"Sir?" Thelgarn asked, as Avard moved to go. "The combat boots-?"

"Some other time, merchant," he replied curtly.

As Avard was finally about to leave, the door chimed and three human females entered, all in the severe gray-black attire of Sith junior officers.

Mission cursed silently to herself. What is this, quitting time at the Sith Embassy?

"Welcome, ladies, to Thelgarn's Emporium!" Thelgarn called out. "Remember: small prices, big explosions!"

The newcomers completely ignored the merchant, focusing instead on the Sith apprentice approaching them. "Fancy meeting you here, Avard," the redhead in the trio breathed, eyelashes fluttering as she blocked Avard's path. "What a coincidence!"

"Mina," he replied curtly, walking around her with barely a glance at the considerable charms on display, before leaving out the door.

A blessing to be ignored by the likes of him, Mission would have thought. But apparently these girls felt otherwise. The blonde-haired Sith officer sniggered as Mina's expression turned dark at the disinterest. The rejected redhead and her companions quickly figured out who was to blame, their glares casting daggers into Bastila's back.

"A street walker and a Twi'lek punk?" Mina, who must have been the leader of the pack, said as the trio entered the store. "Really, Thelgarn, your clientele has taken a decided turn for the worse. Or did your maintenance droid forget to take the trash out this morning?"

No hidden knives or subtlety with these girls, is there?

"What manner of repugnant beasts are these?" Bastila asked Thelgarn, of course doing her part to make things worse.

"Ah, my lady…" began the merchant.

"Oooh, 'my lady'!" snorted the brunette in the group.

The blonde shoved Mission aside. "And this Twi'lek chit must be her love child."

Chit? Of all the nerve-!

Suddenly, Carth's blaster was snatched out of Mission's hands by the passing Mina.

"Hey!"

Pain flashed through Mission's head as the Sith pinched one of her lekku. "Run along home and play with your dolls, girl," Mina hissed, ignoring Mission's cry. "Shopkeep! I've decided I'd like to purchase this."

"Get lost, Twi'lek," the blonde said, giving her a push toward the door.

The Sith officers gathered around Bastila, crowding Thelgarn out of the way.

"What's a cheap tart like you doing with a necklace like that?" the brunette asked, her envious eyes zeroed in on those radiantly sparkling jewels.

"She must have one rich daddy," snorted the blonde.

"Listen here, 'lady,'" Mina snarled in Bastila's face. "Arvard is mine! You lay one limp, perfumed hand on him, I'll cut it off, Selkath be damned."

"Of all the nerve!" Bastila gasped, her nose turned up, as the Sith officers pressed in on her. "You're quite welcome to that piece of filth; you two truly deserve each other!"

"Filth?! I'll show you filth, you-!"

"Ladies, ladies, please!" pleaded Thelgarn, hovering nearby, his hands wringing.

This is getting ridiculous! What is this, a Sith singles bar? I'd better do something before Darth Malak himself shows up!

Mission leaped into the fray, squeezing through the encircling Sith officers to stand between Mina and Bastila. "What happened, did a core slug crawl into your mouth and die or do you always smell that way when you talk?"

"What?!" the redhead screeched.

"Oooh, the little gizka fights back," laughed one of Mina's companions.

"You heard me, rancor-face! And I've seen Sand People with better fashion sense than you!" She made a show of looking Mina over. "Seriously, you've somehow managed to screw up black!"

As Mission was hoping for when she'd provoked Mina, someone shoved her into the counter, where the bin of Arkanian blasters was sitting.

She bumped into it, spilling its contents onto Mina. The avalanche of blasters knocked Carth's blaster out of her hand and onto the floor.

"My inventory!" Thelgarn cried in dismay. By his side, the security droid slowly whirred into action.

Mission quickly knelt amongst the pile of blasters, dropping her own Arkanian blaster from a pouch into the jumbled mess. I don't have a lot of time; where is Carth's blaster?

Mina was down on the floor, searching as well, and gave her a shove as she sifted through the pile of blasters.

Suddenly Bastila knelt beside Mission, her hands gripping an arm painfully tightly.

