"Damn hunk of junk; I swear Korin I'm not putting another credit into that droid, lets just break down and get a new model", said Cylus as he threw up his hands.

"Aww come on dad, T3-41 is like a member of the family, and it's just a loose wire somewhere. When we get to Coruscant we can just take him to a shop and have a tech look him over" said Korin as she put away her tools. "Besides there's no way we could afford a new model; and the new models just have more things to go wrong anyway" she looked at him and smiled.

Cylus sighed; that smile always got him he could be dead set on doing something and with that one look from his daughter his heart would melt and he'd give in to her demands. They had a load of Corelian space tonic on board that was set to go to a cantina in the south district of Coruscant; but half way into the trip the utility droid started to spark and sputter it was the third time this month.

"And if you'd stop going to Caltuck you might actually get him fixed", she said as she wiped some grease off her hands. Caltuck was a Toydarian droid tech back home on Tatooine that for some reason Korin's father insisted on returning to for business. It was now very obvious to them both that Caltuck was cheating them out of credits by only repairing T3-41 temporarily so they would keep coming back.

"Yes, but he works on the droids for a decent price", said Cyrus trying to cover his ass; he knew Korin was right and had a mind to kick Caltuck's ass when he got back home.

Korin shook her head sometimes there was no getting through to her father especially when he was wrong about something. "Yeah dad and you get what you pay for" she said as she headed for the cockpit of the ship. The Dawnstar was an old ship that had allot of quirks so it was always a good idea to check up on things sometimes; to make sure that you weren't flying into disaster. She checked the navigation as Cyrus came and sat in the pilot seat; "We should be dropping out of hyperspace here in about an hour or so if the ship doesn't try to give up on us as well", said Korin.

"Are you saying that my ship is as bad as your quirky droid" Cyrus said as he raised his eyebrow at Korin.

"Dad please you know the ship has quirks and it get quirkier every year", she said as she sat down in the co-pilot seat.

Cyrus growled, "It's not quirky it just has... character", he said with a smile on his face.

Korin rolled her eyes "If by character you mean old then I guess you right", she said with a chuckle.

"I give up" said Cyrus.

"Move it people, we found another survivor in the wreckage. Cmon, let the med techs through you flaming hutt spawns!" Zekial yelled at the onlookers and looters, lazy SOBs couldn't even be bothered to wait to start looting this mess.

Zekial was part of another crew of mercenaries and able bodied hands hired to sift through the ruins of yet another destroyed building. A minor issue was the amount of trapped gas pockets still in many of the wrecks, forcing him and others to adopt gas masks of varying sorts. He had taken to his old military mask that went with his armor, the others had more modern, but civilian, ones handed out by their employer once the first man had succumbed to exposure. It was an improvement over previous work at least. It wasn't more than a few weeks ago that he had been fighting tooth and nail against the bloody Mandalorians. Say what you will about what they did or who they were, but they were dangerous and skilled warriors. That much he respected, though respect didn't do much with a commando barreling down on you for the seventh time that day.

He and another fellow, never picked up his name, dragged the poor sod who had been found clear as a med tech came running up. The man pulled from the wreck looked wealthier than others, but not wealthy enough to get clear of this downed building in time. The med tech had a few volunteer aids who took over from the two mercenaries, putting him on a stretcher while the med tech stabilized him and they ran off to the nearest field hospital. The block they were in was near the starport, but the hospital had been bombed several times, from both air and ground, and that left it useless. The crowd was getting restless, pushing against some of the impromptu cordons that the group of hired men and women had put up. One such lass, a hard bitten Rodian female, fired off her blaster pistol within inches of the feet of the most violent of the civvies, a flourish of her Rodian blade helped back them up too. "Back up or loose a leg."

By now, surviving members of the Defense Force, and a handful of Republic personnel, had arrived to break up the mob of people. It probably was one of the only few then, Zekial mentally noted with a very sarcastic sense, as the majority of the rest were left to burn out, turn on each other, or get taken down by hired mercenary teams. The looters were not happy to have to be shoved off like that, but they didn't have weapons, or at least not as many as the mercenaries guarding and working, combined with the newly arrived forces, did. They were not stupid enough to try anything, surprising as that was at times. One of the Defense Force approached Zekial, gesturing for him to step away from the ruins for a second. Once he had done so, the corporal spoke quietly with the mercenary.

"Are any of you lot planning to listen to the announcement just made? All men and women with arms or ships are to report for enlistment with the new Republican Reclamation Army." The corporal spoke on even terms with Zekial, rather than trying to talk down at him. That was a plus in the man's respect, but he wasn't going to just off and re-enlist in the Republic again before his current job was done.

