Story requested by the core of justice. Basic plotline and certain characters created by the core of justice. Other characters, details, and the writing of this story done by myself: SWGoji2001. Will try to update every two weeks or so.

-000-

"Take the greatest Jedi Knight, strip away the Force, and what remains? They rely on it, depend on it, more than they know. Watch as one tries to hold a blaster, as they try to hold a lightsaber, and you will see nothing more than a woman - or a man. A child." Kreia

-0-

Nar Shaddaa: known as the Vertical City; the Smuggler's Moon; Little Coruscant or derisively as Little Slugland. Like the capital of the Republic, it was completely covered in urban city sprawl, yet unlike Coruscant, which was only relatively rundown and dangerous on the lower and under levels of the world city, Nar Shaddaa was filthy, polluted, and infested with crime everywhere. At least Nar Shaddaa was honest. One knew that it was a cesspool of scum and villainy, while Coruscant was a shell of beauty that concealed its true nature. It was almost like the Republic itself. Corruption was rampant in the Republic, but the Senate tried to hide it under a gilded shell of prosperity.

Perhaps that was why some people decided to live or work there for the Hutts. At least with the Hutts you knew they were going to kill you. The Republic made promises, then stabbed you in the back when they couldn't keep them, which was most of the time. Yet for a place filled with such vile characters, Nar Shaddaa was also the most important financial and trading center of Hutt Space. To those who could feel the Force, the contrast was even more stark. It was said that never was there another place so alive with the Force, yet so dead to it.

It was not uncommon to hear blaster fire or the cries of those being robbed. It was a normal way of life on the Smuggler's Moon. The powerful ruled the weak. It was for that reason that no one looked up as a young togruta ran down alleys and pathways, trying to lose those who pursued her. If she couldn't win on her own, then she was weak, and had no place here.

Nobody watched with much interest as she fired blindly behind her, running in any way that was open. Nobody came to her rescue when she was trapped between two different gangs that wanted her. Nobody aided her in the ensuing firefight, and nobody tried to save her as she fell over the walkway railing, falling down and down towards the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa.

-0-

Far below the chaos of above, a lone human prepared a freighter for departure. He had been given clearance to leave, his checklist completed, and everything was loaded, especially that which was not on the manifest.

The Clone Wars spanned the entire galaxy, and people had suffered, even those who were not involved in the fighting. The battles between the Republic and Separatists shifted and disrupted trade routes, impeded the transport of vital goods, and created the opening for black markets.

Openings that allowed people like Zyon Vastor to find some purpose in the galaxy. A spot where he could escape his past and make enough credits to keep his ship running, with a little something on the side.

Zyon was the only one on his ship. He had no crew. He liked it that way. Getting close to anyone meant that you would eventually confide in them, and Zyon had no intentions in anyone knowing his secrets. Of course there were some who knew, but he had left them behind a couple years ago.

He was a part of a crew once, a family, but that was in the past. He now worked for the Hutts. The Hutts, as much as he loathed working for them, didn't care about his past or his age. He did the jobs they gave him, delivered their cargo, and got them their money.

Engines were primed and all systems were go for departure, when a Zyon looked up sharply. There was something, a feeling in the back of his head, that told him something was about to happen. Something important. Looking up through the windshield of his Corellian freighter, Zyon saw something falling towards his landing pad.

With a resounding crash, he saw the shape crash into a few crates nearby and he bolted out of his cockpit seat. Cautiousness getting the better of him, Zyon pulled out his blaster, but that feeling told him that there was no danger from whatever this was. Cautiously, Zyon lowered the boarding ramp of his freighter and approached, moving a couple crates out of the way, before he gasped.

In the mangled wreckage of the crates, lay a face-down, comatose, badly injured person. An arm and a leg were bent at unnatural angles and a small pool of blood had formed around the person. He rolled her body over and his eyes widened at the sight. Before him was a beautiful young female togruta. Her beauty was marred by the cuts and lacerations on her body, and the blackened crater of skin where a blaster bolt had impacted on her body. If she wasn't treated soon, she would die.

