Hunger. So much hunger. And pain. So much pain. It couldn't tell which outweighed the other. But it knew how to dull both at once. With sweet flesh and blood. And there was so much of it…and so close by, just beyond the bushes and trees…if only it could feed…

But no. Its Master was keeping them at bay. The Master's word was stronger than even the pain and hunger. Obey. It must obey…but…it was getting too much…it must feed, feed…no, it must obey. Always obey. Even though it had slumbered for so long, it remembered what the Master was like when anyone disobeyed. It shuddered. Pain and hunger were better than angering the Master—

"My servants."

It stiffened. It vaguely noticed its fellows doing the same. They heard the Master's voice in their heads too. "It is time. Hit the villages first. Avoid the Imperials for now, if possible. Once we have enough, we will strike the Capital. But for now…

"Attack."

It burst from the undergrowth, sending dirt and grass flying as its claws dug into the ground with each step, as it pounded towards the edge of a crude offworlder village. The smell of flesh was overwhelming now. It leapt on the closest being; its vision was so red, it couldn't tell who or what it was. Even the surroundings were mostly a blur to it. All that mattered now was to feed.

Its teeth sank into sweet soothing flesh. One bite was all it took, all that its Master allowed it to, but it was enough. The being shuddered and screamed, but it quickly became one of them, and it eagerly accepted its duty as one of the Master's followers.

A sound cut through the air. It shrieked in pain and clutched its shoulder. One of the villagers had shot it. It weaved towards the villager and then clawed right through it, killing it instantly. No matter. There were more to convert, more to serve the Master's cause, more to help dull the pain.

And there were. It couldn't tell how many it had bit, all that mattered was that with each bite, more of the pain went away. But then it heard more blaster shots. It snarled. How dare these people deny the Master what was his? How dare they try to worsen its pain—

The strength left it. Suddenly, the Master…didn't seem so important anymore…actually…even the pain had gone away.

It dimly registered it had fallen to the ground. It didn't matter. It slowly closed its eyes.

And the pain and hunger were finally gone.

Terro's eyes darted between the screens as he did his best to keep up with the battles being displayed on them. Creatures, a mix of humans and aliens meshed together with Yuca's wildlife, were throwing themselves at Yuca's civilians with reckless abandon. Some actually died trying to sink their teeth into their prey. But for every being they did bite, their victims morphed into abominations like them. Terro scratched his bottle of ale uncomfortably. These things were unnatural, and while he'd have no problem ridding the galaxy of them, he was here for a trophy, not to risk his life for people who were not of his clan.

Then he noticed the other offworlders, the Rebels, who did their best to help the locals. Of the ones he had seen so far, the Rebel who captured his attention the most was a Tognath, who when forced to, used an electrostaff to protect the others. Bones broke, limbs twisted, and skulls cracked with every swing of his weapon. A worthy prey for sure…but enough for Terro to tempt death?

A clatter broke his concentration. He looked around to see Hyerox dropping some items on a nearby table, in front of a Clawdite. The changeling grinned and muttered something to Hyerox. He pushed away one of the items, a breather, and took the rest. Then he morphed into an Imperial, put on a Captain badge and code cylinders, and pocketed a comm. He gave Hyerox a flawless Imperial salute, turned on his heel, and marched out of the bar.

"Don't mind him," Hyerox chuckled, and he glanced at Terro. "Just sent him to do some spy work for me."

Terro finished what was left in his bottle. "Which Imperial did you kill to get his possessions?"

Hyerox shrugged as he walked up and leaned against the bar. "Can't remember. All I know is he gave me some info on the state of the galaxy, and once I…thanked him, I took what I thought might be useful. Couldn't have made it out of the caves without this trinket," he added, admiring the breather.

Something probed Terro's senses, and he looked for the source of it. He quickly found it, a sniveling Snivvian, doing his pathetic best to discreetly type in a datapad. "Ontho!" barked Hyerox. "Bring me something to eat, preferably something alive if you can."

The Yucari nodded, ducked under his bar, and hoisted a glass aquarium onto the counter, full of green liquid and writhing slimy animals. Hyerox frowned. "I've seen similar items used by the Hutts."

Onto nodded. "Yes, a Hutt tried making Yuca his stomping grounds some time ago. I regret to say that nobody has seen him since—oh wait." He paused to pick a gristly glob off the edge. "Here he is. Mystery solved."

