Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has voted and commented on the story so far and read this story so far! If you have any writing tips, please feel free to comment.  

As always, I continue to hope that I am doing justice to the spirit of Star Wars as well the respective authors and characters from which I borrow. Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

Mandalorian (Mando'a) words

Fierfek: was a slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races, most commonly. During the Clone Wars, it was adopted by clone commandos as a curse word. Boba Fett and Han Solo would later use it during the Second Galactic Civil War.

Shabuir (SHAH-boo-EER): extreme insult - "jerk", but much stronger

Di'kut (DEE-koot): idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)

Utreekov (oo-TREE-kov): fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

Aru'ela (AH-roo-AY-la): hostile, enemy (adj)

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Chapter 5

No one told the Kaminoans to remove the clones' sense of nobility. Chivalry is part of the genetic code that is the foundation for a good soldier, and a damsel in distress is something no man, cloned or not, should ever ignore. I merely instructed Crimson to be polite and considerate to a lady unless otherwise threatened. It was naïve of me to think that a moment of chivalry would ever turn into something... permanent. 

 Gan Pohin commenting on Gath's debriefing of the Tochin Mission

Onboard Fatal Bliss, located on Tochin Moon II, 783 Days ABG

Moving like a predator on the hunt, Gath silently slipped into alcoves and hidden recesses that he was certain ever Hazar didn't know he had. He kept his footsteps light, easily ignoring the weight of his armor and his kit. 

He had been trained for nearly his entire life with the burdens of his body so that he was accustomed to them and wouldn't have the opportunity to dwell on his own personal discomfort when he needed to concentrate on the mission objective instead. 

His short life was not what anyone would consider fun or glamorous, but was all he knew, and he was sure to do it to the best of his ability. His brothers were counting on him to be nothing less than perfect.

Gath's HUD monitored around him, allowing him to maintain his attention on whatever lay ahead. The hallways he moved within were standard plasteel alloy: gray and dull. There were no decorations or showpieces adorning the walls. 

The floor was nothing but plain, think grating with a plasteel layer beneath. The grating was rough under his boots, and Gath realized that it was a design technique to help the crew maintain their footing when the flying got rough.

Continuing on his journey toward the cockpit, Gath stopped suddenly when the floor vibrated beneath his feet, and he knew it was no longer just the grating under his boots. 

He came to the instant realization that someone had fired up the engines, and that meant one of two things: one, Hazar didn't realize they were on board, or two Hazar had programmed the ship on a collision course and was going to bail out after having locked them inside. 

Gath decided he didn't like either of those options, and he had to move quickly if he was to commandeer the ship from Hazar's possession.

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Mouse had remained in the cargo hold and decided to stand guard, taking the dual duty of preventing anyone from leaving - and making sure no one invited themselves on board without his exclusive permission.

From the dark corner that was his perch, Mouse had managed to embed himself within the center of a high pile of crates, and he settled his body nearly flat on top of one of the sturdy cartons. In this position, he had a complete visual on the entire cargo hold, and he aimed the Deece into the open space, silently watching every bit of movement. 

He was aware of a thin strip of orange material that was connected to a slat on the air vent. It flapped the entire time air cycled through the hold, waving and floating at the corner of his peripheral vision as though daring him to turn his eyes away from the open area. Mouse knew better than to let an insignificant distraction like that interfere with his objective.

 His sniper training had been excruciatingly intense at times, to the point that he had to learn how to block out muscle cramps from hours of inactivity and ignore the internal warning systems of his body's natural requirements.

Two gray rodents scurried along the floor and scrambled into a corner on the far side, reminding Mouse of his current duty. The rodents were only visible for a brief moment, but Mouse instantly caught that they were no larger than his fist and they were virtually harmless unless they got into the food supply. 

Then, they would nest and breed nearly excessively, eating every last remnant of the foodstuffs.

Instead of aiming at the rodents, Mouse aimed toward the direction from where they had emerged. It seemed logical that they would have been frightened by something to scurry that quickly into open territory.

 Mouse found he was not disappointed when a small droid rolled across the floor, going toward the interior of the ship. It wasn't tall but was cylindrical in shape and was strangely painted in black and red. Mouse ignored the droid for now. 

Unless it showed any signs of being a threat, he would worry about it later. Right now his priority was still maintaining the Fatal Bliss' guest list.

The sudden rumble of the engines shook the crates in the cargo hold, and Mouse silently cursed. Something was about to go down.

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Dusty turned another corner in the tight engine room, opting to use his DC-15 sidearm blaster in the restricting space. 

He would have preferred the larger DC-17, as it was his weapon of choice, but with the size of the 17, he would be left turning it and twisting it in awkward positions just to maneuver around. He didn't have time to worry about maneuvering a weapon when he knew the 15 would substitute better.

He ducked under a low coolant pipe, concentrating on every sound and ignoring the soft hissing of a pipe that released that has pressure on a regular basis.

 He even recognized the metal ticking and pinging as the expanding and contracting of warm air flowing through the compartment through the environmental controls.

Dusty had concluded that if Hazar was still concerned about maintaining an appropriate temperature on his ship, then there was a good probability that they would find the princess somewhere on board.

Between the observations of his own eyes and his HUD continually showing him that there weren't any signs of life in the engine room, he knew that keeping the search going in this compartment would be a waste of time. 

