"There I was, surrounded by a dozen angry Grawshin tribesmen, their spears bristling."

Abero gestured to his audience for emphasis. His audience, Weram and the sneering Bith merchant she was haggling with, was attempting futilely to ignore him.

"My hands bound, blaster's power cell fried, I spat in the face of certain death."

The Bith groaned a reply in his own musical language, tossing several more ration packs onto the pile Weram had already paid for. He made a shooing gesture at Weram and Abero, tooting angrily about the wide berth other shoppers were giving the big man.

Weram bowed in thanks and tried to affect an apologetic expression. The expression changed into a sly smile as she turned away. Though Abero was a tiresome blowhard, she had gotten a four power cells for half price, a second tent, and now several extra ration packs all for the price of removing Abero from the shopkeepers' presence.

Now there was just one more thing to get.

"That's it for supplies," Weram said, "don't suppose you have a speeder?"

Abero sputtered midsentence, "-ust, ah no. But I know a guy! Come on!" Abero rushed away from the bazaar, leaving Weram to carry her new burdens.


D'nia's skiff glided past the outskirts of Hon Manowa. The morning sun shone on the buildings, shimmering like flowing water as she sped past. She cut the throttle as she neared a decrepit structure, an amalgam of weathered stonework reinforced with more modern salvaged materials.

Her home.

D'nia leaped from the skiff and ran along side, a well practiced maneuver, guiding it into it's resting place as it lost momentum.

The dry dustiness of the place assaulted D'nia's nostrils as she entered, the evidence of her infrequent residency an unwelcome reminder that being here means she isn't getting paid.

So why are you going to track that oaf and his new friend for free? she teased herself. She shrugged her pack onto the floor and knelt to open it.

Because that fool will likely get himself killed, and his body might be worth a drink or two to the right people. D'nia smiled sardonically as she began filling the pack with supplies for an expedition.

Or it might attract the attention of the wrong people, she considered. Probably owes someone money.

She cinched her pack closed and shouldered it once more, but paused in the act of standing. Something wasn't right. She scanned the room, looking for something out-of-place. As she turned her head her attention was drawn to a low alcove set into one wall. She walked over to it and regarded a wooden box, glass lid askew. D'nia set the lid aside and withdrew a beaded shawl from within, handling it reverently.

Her father had made it for her mother as a wedding gift. D'nia closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the glass beads her father had painstakingly sewn into the shawl beneath her fingers. She could see her mother's reassuring smile in her mind's eye. Her mother had only worn this shawl on festival days until her father passed. Then she wore it almost every day. She'd been wearing it the day she was taken.

D'nia held her mother's shawl a moment more, remembering, then placed it back in the wooden box. She slid the lid back in place, then lifted the box entirely, revealing the hollow that it concealed. D'nia reached down into this hollow, her fingers brushing the empty bottom of the space. She then pressed down and twisted, drawing up the false bottom as she withdrew her hand. There, wrapped in cloth lay a cylindrical object. Her fingers closed around the object and-

D'nia's vision suddenly swam.

She heard her brother call out.

She saw her mother run outside, letting the shawl fall to the ground.

The sound of the Imperial transport that took them away.

The agent's clipped accent saying the word "reeducation."

The stone walls of a cave illuminated by amber light.

Tattered brown robes now empty, seen through the blur of tears.

Her brother's hand holding a pendant, now joined by a hand with bright pink skin holding a similar pendant.

Both pendants emblazoned with a starred sword with feathered wings.

Then blackness.


An ambulatory stack of various items wended it's way down the avenues of Hon Manowa, trailing after Weram and Abero. P-0 straightened to reorient itself, it's burden leaning precariously, then continued in the direction of it's master. Weram finally caught up with Abero as he approached a building with a wide, yawning entrance.

P-0 followed her and Abero through the open doorway into a darkened room. A large round counter dominated the room's center. Tables and booths littered the dimly lit space, all empty save one, where a massive Trandoshan dozed, startling Weram with a loud, rasping snore.

"We are not yet open," a gruff voice snaked from behind the large counter. "Come back later."

"We're not here to drink this time, Yansk," Abero replied.

The top of a scaled head and two large yellow eyes rose from below the counter. "You!" Yansk hissed, "You should not be here! Go away!"

"Is that any way to greet the man that saved your life?" Abero grinned.

Yansk made his way from around the counter waving an accusatory claw at Abero, who was half again the diminutive Trandoshan's height.

"Yes, saved me from a lorkrok that you woke trying to escape the Grawshin warband."

Weram raised an eyebrow. He was serious about that?

"A fact," Yansk continued, "Reesha and I would be more grateful for if you didn't rub our snouts in it every time you come here."

"Reesha?" Abero said, indicating the hulking form in the booth. "Oh come on, Yansk, your sister loves me!"

Reesha had risen at the mention of her name, her yellow eyes boring into Abero's back while a feral grin spread across her reptilian lips.

"You mistake," Yansk said. "My sister wishes to eat you."

Abero shrugged. "What can I say, I have that effect on women," he said, winking at Weram.

Weram looked from Abero to Reesha, who had not moved except to widen her grin, which now showed far too many teeth for cordiality.

Yansk began to amble back to his counter. "Tell me what it is you want or be gone from here, Abero."

"I, uh, need your speeder," he said.

"No. Good bye," Yansk blurted.

"Not permanently," Abero pleaded. "Just for a while, and afterwards we're even."

Yansk stopped in his tracks, turning to eye the big man.

"You mean, we are done after this? No more free drinks? You stay out of my place? Hmm?"

"Deal!" Abero agreed quickly.

"Fine." Yansk retrieved a key card from a pocket and handed it to Abero.

"Bring it back in one piece, or you will owe me, and I will send Reesha to collect."

Abero accepted the key card, nodding solemnly.

Reesha ran her forked tongue over her lips, her eyes glinting.


D'nia pushed herself off the floor, arms shaking, mouth dry. Her head throbbed. She opened her eyes and winced, blinking at the too-bright sunlight that filled the room.

Sunlight! The time!

D'nia scrambled for her datapad and accessed her tracker. A holographic map appeared before her, a blinking red dot indicating that her tracker had left the city and was moving at speed toward the highland coast.

D'nia turned and glared at the lightsaber that had rolled free of her hand and lay near her pack. She snatched it up and walked back over to the alcove. Shaking her head to clear the memory of her vision, she stood a moment holding the lightsaber, considering.

Then she straightened the box with her mother's shawl, re-covering the hollow.

She returned to her pack and placed the lightsaber inside.

Realization had dawned on D'nia.

No way that girl is a prospector.

D'nia checked the projection from her datapad again, then stowed it away.

And there's no way she's heading that direction looking for spice.

Pack once again on her shoulder, D'nia left the house and fired her skiff's engines.

She's looking for trouble.