"Why do they call them the Sundari Flatlands if they aren't flat?" Vette wonders aloud as our shuttle descends. She points through the viewport at the horizon, where looming rocky spines rise up from the green and brown flesh of the hills. From the sky, this area resembles a giant earthen maze. Some regions are flat-like their namesake-but the majority of these sparse plains are imprisoned between outcroppings of black spiked stone and the wreckage of ships. Corpses of starships, freighters, and transports litter the ground, disemboweled and desiccated. Many aerial battles took place here once. On the sides of the wreckage, I can just make out a few symbols – both Empire and Republic.

"The Resistance is using the debris to their advantage," Cytharat explains beside me. "They utilize the larger wrecks as bases of operations. Just recently, they began to rebuild the shields on these ships and use them to make fly-by bombings ineffective." He points to an enormous wreck in the distance. "That is where we are headed. Unfortunately, the shuttle must drop us off here. We can go no closer without risking being hit by their turrets."

I note the silhouette of the colossal cannons; they could tear through a starship hull without much effort.

"How far is it from us, Quinn?" I inquire. From the corner of my eye, I see him signal for the pilot to halt the shuttle. He peers through a long range scope of a sniper rifle then adjusts a few things before setting it down.

"About seven or eight kliks out, My Lord." He reaches over to a box beside him and motions for the pilot to finish his landing. "I've brought a few recon droids to help us scout the area. My sources tell me this place isn't mapped out very well."

"It isn't," Cytharat cuts in. "We've done the best we can, but this area is crawling with Resistance soldiers. They hide behind the debris and ambush those we send on the ground. Ever since they managed to fix the turrets, air strikes have become too dangerous and costly."

I glance at Quinn. "We aren't here to do anyone any favors. Mapping the area isn't an objective of our mission. We have a purpose, and we are going to fulfill it."

"Of course, My Lord, but it never hurts to be prepared. If we can help the Empire's cause while we are here, then I will do what I can."

"The mission is our first priority," I warn him.

"With such capable men at your command, your mission will surely be a success," Cytharat observes. Quinn's words have piqued his interest, but I can't decipher the meaning of the look he gives him. Cytharat's golden eyes linger on the Quinn's profile longer than usual, as though he's noticed him for the first time. There's no explanation for the discomfort that I feel upon seeing this, nor can I readily name the emotion that springs into being in my chest. It's an unpleasant stab of something that resembles anger. But, at what?

"Capable men, huh? Thanks. And what am I, Bantha poo?" Vette protests. Whatever nonsense she has to add is interrupted when the shuttle finally lands. I take the first chance I can to hop out; I've been dying to get out of the tiny cabin for nearly an hour. Quinn and Vette shuffle out behind me, each carrying two sets of weapons and a supply pack. I adjust the one on my back, wishing I didn't need it. However, with our destination so far out of the way and deep within enemy territory, Cytharat mentioned we might have to wait for an extraction should things go awry. Unless, of course, we can capture Rylon and Durmat and drag them across the Flatlands to a safer area.

"Lord Seraphine," Cytharat calls out. He reaches into his robes and pulls out a comlink. When I step forward to take it from him, our hands briefly touch. He places the device in my palm and pulls back, his lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. "I will be waiting for your signal. Fight well."

"If I do not contact you by nightfall, you may assume that we are in need of assistance," I tell him, attaching the device to the inside of my armor. The pilot turns the shuttle completely around and takes off. I shield my face from the blast of the ion engines. I've tried to analyze why I feel so comfortable around Cytharat many times without success. I'm unhappy with the thought that he can get past my barriers so easily. Though he hasn't attempted to rummage through my thoughts or emotions yet, I don't want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Doing so would be a mistake. He is a Sith, and I must remember that – culturally – our favorite past time involves betrayal and murder.

"Stay low and stay focused," I command my companions once the shuttle is gone. "Though I would personally like to execute every one of these Resistance fools, our objective is to get in, place a tap, and get out with as little impact as possible. If Rylon and Durmat are here, our orders are to capture them alive."

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It takes us several hours to trek the distance to the Resistance bunker. I quickly learn that moving in stealth is not my style. I would much rather hack, slash, and carve my way to my destination. Quinn slows us down. Periodically, he stops to release a recon droid and plug in instructions for it to follow. Damn him and his work ethic.

"Watch where you let those things loose," I say at our next stopping point. "Someone may spot them and notice us." We've hidden behind a group of rocks to stay out of sight of a large company of patrols. Annoyed, I peek out at them. My eyes dart between the seams of their armor, noting the blaster rifles in their arms and the grenades at their hips. That pathetic armor has no chance to stopping my lightsabers. I even know exactly where I'd hit them. Just throw them off balance, slice under those seams and –

"My Lord, be careful. We must remain hidden," Quinn whispers. Was my eagerness that obvious?

