Bentre shifted his stance, being careful not to lose his careful hold as he did so. With a foot, he pulled t he elevated child seat toward himself. In his hands, he balanced two plate with portion of fresh vegetables arrayed on each.

"Come over here with her, Tash'. I will have to grab Lyna's food from the kitchen, but we are almost ready to eat."

There was a simple pleasure in this simple domestic task. Stahoes had been so busy over the last few months, that he felt he was more familiar with the faceplate of his datapad than he was with his wife's face. As he watched Tasha'Vel cuddling their daughter, Bentre realized again how much he missed his wife. She was now going to serve with the Ragnosian Summit, so she would be closer to home. Maybe he would be able to visit with both the ladies of his life more often now. He somehow doubted it. Sepros may not be that far away from Tarthos but it seemed like fate conspired to keep the couple apart.

Upon returning with the plate, the Battlelord let out a short sigh. This drew the attention of his Twi'leki spouse. There was a concern in the woman's eyes. Her face silently asked if there was something wrong. Bentre shook his head, as though dispelling a wayward thought. He couldn't ignore the possibility forever, though.

"Tasha'Vel, at what point?"

His wife looked up, genuine confusion drawing her lips together briefly. "What do you mean?"

"At what point do we tell the Clan to go to hell for once?"

The Versea Matriarch paused for several seconds, carefully considering her husband's expression. "Why would we tell Sang to go to hell, exactly? What are you saying, Bentre?"

"I am saying I am getting tired." Before he realized what he was doing, Stahoes was up on his feet, his hands balled up in arger. "Because," his voice rose, "I am barely able to see either my wife or my daughter without planning around some ten other tasks. Because every time that we are looking at a chance to get away, every time that we consider taking a break, every time that things seem to be getting **too** nice, something has always come up." Tasha'Vel dropped her eyes to the table's surface, deep in thought and Bentre continued. "Tasha, I want to be able to raise our daughter **together** and as it is I barely see you between the estate on Ryloth and your work with Marka Ragnos."

Lyna'Vel began to fuss, prompting her mother to pick her up and rock her gently. Stahoes glared from his daughter to his wife, his frustration coiling his anger up in his gut. He felt like a compressed string, ready to fly off at any moment. After a few minutes, their daughter had calmed. The Versea Matriarch held the child as she studied her husband's expression.

"So Bentre, what would you like us to do? We can't exactly run away. Besides, from what you said it sounds like Sanguinius needs you here."

"He doesn't need me. He has things under better control right now than I could have expected all things considered." The man could hear the bitterness in his voice, but he shrugged away any guilt he felt for it. He liked the Consul, immensely considering just how different the two of them were. "Besides, I wasn't meaning that, exactly. It's just all so-" he let the word trail off as he watched his daughter throw a piece of soft fruit across the table in front of her child seat.

"stressful?" Tasha'Vel finished his sentence, her tone hopeful. "You knew what you were getting into when you accepted the appointment, didn't you love?"

Bentre shook his head even as he let a smile slip. "Guilty as charged, I guess." He nodded twice, recalling the work duties that remained for the rest of the week. "Well, I will tell you what. We will plan a vacation to Naboo in a couple weeks. We will take the Iron Wolf II, pack a couple of days of food and just have a nice camping trip or something."

"That would give us a chance to get away from the Clan for a little bit." Tasha'Vel agreed. Let's make it a date." Smiling in earnest, Tasha'Vel picked her daughter up, brushing some of the now-squished fruit from the front of the young Twi'lek's bib. "Then Mommy, Daddy and Lyna can all have a nice time, huh?" She spoke in a slightly higher tone as she spoke to her daughter, shooting a knowing smile at the now-slightly-relaxed Bentre.

