WillowT

"I think Carth is getting antsy."

Avner glanced down at Mission from his perch on the Ebon Hawk's starboard turret. It had taken quite the beating in their escape from Taris weeks earlier, and though a hasty patch job had been performed on Terminus, he had taken it upon himself to properly fix the rotating turret. Mission was acting as his second hand, tossing up any tools he might need and giving him a rundown of how the past month and a half had been for her and everyone else. Zaalbar was her constant shadow, and even Canderous had taken to following the odd duo around while he was off training. And Carth, well Carth…

"Antsy huh?"

"Yeah, I think he doesn't like being left in the dark on so much of your Jedi training."

Avner cranked another screw tighter before applying the welding sealant. "Not exactly my idea; the Council is pretty hush-hush on a lot of things."

"I've tried to tell him that, and so has Bastila, but it's not really doing much to soothe his raging paranoia."

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Avner dutifully tightening the screws along the turret while Mission clambered up behind him and applied the remaining sealant. It was a comfortable quiet that didn't need to be filled with words or small talk. Mission seemed almost older, like she had grown up immeasurably over the past few weeks. Taris still probably weighed heavily on her mind, but she didn't look so angry anymore. Almost as if she had relinquished some of her pain.

"You doing okay?"

His question didn't catch her off guard, and she shrugged a little as she finished her work. "I still think about Taris… I don't think I'll ever stop thinking about it. I grew up there; all of my friends… people I considered family… they're all gone now. Every day I feel like I'm getting a bit better, but then something will remind me of home, a smell or a sound, and I feel like I'm spiraling back down again."

"That's grief, Mission. It's not something that can be ignored, or you'll never properly move past it. What you're experiencing is completely normal, considering what you've been through."

"I know… or at least think I do. I can still go on, though! I'm still a part of this team!"

Avner chuckled and nudged her. "Of course, you are, Vao. Who else is going to splice into locked computer systems on the fly, Carth?"

She laughed along with him. "Oh, Force, no! He might be more useless than Bastila in that regard." She quieted for a second, then considered him thoughtfully. "You were right, ya know?"

"About what?"

"Bastila… I still don't really like her, and I'm pretty sure she's just a synth droid covered in human skin, but it wasn't her fault that Taris… well, the Sith were the ones that destroyed my world. I always knew they were bad news and all, but I guess I never really considered them to be truly evil, but the reality of what they did kind of slaps you in the face." She was rhythmically twisting the sealant between her fingers, completely lost in thought.

"They're not all evil, Mission. Good and bad exist in everyone," Avner reminded gently.

"I know… it's just hard to see the good in someone who follows a man who is so clearly messed up. I don't want what happened to Taris to happen to any other world! I guess…" Mission let out a short exhale before continuing. "Look, I'm with you till the end, okay? If you need my help, then I'll be there, like how you were there for me and Big Z on Taris."

He blinked in surprise at the strong conviction in her voice. He didn't have the heart to tell her he might never see her again when he finally departed Dantooine and returned to his old unit. If he ever returned to them. So instead, he offered her his trademark crooked grin and nudged her again. "I'll keep that in mind, Vao."

A flurry of footsteps descended down the Ebon Hawk's ramp, and Carth appeared at the bottom. The pilot took one look at them, or perhaps more specifically at him, and abruptly marched back up the ramp. Avner glanced at Mission, who just shrugged.

"I told you he was feeling antsy. Maybe you should go talk to him."

Even though the Kiffar was pretty sure he was the last person Carth wanted to see, he nodded and jumped from the turret. Besides, who else would check in on the other man, Mission? No, he couldn't send a child to do something he really should. So he ducked inside the Ebon Hawk and found his fellow soldier in the cockpit with Teethree, who whistled happily at his arrival. Avner patted the astromech's dome and took a seat.

"What?" Carth asked stiffly, not even bothering to glance up from his work.

"Nothing. Just checking in with you. I haven't been able to touch base much since… well, since we landed here," Avner replied casually.

"Did Bastila send you in her place to argue some more with me?"

He quirked a brow up at the other man and shook his head. "No, but I am always up for a good fight."

"So I've seen, or rather not seen since we've come here," Carth bit back, and Avner frowned.

"Carth, it was never my idea to cut you out about what's happening with the Jedi. If I had something to tell you, I would, but the Council keeps me in the dark as much as they do you."