He decided that he would be better off meeting up with Jas in the crew quarters.

"Engine room, secure," he reported over the private channel.

"Acknowledged," came Gath's reply.

Suddenly, the pitch of the motors began to rise, and the room seemed to take on a life of its own. Lights moved about on the electrical boards, and the pipes started to breathe and sing.

"Fierfek," Dusty muttered and he moved as quickly as he could through the tight compartment. He would be glad to get out in an open hallway again where he could swap out the sidearm blaster for his DC-17.

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Jas ignored the rumbling of the engines and the slight change in cabin pressure as the gravitational stabilizers kicked in. Instead of worrying about the ship taking off, he cautiously stepped through the deserted hallway where the crew's quarters were located. 

A door open to his right, and he did a quick turn into the room finger securely on the trigger. Upon instant inspection, he saw it was the crew gallery, and it appeared to be deserted.

The cabinets were closed, and the chairs were scattered to the corners of the room. The small table had been pushed to a far corner, close to the sink.

Jas's eyes caught sight of the familiar pieces of white armor that lay on the table. They were left in the process of being cleaned, as dried blood was smeared on the chest piece. 

Jas' fingers flexed over the trigger of the Deece, and he dared the shabuir who had taken the armor from one of his brothers to show himself.

Moving toward the armor, Jas tried to if there was any identification tag left on it, but it had been long ago scavenged. 

A noise caught his attention and forced his interest from the broken and ghostly image of one of his distinct brothers.

A blaster bolt struck Jas squarely in the chest and knocked him into the wall, However, instinct and training kicked in instantly.

 In nanoseconds, he had his Deece aimed at the di'kut who still held the smoking blaster aimed at him. Jas released three shots into the Ubese's chest.

 Apparently, the utreekov didn't know that Katarn armor was not easily penetrated, especially not by a basic blaster bold.

Jas stepped toward the reclining, unmoving Ubese, weapon still at the ready. He used his boot to turn the being over and had no doubt that his shots had been true. Three smoking holes to the chest and ribs confirmed the kill.

"Sitrep!" Gath ordered.

"I'm fine. It wasn't Hazar, just an underling," Jas explained, knowing that Gath would want a situation report after hearing the sounds of a confrontation. "I'm still trying to secure the crew quarters."

"Copy," Gath said with relief evident in his voice. "Dusty, can you get to Jas?"

"Still on my way," he responded. "Any idea who's flying this rig?"

"Trying to make it me," Gath answered.

"I got dibs on the copilot," Mouse said eagerly.

"Anything to avoid the action," Dusty muttered as he picked up his pace and moved through the hallways, with his Deece in a steady hold. 

He was more than ready to fire at anything or anyone who gave the slightest impression of being a threat. He wanted to make sure he did his part to protect his brothers and get the mission completed.

The sound of a whirring motor came from his left. Dusty turned to see a small droid that stood no higher than his thigh and was thinner than the standard astromech series. 

The droid was painted in a color scheme of red and black, colors that gave the machine a menacing appearance. The droid extended both a vibroblade and an electric shock prod. It sparked toward Dusty as though offering a warning.

"Learn some manners," Dusty grumbled and shot a blaster bolt into the droid.

The smell of fried circuits filled the corridor. Then, a blaster cocked behind Dusty, aimed between his shoulder blades.

"You're going to need to pay for that." The voice that spoke was uncharacteristically soft-spoken, even though the threat that came across was a prelude to death.

Dusty smirked beneath his buy'ce at the di'kut who had no idea that Katarn armor could withstand blaster bolts like a force field around a Republic cruiser. Slowly raising his arms in what appeared to be surrender, Dusty feigned politeness.

"Our intel says you have something that belongs to the Republic."

"Sorry, don't know what you're talking about," the man answered from behind him. "I just needed a place for some repairs."

"Of course, you did," Dusty responded, keeping himself mannered. Any of his brothers knew that if Dusty was being this polite, he was about to get aggressive.

Moving cleanly and quickly, Dusty suddenly spun on the man behind him, bringing his Deece up into his chin. In a fraction of a second, Dusty saw that the man behind him was the same black-wrapped man he encountered in the hanger.

 Dusty followed the hit to Hazar's chin by ramming the butt of the blaster into the merc's stomach.

Dusty then trained his Deece into Hazar's face as he lay on the floor. The merc's blaster had scattered out of his hand and landed across the hallway, well out of reach.

"I don't appreciate lies," Dusty said angrily.

The merc smiled strangely, s though there was a joke only he knew. "You're different from the other one."

"Stop evading the question," Dusty complained. "Where'd you store her?

Jas' voice came through on the helmet communications, practically answering Dusty's question. "I got a life reading in a compartment beside the captain's quarters."

Dusty privately returned Jas's call. "Wait for me, ner vod, in case..."

Hazar took advantage of Dusty's distraction when he seemed to have gotten overly quiet. He suddenly slammed his hand into the small panel in the wall near him, rolling into a secret compartment behind the wall. 

Dusty heard it lock securely, but he slammed on the metal plating anyway. Unfortunately, it wouldn't move, and he thought about firing on it but hesitated in case it would ricochet in the confined hallway. He immediately reported into the communications.

"Aru'ela!" Hazar's on the loose. I repeat, hostile!"

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