The bar patrons all laughed. Hyerox ignored them and raised a crystal to the aquarium. A few tendrils of energy shot out and entered the jar, snatching one of the animals, its tentacles flailing in panic. Hyerox's frown deepened, and with a swipe of his hand, the energy faded away. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and raised his crystal again. As it glowed, the creature floated out of the liquid, coming to a halt in front of Hyerox. It could have been Terro's imagination, but he thought he saw a faint blur of light around the animal's body. Then Hyerox opened his eyes, gripped the poor morsel, and sank his teeth into it much like his pet creatures.

Despite his disgust, Terro felt his senses tug at him yet again, and saw the Snivvian approach him. "Hey," he greeted, his oversized nostrils flared. "You're a Scalestalker, right?"

Terro nodded. The Snivvian's face was stretched with greed. "Look, I've got a few business proposals for you, the first of which could help you. My contacts took out an Ixchel yesterday, one of the biggest they've seen on the planet. If you've got the credits, you can walk out of here with a new trophy, and without even having to soil your claws."

For a moment, Terro was hit with such a wave of emotion, everything became blurry except for the slimy rat in front of him. He stood as calmly as he could, put a claw on the Snivvian's shoulder, and said, "Do you know what a Scalestalker would say when someone drops a prize in their lap?"

The Snivvian's lips pulled back in a grin, his oversized yellow teeth more visible than ever. "No, only heard stories about you guys—"

Terro tossed him into the air. As the Snivvian fell squealing down, Terro grabbed him by both ankles, and dunked him into the aquarium. The wretch squirmed like an armored eel, but Terro gripped him even tighter, and he enjoyed the sight of the animals battering at their uninvited guest. Then he pulled him back out, waited for the Snivvian to stop coughing up green guck, and snarled, "A hunter who takes the spoils of others is nothing more than a scavenger. And we Scalestalkers never claim any kill unless it is done with our own hands. Get it, or I'll get you!"

"Yaghk, yes!" the Snivvian sputtered, as his already big eyes bulged.

He dropped the fool onto the floor; the Snivvian's head banged against the ground, splattering the liquid everywhere. He managed to get to his feet, before Hyerox swallowed the first half os his meal, and tapped him on the shoulder. "May I offer my own wisdom, Snivvian?"

Terro didn't even see it coming. One second Hyerox looked normal, the next, part of what Terro had assumed was a normal, albeit clawed, shoeless, leg, had separated and pierced right through his latest victim. The scales on Hyerox's head rustled as he drew the Snivvian closer, reminding Terro of a spider taunting its prey. "In your next life," he snarled, "when you plan to rat someone out, try to be more discreet."

Hyerox drew his leg out of the Snivvian, whose corpse fell to the floor in a heap. The increasingly bizarre alien glanced at Terro, as his leg pulled back beneath his leggings. "If you think I look weird, you should see the others of my kind."

He threw what was left of his meal into the air and caught it, its blood spilling between his teeth. Before Terro could even begin to reply, Arkeem came up to his employer. "Sir, our Imperial mole just intercepted a transmission. The Rebels are calling in their Fleet now."

Hyerox chuckled. "Excellent. You know what to do. And in the meantime," he added to Terro, his green eyes narrowed in vile glee, "keep your eyes on the screens, and enjoy the show."

With a groan, the Twi'lek collapsed on one of the makeshift chairs they had set up in the hangar. "A month," she spat. "A month of not only trying to avoid Imperials, but giant snakes and other monsters. And our big score? A couple of guns to drop off for some petty warlord. As soon as we get paid, I'm heading for Corellia."

An older Gran gingerly took one of the other chairs. "Quit your complaining," he grunted. "You think Yuca is bad, you wouldn't have lasted a minute back during the jobs I took during the war." He took a swig out of his flask and nodded in satisfaction. "I miss those days to be honest. Sure, nearly got fried more than once, but there was never a dull moment, and not only that, but the Republic and Separatists were usually too busy killing each other to really crack down on us."

"Please stop harping about the good old days," sighed the Twi'lek, and she took out a holoprojector. "Let's see what's going on now. Last thing I want is to get shot down because the Imps thought we were Rebels."

The Gran shuddered. "They would blast us anyway if they knew the Captain's wife is one."