"What are you doing, you clumsy fool!" she hissed.

She glanced at Bastila, panic in her eyes. I can't find that blaster!

There was something in Bastila's eyes... reassurance?

"I'm—I'm sorry, my lady," Mission said, hoping she was reading the Jedi correctly. She picked up a blaster at random.

"Give me that!" snarled Mina, pushing her way between them to grab the blaster.

Just then, the door chimed and a Selkath patrol officer walked in. Coincidence or not, that cooled the heated atmosphere down immediately.

Bastila stood, pulling Mission up as she did so. "My apologies for the rude behavior of my servant," she said to the Sith officer. "She will be reprimanded."

"Yeah, well she'd better be," Mina huffed, standing up and putting the blaster on the counter, "or you'll be looking for new help!"

On his hands and knees, Thelgarn was busy putting blasters back into the bin. "…twenty-three, twenty-four… good, they're all here!"

Bastila stood to the side, stone-faced, while the Sith officers transacted their business with Thelgarn. The Jedi stoically suffered their silent enmity. Mission got her fair share of hate as well, and decided she'd better watch herself out on the streets later in case she should have the misfortune of bumping into this particular coven again.

Bastila moved after the Sith officers and the Selkath departed. "Come, servant," she said. "Let us be quit of this place."

Thelgarn jumped. "But, my lady, what of our business?"

"I do not wish to remain any longer in this establishment," Bastila said disdainfully. "My servant and I have been insulted by those—those thuggish Sith, and that dishonor had poisoned the atmosphere here."

"But—but my lady! I hardly have control over who walks into my shop!" Thelgarn blubbered, scurrying around the counter to be by her side.

"Your clientele is a reflection on you, merchant. And that is a very poor reflection, indeed. Come, servant, we are wasting time!"

"Please, my lady! Reconsider!" he pleaded. "I—I'm willing to extend very favorable terms to compensate you for all the harm that has befallen you here!"

"Is that so?" asked Mission. "What are we talking about here?"

He glanced between the two. "Uh—I'm willing to defer payment until delivery."

"No downpayment?" pressed Mission.

Thelgarn visibly blanched. "No downpayment," he repeated, a pained look on his face.

Hmmm. Wheels churned inside Mission's head. "My lady, I think we should reconsider," she said.

Bastila arched an inquiring eyebrow at her.

The last piece of business transacted, the two finally emerged out of the dim shop and back into the bright sunlight of the streets.

Once out of sight of Thelgarn's store, the two ducked into a side alley. Mission started giggling uncontrollably.

Bastila's eyes flashed, misunderstanding. "You did that on purpose!"

Mission stifled the laughter in sudden surprise. "What?"

"You did that on purpose, to make me humiliate myself in front of those—those—!"

"Oh, right!" Mission replied sarcastically. "I lost Carth's blaster, then talked to all my Sith friends and asked them to come over for the express purpose of embarrassing you! The whole Galaxy does not revolve around you, Bastila!"

The Jedi's lips tightened.

"Look, Bastila," Mission said more calmly, wondering exactly when Bastila had usurped the role of moody teenager from her, "I was not laughing at you." Much. "In fact, I think you did a wonderful job. I couldn't have done it without you."

The hard look on Bastila's face softened.

"And you have to admit—that was funny," she continued, the giggles coming back. "I almost—almost—feel sorry for those girls, if Avard is considered quite the catch! Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel—the Sith must be getting desperate if he's a member. Oh, come on! I know you enjoyed that! Save the 'prim and proper' act for the others."

"Well—well, I do have to admit that tweaking the nose of that Sith 'Master' was quite—refreshing," she said (primly and properly). "Using the Force to try and attract women! Reprehensible!"

"Atrocious," echoed Mission. "A crime against the entire Galaxy."

Bastila ignored the sarcasm. "I know the Sith are a corrupt perversion of everything we Jedi stand for—but using such a gift for such—such trivial purposes-!"

"You'd prefer it if he was using the Force to rape and pillage like all his fellows?"

