there any other way into the garage?" Carth asked, rubbing his head in frustration.

She shook her head no. "This is the only lift besides the main freight elevator, but that's only operable from the garage. Does anyone have any flashbangs? Maybe we can throw a few of those and make a run for it."

"We'd get cut down in the crossfire as soon as we stepped off the lift, or someone would hit an engine, and the entire room would go up," Avner said, stepping back from the terminal and instead surveying the room. There had to be another way. Several large pipes ran along the ceiling that fed back into two large canisters bolted to the opposite wall labeled… nitrous oxide. A gas commonly used to clean out the exhaust systems of swoop bikes and optimize their engine systems, if breathed in, one could also enjoy an impromptu narcoleptic nap for… ten or so hours. He followed the pipes across the ceiling, where they trailed downwards into the garage, most likely terminating in vats beneath the floor.

"Mission, are there exhaust controls on that terminal?"

She looked at him oddly but nodded.

He crossed the room and began typing in his own set of commands. His slicing abilities were minimal, but he knew just enough to input basic controls and override standard systems, something he had picked up as a kid working with heavy mining equipment. It seemed as if some skills from his past were still useful in the present.

"What are you thinking?" Carth asked. Avner cocked his head over to the canisters, and Carth grinned. "You're going to gas them out."

"You're going to kill them?" Mission looked… well, she looked uneasy, and Avner had to remind himself that even though the Twi'lek was street-smart and quick on her feet, she was still just a child. Yes, she had grown up around rough characters and seen violence in the streets, but had she ever taken a life? Or watch one being taken?

He gave her his most reassuring smile and shook his head. "We're just going to put them to sleep for a while. Everyone will wake up in a few hours with headaches and minus one accelerator."

Her frown relaxed, but she still seemed uncomfortable. Avner directed the flow of nitrous oxide down beneath the garage, held it within the vats, and then sealed the doors and exhaust ports before releasing the pent-up gas into the room. He flipped back to the security feeds and waited. Seconds turned into minutes, and the effect was gradual but swift. Vulkars began slumping over, tipping sideways off the chairs, and spilling out onto the ground. Tools slipped from loosened grasps clanging to the floor, and a few more resilient beings caught on that something was wrong and rushed for the lift, trying desperately to open it but failing. The entire room was completely incapacitated within moments. Avner waited another few minutes before venting the remaining gas and unsealing the room.

No one was awake as they entered the garage. The only noise came from the hum of idling swoop engines and the beeping of several astromech droids weaving around the comatose Vulkars. "Let's split up and look for the accelerator."

"I'll go with Avner!" Carth and Zaalbar stared down at Mission, and she shrugged. "What? I just think you and Carth will make a good team."

"Right, I'm sure this has nothing to do with your cru-."

"Look, we don't have time to waste. These smucks could wake up at any second. Come on, Avner." The soldier only smiled and followed the young Twi'lek, not catching her cheeks burning purple. They stepped over sleeping Vulkars and searched rooms stacked high with crates full of swoop parts and broken-down weapons. Box after box was emptied and sifted through, and rooms were quickly cleared.

"Nothing here," Mission huffed as she kicked an empty box away from her. "Why do they keep so much junk?"

Avner shrugged and finished picking through the barrel beside him. It would be a miracle if they even found the accelerator amongst all the clutter. A clang came from behind them, and Avner whipped around, rifle primed and aimed at… a maintenance droid looking quite confused by their presence. It blipped in binary a simple question. He raised his hands and approached the droid slowly.

"Hey there, little guy, easy now. We don't want any trouble," he murmured soothingly. The droid clearly did want trouble. An electro-prod extended from one of its arms, and it lunged forward, aiming to jab him in the chest. Avner threw himself to the side, sweeping his leg beneath the droids forcing it to fall forward into a pile of junk. He rolled to his feet and shot it twice in its chassis.

"You okay?"

Mission nodded and stepped out of the room. "Yeah, I guess even the droids don't want us here."

"Just keep your head on a swivel." They finished checking the back rooms in the garage and found nothing. Avner could only hope that Zaalbar and Carth had better luck than they were.

"So, Avner," Mission started glancing up at him quickly before returning her attention to the box at her feet. "Where do you call home?"

The Kiffar shrugged and upended a crate. "Whatever ship I'm stationed on."

"Career soldier huh?"

"Pays the bills, puts a roof over my head."

"Is there anyone… special in your life?" The question was quiet and uttered so quickly that he had to glance over at the girl to make sure she even spoke. Her cheeks are purple, but her eyes are studying his face carefully. Why was she suddenly so interested in his life? What could she possibly find noteworthy about him? Natural curiosity, he assumed; kids never wanted to feel left out and sometimes felt the need to unknowingly pry into other people's lives. He didn't let it bother him and instead opted to take the question with relative ease.

