The Wandering One exited hyperspace, the sandy, mountainous terrain of Ryloth stretching across the forward viewport. He had postponed a meeting with Smarts to come here, and he hoped it would be worth it. When Captain Yalla died and he took command of The Wandering One, the only crewman Jarvis really trusted to stick by him was his new first officer—the former navigator—Relka. He hoped to change that on Ryloth.

As traffic control cleared him to land and Jarvis approached the spaceport, he knew that his task might be difficult, but then again, there aren't many places on Ryloth where a dishonored Twi'lek like Zal Marrick was welcomed. He knew it had been Zal's lifelong dream to make it to his people's homeworld, and he hoped that Zal had done so.

Switching to repulsorlifts as it entered into the atmosphere, The Wandering One glided into the spaceport on the twilight rim of Ryloth. Leaving Relka in command to supervise the unloading of what little cargo they had managed to find on such short notice, Jarvis set out with the rest of the crew, and sent them along Ryloth's twilight rim of barely habitable space to ask around. The crew still didn't trust him, he knew, but he had to trust them, at least for the time being.

Three Days Later

It had been three days, the dock fees were mounting, the crew was even more disgruntled than usual, and Jarvis had had no luck in finding his long lost friend. Even Relka was getting impatient, and Jarvis had to admit that they all had good reason. But he couldn't give up; Zal was on Ryloth somewhere, and Jarvis would find him. And until that happened, they weren't going anywhere.

"Capt'n, we got a little excitement brewing outside," Relka said, breaking into Jarvis' thoughts.

Jarvis looked out the viewport, watching as a hooded figure ran toward The Wandering One, three police chasing after him. Jarvis ran for the access ramp, lowering it and quickly stepping outside before even had time to touch the ground. He stood firmly in front of the ramp, his hand stuck inside his coat and ready to pull out his blaster if needed. The hooded figure came to an abrupt halt just in front of Jarvis, and through the small opening Jarvis could see a shadowed, lightly scarred, Twi'lek face.

"Zal?" Jarvis said, then the police were there. One tackled the hooded figure, another taking out a stun stick and stabbing him several times.

"That'll teach you to run away!" One of them exclaimed, kicking the downed Twi'lek.

"Zal, is that you?" Jarvis asked again.

"Slaves don't have names, Ryn," One of the police responded. "Now, I suggest you get out of here before you do something stupid."

Jarvis realized his hand was still stuck inside his jacket, and withdrew it slowly, careful to give the police no reason to add one more unwanted Ryn to the list they probably had going.

"I must see this slave's master," Jarvis said sternly, following behind the three police.

"And why is that?" The largest one asked, turning around to stop Jarvis from following.

Jarvis smiled. "I want to buy his slave." Zal turned around, and Jarvis gave him a quick wink.

"Oh, yeah? Well, this is his final offence; his master's planning to execute him tomorrow."

Jarvis' eyes grew wide with shock. "Well," He began uncertainly, "maybe I could work something out with his master, so he could be rid of him, and have a few more credits to jingle around."

"And what's in it for us?""

Jarvis stared at the large police officer for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. "A hundred credits, each, just to let me follow you to his master's house."

The three police started laughing, the bigger one taking a step forward and looking for a moment like he was going to give Jarvis a beating. "You're going to have to do better than that!" The big one exclaimed, taking another step forward.

"That's all I have!" Jarvis exclaimed, angry that the stupid police wouldn't take such a generous offer.

"Well, that's too bad for you."

"Slave! Get over here. Now!" A fat, old Twi'lek said, hobbling forward and pointing at Zal.

Jarvis smiled again. "Gentlemen, never mind. Thank you for your time," He added mockingly, stepping around them and walking toward the newly arrived Twi'lek. He extended his hand to the fat old man. "I'm Captain Jarvis Ragnar of The Wandering One."

The Twi'lek sneered at Jarvis' outstretched hand. "What do you wan?"

"Your slave, there. I have a thousand credits."

"You said you only had three hundred!" The big policeman said, walking over toward Jarvis. "You lied to us!"

"I have three hundred designated for paying off stupid oafs," Jarvis said loudly. "I have a total of a thousand."

The fat Twi'lek laughed harshly. "Are you kidding me? I'd pay to see him die; actually, I am about to pay to see him die!"

"Surely there's something I could do! Something worth his life?"

"Well, when you put it like that, there is one thing, though I don't see how a creature such as yourself could be of any help." The Twi'lek paused for a moment, then continued. "I have a nephew who set out for the Astral Astoria a year or so ago, seeking fame and fortune. It would seem he got himself into a bit of trouble, and is being held there indefinitely. I would be willing to trade this worm for him," He said, smacking Zal with his walking cane. "Of course, I find it hard to believe that a Ryn would have any pull in—"

"He'll be here within the week," Jarvis said, cutting off the Twi'lek, who's face contorted in outrage at being silenced by a Ryn. But the old man nodded satisfactorily, then pulled out a leash, latched it to a collar Zal had been hiding beneath his cloak, and led him away.

Two Days Later

"I've done it, Jarvis; he'll be on his way by tomorrow," Jemmiel said over the holocomm. "But this is it; we're even now. I could have been fired for what I had to do to get him cleared to leave, and if I ever do anything like that again, I will be."

Jarvis thought about reminding her that she was always welcome onboard The Wandering One, but thought better of it and just said, "Thanks, this means more than you know." He flashed her a quick smile and then turned off the public terminal. Yes, the fees were [I]definitely[I] adding up.

He walked down the street, going to tell Zal's master that everything was in place, and planning to get Zal then. But when he arrived, the fat Twi'lek wouldn't hear of it. "I'll not part with that slave until my nephew is in my house, eating at my table."

Outraged, Jarvis headed back to the terminal where he contacted Jemmiel again, grimacing as he thought about how many of the few credits he had left he was spending. Jemmiel's image appeared almost instantly, looking rather annoyed. "What is it, and hurry up."

"Change of plans; I need to pick up the prisoner and escort him myself. And if it would be possible, could you try to secure me some cargo bound for Ryloth? This little excursion of mine is costing me a good bit of money, and I need to try to minimize my losses."

Jemmiel stared at Jarvis over the holocomm, an unbelieving look on her face. "You're serious? You're serious! I should throw that prisoner out an airlock, you filthy . . ." She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as she lowered her head, ashamed. "Jarvis, I'm so sorry."

He stared back at her with an iron mask of emotionless detachment, but his voice couldn't hide his hurt. "Just see what you can do; I'll be there shortly."

The Exchange

Jarvis had made his pickup, and out of sheer shame, Jemmiel had decided to see what she could do to help. It wasn't much, but it was a start towards making back the money he had spent over the last week. He left the crew and went—his Twi'lek prisoner on a leash much like Zal's—to Zal's master's house. It could easily be called a mansion, with multiple stories and a small courtyard, and looked quite out of place in the barren interior of the Rylothean city. Jarvis met the Twi'lek master in the middle of the courthouse, beside a small fountain.

"Give him to me," The old Twi'lek said, one of his servants pulling out a blaster and pointing it at Jarvis.

"And what about Zal?" Jarvis asked, holding tightly to the leash he had bought for this meeting.

"Slaves have no names, but this one will be executed, as planned," The Twi'lek master responded.

"I don't think so," Relka said, stepping through a side entrance to the courthouse, a blaster rifle aimed at the lying Twi'lek. They all looked over at the newcomer, which gave Jarvis a chance to reach into his pocket and take out a small spherical object.

"Relka, what are you doing here?" Jarvis asked impatiently, holding the thermal detonator up so everyone could see it. "Do you have any idea how much one of these costs these days?" He said rhetorically as he stared at the old Twi'lek. "I'd hate to waste such a valuable device on someone a worthless as you, but if I'm going to die here, we're all going to die here." He activated the thermal detonator, and it began beeping loudly. "Ten seconds to make a decision."

The Twi'lek grunted, then grabbed Zal's collar roughly and jabbed it with a key device. The collar fell off, and Zal ran over to Jarvis, a bewildered look crossing his face. Jarvis deactivated the detonator, and with Relka covering him, he retreated out of the courthouse, leaving the Twi'lek prisoner where he was.

Back on the ship, Zal looked at Jarvis skeptically. "Why did you do that for me?" He asked in a harsh, gravelly voice.

"You're the family I can trust," Jarvis said simply, smiling as he did so. "You stuck with me in the worst of times, when pain and hunger seemed to be the only two certainties. I've never forgotten that; I never will."

"The family you can trust," Zal repeated happily, the briefest smile covering his harsh features.

"Well, we'll be a little early, but there's someone . . .or something . . .arrgh, whatever! . . . that I'd like you to meet. Set course for the planet Varn, best possible speed."

Immediately Following the escape from Varn
(Escape from Varn found here)

"Where are we?" Jarvis asked, worried. "Where are we?" He asked again when no one would answer.

"Uh, a planet called Phaeda," Ferril said, sounding a little uncertain.

"Well, what kind of planet is it?"

"The kind you don't want to be at for long," The Ubese said.

"And you!" Jarvis said, sticking his finger in the Ubese's face. "Don't you think it's about time to tell us your name, at least?"

"No."

"Look, you; I'm in charge here, and I want you to tell me your name, or you can stay on that filthy world when we leave. I can't work with someone I don't trust, and I can't trust someone that won't even tell me their name."

"Then I guess I'll be finding myself another job."

Jarvis sat down, rubbing his eyes and trying not to curse. "Someone take us in," He grumbled finally, and Zal jumped over to the controls and started for the planet.

"I've been digging through some files I found on the computer, boss, and I think I've figured out most of the modifications," Zal said, sounding a little proud of himself.

"While you were taking a nap, I told him how the systems work," The Ubese said, somehow managing to sound annoyed, even through his mask.

"Yeah, well, I read some, too," Zal responded.

"I showed you what to read."

"But I still read it!"

"Both of you, shut up," Jarvis called out. "So, any sugestions?"

"We get ourselves a real nav computer, one that does its own calculations" Zal said.

"I told him that one too," The Ubese groaned.

"That'd be great," Jarvis responded, "but we don't have any money."

"I do. Too bad I'm not welcome on your ship."

