All was silent in the Ebon Hawk as it shunted through hyperspace, the rolling meadows and verdant lushness of Dantooine now light-years away. A Republic soldier-turned-Jedi stared blankly out of the viewport, watching the stars streak by like ghostly festoons.

It was, he mused, a welcome silence.

Carth and Canderous had retired to their bunks in a state of pique. It had started with Carth getting upset over Bastila's dogged refusal to reveal what exactly had been said by the Council, and Canderous' incessant complaints about having had to go three weeks on Dantooine without any alcoholic stimulation. Then Carth had followed Bastila around the Ebon Hawk as she gave their supplies and equipment a final once-over in preparation for takeoff, pestering her to tell him why the Council had granted her a private audience which they then expanded to include one junior Republic soldier, much to the annoyance of Lieutenant Carth Onasi.

This line of inquiry, having fallen victim to one of Bastila's trademark icy glares, was speedily succeeded by a long and expansive monologue that ranged over a variety of subjects, including and not limited to the bombing of Taris, the Sith threat, the lack of recognition given to the hardworking rank-and-file of the Republic, the ingratitude of Jedi who 'misplaced' their lightsabers, the lack of space on the Ebon Hawk for any more "stragglers", betrayal, life insurance policies, and the evils of Mandalorian culture.

That last one, the Jedi mused, had been particularly impolitic.

Canderous defended his heritage with great tenacity, as was only to be expected. Carth bulldozed on, heedless. Resentment at being "kept out of the loop", memories of a past wrong that he refused to speak of, and testosterone conspired to rob Carth of his usual self-control. Some rather descriptive expletives were applied to various parts of Carth's anatomy by Canderous, and immediately thereafter, Carth and Canderous were rolling on the floor of the cargo hold, punching the air out of each other. Bastila and Juhani had stopped the fight fairly quickly by creating a stasis field with the Force. Unfortunately, as Juhani later put it, neither had imagined that two Human men would use their teeth on each other in a fistfight: consequently, all thought of separating both men while they were under the effects of stasis was abandoned in favour of simply leaving them to 'thaw' under Mission's watchful eye, while everyone else suddenly remembered little errands that had been mysteriously left undone.

The Jedi rubbed his eyes and blinked. Really. Leaving Mission to look after stasis-frozen Carth and Canderous? What had Bastila and Juhani been thinking?

Mission had seized the opportunity to give both men brand-new haircuts. He suspected that she had used an inverted bowl to create Carth's. Canderous' hair was beyond description.

"Well, at least now that they've got something in common, perhaps they'll just shut up and stop picking fights with each other, y'know? I mean, like, now they've both got terrible hair, perhaps that'll teach them to think before they start making bantha poodoo out of each other, yeah? 'Cos, like, if they've gotta be put under stasis again, I might be tempted to make more improvements, y'know?"

Only T3-M4 had found it funny.

"You're not supposed to sleep while on cockpit duty."

He didn't even bother opening an eye. "Good thing I'm not asleep, then."

"Sitting with your eyes shut and not moving for fifteen minutes? You didn't even know when I sat down."

"I did. The seat made a funny noise when you sat down. I think you're gaining weight, Princess."

Bastila glared at the Jedi in the pilot's seat. "Excuse me? I hardly think my weight is any of your concern. Keeping watch on the controls when you're on duty, however, is. Be mindful of yourself!"

"The controls are fine. T3's keeping tabs on them. He'll beep if anything's amiss. Besides," - the Jedi opened an eye and looked over at Bastila - "a little more weight would look good on you. Fill you out."

"Are you saying I'm scrawny?"

"No."

"For your information, I watch what I eat very carefully! My diet is perfectly balanced, and I happen to like the way I look."

"Glad to hear that, Princess, too many women have body-image problems. You don't have to justify yourself to me, you know." He opened both eyes and fixed them on her. Baiting Bastila was always a welcome diversion. It was rather like pulling the pigtails of the girl who sat in front of you in school that you liked, because it made her notice you, the Jedi thought to himself. Some things a guy just couldn't grow out of.

"I am not justifying myself to you. I was merely saying that I think I look all right, contrary to your opinion."

"So it does matter to you after all what I think! No wonder you were watching me for fifteen minutes."