Making a split-second decision, Zyon gently picked up her broken body and carried it up the ramp of his freighter.

-0-

She was floating alone. In the void. Darkness surrounding her.

Everything was going wrong. She lost her mark and had been betrayed… again! She was a failure at being a bounty hunter. She couldn't bring herself to kill someone for credits, but what else could she do? And now that they knew she was a former Jedi, everyone was after her!

Taking a turn, the togruta had immediately known it was the wrong one. She had found herself exposed, out on a walkway with two exits: where she just came from with the Exchange chasing her, and the other side where thugs from the Hutt Cartel had cut her off. Everyone was after her! The lead Exchange thug, a Rodian, had hailed her as he rounded the corner, speaking in his native tongue. "You! Little Jedi! You surrender to us, huh? You have good fun with us!"

She turned away from him to see the lead thug from the Hutt Cartel, a large male Twi'lek, leering at her as he muscled his way through the crowd. One of the humans by the Twi'lek had said, "A Jedi slave would please the master well, wouldn't she?"

"Especially those who get to condition her." They had all laughed and the togruta had looked desperately for a way out. A few weeks ago and this would have been no problem for her. She could have cut them down or evaded them with ease. But the Force seemed to have fled from her, and all she held was a small blaster pistol.

This is Ahsoka Tano:

A seventeen year old togruta who has seen much more bloodshed and violence than those twice and maybe thrice her age. A warrior without her weapon, whose trust and faith in everything, even herself, has been shaken. She had been so much: Jedi Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic. A Commanding Officer of the 501st Legion. Jedi Padawan to the Chosen One himself: Anakin Skywalker, the Hero with No Fear, the most powerful Jedi of his generation, perhaps the most powerful there will ever be.

Yet now she is none of that. She has left all that behind.

She is alone, abandoned, away from the support she used to enjoy and take for granted. Her people aren't meant to be alone. Togruta rely on each other to defeat the massive akul on their homeworld of Shili. Likewise, Ahsoka could always rely on her family when faced with trouble. Her clone brothers-in-arms. Her master and his former master. Her fellow Jedi.

Ahsoka's heart aches when she thinks of Anakin and his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Walking away from the Temple, how she wanted to turn and run into her master's arms! Return to the battlefield alongside Rex and Fives. But she pushes those thoughts aside. She left that life behind. She can't rely on them now. She can't even rely on the Force.

Only herself.

A dangerous place for a togruta to be. And a dark sinister voice in her head whispers Can you even trust herself? The only work she could find here on Nar Shaddaa was that of a bounty hunter, but she's not like Ventress or Fett or Embo or any of the other bounty hunters around. She can't bring herself to pull the trigger when needed, and few on this planet are willing to surrender. She knows they deserve it, but killing sentients isn't like killing battle droids. The feeling of taking another's life is not one any Jedi wants to feel.

But she isn't a Jedi anymore, so why should it matter? For some reason though, it still does.

That is why she was running. She couldn't bring herself to kill an unarmed target, and they fought back, and in the process, had revealed her past, and, no matter how much she wanted to leave the past behind, it would not escape her. Nar Shaddaa was a haven for all kinds of scum, and a lone Jedi, a lone female Jedi, was a tempting prize.

She ran, and ran, screaming within her head to the Force to help her. But the Force did not answer. Her use of it had drained her greatly, but for a simple task to do so? The Force had fled from her and left her alone.

Truly alone.

She had turned from side to side, searching desperately for a way out. Anakin would have just killed them all, they were all probably slavers, and he hated slavers. Obi-Wan would have some smart comment to inject some humor into the situation, chiding her for letting herself be cornered, and would have tried to talk his way out, but often made as much a mess as Anakin. She used to fall somewhere in the middle, but that version of herself is gone. If she had her lightsabers, she could have escaped. If she had the Force, easy. If her master was here, she wouldn't have had to do anything. But all she has is this small, useless blaster.

