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The blondes had changed out of their jumpsuits into what looked like armour made of some sort of reptilian hide. Mish’s was her signature green, whereas Kat’s was a dark red colour. They both had hands on hips and were looking over Phanan. “What?” he asked.

“I guess he’ll do…” Mish didn’t sound too sure.

“As long as he realises… Ton… you’re our slave.” Kat had inserted regret into her voice, but Ton could tell that the apologetic tone was false.

“Slave?” he repeated when Kat’s words had sunk in.

“Well, men don’t have a very good status here on Dathomir. The only way we can keep you from being taken by someone else as a slave is to… have you be ours,” Kat explained.

“So… I have to be your slave? What does that entail?” With anyone else he’d have to be affronted, but with Kat and Mish, the idea was somewhat intriguing.

“You have to do whatever we say,” Mish replied immediately. “Cater to our every whim… typical slave stuff.”

“Just stick by us and you should be fine,” Kat told him. “Oh, you’re not scared of rancors, are you?”

Rancors? What the… must be Kat’s idea of a joke, Ton decided.

He followed Kat and Mish closely down the hatch. They stopped halfway down. I’m going to have to talk to them about this habit, Ton mused. The thought flew out of his head when he discovered why they had stopped.

“Darillian!” he thundered. “You low-down, double-crossing…”

‘Hey!” Darillian cried, holding up his hands. “What did I do?”

Phanan thought a moment. “Nothing. Sorry. What brings you here?”

“My superiors thought you might want a hand,” he replied. He was rewarded with one of Phanan’s traditional smirks.

Kat evaluated Darillian with a glance. “Okay. You’re Mish’s slave. Ton, you’re mine.”

“Why do you get to choose?” Mish demanded.

“I have seniority here,” Kat explained, exasperated.

“Why?”

“Well, I’m the one who’s been adopted into a clan. You could have been, but…”

“I didn’t know!” Mish protested.

“Ignorance is no excuse.” Kat was inexorable.

Darillian turned to Phanan, hopelessly confused. “What are they talking about?”

“No idea,” the doctor responded.

“Does this happen a lot?”

“All the time.”

“And you put up with it why?”

Phanan sported a wide grin. "Well, they look pretty.”

Darillian almost groaned.

"Well?" Mish and Kat were now standing at the bottom of the ramp. "Are you coming?" The speaker was Kat, but Mish was also giving Darillian a stern look.

Phanan and Darillian shrugged and followed Mish and Kat.

"Kat?" Mish asked.

"Yeah?"

"How do we get to whatever place we're going?"

Kat paused. “I’m sure I can find one of my clan sisters around.”

“And what then?” Mish pressed.

“We rent a couple rancors and ride out to wherever the clan is at the moment. From there we figure out who has Lievel, we go find them, we buy Lievel off of whoever’s got him, we pump him for information, we abandon him for whoever picks him up. Sound good?”

"And how are you going to find a 'clan sister'?" Darillian asked scathingly.

Ton wondered how the heck he'd managed to get on Dathomir in the first place.

"Dathomir isn't a big place." Kat shrugged. "Someone will hear that we've arrived and come see us."

"Oh yeah. Right," Darillian said. Mish had to hand it to him, he was quite a lot like herself. This worried her.

"So what do we do till then?" Ton wanted to know. "Just sit around and wait for someone to show up?"

"Anyone for sabbacc?" Mish asked.

"No waiting involved," Kat said, pointing to the entrance of their docking bay.

"I hate it when she's right," Mish muttered.

“Welcome back to Dathomir, clan-sister,” said a tall redheaded woman of middle age. She was wearing the same sort of armour that Kat and Mish were, in a coppery-orange shade. Her tone was formal, her bearing regal.

Kat bowed. “I thank you, clan-sister,” she replied formally. When she straightened, she went up to the woman and hugged her. “I’ve missed you, Becca.”

“I’ve missed you as well, Aliah,” the woman said. “Who are your companions?”

“You may recall my traveling partner, Taryn? And these are our slaves, Nanaph and Kriag.”

The woman bowed to Mish and didn’t even acknowledge Ton and Darillian.

Phanan “humph”ed when Kat’s friend didn’t even glance his way. He wasn’t used to women ignoring him. Rejecting, occasionally, but ignoring, never.

“What brings you to Dathomir?” the woman Becca asked Kat.

“We seek a man who we heard had arrived here some time ago,” Kat explained. “He has information that would likely prove useful to us.” Ton noted that Kat’s speech patterns had gone weird and formal.