The other man deflated a bit at his words and shook his head. "Yeah, I-I know that it's just… I don't trust easily."

"So you've said."

"I have my reasons," Carth defended himself, but not wholeheartedly.

"Which are?"

The older man was silent, and Avner rubbed his head in clear exasperation.

"If we're going to continue working together, then you have to give a little, Carth, to get something in return."

The pilot still looked stubborn but didn't resist any further. "Damn it. You're right; I suppose I won't get anywhere until I explain my side of things." He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "A few years ago, the Jedi had just finished the war with the Mandalorians. Revan and Malak were heroes, and I was damn proud to have served in their fleet."

"You served with Revan and Malak?"

"Of course, many in the military had. Revan had all but left the Order during the war and signed onto the Army. He was a great military commander and an even better leader. Which is why it was completely unexpected when they turned on us, invading the Republic while we were still weak. Nobody knew what to think, least of all me." He stared out the front viewport and exhaled. "Our heroes, the very people we had fought and bled beside, had become brutal, conquering Sith… and we were helpless before them. Now, do you understand? If you can't even trust the best the Jedi and the Republic had to offer, then who can you trust?"

Avner only nodded silently, not sure if he could conjure any words that would adequately placate the pilot.

"But it's not just them. There were… there were others. Good, solid, trusted men and women who joined them. Malak, Revan, and the Sith deserve to die for what they've done… but the ones who fled the Republic and joined them are even worse! The Dark Side or whatever bullshit the Order spews had nothing to do with why they joined the Sith! They deserve no mercy!" The anger was back, but it was not directed at him. Carth's brown eyes flashed, and his lower lip trembled dangerously in pure rage, fists clenched so tightly on his lap that the skin was stretched white over his knuckles. He was seeing something that Avner couldn't. Something terrible.

"You really hate them, don't you?"

His voice brought Carth back to reality, and the older man slumped in his seat, all the fight drained from his body. "I-I guess I do. This hate has been what has driven me for the past few years. I've hurt many people because of it, and I'm sorry for that… I'm sorry for how I've treated you. I've grown used to expecting the worst from others, it's practically the only thing I look for, but you've done nothing to deserve that."

"It's fine, Carth. It's all in the past."

Carth shook his head. "No, it's not fine. I-I can't keep living like this, but I also can't change. Not right now, not until I-." He cut himself off abruptly and stood. "It doesn't matter. From now on, I'll at least try to give you the benefit of the doubt before I go off."

"I guess that's all I can ask for."

He left Carth aboard the Ebon Hawk and departed for the Enclave. It was still the early morning, the sun just barely halfway to its peak, and most of the Enclave's denizens were in morning sessions or just departing for Outpost Cinder. It left the pathways mostly empty, allowing him to pass quickly through the temple. He emerged from the western entrance, which faced the distant outpost and neighboring farms. Jedi mainly walked the grounds, but a few settlers and off-worlders mingled amongst them. They all wore dusty overalls and thick, durable cargos worn thin from long days filled with hard work, but they all carried smiles and nodded respectfully to the Jedi who passed them.

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! NOT THIS TIME, JEDI!"

Well, most of them did. His attention was drawn to a tall human man with dark eyes and equally dark hair standing before Master Zhar, Bastila, and another Jedi he did not recognize. He approached slowly, giving them all ample opportunity to turn him away, but no one took any notice of him.

"How long can you people continue to sit by and claim you protect us? Are you Jedi or cowards?!" The dark-haired man yelled. He was upset, anger making the cords in his neck strain as he shouted at Master Zhar, who stood by unfazed.

"I am sorry for your loss, Jon, and rest assured I will have someone look into what happened, but for no-."

"Ha! Look into what happened; you really are a joke and a coward, Lestin! You've gone soft, forgotten what it's like out here after sitting safely in your Enclave while we all suffer from the Mandalorians!"

There were a few angry mutters of agreement, and Avner spied a small group of disgruntled people behind Jon. They were all farmers by the looks of it, men and women, human and alien alike, all gathered at the back of the infuriated man staring down the Jedi venomously.

"Please, Jon, take a breat-."

"Don't tell me what to do, Jedi! You have no right after you let those Mandalorian killers go after they butchered your own people! All these deaths today are on your hands!" Jon interrupted as he took a threatening step towards Zhar, hands clenched into quivering fists at his sides.