"Tell you what; you get us a nav computer, and you can stay as long as you want."

"So now I have to buy your trust? No thanks. Besides, the only reason I'm here is because you needed my father's help."

"Maybe so, but can't we make the most of the situation?"

The Ubese turned and left the room, entering one of the cramped rooms at the back of the bridge and closing the door.

"We could rent someone's hyperdrive; get them to plot the course, then feed us the numbers," Zal said decidedly.

"He told you that too, didn't he?"

"No."

"Yes, he did," Ferril said, flashing Zal an apologetic frown. "All I know is, if I left Varn to get stuck on this mudball, I'll shoot you, Brother."

Yeah, we're going to have a great time.


On the surface


They were sitting in a grubby corner of a local cantina; most of them were, anyway. The Ubese had followed them, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he was standing nearby, propped against a wall, close enough to hear them but far enough that he didn't look like part of the group.

"Care to join us?" Jarvis asked, trying to sound sincere.

"No"

"Oh, that's nice of you. Well, Jim—can I call you Jim?—you look a little lonely, and we have another seat. I promise Zal will be nice. So, how about it?"

"No, to both questions."

"Anyway," Ferril cut in, hoping to divert any conflicts before they began, "do we have a plan, or are we just getting something to drink? Because I don't drink unless I know what I'm doing."

"They're here; play dead," The Ubese said, sliding along the wall to get a little farther away from the group.

"What?" Jarvis turned around, and saw three tough-looking humans step into the cantina, Cavrilhu Pirate badges on their shoulders. "What?" He said again, the sound of unbelief replacing his previous confusion.

"Oh, no," Zal said, realization dawning. "We only had four options, and they knew what those four were," He said as he repositioned himself to be able to get to his blaster easier.

"What was that 'play dead' stuff about?" Ferril asked as he slipped his hand into his jacket.

"Nonsense," Zal responded.

One of the Cavrilhu looked over into the corner, then nudged one of his companions and pointed at Jarvis' table. Zal, the only one at the table that was facing the room, saw the first pirate bringing up his blaster, and dove out of his seat, sliding across the floor and pulling out his blaster, firing madly at the pirates. Jarvis twisted in his seat, sinking down to the floor and pulling out his blaster, hiding behind the booth's half-wall and poking his head out to take a few shots. Ferril fell down and hid under the table.

Jarvis and Zal had dropped two of the three quickly, but the third had managed to find some decent cover, and three more pirates rushed into the room as soon as the first blaster went off.

A bright flash streaked by, and Jarvis looked into the opposite corner to see the Ubese standing in the shadows, two dead Cavrilhu at his feet. "Back door," He said, "hurry up. And I told you to 'play dead', not 'get killed.'" Zal got into a crouching position, covering Jarvis and Ferril as they ran to the corner. Then the four ran out the back door, and the Ubese took out two pirates at the end of the alley with a flurry of blaster bolts. "Hurry!" He dashed down the alley, weaving his way through the congested heart of the city, making his way toward the spaceport. The others followed, almost losing him several times, as he was running very quickly.

Finally, they made it to the spaceport, and snuck past a group of ten or so more pirates.

"Wow, who'd you guys tick of before I came along?" Ferril asked, sounding a little impressed.

"It's what we did after you came along," The Ubese responded. "The blastboat we stole was the personal vessel of one of the Cavrilhu's senior officers. I looked it up on the ship's computer while we were on our way here. We rattled the big guy's cage when we picked that ship to take."

"He shouldn't have made it so appealing if he wanted to keep it," Zal said excitedly as the group cautiously rounded another corner in the spaceport, looking around to make sure there weren't any Cavrilhu nearby.

"What do we do now?" Ferril asked as they reached the last corner, and all that remained between them and their ship was a wall and about fifty pirates.

"Jim, give Zal your cloak. Ferril and I will go scrounge up some mechanic stuff and pass as maintenance workers. There looking for a Ubese, a Twi'lek, and two Ryn. Even when humans are looking for Ryn, they still ignore us as long as we aren't with anybody else, and a lone Ubese is common in a scum-infested place like this; no offence intended."

"No offence you could give could change the way I feel about you, so don't worry about being nice."

"What next?" Zal asked as he stretched his arm out to take the Ubese's cloak.

"Well, I've still got that thermal detonator." Jarvis peeked around the corner, taking in the surroundings. "Jim, you make your way over to that YT freighter on this side of the blastboat. Ferril and I will act like we're heading for that hodgepodge piece of trash on the far side of the blastboat; it looks like its owner is cheap enough to hire two Ryn mechanics. Zal, you swing around the spaceport and make sure none of the pirates get to their grounded fighters, the ones in the distance there."

"I'll go for the fighters," The Ubese said sternly. "I'll take one of them and slag the rest. It's for the best; I can't stand you guys anyway."

"We've still got a problem with hyperspace coordinates," Ferril said sadly.

"We'll steal an astromech, and hope he's got some decent coordinates in him."

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"You'll still have to come with us, Jim," Jarvis pointed out. "You won't have a nav computer either; just another set of coordinates, probably the same ones we have."

"I guess I can put up with you guys for a little while longer, if it gets me off this rock alive."

"Okay, then. After I drop the detonator, Zal and I will take out the rest of the pirates in the area. Jim will handle the fighters, and Ferril will grab the astromech from that scrap heap of a freighter. Sounds like a plan."

The Ubese that had come to be known as Jim, despite his objections, turned to Ferril and handed him a handful of crdits. "I only steal from thieves; give this to the captain when you take his droid." Then he nodded at Jarvis and ran off, looking for an easy way to get to the fighters without being noticed. Jarvis and Ferril went scrounging around for two sets of mechanics clothes, and Zal started strolling over to his position. By the time they found their clothes, the other two were in place. They scurried across the bay, talking nonsense to each other to look like they were distracted, bumping into a few of the Cavrilhu on "accident," and somewhere in there, dropping a small silver orb.

The detonator exploded a few seconds later, and Zal ran forward, pulling a blaster rifle out from under his borrowed cloak as Jarvis spun around, dropping to a crouch and revealing two blaster pistols. Ferril kept going, only now at a run, and ran into the opened ship, threatening the captain at gunpoint and taking his astromech, tossing the handful of credits as he left.

Jim had his own problems, but finally managed to get one of the Preybirds off the ground, and unleashed a terrible volley of laserfire that turned the others into little more than scrap.

The others boarded their blastboat with the droid, and took off quickly, Jim just ahead in his faster craft. Zal seemed to have gotten used to the Blastboat's unique controls, and adjusted the modified wing assembly for combat as soon as the ship was off the ground.

Ferril started to work on the astromech, having a little trouble getting it to cooperate, while Jarvis got in the laser turret, ready to cover their escape.

As they made their way toward the edge of the gravity field, Ferril was still having trouble with the astromech, and a squadron of Cavrilhu Preybirds finally caught up with them. Jarvis unleashed a hail of laserfire, but the fighters hung back far enough that they had enough time to evade the incoming fire.

"Get ready with the turret," Jim said over the comm as he slowed down and pulled beside the blastboat. "Watch this," He added as a concussion missile streaked from his fighter's aft launcher, then another two seconds later.

The first torpedo missed its target, arcing around to make another approach. Jarvis unleashed a flurry of shots from the turret, catching one Preybird and blasting off its wing, sending it spinning out of control. The second missile caught its target, which had moved to avoid Jarvis' fire only to expose itself to the incoming missile. As the first missile came back around, the enemy pilot maneuvered to make it slingshot around him, where he could blast it out of the sky, but Jarvis cut his maneuver short with a wall of fire, and the pilot reversed course, only to be caught squarely by the missile.

The remaining nine fighters were attacking the blastboat by now, disregarding their previous tactic of hanging back to avoid fire, which obviously didn't work. Unfortunately, they had lost track of Jim, who fell in behind them and managed to take two of them out before they scattered, finally realizing what was happening. Jarvis took out another as they scattered, bringing their number down to 6.

"Got it!" Ferril exclaimed suddenly, and jumped over to the copilot's console to transmit the coordinates to Jim. "We're ready boss!"

"Go!" Jarvis yelled as he kept up his screen of laserfire. Jarvis was vaguely aware of Jarvis' Preybird leaping into hyperspace a second before them, then the stars screamed by, and he once again felt safe.


Finally, a Little Peace and Quiet


It was a nice, out-of-the-way planet, with gentle breezes and calm skies: Jarvis couldn't wait to get off of it. But a break was overdue. He was lying on top of the blastboat, staring at the stars, remembering the friends he'd lost, and the friends he'd gained. Zal's head popped out of the open access panel Jarvis had used to get on top of the ship, and said, "Boss, Jim's on his way back; looks like he's got something for us."

Jim. That dirty Ubese still hadn't told them his name. Jarvis got up reluctantly, climbing into the cramped space and sealing the hatch behind him.

He stepped into the cramped bridge just in time to see Jim enter. He was carrying what looked like several ship components in a bag. "Well, you said if I got you a decent nav computer, I could stick around for as long as I want. Here you go." He set the bag down, opening it and pulling out several parts. "Ferril, you want to try to figure out how to integrate this with the existing nav computer?"

"S-sure," He said, exited at the concept of exploratory surgery on a ship's computer. "Sounds like fun."

Jarvis tried not to smile, but couldn't help himself. "Thanks, Jim."

"About that 'Jim' stuff: my name's Allara," He said, pulling his helmet off.

Zal made a funny face looking at Allara closely. "I know a little about Ubese culture, and Allara isn't—"

Jarvis cut him off. "But your father said—if that even [I]was[/I[ your father—"

"That was my father, and I am not his son."

One, Big, Happy, Family


"This isn't fair; this is just not fair! My crew is made up of some woman, a Twi'lek that can hardly count his own fingers, and a Ryn that's afraid to fight!" Jarvis slammed his hand into the wall, letting out a yelp of pain. He sat down, rubbing his aching knuckles. He had locked himself into one of the small rooms at the back of the blastboat, thinking things through. She lied to us. She lied to us! That filthy, rotten, no-good, sorry—

A beep issued from the door, and Jarvis got up to open it. The door slid aside, and there she was, back in her stupid helmet. "I make no apologies for deceiving you. My father thought you would not have allowed me to come otherwise. I thought, after the events at Phaeda, I could trust you to acknowledge my value to this group; apparently I was mistaken."