“You seek a man? On Dathomir? Aliah, are you sure about that?” Becca asked with a laugh.

Kat’s face looked serious and intense – totally not like herself. “We were given leave to think that he had crashed here a few months ago and was taken as a slave.”

“What is the man’s name?” Becca wanted to know, unconvinced.

“It’s –“ Kat was cut off by a sneeze. She looked behind her to see Mish giving her an “I-told-you-so” look. She turned back. “His name is Lievel.”

“Really?” Becca’s eyebrows arched. “He did, in fact, crash here.”

“Then you know where we can find him?” Kat asked eagerly.

“Of course. Back at the Singing Mountain clan. He is my slave.”

Ton did a double-take. The first person they met on this planet just happened to be an old friend of Kat’s, and just happened to be able to get them to the guy they needed to see? Had he been reading this in a book, he would have suspected a deus ex machina was in play. As it was, though, he decided to thank the stars for his luck.

Kat turned back to her companions. “I guess we go to the Singing Mountain clan then.”

Ton opened his mouth to agree but before he could speak, Mish elbowed him in the gut, winding him. “Sounds good,” she said smoothly. He opened his mouth again, this time to protest, only to get elbowed again. “Shut up!” Mish hissed.

Wisely, Phanan decided not to reply.

They had almost left the docking bay when Mish yelled “Oh!” and ran back to the ship. She ran back a moment later with the Glass Prowler’s carrying case. “We almost left him!” she cried.

Odd, Phanan reflected. We almost forgot about one of the main reasons we’re on this mission. How could that happen?

As they got farther away from the ship, Kat said brightly, “We’re off to see the wizard!”

Ton groaned. Since when is this guy a wizard?
 

Ton stared up at a rancor. He turned to Kat. "You want me to get on that thing?!" he demanded.

"Hey, I asked if you were scared of rancors," she reminded him.

"But . . . but . . ." Ton was at a loss for words. He always got burned when he decided Kat and Mish couldn't surprise him anymore.

He glanced at Darillian, who was looking suitably petrified. Ton smiled at this, and tried to make his way up onto the rancor.

"Your man is not making very good progress, Aliah," Becca noted to Kat.

Mish grinned and gave Darillian a leg-up onto the rancor. She sneezed, then took out the antihistamine tablets and had one. "I hate this planet," she muttered again.

"That makes two of us," Darillian muttered back.

"Three," Ton put in, "And what's with the women ignoring me?" He looked slightly hurt.

Kat sighed. "Ton, it's just the way Dathomir works. They pay no attention to men if they can help it. I'm sure they'll all be secretly in love with you, just like every other woman you meet." Ton looked mollified. Kat stifled a snicker. "Will you get on the rancor now?" she asked.

Ton grimaced and got on the rancor. Kat jumped up after him. "Lead the way, Becca!" she said as the Dathomirian woman gracefully mounted another rancor which seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

The two rancors took their passengers further into deep jungle. It was almost deadly quiet except for the occasional squark of a jungle bird, a howl from a rancor or a sneeze from Mish. She really was not enjoying her stay on Dathomir very much. The antihistamines seemed not to be working.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Kat exclaimed after the fourth sneeze.

"Maybe it's the rancors?" Mish asked. "Okay, okay, I'll try not to sneeze. It's really not my fault!"

"It never is."

"Ladies, please," Ton said softly. "That Becca woman might hear you."

"You'd better shut up too, in that case," Kat replied. "You're far too strong willed to be one of these women's men!" she exclaimed.

Phanan smiled. "You're the only woman for me," he said unconvincingly.

The rancors came out on a clearing. A somewhat primitive yet scenic village spread out in front of them. "Home," Becca pronounced, and the rancors both stopped. Kat, Mish, Becca and Darillian jumped off their rancors. Ton half-jumped, half-fell. [i]Sithspawn![/i] he thought as he brushed some mud off his black lab coat.

“You okay, Ton?” Kat asked, noticing that his clothes were covered in mud.

“Fine!” Ton put a hand to his lower back, which was killing him. Maybe I’m getting old, he mused. Nah. I’m just not used to riding rancors. That’s it. I’m sure of it.

"Well, are we off?" Mish asked.

"Phanan certainly is." Darillian snickered and sneered. Was this assonance?

Kat walked over to Becca, dragging Ton behind her. “Can we see Lievel now?” she asked.

“I’ll get him,” Becca told her. She went into one of the tents that were dotting the clearing.

“Can I have a backrub?” Ton asked Kat hopefully.