Avner darted forward and put a firm hand on the man's shoulder. The farmer's blazing eyes immediately snapped in his direction, and he curled his lip up, one fist rising to clearly strike him across the face. But Avner just squeezed tightly, and the other man froze.

"Calm down, sir, and start over from the beginning. Shouting will get you nowhere," Avner ordered, and Jon seemed to simmer down a little at his words. "Now, what's this about Mandalorians?"

"There's a whole band of them that have terrorized this countryside for years now," one woman from the gathered crowd piped up. "They pillage and burn our farms and kill anyone who gets in their way."

"We've told the Jedi about them numerous times and have tried to stop them ourselves, but every time we think we've found their camp, they just vanish without a trace. Then they reemerge several months later and attack again!" An elderly Weequay put in, and he waved his cane around for dramatic effect.

"Earlier this morning, they attacked my farm, and my daughter… m-my daughter was k-killed by those monsters!" Jon spat out, stumbling over his words as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and threatened to spill down his ruddy cheeks. "They came to our land, demanding our livelihood, but Ilsa, my sweet Ilsa… said no… t-then they-." He couldn't finish and hid his face behind one large hand trying in vain to stifle his broken sobs.

Avner released his hold and took a step back. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"I don't need your apologies! I need you, Jedi, to get rid of those murderers and not ignore them like you have for the past three years! First Sasha… and now Ilsa…" Jon turned away and scrubbed furiously at his eyes.

"We need to end this problem, Lestin. It will not resolve itself any other way," the Jedi beside Zhar said. He was an older man hair as white as snow and face lined with many wrinkles. His skin was weathered and tanned, evidence of a life lived long beneath the sun, but he carried himself with the strength of a man still well within his prime.

Jon suddenly whipped back around and tightly grasped the front of Avner's shirt, his eyes nearly manic. "Please, Master Jedi, avenge my daughters and wipe these animals from the face of this planet!"

Avner gently pushed the grieving man's hands away and shook his head. "I'm not a Jedi, sir, just a soldier." Jon's face crumpled, but Avner clapped him on the back. "But I will look into this for you and try to find you some justice." He turned to gaze at the crowd, and his voice took on an impressive timbre. "All of you."

They all murmured and nodded, the heavy anger that had once permeated the air around them dispersing as they wandered off. Two members stepped forward and guided Jon away, who shot the Kiffar one last hopeful look before he left. Avner shook his head and turned back to the other Jedi. Master Zhar and his mysterious companion looked mildly impressed, while Bastila looked incredibly annoyed.

"As a member of the Jedi Order, you can't just volunteer your services without the permission of the Council first, Avner," Bastila said sternly, but Avner only shrugged.

"Except I'm not part of your Order, Shan, so I don't have to run back to the Council and ask nicely before I do something."

She opened her mouth to shoot back a no doubt scathing reply, but Master Zhar held up his hand, silencing her. "The Sergeant is right, Knight Shan. He has no ties to the Order yet, and as such does not require our approval. Do you really plan on pursuing this matter, Sergeant?"

"I do," Avner affirmed. "These people deserve justice, don't you think?"

"Yes, they do, and it has been a long time coming, for them and for us. Jon is right; we can no longer ignore these raiders," Master Zhar agreed. "In fact, I think this investigation will be a suitable test to gauge the progress you have made in your training. My close friend, Jedi Knight Nemo, will assist you however he can."

Master Zhar gestured to the old man beside him, who inclined his head respectfully to Avner. He reciprocated the gesture, and Nemo smiled.

"And Bastila will accompany you."

"What!?" The Princess looked none too pleased with this sudden turn of events, and Avner couldn't help but smirk inwardly. It felt childish, but he couldn't help it, especially after Bastila had returned to giving him the cold shoulder after his sparring stint.

"You will act as an official representative of the Jedi Order. Our database and all of its resources are at your disposal, Knight Shan. Find these killers and stop them," the Battlemaster ordered before he turned and strode back towards the Enclave. Bastila sent the most frigid glare imaginable his way.

He just grinned down at her in the most insufferable way possible. "So, where should we start, partner?"