"What do you mean?"

"You're very loud, Jarvis, and these walls aren't as thick as you apparently believed them to be; I heard you."

Jarvis' eyes widened in fear and embarrassment. "The others. . . did they—"

"They're working on the hyperdrive; they didn't hear. Fortunate for you, or you'd be losing your entire crew, instead of just one of us."

Jarvis sat down, staring at the floor, trying to work out what to say. "You know," He finally managed, looking up at her, "a lot of stuff's happened over the past few days, and every now and then, you just need to let it all out. You just need a chance to—"

"No!" Allara yelled, stepping forward and taking off her mask, fixing him with a terrifying stare. "You talk about trust, and honor, and family, and bonds that go beyond blood, but you've done nothing but belittle the sacrifices those two made to stick with you. They're being hunted now—we're all being hunted now—because of You, but we've stuck by you, even when it made no sense, even when it meant almost certain death. Never mind me: you owe them your life ten times over by now."

"I don't know where to go; I don't know what to do; all I know is there's a fleet of pirate ships scouring this half of the Outer Rim, and they're all looking for me. I've seen too many good people die already, and the last thing I'm going to do is lead a group of people that can't handle it through the galaxy on a stolen ship."

"We stole this ship together, and as for the three of us, I think we're better suited for this kind of work than you. In case you haven't noticed, Zal's a decent enough pilot, Ferril has shown at least moderate skill as a mechanic, and right now, in the spot you're in, I'm worth more to you than twice my weight in gold. So, do whatever it is you do that's tricked us into following you up until now, and find us something to stick around for, or I'll leave, and take them with me."

Jarvis stood slowly and watched as Allara put her helmet back on. "What's up with that, anyway?" He said, gesturing to her helmet.

"The suit maintains a low-oxygen atmosphere; I wear it as much as possible so my body doesn't adapt to the higher oxygen levels found on most inhabited systems. That means, on the rare occasions that I do breathe standard atmosphere, the increased oxygen levels allow for increased stamina. That's the kind of advantage I'm not willing to give up; besides, as you've realized by now, no one can tell what I look like while I'm in this suit."

Jarvis just stared at her. "That's got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"You guys could barely keep up with me on the way to the spaceport on Phaeda, and I could have ran faster. Anyway, do you have a plan?"

"Of course not, but I do have an idea."

"What's that?"

Jarvis walked out of the room, motioning her to follow. "Zal, Ferril, get in here!" He called as he stepped onto the bridge. "I'm gonna say 'sorry' real nice like, and hope none of you shoot me." They came stumbling out from the engineering compartment a few seconds later, looking a little disappointed when they saw Allara had put her mask back on; she apparently noticed, and gave them a derogatory hand gesture in response. "Alright, children, calm down," He said lightly. "I called you here to apologize. We've faced death together more times in the past week than most people will have to in their whole lives, and that should count for something—that does count for something—and I've forgotten just how much I need you."

"Aw, boss, you aren't about to try to get us killed again, are you," Zal asked.

"We've made it this far because we've stuck together, and watched each other's backs," Jarvis continued, ignoring Zal. "I know we don't always get along, and I'm sure we'll find plenty more things to fight about in the future, but the important thing is that we stick together." Jarvis looked at each of them in turn, lingering for a moment on every face, and said, "We're all we have. This is it: this ship, this crew. There's nothing else. This is the family I can trust, and our bonds run deeper than blood. We've shared something that makes us more than acquaintances; we've shared victory, and we've shared defeat. I'm in this until the end, wherever that may lead. So that's it. That's all I have to say, and all I have to promise."

"Well, that was sweet and all, boss, but I think we all know that I'd be in trouble if I didn't have you around to tell me what to do all the time, so you know I'm in, regardless of how much you suck up to us."

"Brother, you know how hard it is for our kind to find any work at all; feed me and house me, and I'm here until the Core grows."

"I'm in, as long as you all understand that the Preybird's mine."

Jarvis smiled widely. "Okay, then, here's the plan," He said, standing a little taller and feeling for the first time in a long time like there still might be a little hope left in the galaxy. "Technically, we've got room for two more: one in the blastboat and one in the Preybird. But Allara just said we can't mess with the Preybird, and after the little incident a minute ago, it's probably best that she stays as far away from you two as possible, especially if you want to keep all of your teeth." Allara nodded her approval, and Zal and Ferril shrank a little beneath Jarvis' disappointed stare. "Zal, it's time we go get Grennith. For you two who don't know, Grennith's a Rodian that Zal and I made a pact with a long time ago; he's on some Hutt world right now, locked up for bounty hunting without permission, or something dumb like that."

"And what's the plan after that?" Allara asked.

"Well, we've got a little work to do on the ships first, then it'll take us at least a couple hours to get to Nar Kreeta. I should have at least one decent idea by the time we get Gren out of jail."

"How reassuring."


A Little Work To Do


The "little work" that was to be done turned out to be a paint job and a transponder modification. Ferril spent most of the time inside the blastboat and Preybird, trying to find out how to alter the given name on the transponders, while the other three set to work painting names on the two ships. Jarvis and Zal decided to name the blastboat The Wandering One, in memory of their lost freighter and its crew. Allara named her Preybird Fortune's Frown, for reasons she didn't bother to share.

The transponder modification ended up being pretty simple, as long as Ferril didn't try to change the ships' ID codes. He finished his tinkering on the hyperdrive, and they were ready to go.

"Lets hope this works," Zal said uncertainly as he moved the ship into position for the jump.

"Nar Kreeta, here we come," Ferril said as he pressed a button on the console and the two ships vanished into hyperspace.

The Surface of Nar Kreeta, the Grand Chamber of Kerlin the Hutt

The massive, blubbering form of Kerlin the Hutt spoke, and Jarvis cringed slightly at the sound of the horrible language. "His most magnificent Kerlin the Hutt, ruler of the Outer Wastes of the planet Nar Kreeta, bids you speak now," A nervous-sounding protocol droid translated from its position next to the Hutt.

Jarvis took a deep breath, readying himself to say something, when Allara stepped forward a few steps and started talking in Huttese. The two conversed for a few minutes, and at one point, Allara started shouting, and took another—more aggressive—step forward. In the end, she bowed in thanks and turned to look at Jarvis. She walked by, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him after her.

"I didn't know you could speak Huttese."

"You didn't figure out I'm a girl until a day ago. Shows what you know."

"So, what'd he say?"

"He'll give us your friend Grennith, but we've got to do a job for him."

"What? You agreed to a job for a Hutt without even telling me?"

"The Cavrilhu have put a price on your head, Jarvis. If we don't do what Kerlin says, he'll turn you in to the Cavrilhu and collect his reward. Sometimes, the only way to escape the scum of the galaxy is to find someone a little worse, and throw your lot in with him."

They reached their ships a few minutes later, and found Zal sitting outside. "What's going on?"

"Ask Jim," Jarvis said. Allara had forced everyone to agree to call her "Jim" while in public, and maintain the illusion that she was a male. What a weird girl, Jarvis though to himself as he said the worlds.

"We're lifting off in half an hour. There's a convoy of ships leaving orbit in about 45 minutes, and we have to assist in escort duties."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Zal said, still sitting.

"It's headed through a rival Hutt's space, and they're expecting trouble," Allara finished.

"What?" Jarvis said. "You want to die, don't you? And I made you mad enough to want to take me with you."

"Relax; you'll be fine. Besides, I'll be in the Preybird, so you can die, and I can get away." The fact that Jarvis couldn't hear if she was saying that jokingly or not, due to the mechanized sound added by the mask, didn't help Jarvis' confidence any.

"Let's just get this over with," Jarvis said, kicking Zal lightly to get him to stand up.


Hutt convoy, in orbit above Nar Kreeta


"Escort vessels Fortune's Frown and The Wandering One reporting in," Jarvis called over the comm as they joined the convoy above the world.

"What are you talking about, 'reporting in'?" A human voice responded. "This isn't some army your joining, idiot. Just get in line somewhere, and don't do anything stupid."

"Listen, Jarvis: with these people, you have to think of the absolute worst way to do something, then add broken ships and a lot of alcohol, and that's about what you can expect," Allara said over the ship-to-ship comm. "But don't worry, because any trouble we run into will be in just as bad of shape as our guys."

"Get outta my way!" A slurred voice shouted from the comm, and Zal rolled the blastboat over as a small freighter careened by, one of its sublight drives sputtering on- and off-line.

"Ferril, watch the sensors!" Zal growled as he rolled back around to avoid a flight of starfighters that came speeding by.

"I was watching the sensors; that stupid ship was flying in something's sensor shadow, and popped at the last possible second. Sorry."

"This is ridiculous," Jarvis said, looking through the forward viewport at the mass of weaving ships that covered local space. "Get us out of the middle of this. We'll stay on the outside of the formation, like an escort is supposed to do."

"Aye, boss."

"Jarvis, what are you doing?" Allara asked.

"We're getting out of this mess. We'll parallel the main formation; drop in beside us"

"We're going to make them mad."

"Then they can shoot us, because I'm not staying in the middle of that chaos."

"Hey, moron, get back in line!" The same human voice from before said. "Idiot, I said get back in line! I'll come after you; don't think I won't."

"I am here to provide escort duties for this convoy, not run my ship into some half-conscious freighter pilot. I'll do my job, and you do yours."

"I'm in charge of this convoy, and you can suck vacuum!" Two lances of light shot by, forward and starboard, and missed the ship by thirty or so meters.

"Swing us around to the other side of the convoy!" Jarvis yelled as he climbed into the laser turret. "Zal, you handle the ion cannons. Ferril, think you can deal with the launchers and copilot duties?"

"Sure, Brother."

"I told you that you'd make them mad," Allara cut in. The cannon was still firing, shooting through the convoy to try to hit him. "You should probably apologize."

"He couldn't hit us if we were dead in space," Jarvis said, bringing his turret around and returning fire, scoring a few minor hits in rapid succession.

