"The prisoners are through this way, sir." The Mirilian Commander motioned to the door. "The ship had a registration we could not trace. When we stopped them they insisted they were looking for someone. After they were contained, we started searching the data contained on their computers. There was *a lot* of information on Orian, sir. We thought it was best we call you."

Bentre looked at his Warhost comrade for a few moments, licked his lips and then drew a slow breath, his features twisted in thoughtful scowl. "Why didn't you think to call Sanguinius about this while you were at it?"

"Well, sir, I thought that you would want to speak to them first. I think you will understand as soon as you speak with the pair of them."

"There are two of them?" Stahoes growled the question. "And you kept them together?" Looking off to the side, the Sith clacked his teeth together in frustration. An angry flush filled his cheeks as he glanced back at the soldier. "We will have words about this later, Telum."

"Aye, sir. May I be dismissed?"

"Go," The Corellian Sith did not look back to see if Cephas obeyed the command. Pushing the doorway open violently, he stepped briskly through the doorway. As his eyes adjusted to the lights, he saw an older woman, her brown hair tinged with lines of grey. Her companion sat beside her holding her hand. The older man tilted his head questioningly as he considered the Sadowan.

"Welcome to Orian space," Bentre adopted a falsely cheery tone, "I hope that my good friends in the Warhost have been keeping you very comfortable." He smirked as the man's mouth twisted in a display of displeasure. "Though, there are a few things that we do need to-" Stahoes motioned in the air as though reaching out to grasp his next words, "clear up. Minor details, I assure you. If all goes well, you might even be able to leave our system.Eventually."

"As we told your thugs, we don't have any real interest in your space, we just-"

"**Why**," Bentre punctuated the word with a near-yell, "then do your navicomputers contain so much information on our system?"

"Well, we are trying to tell y-"

"Do you want to know what I think?" Stahoes interrupted again, jabbing a finger accusingly. "I believe you are working for the Inquistiorius, prepared to fell those resisting *Pravus*."

"Who is Prevus? For that matter wh-" the older man started.

"Or *perhaps*," the Versea Patriarch chortled, "you are yet another agent of the Dominion, as they struggle to remove the rightful masters of our space."

"No," the male prisoner's words were now pleading, "we are looking for-"

"Secrets or intelligence?" Bentre interrupted again, his words growing cruel.

"No!" The female prisoner yelled, "we are looking for our son!" Her voice broke with the last few words. This stopped Bentre Stahoes stop completely for a moment. He looked more seriously at the woman, some of the cruelty gone from his eyes. "We lost our son many years ago. He disappeared from our home city, and we have been searching for him ever since.

"Too bad that you decided to stumble into our space."

"We had tracked through all sorts of space." The woman shook her head slowly as she spoke, appearing to be stressed by the memory. "We use some professional connections, and we finally got word of him on a planet. We traced appearances of our son and used what little information we had on departures and the like and then finally we triangulated several departures to find your space." Bentre nearly interrupted again, but he wanted to hear the end of this tale. "All we want is to find our boy, We lost him so long ago."

"You mean, we abandoned him." The old man's voice was bitter.

"Garhas," the woman's tone was reproachful,"you know we had no choice in what happened."

Bentre's gaze slipped between the pair, realization dawning in his eyes. "So you are Garhas," he pointed to the man before pointing at the woman, "which would make you- let me guess- Damasa?"

Real fear could be seen in the woman's eyes. "Who are you," her voice became a near whisper, "and how do you know who we are? What have you done to our boy? What did you do to our Bentre!?"

"Lots of things have happened to your son. He lost an eye to a monster, an arm in combat and then soon enough, he saw the light."

"What do you mean? What did you do!?"

"Don't worry, man and Lady Stahoes." Bentre let loose a nearly childish giggle. "I have done far more horrible things than my parents could ever cope with. You will have plenty of time to learn, however." Confusion filled both prisoner's eyes. "Don't worry your head though, mum. You and Dad will see in time."