They found themselves beginning at the destroyed farm of Jon ot Sulem. It was a few klicks east of the Enclave, a small two-story home with the first floor serving more as a garage, while the upper level was a dedicated living quarter. The farm sprawled for several kilometers growing short stalks of sweet-smelling crop, though a quarter of the field was blackened from a previous blaze. Avner stooped down and broke off a charred stalk. It crumbled in his fingers with just the slightest squeeze.

"Yot bean, a favorite crop grown here on Dantooine," Nemo explained as he nodded towards the house. The home was scorched, with its windows broken and the door jammed inwards from what looked like a concussive blast. Avner carefully slipped through the damaged door. Inside was even worse, the first-floor garage had been ransacked, and much of the fire that destroyed the house appeared to have been started down here. Heavy farming machinery and a landspeeder had been reduced to mere smoking husks. Upstairs furniture had been turned over while closets and cupboards were ripped apart in search of hidden valuables. Several blaster burns were scattered across the walls, and a dried patch of blood was pooled in the center of the room. Avner bent down and ran his fingers over a few dried flakes of blood, and images exploded behind his eyelids.

Four heavily armored individuals burst into the room. The light from the rising morning sun was just barely peeking through the windows as they turned over drawers and roughly pulled Jon and a girl, probably in her late teens, from their beds. They were both herded into the main commons and shoved roughly to their knees while a man in armor painted blue and gray stood before them. He was tall and foreboding, with several large knives strapped to his person and a long-barreled blaster pistol, which he pulled free and aimed at Jon's head.

"Your savings, now."

The demand was simple, but Jon found himself unable to answer. He was terrified; Avner could almost palpably feel the fear radiating off him even through these scant memories. He couldn't move, hardly speak, but the towering man before him was still waiting for his answer. Except it was the girl beside him with dark hair and fair eyes who answered in his stead.

"There's nothing here for you, brute! Our earned credits belong to us!"

"Ilsa!" Jon hissed. He had found his tongue, but it was too late. The Mandalorian pointed his pistol at Ilsa and fired once. The poor girl toppled over, her cranium completely blown out, bits of brain and gore spraying over Jon, who couldn't even speak. Horror and crushing agony ripped through the farmer's chest, bubbling up to his lips, but pain exploded across the back of his head before he could scream, and the room went dark.

Avner withdrew his hand and glanced at Nemo, who was rifling through some papers spread around the floor. "There were four assailants."

"The raiders," Nemo murmured, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Who are they? You and Zhar seem to know them."

"They've been a problem for years, one we haven't given the proper time and resources to solve. But since the war with the Mandalorians and, subsequently, the Sith has stretched our numbers thin, many problems have slipped through the cracks," Nemo explained as Bastila came up the stairs from the first-floor garage.

"I found evidence of flamethrowers and concussive blaster fire, but nothing to show us where the raiders headed," Bastila reported.

"There's not much up here either."

"Then we have nothing. They got away just like before," Bastila muttered, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

"Not exactly," Avner said as he stood. "Concussive-grade blaster ammo is hard to come by, even on a well-resourced planet. These raiders must have a dealer or seller from who they're getting their gear. We should ask around some of the vendors at the Outpost. They may know something."

Nemo nodded. "Let's go."

The ride to Outpost Cinder was a quick one. The small settlement was only a mile from the Enclave, nearly visible amongst the flat plains and sparse trees. Duracrete buildings intertwined with wooden bungalows and stout trees lining streets that were just dusty, well-worn pathways snaking around structures. The tallest constructions within the outpost were several freestanding silos several stories high. They cast long dark shadows that the locals lounged within to escape the blazing midday sun. Nemo left him and Bastila to cover the small open-air market while he went to check out a few establishments on his own.

They walked the many different stalls silently, eyes cast in different directions and nearly a foot apart. He wanted to say something to clear the noticeably tense air between them but didn't know where to even start. Should he apologize? What would he even be apologizing for? They both squeezed through a narrow pathway between two vendors, and a stout local pushed past Bastila, knocking her into the Kiffar's side. He reached out to steady her, but she quickly pulled her arm away and took a few hurried steps before him. He sighed and shook his head, lengthening his own stride to easily catch up.

"Alright, what did I do?"

She didn't even turn to look at him, instead purposefully leaning over to inspect the wares of the closest stall as if she was expecting to find a hidden cache of weapons beneath the sweet-smelling herbs that littered the table.