"Come with us, little Jedi! You have much fun with us!" The Rodian squeaked, gesturing to the men behind him. We show you a good time!

"Not so fast," the Twi'lek yelled, "His Magnificence Glorba the Hutt runs Nar Shaddaa. The Jedi is ours."

The Rodian laughed, his head bristles twitching, "Exchange not cowed by you! We stronger than Hutts. We do what we want."

Some of the other thugs behind the Rodian yelled, "The Jedi is our prize!" "Yeah!"

The display had disgusted Ahsoka. She was not some prize to be won! But then again, she was alone on Nar Shaddaa, and nobody would care if the beautiful young togruta did not want to end up either a slave of a Hutt or the property of the Exchange. All she would be was a body to be paraded or sold or used for money. She had once thought the Republic stood against such sordid lifestyles, but it was corrupt to its core. The Jedi as well.

A firefight had broken out between the two gangs, with Ahsoka caught in the middle. She had hit the deck, rolling into a crouch, before looking around, trying to find some sort of cover. Several civilians had been hit and killed in the crossfire, as were some of the thugs.

Ahsoka had ran to a vendor's stall, trying to escape the deadly spray of plasma, but she was too slow. A blaster bolt had caught her in the chest, and she had stumbled, before tumbling over the guard railing. She fell.

And fell.

And fell.

She saw things as she fell. Her fighting a red lightsaber-wielding Zabrak. A farming world burning. A ship blowing apart from the inside over a red planet. A savage duel on the bridge of a warship. A colorful Mandalorian warrior wielding a familiar dark blade against a figure wielding a red lightsaber. Bits and pieces of images that appeared and disappeared over and over again too fast for her mind to comprehend, but through it all, there was one thing: A dark-skinned human male. She tried to piece together what it could mean, but she could feel like she was slowing. Pinpricks of light pierced the veil of shadow that fogged her mind, blinding her from the rest of the images that assaulted her brain. She reached out for the light, clawing for it and clutching whatever strands of it she could.

And through this battle of dark and light, she heard a voice, faint at first, but steadily growing until it drowned out all other sound. Yet, she could not determine who it was: herself, the dark human, Anakin, or someone else entirely.

All it said was, "Wake up."

-0-

Ahsoka woke to a cold and sticky feeling against her skin. Her ears were ringing. She tried to breathe in, but felt a cold, foul tasting liquid fill her mouth and nose. She recognized it. Kolto. Despite being less effective than bacta, it was useful stuff, but being submerged in a kolto tank was probably one of the most nauseating experiences in the galaxy.

She flailed around and the sensors in the tank picked it up, realizing she had come to. The tank drained and the glass in front of her lowered, letting Ahsoka tumble out. Her legs were momentarily useless, resulting in her falling flat onto her face. By far, not one of the agile togruta's greatest moments.

She tried to push herself up, but her strength had drained. Ahsoka simply lay on the ground, shivering, as kolto glued her eyes shut when she blinked. She thought she might have gone to sleep for a bit.

She was awoken by the sound of footsteps and she managed to prop herself on her elbows and knees. Rocking back, she found she was able to sit up and looked around at her surroundings. She was in the medbay of a ship. It was small, but functional, with the kolto tank in the corner that she was just released from. She knew then that whoever owned this ship was not the richest man in the world, or else they would have bacta tanks instead of kolto.

The footsteps neared her, and Ahsoka pulled herself up, leaning against the table. She spotted a nearby surgical tool, grabbing it as a weapon. The fact that she was alive meant that whoever had found her didn't want her dead, but that wasn't necessarily good. They might be like the Exchange or the Hutts, who wanted her as a slave.

A shadow came around the corner and it was quickly followed by whoever cast it. Ahsoka stared ahead of her, raising her makeshift weapon in defense. The person came into the doorway and noticed her, "Oh good. You're awake."