"You shot me, you little—"

"You want to go another round? Because there's plenty more where that came from." The only answer was that of the cannon falling silent, and local comm traffic increasing.

"Jumping in thirty seconds," Ferril announced, powering down the weapons and shields and returning the targeting computers to standby. Jarvis strapped himself in, deactivating his own targeting computer and preparing for what was sure to be an eventful trip. Finally, the stars streaked by, and the convoy vanished into hyperspace.


Somewhere in Hutt Space


"Multiple contacts."

"I see them. Prep torpedoes and missiles. Jim, you ready?"

"Oh, yeah, captain; I've got you covered." Allara was hiding behind a large freighter on the edge of the convoy. Jarvis was going to lure the enemy fighters—mostly aging Z-95 headhunters—over, and she was going to pop out right behind them and take out as many as possible. They'd used this tactic twice already, and it had worked both times. Elsewhere, defensive forces were struggling to hold back their attackers, but Jarvis and his crew were managing to protect a substantial section of the convoy without any aid from other vessels.

"Zal, bring us about; we'll face them head-on."

"Sure thing, boss."

Jarvis fired the cannon as Zal swung the ship around, and soon, his forward-mounted ion cannons and light laser cannons joined the attack. A missile and torpedo sped toward the incoming fighters, then the forward shields started taking hits and Zal broke away, making for the marginal safety of the convoy. Jarvis continued firing as the aft shields took hits, then they were finally past the freighter, and Allara shot around from behind it in her Preybird, taking out one fighter with her lasers and one with a torpedo in a few seconds. The enemy fighters tried to run, but Jarvis picked one off and Allara took out the other two with another torpedo-laser combo.

"Wave eliminated." She reported, turning around and making her way back to the freighter. Then something different happened; two corvettes and half a dozen assault shuttles dropped from hyperspace and moved toward the convoy under the protection of two squadrons of enemy fighters, R-41 Starchasers and Z-95 Headhunters.

"Jim, swing around and engage enemy fighters on the other side of the convoy. Zal, you do the same."

"We've got to stop those ships!" Allara said desperately.

"We've got to free up the guns on the other escort ships and focus our fire. There's no way the four of us can take them out by ourselves."

"Traitors!" The human from earlier yelled over the comm. "Get back to your posts!"

"This isn't an army, idiot. There are no posts. If you want to live to see tomorrow, you'll shut up and do what I tell you to." Jarvis pushed a button on his comlink. "Ferril, patch me in to the convoy."

"Done."

"Alright, listen up; everybody focus your fire on that group of Y-wings and take them out before they launch another volley of missiles. I want the light freighters to form up and run interference on that group of fighters near the front of the convoy as soon as the Y-wings are gone, and I want everything with a gun pointed at the newly arrived formation as soon as that's done with."

"What about the other fighters?" The human asked arrogantly, as if he thought Jarvis had forgotten about them.

"I'll handle them," He said simply, then shut off the channel that the human had been using. "Jim, Ferril, Zal: let's get to work."

The blastboat and Preybird hurled themselves into the nearest enemy formation with ion cannons, lasers, torpedoes and missiles flying everywhere. Before long, the two ships were doing little more than chasing each other's tails, trying to take out the fighters that were following their ally. Allara's fighter took some damage, but they managed to take out the first group, and began moving to the next small pocket of enemy fighters, which was harassing an unarmed medium freighter.

"What's it look like over there guys?" Jarvis asked.

"The corvettes have opened fire, some of the larger freighters have responded. The fighters and light freighters we've got left have engaged the enemy fighters, but the assault transports are dealing heavy damage to our fighters.

Jarvis flipped the general comm channel back on. "Focus! Everything above a light freighter, focus your fire on the central assault transport. Take it out, and move to another. It's a very simple concept! Concentrate your fire, and don't let up until your target is dead!"

The blastboat caught the fighters from the side, and the hail of energy turned most of them to scrap before they knew what was going on. Allara came in from a slightly different vector, catching a couple more fighters by surprise. A trio of friendly Headhunters streaked by, taking out the last of the enemies.

"We'll handle the rest of these guys; they need you at the main engagement," One of the Headhunter pilots said over the comm.

"Ferill!" Jarvis yelled.

"Already got 'em, Brother. Channel four."

"Negative." He paused for a moment, thinking through his options. "You three swing around and use the convoy for cover, then cut across and hit that last group with everything you've got. Jim, stay just inside this side of the convoy, and go straight for them, a little slow. Zal, take us away from the convoy a little, and then rush them head-on."

The five ships converged on their target at almost the exact same time. Everywhere they turned, they met a wall of laserfire. With the last group defeated, Jarvis' group turned toward the main engagement. As they drew near, they realized how poorly their side was fairing. Friendly fire had once again diverged, and enemy shields were soaking up almost all of the incoming energy with little effort. He opened the general channel once again and gave one more order. "Everyone with a missile or torpedo, form up on me; we're going for the lead corvette."

The general channel filled with complaints and objections, so Jarvis opened the channel he was sharing with the four other fighters and asked, "You guys with me?''

"I guess," Allara responded.

"Let's do this," One of the Headhunter pilots said.

"Okay, let's go." The five vessels shot straight through the enemy forces, getting fired at from every angle. Surprisingly, other defensive ships joined in, some of them passing the slightly slower blastboat. Several ships took fire and exploded, including one of the lead Headhunters, but Allara dropped into his position in the trio, and they kept going.

The forward ships fired their missiles and torpedoes, then broke away and flew back toward the convoy, taking potshots at enemy fighters that were pursuing the slower ships at the back of the line. Zal dropped the blastboat beneath the main group slightly, opening his line of fire and spraying the corvette with ion- and laser-fire. Zal slowed down slightly, buying them a few more seconds before they had to turn back. Ferril continued launching missiles and torpedoes as fast as he could, and Allara made another pass at the target, firing two torpedoes from the forward tube, then one from the aft tube as she made her way to a safe distance. Finally, something important took a hit, and the whole ship shook as internal explosions tore at its structure.

The corvette exploded, its flaming wreckage stretching out to impact dozens of ships—friendly and enemy alike—and finally the remaining defenders had some small hope of surviving. The assault transports broke away, their fighter escorts falling in beside them, and the corvettes laid down a field of fire to discourage the defenders from giving chase. Jarvis sunk in his chair slightly, relieved that it was finally over. "Jim, you still out there?"

"Yes."

"Ferril, status?"

"We've got some pretty serious damage to the dorsal wing, and the concussion missile launcher took some pretty serious damage, though—obviously—the missiles are fine. Shield generator suffered a power spike that damaged some systems, and we can't get it above about 60% power. Oh, one of the maneuvering fins took a hit while the shields were on the fritz, so don't ask Zal to make and turns to starboard any time soon."

The now all-too-familiar voice of the human "commander" came on the comm. "Good job, kid; you scared them off!"

"No," Allara cut in, "that's not what happened. It was all about cost-benefit. By the time we took out their corvette, they had destroyed so many of our freighters that taking the convoy wouldn't have paid for the losses. If they would have stayed and fought, they would have suffered more losses, and captured an even smaller number of our ships."

"Oh. Well, I still say good job! That was some impressive stuff!"

"Let's just get to where we're going and get back," Jarvis said wearily.

"This is it, kid. There were supposed to be some ships waiting for us here, but I guess they aren't coming."

That filthy Hutt! "We're getting out of here. Back to Nal Kreeta, best possible speed."

"Now hold on; we can't just abandon our mission; not without proper authorization."

"This isn't an army, old man. I'm going back to Nal Kreeta. If you want to stay here and see how long it takes for someone else to come along and kill you, go ahead; I've had enough."


Grand Chamber of Kerlin the Hutt

"His most magnificent Kerlin the Hutt, ruler of th—"

"Save it," Jarvis cut him off, stepping forward until his shins bumped against the edge of the raised platform Kerlin the Hutt was sitting on. "I want my friend on my ship, in perfect health, in ten minutes. I want my ship, and Jim's ship in full operational order and fully restocked, with no special little "surprises," in ten hours. And I want payment for services rendered, right now."

The Hutt started laughing excessively, and his guards started moving to envelope the three visitors. "Boss," Zal said, sounding worried.

Jarvis pulled an odd little package with a button on it out from under his jacket, and held it up for everyone to see. "This contains the nergon-14 charge from one of my few remaining proton torpedoes. It's not quite as impressive as the thermal detonator that I used on the last group of people that tried to take what's mine, but it'll do its job. I want what I'm owed, you filthy backstabbing worm, or I'll make sure that you killing me ends with me killing you.

"Hey, kid, calm down now," The human from the convoy said urgently from the back of the room.

"He sent us out there to die. He sent us all out there to die. That's why there wasn't a decent escort, and that's why the only people at the end of the trip were enemy ships, waiting to take us out."

"Why would he do that, kid?"

"He's a Hutt, does he need a reason to kill people? Besides, after seeing that fight, after being in that fight, how many of those guys do you thing he wanted around? There were maybe five guys in the whole convoy that were worth the dirt they're made of, and at least one of them died."

Kerlin began laughing again, and didn't stop for a few minutes. Then he belched out some other apparent nonsense, and the droid began to translate. "The mighty Kerlin—"

"He said the Cavrilhu are here," Allara cut in. "If you want to live through this, you better put that away, and agree to stick around for a while. He'll send them away, without a mention of your being here, if you do those two things."

"How do we know we can trust him," Zal jumped in, pulling out his blaster, apparently an attempt to add dramatic effect.

"Because we'll be dead otherwise," Jarvis said, lowering the package reluctantly. He looked up at Kerlin, "I still want all of that stuff, and on that timetable. I don't work for free, and if you don't like it, the Cavrilhu can have me, or at least what's left of me, 'cause I still have this bomb here," He patted the package with his free hand.

Kerlin started laughing again, and squirmed about in what might have been intended to be a nod, mumbling something.

"What about them," He asked, pointing at the others in the room.

"One good turn deserves another," The human said, smiling wide and showing his crooked, discolored, and missing teeth.

"What about my ship?"