"Really, Bastila? You honestly think the elderly herb seller secretly sells weapons to hardened raiders?" Avner pointed to the aging stall owner, who just offered them a kind, toothless smile.

"Looks can be deceiving," she huffed back and continued walking.

"You know, if you're going to fight me at every turn, then you might as well go find Nemo and search with him," Avner grumbled as he did a quick once over of a market booth trading farm tools.

"Master Zhar said I had to keep an eye on you."

This time, he did stop her. He stepped in front of her path, and she had no choice but to halt and look up at him. They have found themselves in a deserted side alley, the muffled murmurs of the crowds beyond them just brushing their ears. "No, Lestin said to help me, not monitor."

"It was implied," she snarked back and stepped around him.

"Why?" He grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn around.

"Why what?" She snapped as she ripped her arm free and took a step away.

"Why do I need to be watched? You afraid I'm going to do something?"

"No, but every young, untrained Force-sensitive needs some type of supervision to ensure they don't hurt anyone."

He took a step forward, and Bastila stepped back. "You think I'll hurt someone." It was not a question but a statement, and the Jedi narrowed her eyes.

"No."

"Yes, you do. I've seen the way you look at me, how your masters look at me like you're all waiting for me to snap or something. You're scared of me," Avner murmured as he moved closer just as Bastila's back hit the wall of the building behind her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, her voice dropping to mimic his volume. He stooped a bit lower so that his forehead was nearly touching hers. Her pupils were blown, the black nearly swallowing the gray hole, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her hand moved slightly, and Avner idly wondered if she was grabbing for her lightsaber strapped to her right leg.

"You're lying."

She didn't break his gaze, and Avner was impressed. "Jedi don't lie, and we aren't scared of anything."

"You looked frightened after my sparring match with Belaya. Ever since then, you've been avoiding me. Why?"

Bastila's lips thinned into a hard line, and her gray eyes flashed almost dangerously.

"Fancy catching you two here, all cozy-like."

Avner wanted to curse when Mission Vao's voice washed over them abruptly, breaking whatever moment they had found themselves in. He was sure he was close to dragging something out of Bastila, but the answers had yet again slipped through his fingers like the Jedi who had slid out from the wall and was now approaching the plucky teenager and her Wookie shadow.

"We're on official Jedi business, Mission. What are you doing here?" Bastila asked stiffly.

Mission rolled her eyes flippantly. "Didn't look like official or Jedi business from where I'm standing."

"Mission," the Jedi ground out, and the young girl held up her hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, it was only a joke, sheesh." She hooked a thumb back at Zaalbar, who growled a greeting as Avner came to stand in front of them. "Me and Big Z were just taking in the sights. Can only spend so much time cooped up on the Hawk before you start to go a little stir-crazy."

"As long as you're not shaking down the locals," Bastila muttered while she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Well, I'd never! Perish the thought! Whoever gave you the-."

"Carth told me all about the little escapades you got up to," Bastila deadpanned, and Mission frowned.

"That was told in the strictest confidence. Gosh, if you can't rely on the pilot, then who can you trust?" She looked back at Big Z for support, and the Wookie only shrugged. "So, what are you two doing out here?"

"I already told you, Mission, we're on a mission for the Jedi."

"Scouting out some ordnance used by some Mandalorian raiders," Avner said at the same time as Bastila, and she shot him a glare.

"Avner!"

"What? They're a part of our team; why can't they know?"

"Yeah, Bastila." Mission drew out the syllables in the Jedi's name in a pitchy sing-song voice and mimicked his question. "We're a part of the team. Why can't we know?"

If looks could kill, then Avner would be buried six feet under.

"I don't have time for this." She stormed past them and back out onto the street.

"Yeesh, what's eating her?" Mission asked as she watched the Jedi stalk away.

"What isn't," Avner grunted back and followed her slowly. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Bastila had disappeared, and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He wanted to improve things between them but just didn't know how. How was he supposed to fix a mistake he didn't even know he had made? It was infuriating! They scouted around a few more stalls, Mission chatting it up with the locals like she had lived on Dantooine her whole life. Avner was impressed with the kid's resourcefulness and the ease at which she could adapt to suit whatever situation she found herself in. She almost reminded him of what he had been like at her age.