Standing before Ahsoka was a young human male, maybe about 19 or 20 years old. He had dark skin, about the same color as Master Windu, and short, black hair. The strange thing was that he bore an uncanny resemblance to the human who she saw in her visions. "Who are you?" She asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

They were at an impasse and the human shrugged, "Name's Zyon, I'm the owner of this ship." He cocked an eyebrow at her, "And who might you be?"

He hadn't given her much more to work with. For all she knew, this Zyon might be a smuggler, a separatist, or a slaver. Ahsoka knew it would be unwise to reveal her name, her true identity, as she also suspected 'Zyon' was an alias. "Ashla. I'm a mechanic who ran into some trouble on Nar Shaddaa. How did I get here?"

"Seems like some pretty big trouble for a simple mechanic."

"Let's just say some thugs saw a pretty young female and decided to make advances on her."

Zyon nodded, "Nar Shaddaa's a rough place. I try to avoid it whenever possible." He cocked his head, noting her condition, "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah." Ahsoka said, wincing as she did, "Okay, maybe not."

"Miracle you survived." Zyon said, "You fell quite a bit from wherever onto my landing pad. Couple crates broke your fall, and your arm and leg. I brought you onboard and let the kolto do the work."

"Why not bacta?"

"Too expensive."

"Ahh." Ahsoka said, sliding back down to the floor. "Why?"

"Excuse me?" Zyon seemed to be momentarily taken aback by the question.

"Why did you save me? You don't know anything about me."

Zyon shrugged, "You needed help. And Nar Shaddaa is no place for a young woman." He grabbed a bag by the door, "Here, you might want these." He reached into the bag and tossed her her spare pair of clothes that she carried. It suddenly dawned on her that the reason she was so cold was because she was in her under layer. And a large part had been cut away over her stomach, where she had been hit by a blaster bolt.

Ahsoka blushed furiously and her arms slid to cover herself, even though nothing was on display. Zyon looked somewhat bashful, "I'm sorry, you needed the kolto tank if you were to live." He held his hands up in a placating gesture, "I did all I could to protect your modesty."

Ahsoka could feel her montrals darken with embarrassment and nodded, "Err… thanks? I guess?"

Zyon turned his back as she dried herself off and dressed, putting the scalpel down in order to do so. Ahsoka found it odd, he had left himself open to attack from a person he didn't know. She could have easily lunged at him, killed him, and stole his ship. Yet he left himself open to attack, and his relaxed posture meant he didn't fear any attempt from her. Almost as if he'd know if she made a move. He spoke, "Why were you carrying a spare pair of clothes anyways though?"

She responded without thinking, "That bag has everything I own. I don't have a home of my own."

"But you're a mechanic, right?"

Fierfek! Ahsoka mentally swore, reverting to the language she sometimes heard the clones use. "Was a mechanic." She responded, "Lost my job because of the Hutts."

"I see."

Ahsoka quickly slipped out of the kolto-drenched clothes she wore and into her other dry pair of clothes. "So what now? Where are we?"

"You're welcome to stay as long as it takes for you to heal. We're on Rishi right now and I've got a few more stops to make. After I'm done, if you're healed, I can drop you wherever you want."

-0-

Zyon left Ashla in the medbay as he strode to the cockpit. Something in the back of his mind bothered him. This wasn't like him. He hadn't been this way since before…

No.

He refused to think of that. He wouldn't. Not yet.

But why had he helped the young togruta. It was obvious that she was hiding stuff from him. He had seen on the holonet an Exchange bounty for a young togruta that fit Ashla's description. A Jedi? Not likely. No self-respecting Jedi in their right mind would be working as a bounty hunter on Nar Shaddaa, the armpit of the galaxy. More likely, she was a fallen Jedi or a former one, like… No. His mind would not go there. Not anymore. Not until he was ready.

An uneasy thought washed over him. Was she a spy? One of the Jedi Order's fabled Jedi Shadows sent to track him down?

No. She was too badly injured to have been a Jedi Shadow, and he hadn't found a lightsaber anywhere on her or in her belongings. Besides, it wasn't like the Jedi would send an assassin to kill him. They had probably forgotten all about him.