"Well of course not! It's just—well, it's just wrong! Anyway, I hope he stews tomorrow when he finds no one waiting for him—where did you send him, anyway?"

"Funny you should mention stewing… your amorous lover will be waiting for you at the fish market."

"You didn't!" she exclaimed, her lips trembling, her eyes dancing.

"I know. Cruel, isn't it? Haven't those poor fish suffered enough already?"

The Jedi was working hard not to laugh.

"And as an added bonus," Mission continued, "I'm sure Mina will 'accidentally' show up there as well." Her voice lowered. "'Fancy meeting you here, Avard,'" she said breathlessly, then giggled. "Who knows? Maybe they'll finally hit it off, and look back someday and say, 'Remember how we finally met in the Ahto fish market? Let's go back there every year and celebrate, and take in the romantic stink of decomposing fish.'"

"You really are incorrigible, Mission," Bastila said, with what sounded suspiciously like warmth in her voice.

Good enough—I'll get through to you someday, despite yourself!

"Now, where did you have all those blasters shipped to?" Bastila asked.

Mission started giggling again, handing Bastila a small card.

The Jedi read it out loud. "Avard Jehr, Sith Apprentice, 7561 East Choran, Ahto City."

"I lifted this from our Sith 'Master' when I bumped into him," she explained. "I sure hope he has the ten thousand credits Thelgarn's delivery thugs will be looking for."

A most uncharacteristic mirth danced in Bastila's eyes.

"My turn," Mission said. "Where's Carth's blaster?"

Bastila looked around to make sure they were alone. Satisfied, she hiked up her skirts. There, strapped on her thigh next to her lightsaber, was Carth's blaster.

Mission blamed an embarrassing excess of possibilities for her failure to translate thoughts into words fast enough.

"Shush!" Bastila said, placing a finger over Mission's lips. "You're too young to say that." She unstrapped the blaster, then handed it over handle first to Mission. "I saw it on the floor when you pulled that stunt, and knelt atop it and picked it up underneath my skirts," she explained. "Now let us never speak of this again."

The others arrived late in the evening, exhausted after their undersea expedition.

Mission found Carth alone in the midship, checking status reports from the Ebon Hawk's monitoring systems.

"So, how'd it go, Carth?" she asked.

He looked up from the viewscreen he'd been examining. "Hey, Mission. It went okay, I guess. We'll be back at it bright and early tomorrow. There were a few doors we couldn't get past—I think Enosh will be asking for your help tomorrow."

"I told him. I told him he'd need me down there. And what was he thinking, taking Big Z down there without me? The big guy gets claustrophobic; he needs me to reassure him that he won't get squashed."

He smiled. "Yeah, you were right. So what's up? How'd things go back here? Did being cooped up in here with Bastila drive you crazy?"

"No. You know, underneath all the general huffiness and uptightness—well, there's another layer, and another, and another—but underneath all that, she's not half bad. Sometimes. Occasionally. Especially if she's quiet. And asleep."

"Hey, I wasn't attacking her," he said, a smile on his lips, holding up his hands in denial. "Besides, you're the one who smeared her lipstick all over her face that one time while she was meditating."

"Hey, that was an accident! I was just curious to see if she breathed while she was meditating! And I'll thank you to keep that particular experiment a secret."

Almost as if by magic, a side door opened and Bastila emerged.

Mission shared a mischievous glance with Carth.

"Hey, Bastila," Carth greeted the Jedi. "Looking for Enosh? He's—"

"Yes, I'm well aware of where Enosh is," she replied testily. "Why does everyone always assume I'm looking for him all the time? You'd think he's the only person I ever talk to on this ship."

Not too far off the truth, there, Mission thought, trading an amused glance with Carth. "So, anyway," she said to him, "I wanted to show you something."

"What?"

"Surprise!" she said, pulling out his blaster from behind her back.

His brow crinkled in puzzlement. "What do you mean, 'surprise'? That's my blaster, which raises the question—what's it doing outside of my locker?"

"Locker?" asked Bastila. "Mission, you picked Carth's locker?!"

"Picked? Bas, why do you always assume the worst of me? Who said it was locked?"