He laughed and shook his head. "Nah, nothing like that. No woman could ever put up with my life." She tilted her head to the side, and Avner elaborated. "I've been fighting for years, jumping from planet to planet in the Outer Rim, living on ships or in trenches. I don't have any roots, nothing to keep me grounded in one place. That kind of life… well, most people don't want to sign up for that."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right person yet." There was something pointed in what she said, and she flashed him a big smile. "Or maybe you've already met them and don't know it."

He considered it for a second and nodded. "Could be, but I don't think Zaerdra wants to settle down with me; I think she just wants to shoot me in the face."

Mission's smile immediately turned into a frown, and she opened her mouth to reply, but he stopped her. Behind them, a door opened briefly before shutting again. He grabbed his rifle and approached slowly, Mission standing behind him as he opened the door. The room was remarkably clean compared to the others, with monitors lining the walls and a large desk situated at the back of the room. A green portly Twi'lek stood behind it, a large vibroblade clutched in his shaking hands. He stabbed at the air in their direction, a pathetic attempt to try and seem threatening.

"Drop it," Avner ordered, aiming his rifle at the sad being's head, finger glued to his trigger, ready to put the other man down if he so much as looked at them wrong.

The Vulkar let the blade slip from his trembling fingers and raised his arms high over his head. "I surrender! Please don't kill me; I'm not like Brejik or his thugs."

"What are you talking about? You're wearing the Vulkar colors."

"Yes, I am a Vulkar, but I'm from the old gang, long before Brejik took over when we actually had honor." The man shook his head. "When Brejik and his goons took over, he pushed out anyone who didn't agree with him and turned the rest into a bunch of bloodthirsty hoodlums. Our original Vulkars are treated like second-class citizens. I don't want to fight you; I won't lose my life for somebody like Brejik."

"If you hate him so much, why don't you just leave?"

"I've tried! But anyone caught abandoning the gang is hunted down and killed! Brejik doesn't like deserters."

"Well, isn't that just the pot calling the kettle black," Mission muttered.

"Brejik's insane. He murders anyone who doesn't agree with him and won't stop until Gadon is buried thirty meters beneath the Undercity. He keeps his followers and some of the smaller gangs in line with fear and the promise of brutality. He forces us to do his dirty work."

Avner didn't lower his rifle. While the man appeared to be telling the truth, dark eyes shining with unshed tears, he was still a criminal, a member of a violent gang that would do or say anything to save his own skin. "You want to live? Tell us where the prototype accelerator is."

"I don't kno-."

He cocked his rifle once.

"W-What I mean is you'll most likely find the accelerator down in the lower garage, but I don't know for sure." The Twi'lek reached slowly into the desk, and Avner clicked the safety off his rifle. "Easy, you'll need this pass to get in."

He stepped forward, swiped the passcard, and then fired a single stun blast into the man's chest. He crumpled to the floor, shock plastered across his rotund face.

"Avner!"

"It's okay; I only stunned him. Couldn't take the chance that he alerts the rest of the base if I let him go."

They found Carth and Zaalbar outside the lower-level garage, a heavy set of blast doors sealed tight, and Carth bent over the terminal trying to slice in while Zaalbar leaned against the opposite wall. He straightened up when he caught sight of them coming down the ramp.

"I hope you two have had better luck than us," Carth grunted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Avner flashed the passcard and slotted it into the terminal, the doors sliding open to reveal several swoop bikes lined up in a neat row. Two Weequays at a far workbench caught sight of them and immediately pulled blasters free while a tall slim Twi'lek to their left did the same. Her skin was a vibrant shade of orange with elegant swirling tattoos wrapping around each lekku, her eyes a piercing green that darted around their strange group. Avner immediately put himself in front of Mission, rifle trained on the two Weequays while Carth focused on the woman. He could only hope that Zaalbar had his target picked also.

"Well, well, well… looks like we have visitors." Another tall, lanky Twi'lek came strolling out of a backroom to their right, blaster pointed at him, a cocky grin pulling at his thin lips. "Brejik did say some of Gadon's lackeys might try to steal his accelerator back. Didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to try."

"The accelerator belongs to Gadon, sleemo. You stole it from him!" Mission yelled back.

The man chuckled at her outburst. "What was once the Beks belongs to the Vulkars. If you're not strong enough to hold onto it, then don't get mad when someone better takes it."

"What I want to know, Kandon, is how they got in here. No one could have gotten through our garage or base without being spotted," the other Twi'lek remarked, shifting her weight slightly. "Let's space these spies and get on with it."