Even if she was, he should have turned Ashla over. Her stance with the scalpel, albeit clumsy from her recent kolto bath, indicated a high level of martial arts proficiency, perhaps Teras Kasi. Or maybe the Echani? She was clearly dangerous, and probably lethal when fully healthy.

But he had helped her.

Stuck out his neck for her.

This was new for him. Zyon had spent the last couple years not caring about anyone but himself. He had turned his back on countless atrocities committed by the Hutts, countless slave girls ripped from the arms of their parents to be sold to the highest bidder to commit unspeakable acts. It was moments like that that showed him that perhaps the Separatists were the good guys. The Republic, for all it's claims of being just and righteous, had turned their backs on these people.

But for some reason, he had helped this girl Ashla, all because of a feeling in the back of his head?

It had never been wrong before.

Besides, he could see why the Hutts and Exchange wanted her. She was extraordinarily pretty, shorter than him but that was to be expected from a younger togruta. Her montrals were still somewhat short, indicating that she was still maturing. Her clothes were scuffed and worn, indicating that what she had said was true, they were all she owned.

Her blaster was lightly used, unlike his, indicating that she had only had it for a short time. It was a relatively cheap model, meaning that she was poor and it was all she could afford, or steal. But why would a mechanic have a blaster? Odd.

Her hands had also shown considerable wear with multiple small scars and calluses, as if she had fought many, many times. But they weren't on the outside of her fingers and knuckles, as would be expected for a street fight, they were on the inside of her hands. This meant she fought with a blade.

But which type? A staff? A spear? An axe? Vibroknives? Vibroblades?

Lightsaber?

Probably that one. But where was it? Zyon didn't know. Yet another question to add to the ever-growing list of questions about the togruta who called herself Ashla.

So why had he saved her? Zyon couldn't answer. Somehow, he knew that their fates would be interconnected from that moment on. It might not be the worst thing in the world. Ashla certainly wasn't bad to look at.

-0-

Ahsoka finished cleaning herself up in the refresher, and gazed at her appearance in the mirror. Her injuries had healed, with a few faint scars all that remained. They would join the older ones, the scars of war that marr the beauty and innocence of youth.

Zyon had almost finished his delivery run, with only one stop left before he would take her to whatever place she wished to go. But where would she start anew? She didn't know.

She could go back home to Shili, to her people's homeworld, but she knew no one there. She could go to Onderon, to see Lux and Saw, but that would only bring back memories of her days as Commander Tano. Memories of her failure to save Steela, one of the few times she had failed to save someone.

Zyon had left a couple minutes ago to make his delivery, and Ahsoka hated waiting around. As a warrior, she used to be thrilled by the high-octane moments of combat, preferring it to downtime waiting for combat to find her. She often became impatient, and used that boredom to repeatedly prank and annoy Anakin and Rex. She smiled fondly at those moments.

But those days are all gone.

Making a choice, Ahsoka took her blaster and a pair of macrobinoculars and strode down the ramp of Zyon's ship. She wanted to see what he did during his so-called "deliveries". She wanted to know who he was, what he did, and so many other things. They hadn't really had any major conversations in the week that he continued to make deliveries, and without the Force, it was hard for her to pick out anything from his actions.

Walking through Taleucema Spaceport, Ahsoka reached out slightly with the Force, trying to sense things around her. She could, but her senses were dimmed. The Dark Side was growing, and Saleucami was suffering from the war. She could faintly feel the deaths of clones as they fought Separatist droids.

Saleucami was a key planet in the Outer Rim Sieges, and savage battles had been fought here ever since Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Adi Gallia had rescued Master Eeth Koth, but failed to apprehend General Grievous a couple years earlier.

Taleucema was still under Separatist control, but Republic forces under General Stass Allie were closing in on the city. Conditions in the city were bad, as the war had devastated Saleucami's economy. People were starving from shortages of food, but Republic clones were unable to break through Separatist lines to relieve the city.