"These guys are well armed," Vette interjects. "They don't look like the pathetic rebels the Empire makes them out to be."

"They have Republic support," I mutter, observing the soldiers ahead. They are a ragtag bunch, no uniforms and no discipline. Their patrols are scattered, their camps messy. Armor and clothing is different from soldier to soldier. Most are unshaven, their hair unkempt and varying in length. A mess by military standards. Yet, this group has a surprising amount of coordination and organization, nothing at all like a bunch of ignorant rebels. Not only that, but I pick up an aura of camaraderie here that I didn't feel at Sobrik or even at the Military Workshop. These men look just as tired and worn out as the Imperial soldiers I've encountered on Balmorra so far, but I don't feel the same reluctance from them. They want to be here, and they believe they fight for a just cause.

"Look at those assault cannons," Vette admires. "And the turrets. There's no way they would have the creds to support this kind of op on their own."

"We'll wait until nightfall," I say.

"Yes, the patrols won't be so heavy," Quinn agrees, "and they'll power down any vehicles they might try to use against us. Statistically, we'll have a better chance."

We move slowly. Too slowly. Each dash between hiding places is fraught with risk of discovery. By the time we cover the final stretch to the bunker, the sun has set. Taking refuge on top of an outcropping, we observe the bunker below us. It's massive, obviously a wreck from a capital ship. The structure rises up above the spires of rock and earth that stab out of the ground in the Flatlands. If it wasn't for its position on the bottom of a huge crater, the wreckage would tower over some of the largest of these rocky pillars. I can make out the ship's shattered fins and scorched wings. Whatever transparisteel didn't splinter in the crash reflects the setting sun brilliantly. Looks like the Resistance base was built into the wrecked ship's body. I see a blue flicker run across the white expanse of titanium– a pulse that repeats every few seconds.

Damned shields. We need to find a way around them.

"I can't slice them remotely," Vetter says. "They've wired the system to an inner core that can only be accessed from specific terminals. I'll need to get in there."

The ship doesn't look like any models I've seen in the Empire's arsenal. Is it a Republic vessel? The shape is different than most I've noted in my studies, but there can be no doubt that it doesn't belong to us. I wonder what caused such a ship to crash, then I glance at the colossal turret cannons and see my answer. No wonder air strikes are such a difficult endeavor with those weapons in place. Cytharat wasn't exaggerating. Quinn reaches into his pack and takes out a set of macrobinoculars then lies down flat on his stomach and peers into the distance. Vette snorts.

"What can you see with that hunk of junk? Even my group had a crate of electro's and we were too poor to afford ship repairs most of the time." I'm assuming she means electrobinoculars. Quinn ignores her, but his jaw clenches.

"We'll have to get closer, My Lord," he says, pulling the contraption away from his face.

"What for?"

Vette interrupts him – "Because that heap of scrap metal doesn't have image enhancers. Let me see that." She holds out her hand. Quinn raises an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because I know a trick to slice 'em. I can extend your view range and make the image less blurry."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "Electrobinoculars aren't as durable and are not as appropriate to field work in this type of ecology."

"Electro's are just as water-resistant as those macro's," she argues, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The temperature range for resistances is different. The outer casing of these is more appropriate for what we need."

"Yeah sure thing, blue-eyes. You just don't want to admit that you made a mistake."

"Had I made one, I would have admitted it."

"Not in this lifetime."

"Those blasters, however," he points to the Twi'lek's hips, "are entirely inadequate for this mission. " Vette's hands jerk down to cover her weapons.

"Silence," I command in an icy tone. Both parties grind to a halt and look my way. Their arguing reminds me of a pair of Sleens hissing at each other, their claws at the ready and their reptilian eyes spitting venom. They've managed to remain civil since we got off the shuttle, but their truce was just as threadbare as my patience. I'm ready to strangle them both, but I take a deep breath and control the lava boiling in my gullet. It's like trying to stop a volcanic explosion with my bare hands. "Say one more word that doesn't pertain to the mission at hand and I'll burn your tongue out with my saber."

A moment of silence goes by in which both members of my crew look intimidated. Quinn turns aside and looks into his macrobinoculars again while Vette stares at the ground and picks at a weed under her boot. I scoot closer to the edge of our hiding place and prepare to search the area with the Force when I hear Vette shuffling in closer to me.

"Were you talking to me or Captain Know-it-all? 'Cause if you were talking to me, I just want to say that he was the one that started it."