"Hold on, Luv, they aren't wearing the Beks colors. These gents probably aren't even a part of that pathetic man's gang, most likely just some mercenaries," Kandon mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Gadon wouldn't risk his own men for a suicide mission, but his credits…"

"We're not going to get anywhere with talking, so hand over the accelerator, and we all leave happy," Avner said evenly. He refused to barter with these people; each one would sooner put a knife in his back before they made an honest deal.

"Or we could get everywhere with talking. Hear me out, friend; Gadon's weak and on his way out, and Brejik could offer you more credits than the Beks ever could. Work with us, and we could help each other!"

"Not gonna happen." He wouldn't betray Gadon to these cutthroats. He had seen firsthand how they operated and wasn't about to entrust his group's safety to these criminals.

Kandon sighed, almost wearily, but he locked eyes with his counterpart across from him, who smiled cruelly. "I tried; no one can say I didn't try. Most unfortunate."

Kandon fired wide and caught Mission off guard. Avner can't even turn to see if she's okay, but he heard her cry of pain. He thumbed his trigger and caught one of the Weequays full in the face, his lower jaw exploding and neck billowing out from where his bolt had torn a hole. He heard Zaalbar roar, and the Wookie threw his blaster at Kandon, clocking the man in the head and causing him to stumble while Carth ducked beneath the lieutenant's strafing shots. Avner leaped to the side to avoid being caught by the remaining Weequay's blaster spray and fired a single shot at the orange Twi'leks legs. She screamed in agony as the serrated bolt tore through her kneecap, nearly severing her leg in two as she fell. The W48s had powerful concussive blasts capable of tearing a body apart with a single shot, and not for the first time was Avner grateful he kept the Sith rifle. Carth planted a final shot in her head, cutting off her screaming, and took down the remaining Vulkar across the garage.

Kandon was struggling in Zaalbar's powerful grasp, the young Wookie holding the Twi'lek's arms by the elbows as he kneeled before him. One foot was planted on the man's chest while Zaalbar leaned back, putting further strain on the Vulkar's limbs. "You hurt Mission!"

"Please, I didn't-." A desperate scream cut off his pleas as Zaalbar savagely tugged on his arms, and a sickening pop was heard. Kandon turned his terrified gaze to him. "Please! I can hel-."

He never finished; with one final ferocious pull Kandon's arms are ripped free from their sockets in a spray of blood and tissue, the man falling back, twitching and sobbing, the sounds wrenching from somewhere deep in his gut. The Wookie tossed the limbs aside and turned back to his young friend, now propped up against the wall with Carth hovering beside her.

"Mission, are you okay?" Avner asked as he and Zaalbar knelt down.

She nodded weakly but grimaced as Carth gently probed the wound. The top of her right shoulder was blackened, and a sizeable chunk of flesh had been torn free, the blue skin surrounding the wound puckered and inflamed. "I'm fine, sleemo just caught me-." She sucked in a huge breath as Carth gently wrapped her shoulder.

"Easy, kid, you're okay," he soothed, his voice surprisingly warm and calming. "You're doing fine."

"Mission, I'm sorry; I should have stepped in," Zaalbar grunted sadly, dark eyes shining with worry.

"Don't worry, Big Z, it's not your fault. Scum sucker caught us all off guard," she reassured her friend, but still grabbed his paw as Carth finished bandaging the wound.

He straightened up and turned. "I've done what I can, but she needs a doctor."

Avner nodded. They needed to get out of here quickly; their firefight might have drawn unwanted attention, the attention they were ill-equipped to handle. He glanced around the garage, and his eyes landed on the workbench the two Weequays had been bent over. Sitting amongst the scattered tools was a long metallic cylinder, the ends tapering off into twisted points clearly meant to slide into the inner chambers of a V4 swoop engine. He scooped it up and slid it into a pouch on his belt.

"I've got the part; now, let's get the hell out of here."

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"Do I even want to know what you've been up to?" Zelka Forn was wiping his hands off on a surgical towel while Avner carefully examined their recovered accelerator.

"It involves a lot of… well, being caught in the wrong places," he supplied with a weak grin.

"Doesn't it always," Zelka said and nodded at Mission, who was passed out on a cot nearby. Her shoulder was tightly bandaged, her arm secured snugly in a sling while Zaalbar slept nearby, his wounds also wrapped properly. "They'll both be okay, but Mission needs to be careful. If she strains that arm too much before it heals, it will scar, and she could lose function in it."