"I'll get there when I get there mate, still got work here to do. We are still dragging survivors from the wreckage. Just found one not five minutes ago." The corporal accepted this with a nod, and went off to corral the remaining civvies out of the immediate area. Zekial sighed quietly and turned back to the merc in charge of this group. He confirmed that it would be about an hour before they were done here, and the rest of the pay was handed out in full. Zekial went back to work after that, having another idea for work already lined up in mind.

Ashlynn had woken up to the sound of screaming, and little hands shaking her desperately. It was the first time she had gotten to sleep in days; the fighting was constantly forcing her to relocate, her original sleeping area of choice having been completely destroyed. She had nearly been shot in the crossfire three times, and a piece of debris has nicked her good in the leg. Not being able to afford any kind of bacta, she'd just ripped up a cloth and tied it around the wound. It had finally stopped bleeding after about a day, but she wasn't in great condition. Fear permeated the air of Coruscant now, fear and anger. It had always been there, but as Ashlynn had grown up here, she’d learned to tune it out as white noise in her daily life. But now, she felt it creep into her veins, the pain of millions touched by battle. It gave her a headache. And now, more fear was stabbing into her, drawn close by the little person waking her.

"What?" she asked, shooting up into a sitting position. She was exhausted, but she knew better than to let her guard down. Taking the time to sleepily wake up could very well get you killed. Mirsh, a little Devaronian boy Ashlynn frequently was getting out of trouble, stood next to her, crying and looking absolutely terrified. "What happened Mirsh? Take a deep breath and tell me," Ashlynn stated, using her species-given ability to try and calm him even a bit. The Zeltron was known among this part of the poor section as a sort of Den mother for the homeless kids, and usually when there was a problem, she was the first one they told. It wasn't like they really had anyone else to rely on, so despite losing much needed sleep and not really being in a good enough condition to be a whole lot of help, she was already getting up from the alley floor and stretching, ready to move.

"D-danni and me were l-looking for cool stuff to sell in the wreckage of old Cobelin's store," Mirsh explained, his breath occasionally hitching from the intensity of his tears. He was shaking, Ashlynn noted, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She already had a feeling of where this was going. He continued, "B-but I tripped over a rod and part of the wall fell, and Danni's trapped underneath and she's gonna die! You have to save her!"

"Damn," Ashlynn muttered. "Wait here Mirsh, it's safe. I'll be back with Danni," she promised, before dashing off. Danni was no older than 6, a little Twi'lek girl who had a future that was going to be so much better than her present. It had to be. "Kriffing Mandolorians! Kriffing Republic!" the woman silently cursed, turning a corner. She weaved in and out of the amassing crowds, a relief station just a little ways up the street. She didn’t go to them for help though. She knew they would ignore her, much more inclined to help proper citizens then two street rats. Ashlynn didn’t need their kind of help.

Reaching the store, it didn’t take her long to feel Danni’s overwhelming fear, trapped underneath the debris of the destroyed place. Rushing over, Ashlynn found the tiny girl, her fading whimpering alarming her more than anything.

“Danni, hunny, don’t move a muscle, okay? I’m going to get you out of there,” she assured her. The problem was, she had no idea how. If she moved things around too much, they could fall even more and completely crush the girl underneath. But if she left her much longer, Danni could very well suffocate, or bleed out if she was injured. Ashlynn found a spot where she felt okay trying to lift the large portion of the wall away, and managed to climb over to it. She glanced around, but this part of the city was basically abandoned, having been hit almost immediately by the first wave of troopers. Curling her fingers around the edge of the fallen wall, Ashlynn attempted to lift it. It didn’t budge. Cursing, Ashlynn continued to try until her fingers bled, but there was no moving it.

“Ashy, I feel funny, and my leg hurts,” Danni said weakly.

“I’m going to find someone to help,” Ashlynn told her, getting up. She was stopped by the girl’s feeble protests to not leave her. Biting her lip, Ashlynn cupped her hands to her mouth and just started shouting, “Can someone help me? Please?! I need help!” She continued to try and find a way to free the girl, still shouting for assistance all the while. Her desperation washed away her usual distaste towards saying the words.

It wasn’t logical, at least from a military perspective. The Mandalorians had successfully brought the most powerful planet in the Republic to its knees, which if it were merely the beginning of a war it would have meant the very end for the democratic society once the ash of millions of people dissipated. Yet, they simply left, without claiming any sort of prize, without seizing the opportunity to overthrow the existing government and establish their own rule, instead leaving a battered but breathing Republic to gain its bearings and organize a counter attack in due time. Was it some cultural thing? Mandalorians were a warrior people at heart but could leaving such powerful adversary to live really be worth some code of honor, or was that the only reason they attacked was to prove their supposed superior military might?