I glance at the collar around her neck and remember how many times I've shocked her, chocked her, or threatened her. None of it has worked to deter or discipline her in the least. What will it take to shut her up other than death? Murder is currently not an option. I need to occupy her with something.

"Vette, slice Quinn's apparatus. We need as accurate a picture as we can get." She slinks over to Quinn. He gives her the device with a glare of reproach. I turn back to continue my investigation and let out a cry of surprise.

Get back! Now!

We've been spotted. Not a surprise considering our lackluster teamwork. I slide towards my companions.

"My Lord?"

"Something's coming. Get down!" In seconds, I see the source of my panic. One of the assault cannons is moving. Sliding slowly downward. I pray its spotted something in the sky, but my instinct knows better. I curse when it stops. It's pointing straight for us. If that monstrosity hits this outcropping, we'll be blown to bits. Not even ashes will remain. Quinn shifts beside me, pulling out an armored datapad.

"You can't do anything from this range," I mutter. "Get back. As far away as possible."

"Give me that," Vette says. "I've got an idea." Quinn obeys without argument.

"Whatever you do, keep moving." My only hope is that we are out of range. We pull back and get to our feet, grabbing our supplies and moving towards the hills. The rocks and boulders provide some cover, but it won't be enough to stop the cannon. As we scramble back, Vette's fingers move on the keypad while her eyes remain fixed ahead. What does she think she can accomplish without focusing on the screen?

Blaster fire interrupts my train of thought. No, not blasters. Something much, much heavier. Each impact makes a crater in the ground the size of my head. I turn to look over my shoulder. From beneath the cliffside, a massive offensive destroyer drone hovers into range. Both its sides are armed with heavy assault rifles. Empty shells, glowing orange from the heat, fly in all directions as it shoots at us. We duck and weave behind the surrounding rocks for protection. I draw my lightsaber and knock away hurtling debris, keeping my companions covered as best as I can manage. I've never had to protect anyone else before. The experience is daunting.

A deafening wail surrounds us. Someone triggered the bunker-wide alarm. The howling is overwhelming. This alarm was meant to move through the original ship when it was still intact. Walls, doors, and shields would have muffled it, making this kind of volume a necessity to make sure that everyone on board heard it. Here, however, there are no such walls and doors. The ship has been gutted to make room for the Resistance hide-out. The sound echoes on hollowed out plastoid and titanium and grows in volume with each pulse. I want so badly to cover my ears and shrink away from it.

"I've got it!" The alarm stops mid-screech. A different sound takes its place. In the distance, the cannon powers down. Vette stands triumphant, a michievous smile on her face. Lucky for her I'm paying attention. I knock her out of the way of a stray bullet, hissing when something sears my shoulder.

"Stay down," I growl at Vette. Assured that my companions are safe from gunfire, I blast the droid back with Force. Pivoting on my heel, I take a balanced stance and kick off the ground, flying towards our assailant. The droid's movements are too slow. It's packing heavy artillery, but its speed and precision are lacking. I easily outmaneuver it, both of my sabers gouging out its inards in seconds.

I examine the ship in the distance behind us. "Stealth is pointless now. We need to find better cover before we're ripped apart." We manage to make it over the nearby ridge and roll into a small cavern. Vette lights a flare as my eyes adjust to the darkness. It smells like stale water and mold. I sit and take a deep breath. My shoulder throbs. "We can't stay here. It's a dead end."

"They will have sent more droids by now," Quinn says, kneeling beside me.

"What are you doing?" I ask when he unzips one of the packs on his hip and tears open a thin package with a vibroknife.

"You're injured."

"It's a scratch. I'm fine." Nevertheless, I let him stick a green strip of something cold and moist on my shoulder. I don't have time to argue with them right now.

"What did you do to the alarm, Vette?"

She taps her chest proudly. "I rerouted some of their power grids. It'll take them a while to figure out why the cannons are down. I may have also put a little surprise in there for anyone that tries to untangle the mess I made."

I bite the inside of my cheek. How did things go so wrong so quickly? How did they spot us-three tiny bodies-on the cliff face? Is the Resistance aware of our true motives? My companions believe our goal is to plan a tap. However, our real objective is to capture Rylon and Durmat. Cytharat and I came across the intelligence by accident just a few hours before departure. By a stroke of luck, the commanders would be here today. If I can get my hands on them today, my mission will be over and I can get away from Balmorra. And if I can do that, I may be able to avoid the doom in my near future.

"We need to get inside the base," I tell them.