With some difficulty, she located Zyon. Diverting her course, she found him in a market, talking to a couple Pantorans at a fruit vending stall. The shelves were half-empty, and prices were so high that few could buy whatever was available.

She crept closer, close enough to eavesdrop on them. Zyon opened the crate slightly and she could see the Pantorans' eyes widen. Zyon said, "You asked, and I got it."

"Thank you, Captain." One of the Pantorans, a thin, malnourished male, said, "With these, we can make things right here on Saleucami."

"Yeah, yeah. I don't care." Zyon said, flicking his wrist in a dismissing manner. "Just pay me and I'll be on my way." The Pantoran offered him a bag that she assumed was filled with credits.

A commotion came from the entrance of the market as several battle droids forced their way through the crowd. "There they are!" One of them said in its high pitched voice as it pointed at the Pantorans. "Blast them!"

A chorus of "Roger Roger" followed, followed then by a flurry of blaster bolts. Several people were hit and killed instantly.

"Ah kriff." Zyon said as he kicked over the crate for cover, picking up some of the contents. A high-powered blaster rifle. The Pantorans, who Ahsoka guessed were anti-Separatist rebels, also grabbed some, tossing others to other people in the square.

One slid over to Ahsoka, who recognized it as a DC-15S, one used by many of the clones she had commanded. Despite being around clones who used it regularly, however, Ahsoka was not as skilled with the blaster as she hoped, and her shots weren't that accurate without the Force to guide her.

Despite her ineptness, the B1 droids were being whittled down by the heavy return fire. One of them tapped the side of its head, "Command. We need reinforcements!"

Soon enough, a squad of heavier B2 Super Battle Droids walked in, alongside a sound that even Ahsoka feared. Sure enough, in behind the B2s rolled several droidekas, which proceeded to unfurl their blasters and fire from the cover of their shield generators.

One of the rebels next to Ahsoka fell from the withering fire, and she noticed that he was carrying a vibroblade. Not her lightsabers, but more familiar to her than a blaster. She also knew that it would work, seeing Hondo Ohnaka cut down countless droids with one on Florrum a little while back.

Darting out of cover, Ahsoka methodically began to thin the numbers of the droids, using her battlefield knowledge to aim for and strike at their weak points, then rolling back under cover as the droids unleashed another hail of fire towards her.

-0-

Meanwhile, Zyon snarled as he took aim at droid after droid. He knew that Ashla had followed him, but he didn't really care about that. She was a curious girl, and he couldn't say he blamed her. He hated waiting as well.

What was interesting was the way Ashla took out droid after droid with a vibroblade. She struck fast, using her agility and speed to avoid return fire. It looked almost like the Jedi lightsaber combat Form IV, Ataru, except more clumsy and slower.

The droids focused fire on her position, and Ashla rolled into some cover: the stone wall of a building. Zyon grabbed a grenade from the crate he delivered and threw it at the droids. The EMP, known affectionately to many as a "droid-popper", deactivated three of the B2 super battle droids, but didn't affect the droidekas' shields in the slightest.

Breaking from cover, Zyon opened fire to draw them off of Ashla. Why he did this, he didn't know. He could have used the distraction of the droids to escape, get to his ship, and leave. Ashla had been foolish enough to get involved, and it wasn't his job to look after her.

Yet, he slid into cover beside her. "I thought I told you to stay on the ship!"

"I got bored. And I've never taken orders well." Was the casual response.

The droidekas continued to hammer away at them as the rebels picked off the last of the B2s. The rebels had taken severe casualties from both the droidekas and the B2s' laser cannons and wrist rockets. If they didn't act now, none of them would escape alive. If Zyon didn't act.

It wasn't the hardest choice Zyon ever made, but brought the most repercussions with it. Should he reveal his past? Come to terms with it and embrace it?

Zyon knew the answer to that as Ashla took a blaster bolt to the arm. She cried out in pain and fell back, but so did Zyon. Even though he hadn't been hit, he still felt the searing pain of a blaster bolt.