Stahoes' smile faded as he reflected on the events of the last few years since he had joined the Brotherhood. The likes of the vermin on Nar Shadda seemed so distant a memory. They were but a relic of another life. The living that Bentre and Tasha'Vel carved out together had been as rough-hewn as the rivalry had been in the beginning, when her husband had planted a vibroknife into one of her lekku in an attempt to debilitate her. Even since then, the two of the- three with Lyna'Vel- had made even more of a life for themselves in spite of the danger of the Brotherhood in it's current state.

It was going to be hard. It always had been. They would make it through things together. If things got to be too stressful, the two of them would serve as an anchor to each other. They had began their relationship as little more than rivals in training, and had moved to friendly rivals, and eventually to spouses. It was a thing to behold.

Bentre withdrew from the dining room with a slight grimace, returning after about five seconds with a brown-green bottle of liquid. Twisting the bottle's top with his left hand, the man threw the plastic stopper away. Bringing the container to his lips, Bentre began to quickly drain the bottle. Once emptied, the Sadowan Proconsul placed the now-empty bottle upon the dining room table.

"You have a deal, Tash'. We will get a three day holiday, recharge our batteries. After that, we can evaluate if we need to do anything different. Besides, between the Clan Summit and your work with your team, we might find ourselves a lot busier than we expect. We might not a lot of time to dwell on what could be. " Offering a smile he didn't feel, Bentre tried to put away his thoughts and feeling of unease. Sometimes, it was really just better to try and pretend.

Why did I ever agree to this? Tusken Raiders are about as pleasant as Ewoks, but at least with Ewoks you can fit them into your nearest overhead luggage compartment on a standard shuttle.

I stifled a chuckle as I peered through my macrobinoculars. I was growing painfully stiff by this point, but I struggled to remain as still as possible. I know that I could have trusted that the holoshroud would have kept me cloaked if I moved, but that felt lazy. It was easy to slip up when you didn't practice discipline. I wish that I could instill that truth in the likes of my apprentice and some of my Clan fellows, but I guess it didn't really matter that much in the end.

I could feel my throat drying again, but I had to resist the urge to reach for my canteen again. I had to wait until the sun went down before I could scrounge up some vegetation for moisture. It wasn't the most efficient way of getting water, but I found that the constant thirst kept my mind focused on the task at hand. I just had to keep lying to myself. Laying prone on the ground didn't make it any easier.

Just a little longer.

I could see movement from the Tusken camp. It looked like they were assembling a hunting party. I tried to scour my brain for what they could be hunting on Tatooine. Nothing came to mind though. I turned my head a bit, trying to focus on the large bantha that bore one of the Tusken Raiders. There was a solemnity as they gathered. There was a purpose. The Raider on the large Bantha seemed to be rallying or leading his fellows. Well, at least I think it was a he.

As I considered the scene, a feeling of unease settled in my stomach. There was one possibility that I really did not want to consider. I was too far from the *Iron Wolf II* to make a free run back to the freighter. Was it possible that I had been detected? I dared to turn my head to look off to my left. The sand stretched out in that direction, offering little in the way of cover. There was little in the other direction to consider either.

More potential complications arose in my head as I considered my limited resources. My intent had been to go undiscovered to report back. It was looking less possible, which left two options. I could either run, or I could start shooting. I dropped one hand from my macrobinoculars and fingered my security pistol on my belt. I could take out five, maybe ten if I took my time. That assumed I wouldn't get noticed. I slowly pulled the weapon from my belt. Fingers slipped from the weapon as the muzzle snagged on my belt.

I was an idiot. I could have gone slower. As the weapon hit the ground, the blaster discharged. A bolt flew over the heads of the Tuskens. They began looking about from the source of the disturbance. I could feel their eyes rolling over me as they searched. I knew they didn't necessarily notice me yet. That could change very quickly though.

I would have to make a break for it. If I turned back enough to fire a couple of times I might scare them a bit. Or I might piss them off. I wasn't sure and concentrating was getting harder. Force help me, I really should have brought a lightsaber with me or something. This was going to be sticky.