"The Cavrilhu are in another docking area, so they won't see it," Allara said after listening to Kerlin for a few seconds. "And our ships will be repaired and resupplied as soon as possible." She stopped and listened to Kerlin again, then said, "You want to go see your friend? They'll be letting him out in a few minutes; we can go meet him at the jail if you and Zal want to."

"Let's go!" Zal shouted, clumsily putting his blaster away and taking half a step toward the jail, then remembering he didn't know where that was and stopping abruptly.

"I'll lead them," A human in a flight suit said from the doorway, then walked quickly over, a Shistavanen in a similar flight suit following closely behind.

The group made their way into a side corridors. "You two were in the Headhunters, right?"

"Yeah. I'm Vincent, call me Vince; this is Harvik, but call him Harry."

"How do you spell that?"

"Like the name, not the reference to how much hair one has."

Oh, he's so smart he even uses words like "one"; what a human. "If you don't mind me asking, who was in the other Headhunter?"

"My last travel-partner," Harry said gruffly, stepping ahead of the slow-moving group and continuing to the jail at a quick pace, forcing the others to speed up or be left behind.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jarvis said sadly.

"Anyway, we were hoping we could fly with you," Vince said, cutting off any further talk of the dead pilot. "That Ubese is a pretty good pilot, but he could use some help, i'm sure."

"We'll talk about it later," Jarvis said as he stopped at the door that led to the holding cells. "I've got a friend to meet right now." He stepped toward the door, but it swung open just before he got to it, almost hitting him in the face. On the other side stood a Rodian in dirty clothes and carrying a tattered bag.

His nose wiggled a little, then Grennith said, "Jarvis, is that you?"

Zal stepped forward, pushing Grennith into the wall. "What's the matter, you stupid thug, don't you remember me?"

"Zal!" He exclaimed, raising his hand in an odd greeting.

"Hello Gren. It's nice to see you still have all your fingers. Is it safe to say the same for your toes?"

Gren let out what was probably the Rodian equivalent of a chuckle. "Yes, good friend, it is."

Jarvis turned around quickly, starting the walk back to the dock. "Well, we've got to get back to the ship and make sure none of that dirty Hutt's henchmen take anything. Oh, and by the way," Jarvis added, gesturing to Allara," this is Jim. He's a jerk, so get used to it."

They were back at the blastboat soon enough, and after politely shooing away Vince and Harry and introducing Ferril, who had stayed behind to watch the ships, to Gren, the five went onboard The Wandering One to figure out what to do next. The door closed, and Jarvis fixed Allara with a stare, saying: "I think there's something Jim wants to tell you.

Her head tilted slightly, then she said, "Fine, there's no point in trying to keep secrets around here anyway." She pulled off her helmet, muttering, "My name is Allara, and as you can obviously see, I'm not really a 'he.'" She quickly put the helmet back on.

"Okay, here's the plan," Jarvis said, pausing as something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. "Ferril! What'd you do to that astromech!"

Ferril looked over at the various pieces laying on the floor and shrugged slightly. "I got bored. Besides, with the right parts, I can get him working almost as well as an R2 unit."

"It's an R5, Ferril, and we don't even need it. But it's hard to sell an astromech when it comes as a bag full of disassembled parts. Put it back together, and we'll get rid of it as soon as we can."

"Listen, Brother, I can make this work. With the right parts and a little extra programming, that R5 can help run the sensors, regulate power flow, and even help chart hyperspace coordinates. We need it. With all these extra systems, there's no way I'll be able to keep this ship running at full capability. With an astromech, I might have a chance."

"Maybe so, but not an R5. I've met loadlifters smarter than R5s."

"I think we all agree that I'm the closest thing to a mechanic we've got, and I'm telling you, we can't keep this ship running without an astromech, and that one will do just fine. Besides, we don't have the credits to buy another one."

"Surely, between the five of us, we've got enough money to buy one astromech. C'mon, how much money do we have?"

"You haven't paid me since I've gotten on this ship, boss," Zal reported.

"All I had to my name was pocket change when I left Varn," Ferril said, pulling out a couple coins from his pocket.

"I spent everything on the hyperdrive and astromech," Allara said.

"Gren, what about you?" Jarvis asked

"That stupid guard stole all my stuff. They gave me my blasters, but took the power cells."

"Well, everything I owned was on the freighter when it got hit. But Kerlin said he'd pay us, right?"

"Jarvis, he's going to send some thug by to throw a dozen credits in your face an laugh at you, and that's if he's feeling generous," Allara said.

Jarvis collected the handful of credits from Ferril, then stretched out his hand to Allara, who finally pulled out one last stash of credits and handed them over. Jarvis walked into a back room, pulling out a small box and digging out the few credits he had found on the ship. He walked back onto the bridge and spread them all out over one of the consoles. "What can we do with this?"

Grand Chamber of Kerlin the Hutt

"What's the meaning of this!" Jarvis yelled, running into Kerlin's chamber and hurling half a dozen coins at him. "Do you think this is funny? You tried to kill me, and now you pay me with enough money to buy, what, a last meal? Is that what you're thinking?"

Kerlin began his excessive laughing once again, and Allara rounded the corner at a spring, stopping abruptly to keep from running into the guards who had moved in to cut off Jarvis' potential escape routes.

"Listen, you worm, I beat you at your own game; if you can't handle that, then why keep us around?"

"How dare you speak to Lord—"

"This bloated piece of filth isn't even good enough at what he does to get out of the wastelands of one of the most unproductive worlds in Hutt Space. His own people acknowledge what a failure he has become, and I'm not going to play nice just to make him feel better." Jarvis was on the brink of signing his own death warrant, but he didn't care anymore. "You aren't even any good at killing your own men, so of course there's no way you can compete with your rivals! You give me what I'm owed, and the authority to do what I can, and I'll show you how to fight a kajidic (clan) war."


En route to ambush rival Hutt raiding party

"You sure about this, boss?" Zal asked, sounding worried.

"Sure I am, Zal. Calm down; this time, Gren's here." Jarvis flashed his Rodian friend a quick smile.

"Yeah, and this time, I'll be in the turret, so you guys can see what a real gunner can do," Gren said excitedly, looking up at the access hatch that led to the laser turret.

"Reversion in fifteen seconds," Ferril called out from his copilot's station, and the little R5 they had strapped against the wall and plugged into the console twittered a few comments. "R5 says he hopes we die a horrible death; guess he's still a little mad about the whole abduction thing."

Gren was climbing into the turret, and Jarvis took his place at the tactical station, replying, "As long as he doesn't help us died a horrible death, he can say whatever he wants. On the other hand, its nice to see all the money you spent fixing him up paid off."

"Yeah, sorry about that, Brother. I promise, after this little 'hatred' thing's fixed, he'll be the best astromech this side of the Core. Oh, reversion in two, one, now," And the torrent of hyperspace dissolved, stars streaking by and then freezing suddenly in space.

"Report," Jarvis called over the comm.

"Solar system clear, for now," Ferril said over the comm so everyone could hear.

"Fortune flight: we're here," Allara reported for herself, Vince, and Harry. She had finally decided they weren't too bad to fly with her, and Jarvis had made Kerlin reassign them to his personal escort.

"Alpha team: everything checks out fine; we're moving to Position One." It was obvious they hated all of the official talk, but Jarvis had insisted that they handle themselves somewhat professionally during the practice run he had made them all go through.

"Escort team: everyone accounted for. Moving to designated positions."

"Punisher Squadron: we all made it. Waiting for orders."

As Jarvis watched, Alpha team began deploying ion mines at a predesignated position. They were significantly more expensive than normal mines, and Jarvis had half-expected Kerlin to eat him when he suggested using them, but capturing enemy ships was a lot more economical than simply blowing them up, and that was something a Hutt could appreciate.

"Alpha team reporting: we're done. Moving to support position."

"Countdown timer's at three minutes," Ferril reported, and Jarvis gave the order for all units to be "at the ready."

They arrived four minutes late. It looked like the same group from before: two corvettes and three assault shuttles, as well as two squadrons of fighters acting as escorts. Unfortunately for them, the convoy they were intending to attack wasn't going to be along, and the entry vector Kerlin had supplied them with ran them right into the minefield.

"That filthy worm finally did something right," Jarvis mumbled to himself as he watched the ion bombs slam into the corvettes' unshielded hulls. Kerlin had told the enemy force that he was as angry that they didn't finish their job as they were. They thought they were coming to finish what they had started, while in actuality, Jarvis had convinced Kerlin to double-cross the enemy group.

"All units, proceed as planned."

The blastboat and its escort approached at full speed, angling for a run against the enemy fighters. Punisher Squadron, made up of T-wings and Y-wings, attacked the nearly-crippled corvettes, using their ion cannons to break through the faltering shields and raking the hulls with disruptive energy; Alpha team added their small ion cannons to the attack on the corvettes as well. The Escort group closed in around the fighters, reducing their escape options and filling the space with destructive energy, not destroying many of them, but keeping them so occupied and disoriented that they didn't see the blastboat and its escort approaching.

A few of the corvettes' weapons fired, quickly sputtering out as the attacking fighters' ion cannons focused on them. Jarvis' group dipped down at the last minute, then came back up to hit the enemy fighters from below. They took out four on their first pass. Then, as the Escort group closed to optimum range from all sides, the enemy formation started taking heavy losses, and when one corvette finally suffered a full systems loss and the other lost sublight power, the fighters started surrendering, hoping that surrendering their fighters intact would buy them a chance at life.

The Alpha team moved in again, docking with the corvettes and unloading their supply of thugs, who basically ran at the enemy crew members with weapons flailing and hoped for the best. The ships were finally secured, and Allara boarded and took command of one of them, while Vince took command of the other; Smarts didn't trust Kerlin's ordinary idiot thugs to keep the ship from flying into a star on the return trip. Alpha team ships hit the surrendered fighters with ion cannons, then grabbed them with small tractor beams and pulled them in close.

The group set course for Nar Kreeta and left, the only evidence that anything had happened being the few blasted hulks of former enemy starfighters.

Nar Kreeta, Kerlin the Hutt's Grand Chamber

"Scum of the stars!" Jarvis yelled as he walked out of the room. "He likes my work—he loves my work—he just won't pay me for it!"