"Actually, it was locked," Carth said.

"And isn't Enosh always saying, 'We're all in this together'? Where did all this distrust come from suddenly? Anyway, before we were so rudely side-tracked, Bastila—do you notice anything different about your blaster, Carth?"

"It looks like someone gave it a real nice polish job. Mission, you didn't have to—"

"Is there something wrong with your eyes or something? How do you manage to see anything to shoot it?" She tossed the blaster over to him.

"A new scope?!"

"Surprise! I got tired of hearing you complaining all the time about needing to upgrade," she grinned.

He laughed. "Hey, I've got this jacket that has a hole in it—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who do you think I am, the maid? Go ask T3; I'm sure he has a sewing appendage somewhere."

Carth laughed. "Thanks, Mission! That was very thoughtful of you, kid."

"You're welcome, pops," she smiled back.

Bastila cleared her throat.

"Um… yes?" Carth asked. "Did you want something, Bastila?"

"I—I helped too," she said.

"You—you did?"

"It's true," Mission affirmed to Carth's puzzled look her way.

"And why exactly is it so hard to believe that, Carth Onasi?" the Jedi asked acerbically.

"I think you just answered your own question, Bastila," Carth grinned at her. "But thanks, all the same."

"You're welcome," she said, slightly mollified.

"Well, you must be tired after your long trip, Carth, so I'll just leave you alone now," Mission said, yawning.

Bastila grabbed Mission by the arm as she was about to walk away. "Didn't you forget to mention one thing, Mission dear?"

"Let's see—new scope, polish job. Nope, I think I covered everything there, but thanks for the reminder. Good night, Carth."

"Good ni—"

"Think harder, Mission. Or do you want me to try and recall?"

"Fine, fine! You Jedi and your silly promises!" She took a deep breath. "So, the thing is, Carth, between me finding your blaster and getting the scope put on, I managed to, um, lose it temporarily."

"Lose it? You mean here on the Ebon Hawk?"

"Maybe—?", she said hopefully, looking at Bastila.

"Mission!"

"—or maybe I lost it in a Pazaak game outside," she finished in a resigned voice.

"What?!"

"It wasn't my fault that blaster looks just like another I was going to sell and whose fault is that not cleaning their blaster once in a while only I put the wrong one in the pot and I lost to this Rodian kid but I didn't think I was going to lose he was so young!"

Carth paused to parse the torrent of words from Mission. "Mission, this is a family heirloom! It has been handed down from father to son for generations!"

"I'm really sorry, Carth! I—I didn't mean to! I was just trying to surprise you!"

"Surprise?! Surprise?! Since when did 'surprise' mean gambling away your friend's possessions on a—on a whim?!"

"I know," she said, her eyes downcast, trying to dig a hole in the steel deck with the tip of her shoe. Carth was generally a pretty easy-going guy, but once he got started on something... Ugh... this could take a while...

"Worse than a whim! A card game! A silly card game, for a few credits-!"

"Carth, please," Bastila interrupted. "She's apologized for her indiscretion already. There is no need to berate the child further."

"No need?! No need?! I can't believe that you, of all people, are saying that!"

"Oh? And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Mission's eyes had been staring steadily at the floor, but she ventured to look up now. Leave it to Bastila to get into an argument! It's only fair; she got me into this mess in the first place!

Carth was looking at Bastila, weary exasperation plain in the way his eyes glared at her.

For her part, the Jedi's face had settled into grim determination, the look Mission had seen so much of already that she had a special name for it-My Stern Disapproval Is Enough To Save The Universe (And I Will Ignore All Past Evidence To The Contrary).

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yes, please." I Can Wait It Out Longer Than You Can. "I want to hear every last detail, Carth Onasi."

Full name? Ouch, this promises to be quite excruciating. If Mission hadn't been in trouble, she'd have settled down in a chair for the entertainment that would be forthcoming.

But perhaps another time. Escape was beckoning; she probably had at least another half hour before they settled down long enough to remember what had started things off in the first place, and by then perhaps she'd be safely asleep.