He felt a pang of guilt. She was hurt helping him; he had let her follow him into danger and look at what had happened. He should have sent her home, forced Zaalbar to take her away, and done the job himself. He twisted the accelerator in his fingers deftly, hoping this small part would make it all worth it. That Bastila would be worth it. He shook his head and mentally chastised himself. Of course, this unknown Jedi was worth it; she was a living being who didn't deserve to be bartered off and passed around the criminal underworld of Taris.

"Thank you, Doc."

Forn waved him off. "It's nothing. I've been looking after Mission and Zaalbar for years now. They're practically family, and I would never turn them away." He smiled fondly at the duo. "The wounded Bek you pulled off the street, Jek, is also doing well. A few more days, and I'll be able to let him go."

Avner smiled, glad that the young man would recover. It seemed he could at least help one person. He rose and approached his fellow soldier standing off in the back, gazing at the empty bacta tanks that used to hold the bodies of his men. He's absently picking at the bandages wrapped around his arm, lips moving wordlessly.

"You're going to mess up all of Doc Forn's hard work if you keep scratching."

Carth gave him a humorless grin. "Can't help it, damn bacta is itchy."

They both stood quietly amid the empty tanks, and Carth finished his quiet prayer. "I want you to take Mission and Zaalbar back to the apartment."

"What?"

"They're both hurt, and so are you. I'll go to the swoop opener and get Bastila while you recover."

"Avner, I'm not letting you go to that race alone. Who knows what could happen? Hell, half the people there will be looking for any chance to kill you if you race under the Bek colors," Carth argued back. "Give it a few days, and we'll go together."

He shook his head. "We don't have a few days, Carth; the opener is tomorrow. Besides, we've already asked enough of Zaalbar and Mission; I can't endanger their lives again."

"Well, you can't go by yourself," Carth insisted, refusing to budge. "And besides, if one of us has to go, it should be me. I know Bastila; she'll be safer with me than anyone else."

Avner laughed at the sheer ludicrous image of the older man riding one of the powerful racing machines. "She may know you, but I know how to race bikes. Do you?"

Carth's look of frustration grew, but he let out a defeated sigh. "No, I don't."

Avner firmly clasped his shoulder and stared him straight in the eye. "You have to trust me, Onasi. I can do this. Watch after Mission; I'll meet you at the apartment tomorrow with Bastila."

Carth studied him silently for a few tense seconds, then nodded. "Don't fuck this up, Marek."

He left the others at Forn's clinic. He could move much quicker now on his own and avoid the larger crowds, which were sure to be peppered with Black Vulkars. While they had taken great pains to remain unseen inside the Vulkar's base, there was always the possibility that a camera had captured their faces or someone had seen them. The Vulkars could be hunting for them right now. The sooner Carth got Mission and Zaalbar out of the Lower City, the better, and the faster he got back to the Hidden Beks meant less time out on the street exposed.

As he entered the Bek's base, the various gang members looked at him in shock or complete awe. Apparently, many were not counting on his success and survival. Zaerdra looked absolutely stunned when he stopped before her, her mouth hanging open as she tapped Gadon's shoulder.

The older man stood and grinned. "You made it! Do you have the accelerator?"

Avner carefully pulled it free and laid it on his desk.

"Incredible," Gadon murmured picking up the part. "I didn't think… that is…"

"You expected a few more holes in me, right?"

The gang leader let out a deep chuckle. "I would be lying if I said no. You made it back in the nick of time, too, the opener is tomorrow, and my mechanics will need some time to install this part." He snapped his fingers, and a scrawny Devaronian scrambled forward, gingerly taking the part and hurrying away.

"Your friend isn't with you, and neither is Mission," Zaerdra pointed out, arms crossed stiffly over her chest.

"We ran into our fair share of trouble. The others need some time to recover," Avner explained, unwilling to go into it any further.

"I hope they're okay. Mission's a scrappy kid, but she has a knack for getting herself into trouble," Gadon murmured, settling back into his chair.

Again, he felt a lance of guilt twist his gut, but he pushed it down. "You have your part, Thek; now it's time to hold up your end of the deal. I want into the race."

Gadon waved at him to take a seat. "I'm a man of my word. I promised you a race for the accelerator, which you'll get. I'll sponsor you under the Beks and give you the best chance to win the race."

Avner raised his brow and waited for him to continue.

"I'm going to let you race on the bike with the prototype accelerator."

His announcement hung in the air between them.

"Gadon, you can't be serious! We need our best rider on that bike, not some rookie nobody!" Zaerdra exclaimed.

He was quiet for a few seconds, studying the blind man carefully before speaking. "What's your game, Thek?"