"He is protecting you from the Cavrilhu, Jarvis; that should count for something," Allara commented absently as she checked the data chip that supposedly held an account number where Kerlin had put a few credits in as payment.

"I don't want his protection; I want his money. I could buy my own protection with the amount of money he owes me."

"You just sent him to war; he's not about to give you an excuse to leave. We're in this now. This is our world: death, deceit, and underpayment. Get used to it."

They made it to their ships a few minutes later, and saw a group of assorted species, led by Vince and Harry, approaching. "Guys," Jarvis called into the blastboat, "get out here. Look dumb but stay sharp."

Zal's eyes widened and a grin crossed his face as he remembered what that meant, and he quickly grabbed up his blaster and hid it under his coat, then came out to join the fun.

"Vince," Jarvis said, nodding in greeting. "What's all this about?"

"They want to fly with you," Vince said, pointing over his shoulder at the twenty or so people gathered around. "Or for you, or you for them; that all really depends on how you look at it, though. They heard about our little run in with Borga the Hutt's men, and they want to fly with the guy who made it happen."

"We had superior equipment, the element of surprise, and a carefully coordinated and thought-out plan. It wasn't a matter of skill, it was a matter of common sense and a lack of alcohol."

"That was the first engagement we've had since—well, ever!—where we didn't lose a single ship. So, what do you say?"

Jarvis stared at the group for several seconds. "I'll think about it," He said, turning and walking into his ship, just looking for a little peace and quiet where he could think things through, and maybe get a little sleep.

[B]Nar Kreeta, Kerlin the Hutt's personal landing bay[B]


"Hey, that's my nav computer!" Ferril yelled, chasing down a Ugnaught and hitting him with a hydrospanner. "Give-that-back-to-me!" He said, hitting the alien once for each word. He pulled the nav computer component from the Ugnaught's hands, kicking him before walking off. He examined the device carefully, making sure nothing was missing or broken, mumbling quietly to himself as he walked back to the blastboat.

Jarvis was standing on a repulsorlift platform, carefully inspecting the installation of a new laser/ion cannon set on the dorsal wing. The other wings were being equipped with new weapons as well, each laser/ion set attached by a device that allowed the cannons to be turned up or down 15 degrees, and left or right 45 degrees, allowing for a greater field of fire. The tactical station was being rewired to control the weapons, all three sets were being fire-linked together, and the targeting computer was being updated with software to make sure that none of the weapons would accidentally shoot the blastboat's main hull, if it ever got in the way.

Grennith was inspecting the installation of a variable-output dual turbolaser turret, which would replace the previous laser cannon turret, and Zal was making sure nothing went wrong at the bow of the ship, where its single stationary medium ion cannon was being replaced by a medium turbolaser cannon. Allara was working on her own fighter, which was undergoing significant modifications. Her targeting computer was being updated to allow her better control of the aft torpedo launcher, which was designed to be manned by a dedicated gunner. In addition, the gunner's seat and controls had been removed, and modifications were being made to allow for the installation of an astromech socket and some minor storage space.

Ferril stumbled into the blastboat, looking around wearily. R5-H7 was once again sitting in parts on the floor, the tactical station had been pulled apart, and the piece of the nav computer he was holding in his hands reminded him of what he'd find in the engineering compartment. He walked slowly to the back of the small ship, picking up his tool bag from where he'd dropped it when he ran out to catch the Ugnaught, and reluctantly entered the engineering compartment. "What a day; what a day," he groaned as he crossed the threshold into the cramped room.

Jarvis floated down to the ground, where he entered the ship and saw the disassembled components of his vessel. Ordinarily, the sight of the R5 being once again in pieces would have annoyed him, but he knew he was going to need every advantage he could get for the coming Storm. . .

He walked to the back of the ship, cramming himself into the already-too-full space of the engineering compartment, and wiggling around to a position from which he could help his fellow Ryn. What a day; what a day.

Work continued for hours. Once all of the modifications were finished, all of the new systems had to be checked. The weapons were test-fired, the computer relays were reconfigured, the R5 was powered up for a systems check, and even the nav computer was powered up and given hypothetical jumps to plot. Finally, after a few hours of fine-tuning, everything was ready. In a few more hours, the Storm would start, but for now, they all were in desperate need of sleep.

Local Space around Nar Kreeta; Kerlin the Hutt's defense "fleet"


It didn't last. It never lasted. The Storm had arrived, and it drew Jarvis from his peaceful sleep. "Aww," He mumbled, dropping out of his bunk and stumbling onto the bridge. "Get up!" He yelled as he grabbed the controls and broke the ship from its orbit around Nar Kreeta to send it speeding toward the newly arrived enemy fleet, designated the Storm. He flipped the first comm channel on the console on. "Jim, it's time."

A speck in the distance wiggled slightly, and Jarvis realized that Allara was already ahead of him. "I know, Jarvis; I thought I was about to have to call you."

The voice of the mean, stupid human from the first convoy defense came on the comm. "Hey, kid, we're deploying according to the plan. Any new orders?" The twenty or so people Vince had gotten together had gone to Kerlin and pretty much told him they wouldn't defend him unless Jarvis was put in command of the defense fleet, and seeing as most of them were the best pilots he had, he agreed.

Jarvis ignored the man, instead signaling Ferril—who had finally made it to the bridge—to open the general comm channel while he handed the controls over to Zal. He glanced back and saw Gren crawling into the turret, and gave the Rodian a reassuring nod. Ferril signaled Jarvis that the channel was open, and he began. "This is Jarvis Ragnar, commander of Kerlin the Hutt's Storm Shield Defense Fleet; I am ordering you to stand down and surrender yourselves immediately to the governing body of the Outer Wastes of Nar Kreeta. If you do not comply completely and immediately, I have been ordered to treat your presence here as an act of war, and proceed to remove you from this system by whatever means necessary. Reply."

"The Great and Mighty Borga the Hutt," The response began, "Grand Ruler of—"

"If the next two words out of your mouth aren't 'we surrender,' I will turn you to ash, and I'll slag your whole fleet, if that's what it takes to do so."

"How dare you—"

"Open fire!"

The Storm Shield—a loose formation of starfighters, modified bulk freighters, and even a few outdated light warships—surged forward, the most powerful weapons of the fleet opening fire immediately. They were outnumbered, and the enemy flagship—a Kaloth-class Battlecruiser—more than doubled the length of their largest ship.

The defenders' plan was simple: they were going to reverse the rolls of their ships. The freighters and warships would intentionally draw the attention of the enemy fighters, while the defense fighters—most of which were equipped with concussion missiles or proton torpedoes—would go straight for the enemy flagship, braving the no-man's-land of the enemy capital ships' guns to deliver their deadly payloads at point blank range. With the loss of their flagship and commander, it was hoped the enemy forces would retreat, but if they didn't, the fighters would stay inside the enemy formation until they had expended all of their warheads on remaining capital class targets.

It was a risky move, and was sure to prove costly, but the predominantly light weapons of the defense forces' ships would give them a fighting chance against the enemy fighters, and the move would hopefully give the enemy a surprise from which they could not recover.

The Shield fighters moved forward, forming into a separate group to appear as though they were going to block the enemy fighters. The freighters formed a line behind the fighters, with the capital ships at the rear, farthest from enemy starfighter assault.

Shield fighters proceeded as quickly as their slowest fighter would allow, and as the two groups approached, they opened fire on each other. As soon as the first shots were fired, the starfighter formation broke apart, each ship accelerating at full speed. Each side did minor damage to the other, but when the Shield fighters didn't turn around for another pass at the attackers, the attacking formation faltered, some proceeding forward, some beginning to turn and pursue the defense fighters, and some hovering uncertainly between the two groups.

As chaos ensued all around him, Jarvis lost most of his situational awareness. The sound of the laser turret filled the bridge as Gren laid down a steady stream of fire to ward off any pursuing starfighters. Ferril lost track of Allara and her wingmen in the midst of all the chaos, and he didn't have the spare time to try to find them. Jarvis was vaguely aware that the defense force's second line of defense—the freighters—had retreated slightly, as planned, and the capital ships had swung around to bring the bulk of their weapons to bear on the incoming fighters. They were dead in space, but hopefully, they were prepared to deal a devastating blow.

The defensive cannons of the enemy's main formation opened fire, and several of the forward fighters were wiped out, prompting the rest of the fighters to put more distance between each other and giving enemy gunners a harder target. "And so, the Fire Rain begins." A few small plumes of fire appeared ahead, and Jarvis knew that the first of the warheads had been delivered. Target locks soon sounded, and Zal opened fire with the main turbolaser, while Gren swung his turret around and opened fire, diverting power from the wing weapons to increase the turret's strength.

Zal was forced to pull away suddenly, and the main cannon stopped firing, but Gren stayed with his target, drawing more power from the ship as the main cannon fell silent. Zal swung back around, and Jarvis fired two volleys of torped/missile combos before the ship took another sharp turn, Gren laying down more fire all the while. Zal swung them back around, attacking from a different vector, and all of the ship's weapons opened up, raking nine lines of destructive energy across the cruiser's hull while Jarvis fired again and again with the launchers.

The ship was shaking from almost constant hits from point-defense cannons, but Zal kept them moving, performing maneuvers that were intended to draw other enemy warships into accidentally hitting their own flagship, and most of the time, it worked. Jarvis caught sight of a large group of fighters—about two squadrons worth—forming up and making a run on the cruiser's engines. At the front of the formation, he saw the unique shape of a Preybird, and barely made out the two Headhunters on either side before Zal pulled another quick maneuver, saving them from a high-powered turbolaser blast.

"Zal, take us around for a run at the engines."

"Okay boss, but we're not going to do very much against those aft shields by ourselves."

"Just do it."