"You cannot be my boy," the man shook his head, "he would never do the terrible things we have heard of. The murders alone are unthinkable of our boy."

"Oh, that is just the beginning da'." Bentre laughed at this point before he continued, his eyes becoming wide with a mania, "Would the two of you like to hear about some of them? Or are you prepared to deny leaving Corellia without me?"

The older woman took a quick breath. "You really are my little Benny?" Tears began to fill her eyes. "What has happened to you in all these years?"

"Went to war for my new family, got married into a new family, battle scars, madness, had a baby of our own," Bentre listed off the items seemingly nonplussed, "but don't worry mum, we will have plenty of time to catch up. I promise you that."

"Really?" Her words were hopeful, and the hopeful smile pulled at the corners of Damasa Stahoes' mouth.

"Oh yes, just let me take care of a few things, and we will have lots of time together." With a slight bow and a knowing smile, Bentre turned back for the door. He closed the door softly behind him, then pulled a commlink from his pocket. "I have spoken with the prisoners in holding point CP-33, and have determined they may be a threat. I want them moved to a proper holding cell with all the necessary equipment. The Proconsul is going to want to interrogate these prisoners at length, personally. Give it fifteen minutes, and then follow through with the transfer to the cell. Proconsul Stahoes, out."

Putting the commlink back, Bentre smoothed his clothes out thoughtfully. Few children got the chance to find long last parents after so long. He really should have been more thankful he supposed. Perhaps he should have at least had a meal with his parents before getting into the festivities. He could not forgive the pain they had caused him, but they were his parents after all.

Reunions could be so complicated.

The sound of armor plates moving against each other echoed slightly as he walked, but it did little to mask the sound of the blood pounding in his ear. Kerro shuffled his E-11 Blastech blaster from hand to hand as his visor adjusted to the darker lighting in the passage. While the weathered exterior had appeared to be made of crumbling stone, the passage appeared to be constructed of marble, strangely untouched by time.

“Llook at those carvings,” a woman behind the soldier breathed, “it reminds me of the Ragnos Cathedral.”

“Warhost Command-” snaps and crackle of static cut off words in his comm earpiece, “ -have lost visual contact. Report.”

“Didn’t catch that, Command.”

“Cap….eras…..an’t...ar...epeat…?” An increased level of static buzzed over the commlink.

“Captain Keras here, Team Bantha is inside a large structure. We are going to move in to investigate.” Clicking the As his eyes scanned the walls, Keras noticed an indentation in the wall. The object was a bit larger than his fist. As he shuffled toward the item, the other soldiers seemed to relax slightly. The female soldier, the Captain couldn’t recall her first name, stepped forward as she stretched a hand out slowly to allow her fingers to brush the orb.

“Be careful Omakor. Touching strange objects can be bad around-” the words died in the man’s mouth as the orb began to glow. A scream filled the passage, drowning out all thought.

“Are you really sure about this?” The human youth turned to his dark-haired companion nervously.

“Well,” Bentre paused as he glanced at the kid out of the corner of his eye, “it isn’t as thou gh La’venna hasn’t taken care of us both. I heard about that little scuffle you had on the lower levels. Think about it, if she hadn’t swept into the fray would you be here today?”

This gave the boy pause. “I s-suppose not.”

The kid always stuttered when he was nervous. He was thinking far too much, and that sort of thing could get you into all sorts of trouble. “Besides, Reg,” he addressed the boy by the abbreviated nickname,”you have me here to help.”

“Now you are just worrying me even more.” Despite the protest, a small smile hinted at the corners of Reg’s mouth.

“Well, at least I can keep you on your toes. It’s not like that bit in the cantina at Level Six. Just give it a few more weeks and you can se-”

The words were drowned out as the blare of another vehicle barked out. Bentre felt the speeder buck hard beneath them. For a few moments, all was confusion. Sharp pain etched through the Corellian’s body, and a ringing in his ear made the world eerily silent for several seconds. When his hearing returned, he could hear a deep voice. The sound ran his blood cold. He peeked at the kid, and saw Reg pressing a hand up to his forehead against what looked to be a nasty wound. At least he was alive.