But even as she stealthily began to back away, something quite unexpected happened. She felt a tugging at her heart, a gnawing, annoying sensation tapping at her like some far off kath hound howling in the night just as you've finally gotten drowsy enough to fall asleep...

Guilt? Guilt?! You've got to be kidding me!

But identifying it made it coalesce within her, and she couldn't ignore it, much as she tried to. She did help me get that blaster back, and I suppose I did agree to do this silly confession, so...

She sighed. What would these people do without me?

"Hey, guys, are we losing our focus here?"

The angry glares the two had trained on one another whipped around to bore holes into her.

She yawned nonchalantly in the teeth of their stares. All that I have to do, and what thanks do I get? "I'm just saying, because it's getting late for me..."

"Mission!"

"I'm not done yet!"

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise not to open your locker again without your permission, no more bedtime stories for you, you're grounded! It's off to bed without supper, young lady!" she said stiffly, wagging a finger energetically at her imaginary, rascally self.

Bastila hid her grin as the fire of Carth's anger struggled to stay lit.

"Don't think you can kid your way out of this," he said grudgingly, finally.

"I apologize profusely, it won't happen again," she said, turning as serious as she could manage, staring into his eyes. "I promise."

"Yeah, well... you have to be more careful, Mission."

"I will."

He sighed. "Okay, Mission. That's okay. And it was a nice thing to think of... thanks again for the scope."

"And to think, you were going to cover the whole thing up," Bastila said, with her usual sense of perfect timing.

Mission glared at her. Any lingering sense of thanks she may have felt toward the Jedi dissipated, as I'm Going To Lecture You For A While made yet another appearance.

"Don't you feel better, now that you aren't hiding the truth?"

It would be so much easier to hate her right now, if she was acting smug or self-satisfied, but she just looked at Mission with pride. Pride! For telling a truth that really didn't need to be told!

"No!"

"How did you get it back?" Carth asked.

"Oh, that Rodian fenced it to a weapons merchant. Bas and I pretended we were a noble lady and her servant interested in buying some weapons, and made the switch under the merchant's nose. Say, that actually is an interesting story in itself."

"It is?"

Bastila suddenly blanched. "Uh, I didn't mean—"

"Let's see," Mission said. "We had a couple of guys drooling all over Bas, three very jealous girls, and wait until you hear how we snuck your blaster out of there."

A smile appeared on Carth's lips. "Drooling, you say?"

"She—she's exaggerating," laughed Bastila nervously. "How we got that blaster out of there is not germane to the discussion, not in the slightest. And they—they were not drooling all over me!"

"She's right," admitted Mission. "Quite the opposite, in fact. She was drooling all over them."

"Yes—No! No! No, I was just trying to flirt with them—I mean, I wasn't trying, I was flirting—I mean, they misconstrued my actions as showing interest, which—which, of course, is patently ludicrous, since I'm only interested in—no one! Interested in no one!"

"Wait, wait, before you tell me any more, let me get the others," Carth said, leaving with a chuckle. "Hey, Jolee! Enosh! You'll never guess what happened while we were out—!"

"No—Carth—wait—!" Bastila took a few steps after him down the corridor.

"You're right, Bastila," Mission said, her eyes as wide-eyed and innocent as she could make them, as the red-faced Jedi turned to look at her. "Telling the truth is the best! Already, I feel a whole lot better! How about you?"

Bastila's mouth opened and closed a few times as she struggled to find words. She was caught somewhere between embarrassment, anger, and dismay.

But in the blink of an eye, the confusion suddenly disappeared, transforming into something decidedly different. The eyes cleared, and the hint of a smile touched her lips.

Uh-oh.

"Hey, Enosh!" she called out, her eyes not leaving Mission's face. "Are our funds running low?"

Uh-oh!

"Because Mission found the most interesting thing in Davik Kang's mansion, back on Taris—" she continued, leaving down the same corridor Carth had taken.

"Uh, Bastila? I think this would count as falling to the Dark Side! And I've heard that does terrible things to your complexion! And you wouldn't want that to happen, now would you, Bas? Bas?!"

THE END