The tension in the air was thick as the two warriors stared each other down. Kaayn Salis felt the cloth of his white shirt stretch against his arms as he readied himself into a fighting stance. His opponent, T’Espera, donning the traditional orange combat uniform of her family, was already in fighting position. After what seemed like an eternity, T’Espera charged forward throwing a series of punches. Kaayn brought his hands up to intercept the onslaught of punches and ducking as a hammer fist came flying to towards the side of his head. With lightning fast precision, T’Espera fired another series of punches quickly followed by kicks. Kaayn jumped back, the cold stone railing chilling his back. Anticipating her next attack, Kaayn sidestepped as a flying kick crashed through the railing. T’Espera followed through with a straight punch at Kaayn's head. Kaayn again slipped to the side, sending T’Espera’s fist crashing into a ceramic planter. The planter shattered sending harden clay, dirt, and dust flying through the air.

T’Espera again charged her opponent. Throwing a series of kicks followed up by punches, the Sith angrily pursued Kaayn. Blocking each successive strike, the Grey Jedi was taken by surprise then T’Espera grabbed his arms. The two warriors wrestled for control of the fight. The Sith quickly got the upper hand and sent Kaayn flying across the arena floor. The human male contorted his body and landed in a prone position, propped up by one hand and his feet. T’Espera continued her assault sending a variety of kicks to the man. He hastily dodged the blows and leapt to his feet. T’Espera flew through the air sending a kick into Kaayn’s chest. The kick was followed by another fury of punches and kicks that sent him staggering back.

Kaayn regained his composure and focused on his enemy. He closed the gap to his between the two calmly but with authority. T’Espera, still at the ready, immediately continued her assault on the Grey Jedi. Kaayn quickly blocked the attacks and countered with a punch of his own. He followed through with a punch towards her head. Showing restraint, he stopped it just inches from her face. He knew the pulled punch would show her that he was indeed powerful and that he could beat her. He also knew that she would take the pulled punch as a sign of disrespect.. an insult. This fueled her anger.

She drew her power from her anger and fired back another series of punches and kicks. The renewed strength of the attack surprised Kaayn. He caught the blows in the chest and fell to the ground. He jumped to his feet and noticed the crowd observing and heckling him. He again focused hard on his opponent. T’Espera once again charged towards Kaayn. He leapt in the air threw a thrust a kick directly into her sternum. She flew back crashing into the ground. She glared at Kaayn, and slowly rose to a ready position. Kaayn loosened his stance, bobbing back and forth between his feet, changing the weight distribution.

The two fighters circled for a moment, T’Espera was the first to strike. She charged with a series of punches that were easily dodged by Kaayn. Opening the gap between the two, Kaayn gauged the situation. The Sith charged him again. Kaayn counted with a series of punches, causing T’Espera to crash into a rack of spears. The two fighters stood at a ready, throwing a punch of kick to test the others defenses. T’Espera threw a series of punches and kicks that were blocked by Kaayn. Kaayn retaliated with his own and a strong kicked connected in the chest. Taking a step back, T'Espera observed her opponent. She noticed the changing distribution of his weight. She waited until his weight was on his lead leg and with the speed of a viper attacking its prey, launched a kick into his leg sending him flying to the ground. She threw another kick towards Kaayn as he rolled back to his feet. Kaayn barely avoided the kick and countered with a flying kick to the side of her head.

The Sith and the Grey Jedi lowered into a ready stance glaring at one another, knowing that the fight would soon be over. They exploded at each other, like two elephants going to war. They exchanged a fury of punches and kicks that would look like a blur to any onlookers. Kick, punch, block, punch, block, kick.... Kaayn felt a stalemate was coming and made a quick decision. He leapt in the air and threw a strong kick into his former Apprentices chest. She flew across the arena floor into a set of stone railings. She climbed to her feat, only to fall. She realized she was too beaten to stand and eyed her opponent with seething hatred. “I lost.” She finally conceded as Kaayn left the arena.