Zal pulled them around just in time to see a bright flash streak by the front of the fighter formation as a turbolaser blast barely missed the heart of the group. As he watched, one of Allara's Headhunter escorts spiraled away, its port wing vaporized. Its port engines belched fire, a moment later exploding, enveloping the fighter in flame. ]I[Another loss. . .[/I]

Apparently, most of the aft shield's power had been diverted, because the wave of warheads that issued from the Shield fighters tore through them, blasting off large pieces of one of the sublight engines. As the fighter formation peeled away, Zal brought them in, and the combined fire of the blastboat's lasers and warheads bit into the damaged engine, accelerating its deterioration. Zal vectored away, and Ferril reported multiple explosions as the engine detonated, lines of fire leaping from the side of the vessel as a chain reaction spread forward. The blasts finally subsided, but a gaping hole had been torn into the starboard side of the cruiser, and the remaining fighters pounced on it immediately, filling the ever-widening breach with missiles, torpedoes, and bombs.

Ferril reported mass power fluctuations in the Kaloth's main reactor, and Jarvis gave the order for all units to pull away. The enemy cruiser exploded seconds later, its aft section completely consumed, its forward section propelled forward by the blast, slamming into a corvette that had been acting as an anti-fighter defense and destroying it. A hail of cheers issued from the comm, only to die down seconds later as they realized the enemy was not retreating.

Jarvis selected a new primary target for the fighters, then ordered the other Shield ships to move forward and engage the main enemy force. Allara dropped out of nowhere to join the blastboat, and her sole remaining wingman fell into formation on the blastboat's opposite side. The three ships moved forward, targeting a small vessel and raking it with laser fire, trying to conserve their last few missiles. The turbolasers proved effective, so powerful they were able to punch through the weak and poorly-maintained shields of the target vessel without trouble. They continued their attack until enemy starfighters arrived—a sign that the larger ships of the Shield group were on the move—and Allara broke away to coordinate the ensuing fighter battle. Jarvis stayed on task, finally crippling the ship's shields and tearing through its engines with turblaser fire.

"All ships, initiate phase two," Jarvis ordered, and the larger vessels of the Sheild group once again engaged the fighters, now drawing the attention of the entire enemy force. The starfighters broke away, taking up escort positions around several small freighters that left the main Shield group. The group of small vessels moved forward, avoiding the main concentration of enemy fighters, but not making any major moves to avoid incoming fire. Several fighters were picked off, but the group continued its semmingly suicidal approach. The freighters didn't fire, they didn't turn, they didn't do anything but press on. One or two exploded in spectacular fireballs after absorbing too much damage, but most made it through to the enemy warships, where they promptly rammed themselves into the nearest enemy vessel.

The freighters had been packed with explosives and equipped with rudimentary slave circuits, allowing men from the Shield warships to guide them into enemy vessels. The waves of explosions that rocked the enemy ships reduced many of them to slag—just as Jarvis had promised. With the odds a little closer to even, the Shield warships pressed the attack, false panels breaking away to reveal hastily-equipped turbolasers and ion cannons in the recessed spaces. The ships unleashed their deadly barrages, bathing the enemy in destructive energy.

The few surviving fighters of the defense fleet pulled away from the main engagement, chasing down fleeing enemies and finishing them off with the last of their warheads. After several minutes of intense fighting, several ships on both sides laid in ruin, with most of the surviving enemy vessels disabled from ion cannon fire.

Half an hour later, The Wandering One was making one last pass around the post-battle wreckage, surveying the damage to the surviving ships on both sides. Jarvis stood over Ferril's sensor station, glancing from the radar screen to the various readouts, trying to find some piece of good news to deliver to Kerlin. Well, we won; maybe that'll count for something. "Alright," He said heavily, hopelessly. "Take us dirtside."


The Grand Chamber of Kirlin the Hutt


Kerlin roared in anger, beating his fists against his bloated stomach in a sign of rage. "We did all that we could; that should be enough. You own their ships now, and we made that happen!" Jarvis tried to start out calm, but ended up yelling anyway. "If you would have given us the time we needed to get everything in order, we could have done better; as it was, you should be glad that any of us—yourself included—are alive right now."

It was obvious that Kerlin was about to start yelling again—and probably order Jarvis' death—when a lone figure came running into the room, skidding to a stop and yelling "It worked! It worked!"

Jarvis turned around, looking at the man hopefully. "What worked?"

"Your plan: Borga the Hutt has been captured."

Jarvis breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a desperate move, and could barely be called a plan: while the main battle took place at Nar Kreeta, a group of six starfighters and a few dozen armed freighters—acting as assault transports—had been dispatched to Klatooine to try to seize Borga the Hutt. Jarvis had been hoping that Borga hadn't been smart enough to leave himself any defenses, and apparently that was the case. Stupid worms. He had almost talked himself out of even trying it, but after discussing it with the crew, they all agreed that it was worth a try. "Is he alive?"

"Of course. Lord Kerlin couldn't execute him properly if he had been killed."

Jarvis turned around, determined to get what he wanted this time. "Let me go. I've done everything you wanted and more. I've fulfilled my obligations to you in every way."

Kerlin grunted something, and his translator said, "How are you going to pay for the modifications to your ship?"

Jarvis was taken aback. He fumbled a little, trying to find an answer. "How. . . how am I going to pay for the modifications? I just saved your life! I just saved your whole operation! There's a fleet in orbit that belongs to you now because of me! Your greatest rival is on his way here in a cage right now because of ME!"

Kerlin grunted something again. "Master Kerlin requires you to travel to Klatooine and oversee the integration of Borga the Hutt's former holdings into his own operations.

"No. No, you sell that beast back to his family, keep the ships in orbit, and call it even. If you try to absorb his realm and hold some kind of a public execution, you'll find yourself with so many enemies no one will be able to protect you."

"Lord Kerlin wishes me to remind you that you are his servant, and it is only because of your marginally acceptable victory that he does not kill you now. You will do as he says, or you will be punished."

Preparing for the Party

The five figures sat, stood, leaned, and knelt in a small circle, everyone glancing nervously at everyone else. "You sure you want to do this, boss?" Zal asked carefully, nudging the two small cylinders that lay in the area between them. As he looked down at them, the overwhelming feeling that those two small objects bore his fate within them overtook him, and he found himself unable to look away.

Jarvis was standing in the middle of the room, alone. He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to steady his shaking hands, focusing his attention on Zal, who was still staring at the middle of the circle. "No, no I don't." He looked up, forcing himself to meet the stares of his companions, even the blank visor of Allara's helmet. "But I don't know what other choice we have. Not unless we're content to live the rest of our lives as slaves."

"No way!" Zal shouted, jumping to his feet and finally managing to tear his gaze from the cylinders. "Never again; never again, boss."

"I think you pretty much speak for all of us when you say that," Jarvis said solemnly as he tried to imagine what horrible things must have happened to his scarred friend. "I'm sure you know more about that than we would, though," He added quietly.

"I'm sure you hate the idea of staying here and working for that Hutt as much as any of us," Ferril said to Jarvis, standing from his kneeling position where he had been pretending to dissect some malfunctioning component, "but you can't seriously think we can get away alive?"

"Yeah," Gren added, "I'm all about a good fight, but this is ridiculous! There's got to be another way!"

Jarvis' face betrayed the horrifying struggle that was taking place within his mind, but just as it looked like he was about to break under the strain, his features hardened, his eyes took in the faces of everyone else in one quick sweep of the room, and he spoke. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know what's right, and what's wrong. I can't see my options anymore; I don't know what's around the corner. I don't know; I don't know. Maybe it won't work; maybe there is a better way. Maybe, maybe, maybe. . .

"All I know is everyone around me has died, but you have remained. We've defied pirates, bargained with a Hutt and lived to reap the marginal rewards, fought off an invasion force—granted, it was the smallest, least-organized invasion force I've ever heard of, but we did it. And now, here we stand; we, brothers—and sister," Jarvis added hastily, giving Allara an awkward nod of recognition; he thought he heard a slight grunt of acknowledgement come from her. "We; we five. No more, no less; until the end, wherever and whatever that may be. My only comfort in this terrible galaxy is the knowledge that I have a family I can trust. There are no certainties beyond that, but that is all the certainty I need. Let's do this, for each other."

Allara kicked herself away from the bulkhead she was leaning on, uncrossing her arms and replying: "Let's do this; for each other." The words—coming from her, of all places—caught the rest of them off guard.

"For each other," Zal repeated, nodding as he did.

"For each other," Gren said sinisterly, his hand gripping his blaster.

"For each other," Ferril finished softly, hesitantly, before a small smile broke through the worried expression that had come to own his face. "So, what's next?"


The Guests of the Party


It was Kerlin the Hutt's Grand Party to celebrate the victory over and capture of Borga the Hutt. It would culminate in Borga's execution, which would be preformed on-site, as he was currently present, chained and caged, sitting in front of and beneath Kerlin, who's platform had apparently been raised for just this occasion. A Twi'lek entered the City Square, where the excessively lavish event was taking place, and quietly and subtly made his way to a seat.

He was an overly observant individual, taking in all of his surroundings in quick, furtive glances. The "Square" was actually a circle, with four entrances—one of which was blocked by Kerlin's massive platform. It was divided from its surroundings by a wall that ran its premeter; it had holes at the four entrances, and no ceiling. A number of pillars rose from the wall and supported a large stone disc that sat on top of them. Apparently, the City Square had once been a sort of haven in the midst of the desert, as evidenced by the barren troughs that ran atop the wall, and probably the stone disc overhead. He could picture it in his mind: long tendrils of some exotic plant hanging down the ten meters from the overhead disc, equally exotic flowers running the length of the walls, and the shattered remains of some indistinguishable lump replaced with a fountain spouting water in the midst of the desert wastes. Too bad the Hutts were bound by their own vile nature to corrupt even the beauty they themselves create.

The Twi'lek himself was carrying a dirty bag and wearing a flight suit that bore the badge of one of the many mercenary groups employed by Kerlin the Hutt, though it didn't quite fit him properly, and the odd cap he wore wouldn't stay on his head the right way because of his lekku. Nevertheless, the cap, which had flaps that hung down on either side of his face, were successful in preventing anyone from seeing his face clearly unless they were staring straight at him, and he made sure to keep his eyes focused on the ground just in front of him to keep that from happening.