At the same part of his arm as Ashla.

He knew then that this was inevitable. Despite his fear of connecting with others, it had already happened. The Force had made it happen. Reaching deep within, Zyon found the inner power he had hidden for years. The strength that he had concealed from everyone since Haruun Kal. He grasped it, owned it.

And then, he unleashed it.

-0-

Ahsoka clutched her arm as the pain from the blaster bolt coursed through her. The last of the rebels had cut and run, taking whatever salvage from Zyon's shipment that they could.

But there would be no escape for Ahsoka, nor for Zyon who was crouched beside her.

Ahsoka grit her teeth and shut her eyes. So this was how she would die, unknown and forgotten on a backwater planet. By the time Stass Allie and the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps reached Taleucama, Ahsoka would be nothing but a forgotten corpse in a secluded market square.

Suddenly, she felt a surge of power from near her. She reached out through the Force, but it blinded her and she recoiled from the sheer raw power she felt. The ground shook around her and she could feel a cloud of dust envelop her and Zyon.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Zyon's face above her. He looked at her arm, "Are you okay?"

It was then that Ahsoka realized that all of the blaster fire had stopped. Zyon helped her sit up, and then stand. She looked around the square, but found only destroyed droids. The droidekas had been crushed by the side of a building that had fallen on them.

"Did I miss something?"

Zyon smiled at her, looking over at the droidekas. "We got lucky. The wall fell on them. Must have been weakened by the battle."

"I guess." Ahsoka nodded. But something told her that that wasn't true. She had felt the Force surge near her. Was it Zyon? Her? Or someone else that had destroyed those destroyer droids? Heh. She had to laugh slightly at that irony.

"Come on." Zyon said, "We need to leave before more arrive." He held up a small bag of credits, "I'm not dying before I can spend these."

But as they walked away from the battlefield, Ahsoka couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. Something big. After the surge of Force energy, Ahsoka noticed that her own connection to the Force had deepened. She was able to sense more things, reach out further. Not as much as she had when she was still a Padawan of the order, but more than her time as a bounty hunter.

Now, with the Force to guide her shots, she was able to fight her way out with Zyon's help. Droids fell before them as they ran for the dock where Zyon's freighter stood.

And somehow, she suspected her sudden reconnection to the Force was because of Zyon. She could sense that the Force flowed through him, but that was all. She knew he was Force sensitive, but to what extent had he been trained?

Ahsoka vowed then and there, she would learn. Through any means necessary.

-0-

Zyon maneuvered the freighter out of the spaceport and away from the battle below. The squabbles of the Republic and Separatists didn't interest him. They were two sides of the same coin.

After the stars had elongated into starlines and then the swirling vortex of hyperspace, Zyon turned to look at Ashla, who stood in the doorway with her arm in a bandage. "You handled yourself well in that fight. Where'd you learn to use a vibroblade like that?"

"My father and brother taught me." Ashla shrugged as she answered, "They wanted me to be able to defend myself if needed."

"They did a good job." Zyon said, and he saw tears well up in Ashla's eyes after he said that. She must have missed them greatly. "So, where should I drop you off?"

Ashla blinked and the tears were gone, "I don't know. All my life, I've known where I've needed to go, but now… I just don't know."

Zyon nodded, he understood the feeling. That was why he became a smuggler. He would never be tied down, and could fly away from any trouble he faced. He suspected that was precisely what Ashla needed.

"You'd probably be safer on the move."

Ashla nodded, knowing that the Exchange and Hutts would still be after her. "I know, but I'm too poor to afford a ship."

"You know," Zyon said, not knowing why he was doing this. "It gets lonely being the only one on this ship after a while and you can handle yourself in a fight." Maybe Zyon had changed in the square and now felt the need for someone else to be in his life. Perhaps it was time that the durasteel walls that he built around himself were torn down.

And, despite his mind and thoughts screaming at him not to do it, he asked a simple question. A question that would change the galaxy forever.

"How would you feel about staying?"