"You flatter yourself - I - wait, what? No! No, I haven't been watching you for - what - you're - I haven't been!"

"Oh, come on. We both know you like watching me. See anything you like? Fifteen minutes...! That's awfully long to spend watching something you don't like."

The tips of Bastila's ears turned red. "Your vanity will be your undoing. I merely observed that you were breathing slowly, which is what happens when people fall asl-"

"You were watching me! I knew it!"

"I merely observed the way your chest rose and fell!"

The Jedi sat up and let out a bark of laughter. "My chest? You were staring at my chest? Oh, things are getting clearer here - what else do you find pleasing to look at?"

Bastila gave herself a mental slap for having walked into that one so easily, and fought to regain her impassivity.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Go and fall asleep somewhere else. I have a cockpit shift to attend to."

Leaning back in the pilot's seat, the Jedi affected a deep yawn and stretched. "This seat suits me just fine, Princess. Besides, Carth and Canderous snore, and after that fight, they probably reek of sweat, too. I'm staying put."

In a carefully nonchalant tone, Bastila answered, "Be my guest."

The Jedi grinned. There would be time to tease her again later, but right now he would sleep.

It was nearly time for Carth to take over monitoring the controls. Some wisps of hair had escaped from the pigtails she normally wore them in, and were starting to tickle her nostrils and ears. Freeing her hair from the clasps that held the pigtails in place, Bastila proceeded to re-braid her hair. But her hair seemed to have ideas of its own today - constantly working free from the braid, or twisting up into untidy shapes, refusing to be brushed down, so that it took her several attempts to get the braids on both sides of her head to an acceptable standard.

"So that's how princesses do their hair."

Bastila swiveled around to face the source of that comment, and found herself almost face-to-face with the occupant of the pilot's seat. He had moved the seat closer to the low partition separating the pilot and co-pilot's seats, and had artfully draped his arms over it, resting his chin on the top of the partition, and was grinning like a Kowakian monkey-lizard.

"I would have helped you with your hair, you know, if you had asked," he said conversationally.

"I didn't need your help," Bastila retorted. "And it's nearly time for Carth to take over, and he likes the seat you're on."

Then it registered, belatedly, that he had been watching her. "You were watching me!"

"I was. Any reason why I shouldn't?"

The words raced to her mouth before her brain could stop them. "Because just a few hours ago, you said I'd look better if I put some weight on, which means you don't like the way I look - not that that opinion of yours matters much - which, logically, means that there can't be anything here" - Bastila made a haphazard gesture around her head with her hands - "that you like, because otherwise you wouldn't have said what you did!"

The Jedi shrugged. "Actually, I think you're pretty. And that you have beautiful hair."

A compliment. That was the last thing she expected from him. Not the last thing she would like, but certainly the last expected thing. Bastila didn't know how to react, but she needn't have worried, because her reflexes did her thinking for her.

She blushed. Again.

"You two doin' okay - hey, whoa.. whoa. What'd you do to the Princess, buddy? Almost thought we had a Zeltron there, ha ha ha...!" Carth sauntered into the cockpit, looking and smelling ever-so-slightly the worse for wear from his scuffle with Canderous.

Bastila groaned inwardly. Dealing with an unrepentantly cheeky amnesiac former Sith Lord alone was bad enough, and now there was a smelly Carth to put up with as well.

"Nothing she doesn't like, Carth. Princess, you need feeding. Lieutenant Carth here's never going to forgive me if I let his Jedi General starve, after all we had to do to rescue her..."

Carth took over the pilot's seat with the air of a baron returning to his ancestral estate. "Yeah. You two run along to the pantry. I'll manage." He shooed the two Jedi out of the cockpit, and turned his attention to reading the hyperdrive data output, as the Republic soldier-turned-Jedi snapped to attention, executed a mock salute and quipped, "Sir, yes Sir!"

Gazing at the transparisteel of the viewport, Carth sniggered and shook his head as he watched the newly-minted Jedi cheekily offering his arm to a mortified General Bastila. Those two were just like a bad holovid. Almost as bad, Carth thought, as the state his hair was now in. Damn Twi'lek teenager.

A muffled roar of rage sounded from the starboard refresher, accompanied by a string of choice Mandalorian curses. Carth grinned. This day was getting better by the minute.