Arrgh, why couldn't I have gotten one of the nice disguised?. The Twi'lek made his way casually along the outer edge of the chamber, trying to find just the right position. There, he thought, moving over to an empty chair and sitting down. He glanced over at Kerlin to make sure everything was as it should be. Too much stuff in the way he thought, nudging the circular table he was sitting at, only to see it wobble precariously. This won't do. He got up, walking over to another nearby table and bumping it experimentally: sturdy enough. He sat down, grabbing a drink from a passing server. He looked at the disgusting, filthy liquid inside, and quickly poured it out. He looked down at the plate that had a piece of what was supposed to be meat on it, and quickly turned the plate over. That disgusting worm. No matter, it won't be long now.


* * *

The Party was opened to anyone that wanted to come, but even then the smelly, filty Ryn that showed up at the front entrance was barely let in. He made his way quickly over to one of the darkest corners of the gathering, hunching over and looking generally horrible. By the time he came to a stop, he looked around and found himself in the midst of over a dozen of Kerlin's personal henchmen/guards. He furtively shifted to the back of the group until finally his back was pressed against a short wall that defined the edge of the City Square. It won't be long now.


* * *


There were more than a fair share of women running around, but the apparently human one that walked so elegantly into the City Square was by far the most beautiful. She was immediately harassed by every half-witted moron that crossed her path, and in only a few moments most of the group was paying much more attention to her than they were to their host, their meals, or even their own companions. She made no effort to stop them, and even encouraged their infatuation, though there really wasn't any need. A few minor brawls broke out, but finally things began to died down and some—but only a few—of the men went back to whatever was occupying them prior to her arrival. She knew exactly what they were thinking: "What's a girl like that doing in a place like this?" Well, soon enough, they would know. After all, It won't be long now.


* * *


The most amazing thing about Hutts was how incredibly stupid some of them were, yet they still managed to run their own interstellar criminal organizations. A Rodian was standing on the outside edge of one of the walls that defined the City Square. He was just standing there, with a bag thrown over his shoulder and a grappling rifle in his hands. There were no patrols, no guards passing by on their way to pee, no arriving or departing guests this far from the entrances. There was just the Rodian, his bag, and the rifle. He looked up casually, counting down the time until the big event. Eventually, when he couldn't help himself anymore, he fired the grapple upward, where it latched on near the top of one of the pillars that held up the overhead disc. He reeled himself up quickly, and lied down in the trench that had been cut into the disc. He took the bag off his back and withdrew a familiar slugthrower rifle, checking the scope carefully then venturing a peek over the edge of the disc. It won't be long now.


* * *


Jarvis Ragnar walked briskly into the party, stopping in the center of the Square and shouting madly at Kerlin. "I demand my freedom!" The band stopped playing, the buzz of conversation came to a halt, and Kerlin's large eyes fixed themselves on Jarvis, his fat tongue licking his lip in anticipation as an earth-shaking bellow escaped the gaping maw that was his mouth.

He spouted a stream of words, translated somewhat slowly by his befuddled droid as: "His Majesty Kerlin the Hutt wishes has decreed that your insolence can no longer be tolerated. You have disrupted the festivities and distracted the guests from their entertainment. You will submit now to your savior, or you will face the punishment that is the end result of all disobedience. If, after the excess of mercy which the Mighty Kerlin has lavished upon you, you cannot see your rightful place, your fate will be the same as Borga the Hutt." Five guards rushed forward, pulling out vibro-axes and force pikes and ensuring that Jarvis did not try to run.

It won't be long now. I hope. Jarvis took half a step forward—and stopped before he ran himself through on the end of one of the guards force pikes—and leveled a finger at Kerlin. "You listen to me, you slimey, no-good, son-of-a—"


The Real Party Begins

Kerlin roared in protest, and about a thousand things happened all at once: Ferril pressed a button on a wrist comlink, and concussive explosions erupted all around the Square, throwing guards and guests in all directions; Zal jumped onto a table and leveled a thick-barreled weapon at Kerlin, firing a round that erupted in flame as it traveled through the air and cut deeply into Kerlin's thick hide, where it exploded, filling the Square with a rain of gore; Gren fired the sniper rifle from his position at the top of the disc, dropping the guard immediately in front of Jarvis; Allara grabbed two blasters from two confused idiots that had decided to stay around and gawk at her, dropping them and turning the weapons on others nearby; and Jarvis pulled two blasters from beneath his jacket, dropping the remaining guards around him.

Gren kept sniping, Allara and Jarvis continued to fire at anything that moved, and Zal reached into his bag, pulling out a repeating blaster and cutting down a line of guards that came rushing in the nearest entrance. Ferril pulled a repeating blaster from beneath his dirty rags and threw it to Allara, who dropped her borrowed weapons and grabbed it from midair, spraying the vicinity with blasterfire as soon as it was in her hands. In only a few seconds, everyone except the five were either dead or unconscious, with the exception of Borga and Kerlin's translator.

"Ferril, grab the droid," Jarvis said hastily, pointing to the vaguely metallic form that was coated—like all of them—in gore. "Jim—Allara," He said quickly, cutting himself off and failing to see any point in using her alias "see if there are any weapons worth taking with us. Gren!" He shouted, "get down here."

"What do we do with him, boss?" Zal asked, pointing to Borga, who was still in his cage.

Jarvis looked darkly at Zal. "I gave you two of those blast cylinders, didn't I?"

"Right," Zal answered, just as darkly. He ran over and picked up his bag, pulling the wide-barreled weapon back out and reloading it with the last of the explosive blast flares. He estimated the greatest distance he could risk while making sure he got a clean shot, hoping to avoid as much of the coming carnage as possible, and waited.

"Okay, let's go," Jarvis said briskly, and Zal fired, blowing the second Hutt into a meaty hulk. The four and their new droid met up with Gren at the edge of the Square and made a mad dash for the spaceport, eventually picking up the droid and carrying it, as that proved to be marginally faster than its "run". They jumped in their ships and took off immediately, the R5—which was finally being cooperative—having managed to prep both the blastboat and the Preybird beforehand.


The After Party


The two ships touched down on the dusty world, and Jarvis had an eerie feeling like something had went wrong with the nav computer, and they had somehow managed to end up back where they had just left. No, there's one difference in this dirtball and the last: there aren't any Hutts here. They all smelled like. . . well, like dead Hutt, and the stink had gotten to Ferril so bad that he had vomited before The Wandering One had managed to reach open space. Zal followed suit soon afterwards—though he managed to make it to the refresher first—and Jarvis had only just managed to keep himself from doing the same, while Gren didn't seem to have any problem with the prospect of being covered in the remains of one of the foulest creatures in the galaxy. Jarvis could only imagine how bad a shape Allara must be in.

She swapped craft as soon as they landed and found her suit waiting for her. "I feel it is my duty—since we're all family now and can make these kinds of comments without fear of mortal danger— to inform you that we all knew you were good looking, but by the moons of Iego, I didn't know you were under that suit all that time!" Zal's face contorted in a sheepish grin, and gained the approving smirk of Ferril, but they both clammed up real quickly when they realized Allara was beginning to look more angry than usual, not less. "I-I promise it was supposed to be a compliment!" Zal stuttered, backing away slightly and raising his arms to fend off the attack he was sure was about to come.

Allara looked away, annoyed. She winced slightly and brought a hand up to her throat, rubbing it gently. She scooped up her suit and helmet and ran to the refresher, but seemed too distracted to close the door. The others gathered around in concern watching as she rubbed her throat harder, opening her mouth and pulling out a small metallic object, gagging and then vomiting into the sink. She turned to the others quickly, saying in the raspy voice common to all Ubese, "If you'll excuse me now, I'll be changing," and she shut the door, prompting a short, quiet curse from Zal.

I don't think I'll ever understand why she puts herself through all of that, Jarvis thought to himself, staring at the closed door. "Can't breathe too much air, don't let them know I'm a girl, can't use my real name in public, don't let anybody see me without my mask, definitely don't let anybody see me without my suit, gotta shove some kind of magic robot-voice-o-matic down my throat to pretend like I'm human." Where's it going to end?

The door opened, and Allara stood with her suit on and her mask held in her right hand. She reached up and put her left hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and exhaling sharply, forcing two odd-looking nose plugs into her hand. Then she put her helmet on. She held out her hand, showing the plugs to the others. "Miniaturized air filters; they restrict the amount of oxygen that enters my lungs, but specific muscle contractions can deactivate them or reactivate them," She explained in her mechanical voice, as heard through the amplifier built into her mask. "The other thing—obviously—alters my voice, allowing me to pass as human, depending on how stupid the people I'm talking to are."

There was a moment of silence. Okay, we get it: you breathe air funny, because it makes you feel special; you carry around a bunch of weird gadgets that do. . . basically nothing useful; oh, and you're crazy! "Anyway," Jarvis said out loud, "Ferril had the presence of mind to grab a couple bottles of half-decent intoxicant from Kerlin's party. We don't have any glasses, but hey, we're family; that shouldn't matter." He gave a sly smile, and made his way back to the bridge.

They ended up passing the bottles around, skipping Allara, of course, because she insisted on maintaining her self-contained environment. They spent the time talking about their lives before they met, the things they'd seen, the things they'd done, the places they'd been, and what the next steps for the group would be. After everyone was feeling a little light-headed—wondering what exactly it was they were drinking—Jarvis finally asked Allara, "Hey, c'mon, this isn't fair. We're supposed to be family here, and you're wearing that stupid helmet-thing. C'mon, join the fun."

"You're drunk, so I'll pretend you aren't really talking right now."

"Aw, I'm not that far gone."

Allara stared at Jarvis for a moment, reluctantly pulling off her helmet and grabbing the bottle from him. "I'm only doing this for your own safety; there's no telling what more of this stuff's going to do to you," She whispered in her raspy voice. Before she took a drink, she replaced the nose plugs, flashing Jarvis a falsely agitated look.

"Hey, it's a step in the right direction," Zal said, sounding dubious and grinning at Allara.

She finished off the bottle and threw it at Zal, smiling for the first time any of them had seen.

He's right; you might not be breathing quite the same air as us yet, but it's definitely a start.

Allara looked over at Jarvis, her smile still firmly planted on her face. "The family you can trust, huh?"

"That's right," Jarvis said, smiling and sounding proud as he looked at all the faces in the circle. "The family you can trust."