"So what kind of ordnance are you looking for?" She asked as they cooled their heels in the shadows of one of the massive silos.

"Grade III Concussive blast ammo, maybe Grade II," Avner replied.

"You don't say," Zaalbar growled lowly, and Avner looked up at the Wookie in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say Big Z and I may have talked with an individual who may or may not have the stuff you're looking for," Mission revealed.

"How did you find this person?"

Mission shrugged. "I was looking for a new blaster pistol since mine is getting pretty rusty. Turns out you need a license and need to be of a proper age to buy a gun on the open market. So Z and I talked to a few off-the-beaten-path vendors who introduced us to a gent who sells weapons to anyone, regardless of age, background, or whatever."

"And your sure this person has the ammo?"

"Well, not exactly. I never actually saw the stuff, but he's probably your best bet at finding some."

The familiar rush of excitement at finding a possible lead welled up inside of the soldier, and he beamed down at the Twi'lek. "You two are something else, you know that?"

Mission waved him off. "Oh please, it was mere child's play."

"Find Bastila and tell her what you know. Then meet back at the market."

"Shouldn't you tell her?"

Avner frowned and shook his head. "I'm the last person she wants to see right now."

"Yeah, well, she's the last person I want to see right now," Mission groused.

"Mission," Zaalbar growled sternly, and the Twi'lek ducked her head.

"Alright, alright, we'll go get her. Where are you going?"

"To find Nemo."

He found the Jedi on the edge of the outpost watching the people come and go. He looked at peace, almost contemplative, like he was trying to memorize the scene before it disappeared altogether. Avner came to stand beside the older man.

"It is good, sometimes, to stop and reflect on the beauty of nature and the Force," Nemo murmured before Avner could say anything. "Especially in these dark times, it is like a balm for the soul."

They were quiet for a few minutes, the soldier unwilling to interrupt the older Jedi's calm, so he just stood with him. Avner closed his eyes and let his senses wander outwards. His mind floated amongst the simple settlers, the ease of their thoughts allowing him to drift along like a leaf on top of a sluggish stream. There was little fear or anger within them, their lives uncomplicated by the war raging parsecs away, a distinct difference from the terror and abject misery he had experienced on Taris. It was all warm here.

However, a taint of sadness hung in the air, drawing Avner back to reality. "A possible lead has come up on our ordnance."

Nemo sighed but nodded. "Good. I have discovered nothing, so I'm glad you have."

"It's not substantiated, but it's a good place to start," Avner said as they began to walk back towards the market.

"The sooner we find these raiders, the better for everyone."

They walked in silence for a while before Avner turned to the Jedi. "What did Jon mean when he said you've been ignoring this problem for three years now? What happened three years ago?"

Nemo didn't answer him immediately. Instead, the older man looked like he was taking a second to center himself before replying. "Three years ago is when they first arrived on Dantooine. They slipped in on a refugee transport; many came at that time fleeing the Sith and hid out on the Khoonda plains. No one even knew they were here until they started attacking farms. The Jedi sent out a team to deal with them. We only got one before they escaped."

"We? You were on that team?"

Nemo nodded sadly. "Yes. They went silent for months after that, and we all thought they had fled off-planet, but then one morning, a group of our Younglings was ambushed on the way back from a training exercise. They-." Nemo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "T-they were all slaughtered, revenge for us killing one of their own. We tried to find them… I tried to, but with Revan and Malak nearly beating down our door, resources and attention was drawn elsewhere. So they escaped, and no one has been able to find them since."

Avner didn't know what to say to help ease the other man's guilt, so he instead firmly clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll find them, Nemo."

The human smiled morosely. "I hope so."

They found Mission, Zaalbar, and Bastila in the middle of the market, and after filling in Nemo, Mission led them to a small, nondescript building on the far edge of the outpost. It was made from chipped permacrete, and a faded sign written in Basic hung over the entrance: Sadiq's Emporium. Inside was a mess of shelves cluttered high with miscellaneous wares and rusting tools. A gangly man with thinning hair sat behind a low counter, flipping through a dated flimsi zine of Hot Ships. He didn't even acknowledge their presence until Bastila tapped on the counter.

"Welcome to Sadiq's Emporium, where if you can think it, I can supply it," the man intoned dully while not looking up from his zine.

