K1-52 had remained unjarred throughout the near accident and his head turned to the man claiming knowledge of the Sith.

"Explanation: This unit's mission is to locate a Sith Officer."

The droid then turned its head back and began to make a detailed scan of the weapon attached to the cyborgs arm. After logging the schematics it spoke up again.

"Query: Where is this unit being taken?"

Ishara noticed the large cyborg had turned several times to look back. She realized he was on to her following them.

The speeder then made some radical movements as two CPF speeders were attempting to catch them. Ishara took a guess as to where the other speeder would end up next and quickly moved her speeder around a large building. The guess paid off as she saw the speeder had successfully evaded the CPF speeders below her and began a casual corse.

"I won't be so careless this time."

Ishara slowed the her speeder down managing to just keep up with other speeder from a long distance above.

"Where you go, I go. Maybe you are the payday or maybe you might have a better one for me. I'm going to find out."

Ishara continued to follow them.

Tarvaris slowly walked down the street of Coruscant. It was a pretty nice night, but something seemed wrong in the air. Something just didn’t feel right. He got these types of feelings quite often, usually right before something bad happened. With a flash of light he saw a pair of speeders almost collide and then peel apart and start racing off. Strange, Tarvaris thought to himself continuing down the road. He looked back up to watch the speeder that seemed to be in a bit more of a rush being pursued by a speeder it had almost hit. Again Tarvaris was struck by the oddity of the situation, something was obviously going down, but at the moment he couldn’t find out, he had to get to the cantina, he had a very important business meeting to attend.

Cutting through an alleyway to save a little bit of time Tarvaris came across a couple corpses and several laser holes in surrounding walls that looked quite fresh. He could only assume they had something to do with the speeders. He thought about returning to his speeder and trying to follow, but a look at his chrono made him continue toward the cantina, now was not the time to be an investigator.

Sliding through the door of the cantina, he wasn’t the slightest bit shocked to see that there had been a fight just before he had gotten there. With a quick look around he noted with delight that his business associate had yet to arrive. Sliding up to the bar he sat on one of the many stools and waited for the bartender.

The bartender walked up to him and asked, “What ya drinking tonight?”

“I’ll take a Corellian Whisky.”

“You got it.”

“By the way you haven’t seen an Ed Bailey in here yet have you?”

“Ed Bailey? Yeah, he’s dead, got shot by a cyborg.”

Twizzler nodded his head. The droid needed to find a Sith officer, no better place to locate one then Imperial Center, except maybe Koriban. But the droid should have known that, at least one with ample knowledge of the current galaxy. There was something strange about the droid, Twizzler didn’t know exactly what it was, but there was indeed something strange.

“Sith Officer, huh?” Twizzler said. “You mean your looking for a Sith of Knight rank or higher. Just go to the Sith Temple, that place is absolutely crawling with them little bitches.”

Twizzler then turned to Cendar, “Yeah, where exactly are we going? Some place safe I hope and some whisky would be nice.”

Cendar didn't answer for a moment as he took the speeder through a series of turns. "We're going back to my place. It's safe from Imperial patrols, though I'm not sure how safe it is from the speeder that's tailing us." Another turn. "And I doubt you'll find a drink there. Ever since my accident, I haven't had a taste for the stuff."

Cendar looked at the droid. "A Sith Officer?" he asked incredulously. "I heard of the Sith. Nasty folks. My kind of people. But a Sith officer?" He scrunched his brow and thought for a moment. "I don't know the ranks of the Sith - they're a pretty secretive bunch - but I don't think they have officers. At least not anymore."

Another turn and a shallow dive. "Couple thousand years ago, the Sith ruled the galaxy, or at least tried to. Called it the Jedi Civil War. But the Sith got wiped out, or at least so it was thought. They lost the war, at any rate."

Another turn. "But if you want to find the Sith, I can help you do that. Providing there's money in it. You wanna kill one of 'em?"

K1-52 took this information into consideration for a second, then turned to the cyborg.

"Response: This unit does not wish to kill a Sith, only to make contact. This unit was created with the purpose of locating a Sith Officer and returning he or she to the home planet in order to reactivate the central intelligence systems so that the factories may once again begin construction. This unit's secondary function is to update information on the galaxy since the central intelligence system was disabled."

The droid paused for a moment.

"Resignation: Of course, what the central intelligence system calculates as the course of action after activation is beyond this unit's capabilities to know, so profit is unknown at this point. However, your machine and organic design may be of interest to the intelligence."

The droid then slightly raised it's frame and pivoted its torso to face the pursuing speeder. Releasing its blaster from the compartment in its leg it fired shots in the direction of the speeder, also aiming for nearby buildings and walkways to attempt to put some debris between the two of them.

Cendar grabbed the droid and pulled it back into the speeder. "Not so hasty there, fella," he said before the droid could respond. "That's a potential ally back there. Don't want to scare it off just yet, now, do we?"

He paused. "And what's with the 'Response' and 'Resignation' crap, anyway? You programmed to say that? And why the hell are you calling humans meatbags?" He dipped the speeder through a particularly nasty turn, then decellerated rapidly as he landed in a small garage-like hanger. "Everybody out," he said, then hopped out himself, walking to the entrance in an attempt to flag down the pursuer. He hoped he (or she) would have the good courtesy not to shoot at him just yet. He didn't want to have to kill him (or her). There was no money in it.