She looked at him scornfully. “You’re my slave. You should be giving me backrubs.”

He sighed and went over to Mish. “Hey, will you give me a backrub?”

"Not now." Mish grinned. "Hey, maybe you can get Darillian to do it for you?"

Darillian glared at Mish. Ton glared at Mish. Mish grinned.

Becca emerged from the tent. “You can see Lievel now,” she called. The four went over to the tent. Becca glared at Phanan and Darillian. Mish and Kat went inside the tent, but the men decided it might be better if they didn’t.

"What the heck kinda a guy would let women order him around like they do here?" Darillian asked Phanan.

The Doctor shrugged. "I have no idea, but I dunno . . . we could get worse than Mish and Kat."

"Reality Check?"

"Okay, okay. So, you think this washes out?" Phanan decided to indulge in the light art of conversation. He got a weird look from Darillian back, and then decided to check out the local women. Not hard, considering the local women were the dominant species, as it were.

Mish and Kat blinked a few times to get used to the dim light inside the tent. A scrawny man with oily black hair and a ridiculous looking goatee was standing at a countertop, mixing something in a Tupperware. The two women looked at each other with their is-That-An-Apron? look.

“What do you want from me?” the man asked, not looking up from his Tupperware.

"We need answers," Mish stated in her I'm-Quite-Imposing-And-I-Have-A-Gun-So-Don't-Mess-With-Me voice.

"To what?" He still didn't look up.

Mish shrugged. "You wanna take this? It's not working," she said to Kat, looking a bit down.

Kat gave a little shrug. “We’re looking for Dr. Vitrum Cimex,” she told him in her I’m-Really-Nice-And-Pretty-So-Tell-Me-Everything-You-Know voice.

He stared into his Tupperware. “No idea,” he said in a flat, unconvincing voice.

"What the heck are you doing, anyway?" Mish asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

He finally looked up. “Making shortbread,” he said in an Isn’t-It-Obvious-You-Dimwit voice.

Mish whistled, impressed. That voice was one of her favourites.

“We know you know about the doctor,” Kat continued. “And we need to find her. It’s really important. The fate of the Glass Prowler depends on it.”

"A Glass Prowler?" He drawled. "Why would I care about a Glass Prowler?"

Mish's impressed look fled, and her voice turned very, very dangerous. She pulled out two blasters, and pointed them at the man. "You want to answer the lady's question?" She asked, adopting the voice she had used earlier again.

The man dropped his spoon into the batter. He swallowed, his large Adam’s apple bobbing in the process. “Umm.. right. Vitrum Cimex. I’m sorry, but I really don’t know where she is.”

Mish inspected one of her blasters and switched it from “stun” to “kill.” “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

"Uh, well, um, I, ur…" the man stuttered.

"Yes?" Mish asked again, setting the other blaster too.

"I really couldn't exactly say, really, uh…"

"Yes?" Mish repeated.

"You might wanna answer the next time she says that," Kat added.

"Uh, well, Cimex, she's, uh, well, I, when I crashed on, well, here, I . . ."

"Yes?"

The man gulped again. "The details went down with the ship."

Mish sighed slightly. "Does this mean I don’t get to kill him?" she asked Kat.

Kat nodded regretfully. “Sorry.” She turned to Lievel. “If you don’t have the details, will Parc?”

“Yeah!” he cried, jumping on the answer she’d provided. “Parc will know. He’s… somewhere. I dunno. I lost track of him when he escaped and didn’t take me.” His tone edged on bitterness.

Mish couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I wonder why he left you!" she sneered.

“Hey!” Lievel cried. “You’re not very nice, are you?”

"Neither are you," Mish countered quickly. "It takes all kinds to make a world . . . or," she almost laughed again, "shortbread."

He glared. “I’ve told you everything I know. Now, will you let me finish my shortbread?”

“Lievel… Do you want to come with us?” Kat asked, feeling sorry for the oily smuggler.

He looked up from his Tupperware and then back down. Mish smirked. "Becca'd never let him go," she said, then did one of those stifled-laughs. "Although I wonder why not."

He replied hotly, “I’ll have you know that Becca and I are….” He trailed off.

“Becca and you are what?” Mish asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Making shortbread," he finished.

That was enough. Mish took her leave from the hut, fast.

Kat followed Mish out. "Well, I guess we go see Parc then,” she commented. “We’re going to Nar Shaddaa after all. You’ll get to see –“

"Wait!" Lievel called after them.

Kat turned around. “Yes?” she asked expectantly.

“Want some shortbread?”