"My Lord, that is inadvisable,"Quinn retorts. "There are too many soldiers there for us to take on alone. We had a chance while stealthed, but now that we've been spotted, surely the wisest course is to retreat. There are more ways to set a tap on their communications."

"What do we know about their droids?" I rub my temple. Another damned headache.

"From what I saw in the system, they're running on HIVE40," Vette says. "It's good for ops that don't have a lot of manpower to control each machine individually. It's cheap software. Lots of holes and bugs, but it's a solid go-to." My face must show my complete lack of understanding, for she goes on to explain. "Right. Well, the good news is that it's super easy to slice and turn the droids on the baddies. The bad news is that I'll need a spike to get into their hardware."

I motion them to follow me to the mouth of the cavern. I point to the smoking remains of the droid from earlier. "Can you use that?"

"Maybe, yeah," Vette says. "If you didn't burn through the important parts." She takes off her supply pack. "I'll go check it out. It's not far."

"Stay low."

"Right."

As Vette disappears into the growing darkness of the night, the shape of the Resistance ship in the distance catches my attention again. Something about that shape keeps nagging at me.

"Quinn, pull up the schematics for the damaged vessel they're using as a shell for their base. Search for unconventional entrances."

"Yes, My Lord." He pulls up his datapad, his fingers flying along the keys at blinding speed. Images flash in rapid succession on the screen. Is Quinn able to process them all at such a high speed? "It would help if I knew what you were searching for."

"I don't know. Something small…something hidden." I crouch beside him examine the blueprints. There. My finger stops the flow of pictures. The refuelling docking bay. It's a small door, not meant for a body. But, I can fit. "Can either of you disable the shields?"

"I believe it's possible," Quinn nods. "It won't be easy. We'll need to use a droid system as a piggyback."

Vette pops back into view. "The droid's good to go."

"Can you do it, Quinn?" Our eyes meet. With the mission and adrenaline, I'd forgotten about what happened between us early this morning. Now, sitting so close to him, I recall everything in striking detail. It's too dark to see the color of his eyes or make out his expression. But, his sudden silence says all I need to hear. He's remembering too. I hold his gaze, steady and careful. There's no time to think about what transpired. I'm about to entrust my life into his hands, and I need to know he can handle the burden.

"I can, My Lord. I will."

"Good. Work with Vette to slice the shields. I expect them to be down by the time I get there."

"What? You're not really gonna try to sneak in." Vette's mouth hangs open.

"Your lives depend on the success of this mission. As does mine."

"We can come back when they're not looking for us."

"My Lord, please reconsider."

I shake my head. "No. It must be now. I can feel it. If we don't capture our targets now, we may not get another chance."

Quinn grabs hold of my wrist as I turn to leave. "My Lord. I saw what you were pointing to. The vessel has been out of commission for a long time. The fuel cells are likely dried up and won't pose a hazard. However, there won't be any air in that passage." He pulls up the schematics so I can get a closer look. If you use your light saber to slice your way through this region," he makes a shape with his fingers on the image, "you can cut your way through into another passageway which will lead you here." He points to a symbol for a doorway. "If you move this way, you can catch them by surprise."

"We'll take care of the shields, but what about after that?" Vette asks.

"Call Cytharat and schedule an extraction. He is expecting to hear from us. I will not leave the Resistance camp without the prisoners in my custody."

"Roger." We fall silent. Quinn wants to say something, but not in front of Vette. Miraculously, she takes a hint. "Right." She clears her throat. "I'm gonna get cracking on those shields." When she's out of earshot, Quinn reaches into a pack on his hip and pulls out a pair of small earpieces. His gloved hand slides against my cheek as he attaches it to my earlobe. I let him, startled by this unexpected display of concern.

"My Lord…" He dons the other ear piece then pops open his recon droid case. "Take this with you. I'm going to connect its serial number with my datapad. I'll be able to track you and guide you should something happen." His face is pale, his brow furrowed. A bead of sweat gathers on his temple. He fights to maintain his composure.

Qet threatened to kill him if he allowed you to die. He has no choice but to look out for your safety.

That's the explanation I'd been giving for Quinn's behavior thus far. Better stick to it. That he might actually feel any genuine concern for me isn't a concept I'm ready to deal with.

"I'll be fine. I've faced greater odds against me." He doesn't believe me. In his mind, what I'm doing is equivalent to suicide. Sighing, I take the droid from his hands. It's small, not much bigger than my fist. Quinn helps me strap it to one of my smaller supply packs. "Do not give into your fear, Quinn. Use it to sharpen your focus." His nod is curt, his lips pursed. "Stay out of sight. When you're secure, signal Cytharat and be ready for my return. I will be victorious this night."