Kelnan simply couldn’t comprehend why they didn’t finish the job after proving they could do it, just what did they have to gain by retreating from a victory? It didn’t matter that much anyway, it was he who made the mistake of thinking he could live on this poodoo pile of a planet. He truly thought hiding here was wise, while it was formally the planet of his sworn enemies he knew that the Empire wouldn’t dare track him there and even if they did so covertly, they would searching for a man off the grid in a planet sized city, and if he kept his head down not even the Jedi would sense his presence. He managed camouflage himself with a convoy of transports in his sith fighter, small enough not to be noticed as anything but an extra blip on anyone’s radar, afterwards Kelnan docked it one of the industrial centers where it was only manufacturing droids that would greet him. Not wanting to risk being noticed, Kelnan purposefully stayed as low on the food chain as possible, not even seeking employment, of course it wasn’t as if he had any skills that didn’t involve murder or borderline espionage that would prove useful to the working class, not to mention the only jobs his skills would be useful in could earn him a reputation.

So he lived on the streets and in the slums only scraping by which of course wasn’t easy, but not impossible for him as his training did encompass harsh conditioning including starvation. But now it wasn’t just finding scraps and a place to sleep for the night on no, he had to fight for his meals now and what little he owned. In the wake of kilotons of metal and plasma bolts crushing everyone in monumental tides of mass destruction the aftermath and agony left a barbaric and angry people to fend for themselves, even more looting and murdering for the scarce scraps that were only diminishing by the second. The former Sith Initiate more than once had to use his vibroblade just to keep the cloths on his back and the dried ration in his hand.

He should have killed them, it would have been so simple and so easy, they were defenseless and weak, he could have buried his feelings and done the deed, never later feeling any guilt and completing his path to the Dark Side with the death of that mother and her child. But instead he threw away years of mental and physical training, years of becoming part of the Empire which so readily adopted him for two insignificant people, and right now he could have been a full Sith warrior carrying out missions for the glory of his government instead of wallowing in the cesspool of what was once considered the ultimate enemy in his mind. And yet when he looks back at the woman’s pleading eyes, how she used her own body to cover her son’s, the way she looked at him like his own mother did in her final moments… He was weak for letting them live, but somehow he didn’t find himself regretting the act, at least not completely.

Kelnan shook his head attempting to push his thoughts away, letting the cool air sober him into the real world as it nipped at visible skin. At this moment the Dark Jedi was searching for a place to call his bed during tonight, preferably a place that was unoccupied and had little chance of him being disturbed by a hostile guest. Something reached his ears, “Can someone help me? Please? I need help!” it sounded female. Instinctively he turned to find the source of the cry, and in the distance he could see a young Zeltron woman to be the most probable source.

He didn’t see anyone else.

His better judgment told him that was none of his concern, and indeed it wasn’t. So what if someone needed “emergency” assistance, like they wouldn’t end up as some nameless statistic like everyone else, and besides, it wasn’t like Kelnan was some kind of hero…The boy and his mother didn’t count, that was just spur of the moment, an error in judgment…He had no reason to try and get involved in something that had nothing to do with him, so far he had only looked out for himself and though he had complaints things had been working out just fine.

Then the image of his mother’s face appeared again, and he cursed the day he began to grow the mythical "conscience" the Jedi would preach about.

He rushed over, though his suspicious nature told him not to let his guard down, the situation could very well be a deception meant to lure foolishly compassionate passersby into trap that would leave the victim lifeless and without their possessions, Kelnan at least had the Force on his side assuming the opponent didn’t have a quick draw and a blaster primed. Upon arriving on the scene rather than put forth any introductory statements he simply blurted, “What is it?”

Ashlynn was starting to shake, a combination of the strain and her own fear, when suddenly a voice broke through the white noise. Instantly, her hand was heading towards her blaster, until she realized she’d been the one calling out for help, and someone had actually answered her. She couldn’t believe someone was even around to answer, and if she didn’t hate the concept, she would have said it was fate, the Force at work. At the very least, it was hope.

He didn’t look like the good Samaritan type. He looked as dirty as she was, and a few years older. The older a street-dweller was, the meaner they tended to be, bitter at the world for their lack of success. But there was something about him, the way he held himself maybe, that told her he wasn’t just another street rat. It made her wonder if he was really going to help her, or if he was just curious about the screaming Zeltron girl, or worse. She wasn’t even really sure if he could help her, let alone if he would choose to do so. She didn’t want to have to rely on this man, and it made her skin crawl to think what could happen if he wasn’t just there to help. They were the only people around, after all, and in the time it would take her to shoot him, it would be too late. But, she didn’t have any other option except to try and hope for once, she’d be proven wrong. Danni was running out of time.