"How about some Grade III Concussive blast rounds," Avner asked, and the man glanced up from his reading. He blinked his owlish eyes twice as if a bit shocked to see so many people in his store at once and sat up a bit more.

"I don't carry that kind of ordnance," he said, then reached under his counter and produced several boxes of Grade IV Serrated ammo. "I do, however, have several other selections that may be to your liking."

Avner shook his head and watched from the corner of his eye as Mission snuck around the counter and disappeared into the back. "I'm looking for that ammo specifically and the Mandalorians you've sold it to."

Sadiq, for his part, did not look rattled. Instead, he gave them all an incredulous look and laughed. "Mandalorians? What Mandalorians? They were all wiped out at Malachor V or turned tail and ran back to Wild Space. There are no Mandalorians here."

A twinge sparked across Avner's mind at the mention of Malachor V, but he ignored it. He leaned over Sadiq, his impressive height allowing him to tower over the smaller man whose laughter died in his throat. "Maybe you should tell that to the farmers who have had their homes burned down. There was evidence that concussive rounds were used, and a source says you're the only person who sells such ordnance."

Sadiq gulped but held his ground. "I don't know where you get your sources from, but I am a respectable businessman who wouldn't dream of selling ammo outlawed in much of known space."

"Like Grade II Concussive rounds? You were right, by the way," Mission said as she emerged from the back of the store and dumped the ammo on the counter. Sadiq looked back and forth between Mission and the ordnance sitting in front of him, his mouth opening and closing sporadically in a damn fine impression of a fish.

"Well I-I don't know where… I would never-."

"Save it, Mr. Sadiq. We're not here to shut down your operation; we only want to know who you've sold this to," Nemo interrupted the stammering man, who ducked his head at the older Jedi's stern tone.

"I… I can't tell you," he supplied weakly. "Or they'll kill me!"

"We come with the full authority of the Jedi Order, Mr. Sadiq, and rest assured it is a lot more formidable than several Mandalorians playing crusader," Bastila said, her gray eyes flashing harshly, making the shopkeeper shrink under her hard gaze. "Now, unless you want to be held as an accomplice to their crimes…"

"Okay, yes, I've sold it to only one group, but I didn't know they were Mandalorians, I swear!"

"How could you not know they weren't, what with the armor and everything?" Mission chipped in from her spot next to Zaalbar.

"They never come in their armor, only dressed as farmers. In the beginning, that's what I thought they were, honest! A man and a Devaronian female would come in with a kid and buy what they needed, then leave, no questions asked," Sadiq explained hurriedly. "I started getting a bad feeling about them and tried to back out, but they threatened to kill me if I ever did so…"

"You said a child was with them?"

Sadiq nodded. "Yeah, a girl. Weird little thing, she never spoke and followed them around like a trained dog."

"Do you have any way of communicating with them? Or do you know where they are?" Avner asked.

"No, but they come in almost every three months to trade and stock up on supplies. In fact, if my calculations are correct, they should be making a supply run any day now."

"Good, here's what you're going to do, Sadiq," Nemo began as he pulled a comm free and handed it over to the other man. "You're going to comm us the second they arrive, and don't let them leave until we get here. You do this, and the Order may reconsider turning you over to the proper authorities for search and seizure. Understood?"

Sadiq nodded his head swiftly. "Perfectly."

"Good man," Nemo said. "We'll be waiting for your call."

They left Sadiq's rundown shop and returned to their speeder. Nemo turned to address both him and Bastila before he left. "I'll inform Zhar of our progress and regroup with you when Sadiq calls. Thank you both for your help in this matter." He then turned and bowed to both Mission and Zaalbar. "And to you two as well."

They watched his speeder until Mission turned and gave them a mischievous grin. "So, what do you two have planned for the rest of the day?"

"Training," Bastila replied before Avner could.

"Pffft, boring. Don't you ever do anything else?"

"A Jedi must always be-."

"Yup, sounds fascinating; what about you, Avner?" Mission asked as she looked eagerly up at him.

"He'll be training," the Jedi said, staring down at Mission sternly.

"Let the man answer, Synth."

"Synth?!?"

Avner shrugged. "Not much. Why, what do you have something in mind?"

"Well," Mission started before beckoning him to follow. "Big Z and I met the most… fascinating woman earlier today before we ran into you two, who just so happens to be offering a substantial reward in finding her beloved friend."