Gadon leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Truthfully? The accelerator hasn't been rigorously tested, there are instabilities within the design, and there is a chance it could… melt down during the race. I can't risk one of my own people; they'll all be riding unmodified swoops, but you…"

"You can risk me blowing up, is that it?" He's not even sure if he should be surprised at this revelation. While Gadon presented himself as a sympathetic, honorable figure, he was still a criminal who wasn't above using underhanded tactics to benefit himself and his people. A wave of low simmering anger boiled low in his chest, making his jaw clench and brow twitch.

Gadon at least had the decency to look guilty. "If you can complete the circuit without overheating the engine and win, then we all come out of this deal for the better, but should you… should your swoop malfunction, then I need to rely on my other riders to pull through and win. Rest assured, if that happens, I will ensure your officer makes it back safely to your friend."

"Well, sounds like you've worked everything out then."

"You don't stay leader for as long as I have without working out every angle."

It was a tense few seconds between them. Part of Avner wanted to walk out, to hell with Thek and his shady deals; the man could go down alone. But he can't. There was no other way to get the Jedi Princess back, and he and Carth were running on borrowed time as it was. Sooner or later, the Sith would find them. This was the only way.

"When do we leave?"

Gadon let a relieved smile slip across his face. "Tomorrow. Tonight just relax and get some rest. You'll need it."

He slept surprisingly deep. Then again, he was a person who thrived off of stress; the more duress he was placed under, the better he performed. It was as if his body craved it like some intrinsic part of him was wired to run off of trauma. He dreamed again that night. Smoke and fire swirled around him, making it near impossible to see, the air thick with ash, so heavy he could nearly taste it on his tongue. A flash of gold pulled his attention to his left, where the girl with thunderstruck eyes leaped from the haze. Her saber cut fast toward his legs, and he moved to block the attack. She pulled up her blade at the last second, though, and twisted it sharply.

Burning pain exploded across his chest as she dragged her weapon from the tip of his left hip to his opposite shoulder, leaving a burning path. He grabbed her sabers guard in one of his hands and yanked her forward. Her face was a mere breath away from his now, chest heaving, stormy gray eyes piercing his very being. She was beautiful and terrifying all at once, a force of nature one couldn't help but admire in awe before quickly running away from in fear. Her lips were moving, mouthing words he could not comprehend, and suddenly, there were several more flashes of light stabbing out from the darkness directed at him. He leaped back, but his feet did not land on solid ground. Instead, he was falling down, down, down…

"Rise and shine, Avner. Today's the day you win back your lady's freedom."

Avner sat up slowly, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands before rising and dressing quickly. He didn't have time to pick apart his latest dream. Gadon walked him through the modifications they had made to his bike and gave him a few basic lessons on how to operate the model. He was familiar with it, having raced a few back on Hast while on leave. This bike was more advanced, though; even without the accelerator, the open-seat V-twin engine design was all custom, built from scratch for the sole purpose of speed and precision handling. Looking at the beautiful machine, he could already feel his blood starting to race.

"She's fierce," Avner murmured in awe as he paced around the bike, admiring every detail.

Gadon nodded in agreement and clapped him on the back. "She's the finest bike on all of Taris and the fastest. The Vulkars stand no chance."

'So long as I don't explode,' the Kiffar thought ruefully but shook his head. It would be no use to dwell on what could happen. Instead, he would just have to push ahead and hope everything held up. The bikes were loaded onto speeder skiffs, and it seemed as if nearly half the base was gearing up to go. They were excited, running around and loading last-minute parts and crates onto speeders before departing. The energy was nearly palpable and only increased when they reached the track.

It was something carefully crafted into the very foundations of the Lower City itself. Avner could see it weaving and turning through the very heart of the buildings before disappearing deep into the belly of a massive warehouse, twisted metal, and jump lanes methodically dotting the track like spikes protruding from some great writhing beast. Crowds were crammed into makeshift bleachers that lined the raceway, screaming and cheering, some sporting the colors of the various Lower City gangs. Banners flew overhead announcing the various teams, and Avner caught sight of the Hidden Bek's golden and red standard dwarfing many of the others there. The smell of exhaust mixed with the heavy scent of frying foods gave the air an almost acrid taste.

Gadon waved to the shouting masses, offering up smiles while his gang pumped their fists into the air as they passed into the racer's pit. They descended the steps, and Gadon stopped at the entrance. "From here, you're on your own, Avner. Only racers and pit crews are allowed beyond this point, but when you win, I'll meet you in the victor's circle."

He nodded and took in the cheering crowds again. Kriff, it was as if the entirety of Taris had shown up for this opener.

Gadon shook his hand firmly. "May the Force be with you, Avner."