“There’s a girl trapped under the debris,” she explained, desperation clouding her usually sharp gaze. She didn’t, however, let her guard down, her every muscle tensed around the stranger. Her line of sight kept flickering to the fallen wall, where she could no longer hear the little Twi’lek’s cries. “I’m afraid if I move something wrong, she’ll get crushed, but what’s safe to move is too heavy for me. Please, she’s just a kid, and I,” Ashlynn paused for one brief second before meeting the stranger’s gaze and finishing, “I don’t got a lot, but I’ll do anything I can to pay you back. Anything. Just, help her.”

Ashlynn was very well aware how dangerous such words were. No one did anything for free; there was always a catch, an angle, some way to screw you over in the end. But she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let the world’s messed up workings take away that kid’s future. She’d deal with the backlash she was sure would come on her own.

The man was stressed, weak, and probably going to die on this miserable planet. His armor had been stripped from him in the heat of battle. Even his favoured blaster had been stolen in the last couple of days. However, the man would be damned if he at least didn't kill the Hut'uun that stole it before he passed into the void. The current situation he was in got in the way of things. Being trapped under tons of debris was just about as miserable as one could be. "What a fine load of Osik I've gotten myself into," The warrior said to himself. It suddenly occured to him that he wasn't going to get his blaster back if he died here. With brute force in mind, the man started to push up on the debris holding him down. As he did, it began to move.

Going from face down in the deris, to on all fours, then kneeling, and finally standing, the warrior lifted his burden. With a sigh of relief, he rolled the remaining metal and rock off of him. Looking around, he was immeadiately surpised. In front of him was two Corusant street rats, and what appeared to be a child. It seemed that in lifting the debris off himself, he had freed the child from her own prison. Strange. It occured to the man that all other functions but his heart and muscles had shut down for the single purpose of surviving. Looking at the girl, and at the two people, he blinked, considering the options.

If they found out he was a Mandalorian, they would probably kill him. On the other hand, they might be grateful from his freeing of the girl. Comabt was out of the question. He might be able to take down the Zeltron before she shot him, but the other was likely to stab him with his vibroblade. So, all things considered, it seemed best to try to compromise. "Ugh...," Was the only thing that came from his mouth. Reaching to his neck, the Mandalorian found that his throat was quite a mess, and scabbed over heavily. Unable to speak, he shrugged at the other two.

They had let Zekial, and the other mercenaries off their current job early, due to a minor issue of the ruins they were searching collapsing completely, leaving nothing but rubble. They were payed off and sent on their merry ways, as a result of the matter. Zekial had been half tempted to hang back with a handful of other mercenaries and dig around a bit, and see if they would find any one else, but he wasn't idealistic in that favor. The way that rubble had shifted would have ground down anyone unfortunate enough to still be trapped in the ruins, so he had bid them his farewell and took off for the time being. He might make his way back later once there is another major search party forming up again, with some pay upfront. It wasn't a nice thought, however, it was one that a mercenary would have to get used to hearing every now and then.

His idle walking would carry him farther than he had planned to go before, but he did end up running into a rather strange situation. Pausing near a ruined column, he analyzed the people scattered before him. A pair of street rats were near a shifted pile of debris, a unarmored male had, by the looks of it, just managed to pull himself free of the ruins, and lastly there appeared to be a child that the shifting ruins had freed. It was rare for the ruins to shift and save someone rather than kill them. He wouldn't complain about seeing that, though the male looked rather battered. The throat looked unable to speak, that much was certain. He kept distance, debating what to do.

He decided on standing his ground where he was and waiting, a hand unbuttoning the holster of his blaster pistol, though not drawing yet. He wanted ready for trouble, and by undoing that strap, he would be indeed ready to quick draw it and shoot down someone if they proved a threat. He kept his head down, therefor, and watched the situation, gathering whatever information there was to be had, and would make his move and decide whether they were friend or foe when that time happened to come. With this, he silenced the idle thoughts, leaning in the shadow of the column, waiting for something to happen next.

His brow formed into a quizzical arch as he analyzed the man that came out of the rubble. Indecently his shifting of the rubble saved Kelnan the trouble of attempting to free the Twi’lek girl himself, and admittedly the thought of doing so troubled him when he first heard it as likely he wouldn’t be able to get to her with his bare hands, but rather with the force. And of course such an action would only do the opposite of benefiting him with witnesses around, but haggard survivor of what origin Kelnan at this moment could not place had inadvertently seen to the end of any complications.

The man attempted to speak only to have a weak guttural tone escape his lips. Turning his attention to the Zeltron now likely attending to the Twi’lek youngling and said, “Problem solved I guess.” Moving his eyes back to the man Kelnan strangely to a curiosity to him and vocalized this intrigue. “Just what were you doing in there anyway? You don’t look like the normal riff-raff like myself and these two.” Kelnan couldn’t quite place it, but he sensed there was more to this man than being another victim if recent events.