Looking around, Stahoes’ eyes came to rest on the one thing he wanted to see less than anything in the damned galaxy, an old Sullustan who had helped to scam him out of of his credits in a big way. The Sullustan’s speeder lowed to the ground, beside where Bentre’s own speeder had stalled out.

The bastard must have hit them just right. The Corellian kept telling himself he would replace the scavenged parts eventually, but had never gotten around to it. It was too bad really because that might have kept him out of this situation.Looking to Reg, he jerked a thumb at the Sullstan, his eyes wide in alarm. Reg turned his head, not comprehending quite what was going on.

“Now really, mister Stahoes,” the Sullustan approached, “it is a real shame that we had to meet like this again. Doesn’t it bite, that once again you find yourself sold out by your friends?”

“What are you on about, Garan?” Bentre growled, his hand slipping down to an old DL-44 at his side.

“She sold you out, kid. It is a real shame too. I suppose at one point or another you end up losing your use to one person or another. I would have hoped after fleeing that old outpost that you would have found yourself in a better place than this. Alas, Nar Shadda is not a place for a young whelp such as yourself.” Garan’s tone was almost conversational. In their time apart, Stahoes realized, he feels just as much in control now as then.

“What do you want?” Reg’s voice cracked as he clutched at the restraining belt around his waist. “Why did you hit our speeder?”

“Oh, there are so many things I want, kid: a prettier lady, more credits, a bigger apartment back home, a shiny new blaster. I could just go on and on. Right now, however, it isn’t so much what I want, as what your boss wants. Which happens to be,” Garan lifted a beaten blaster pistol and pointed it as Stahoes, “this man’s skin. His hide is worth a tidy little sum of profits. She isn’t too happy to find out what you did before we last parted.”

“A planet of thieves, murderers and smugglers, and she is worried about what I *supposedly* did?” The Corellian’s lip drew back in a sneer. “You know as well as I do those charges were false.

“And alas, security reports can be so very fickle. Supposedly, you shot first. The funny thing is, I really do not care. You are wanted, dead or alive, and I happen to prefer dead. It means you can’t fight being brought in.”

“You lying pile of *poodoo*.” Reg pulled himself up from his seat, ignoring the blood trickling down his face. The boy’s hand was on his own blaster now. “

Without a second though, Garan turned his blaster to the youth, peering down the length of the weapon. That moment was all that Bentre needed- in one swift motion he lifted the DL-44 to firing position and took three desperate shots. Two missed their target, but the third collided soundly with the Sullustan’s shoulder.

Without another word, Stahoes grabbed Reg, and pointed down a nearby alleyway. Stepping backward, the Corellian fired wildly at Garan before running toward the indicated escape. In that moment, he couldn’t hear the sound of Reg’s footsteps behind him. He didn’t know if his Sullustan attacker was following close, or if he was going to get away clean.

He had one thought in his mind now. He was going to get back to La’venna. She had treated them all like family, watching after them like a benevolent den mother over a motley crew of malcontents and street thieves. He had never expected that she would turn on any of them. Apparently, the galaxy was constantly scheming to screw him over again and again.

He should have known better. He should have seen this coming, Yes, he was going to make his way back to La’venna. He was going to find his way back to here, and put a few blaster bolts into her as well. More than that, he wanted answers. He had been fool enough to trust someone on the smuggler’s moon, that was his chief sin. He had chosen to trust someone after weeks of working for her and had finally grown comfortable with the idea. She wasn’t going to get away with this treachery. One way or the next, she was going to receive her just reckoning.

Manually added by Adept Marick Tyris

Manually added by Augur Sanguinius Tsucyra Entar