Thankfully, he shut up once the information formed on the hologram. "Well, we're not," the Twi'lek told him. "And from the looks of it, they still have their hands full with the Rebels, and whatever else is going on out there, like whoever torched that hotel—"

The Twi'lek broke off when she thought she heard a metallic noise, but then she and the Gran noticed the Captain, a tall and lean dark skinned human, approaching them from the hangar entrance. "I'm glad to see you two are making yourselves comfortable," he said. "But if my weapons aren't on board and secured, then prepare to become very uncomfortable."

The Gran gestured at the ship, an old but efficient Corellian freighter. "See for yourself, Captain. Snug as a Nerf in a crate—"

He was interrupted by the thrum of the ship's engines. The Twi'lek scrambled off her seat as they charged towards the ship, but it was already too late. It took off towards the sky, their hard-earned prize quickly growing smaller by the moment. She and the Gran turned to the Captain; cold, barely contained fury was carved into his face. But then it dropped when they heard another ship take off, followed by furious shouts. "Something's wrong," he muttered, and he took off towards the entrance.

The Twi'lek and Gran glanced at each other, then followed him outside. Once they caught up with him, the outcries kept growing louder, and more ships began to fly out from the Capital.

Arkeem resisted the urge to wipe his forehead as he operated his console's controls as carefully as possible. He had already experienced what Hyerox would do simply to make a point. He didn't want to find out what the strange alien would do if Arkeem failed him.

As Arkeem moved the droid closer to his target, he heard one of the Stromtroopers on the monitor ask, "Any word yet on when we can leave this backwater planet?"

His comrade shrugged. "You think they'd tell me? Right now, I'd be more worried about staying out of Vader and Locus's firing range."

Arkeem tilted his control stick, and guided the droid through the stacks of crates…just a little farther… "Please," the first trooper scoffed. "We're at the heart of the Capital, far away from any Rebel or that second rate arsonist."

The Iktotchi's heart gave a jolt; the second trooper had begun to move towards the crates. With his mechanical hand, he backed the droid up as far as he could into the shadows. "Keep telling yourself that," the second trooper retorted. "You'll be the first one to get it if something does happen. Now come on, let's get these explosives on the Reaper."

"Relax, we still have plenty of time—"

Arkeem's pilot instincts whispered to him, so he took his chance. He had his droid leap onto the crate as the trooper wrapped his arms around it. Then the trooper did his work for him, and hauled the crate into the heart of the gunship. He vaguely heard the trooper complain back to his comrade, but he didn't pay attention to him. Arkeem grinned as he moved the droid up to the abandoned cockpit, and a moment later, it leapt onto the controls.

He slammed a button in triumph, and the droid hacked right into the control panel. "Got the Reaper!" Arkeem told the others. "TIE Squad, you got your ships?"

The assorted vandals nodded, their expressions eager for carnage and easy money. Arkeem glanced at Hyerox, who nodded, and said, "Start flying. But then wait for phase two."

Hyerox tapped a few more buttons, and started the ship up. The troopers immediately took notice and began to open fire. To thank his unwitting accomplices, Arkeem flew low, and ran the TIE Reaper right into them, before he took off. He moved his droid around, and saw other various Imperial ships taking off as well, as the Imperial alarms blazed in panic. With a chuckle, Arkeem thought that it was almost worth losing his horns for this job. Almost.

Mokar the Ithorian groaned. "Please, Solo. I appreciate the rescue, but try not to get me soaked."

Han glared at him. "Hey, pal, we've had to cross through the jungle and river on foot to haul you out of the fire. Don't push it."

Apart from Mokar and a few others, the rest of the prisoners that came out of the outpost were in much better shape. A few procured ITTs and speeders stood at the ready, as they packed all the gear they needed on them. Luke glanced at the Shyyyo Talon, as its crew hauled their loot on board. He knew that if the bounty hunters wanted, it could get them all to where they needed.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "You alright, Luke?"

It was Kashvi. She looked at him with concern and somber understanding. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm fine. Just wish we were leaving this place with some more allies."

She sighed. "I know what you mean. For all of their faults, they've proven their worth, and then some—"

"Luke! Luke, we have a situation!"

Nailah rushed out of the outpost, a holoprojector in hand. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her. "There's a broadcast on the open channel," she huffed, as she skidded to a halt in front of him. "Coming from the Empire. It's not good."

She turned it on. Luke had seen a picture of Locus before coming to Yuca, but seeing the Moff's bloated form again on the hologram still made him nauseous. "Attention, dogs of the Rebel Alliance," snarled Locus. "I wish to pass on a message for one of your own, this Luke Skywalker. Tell him that few of my targets have ever proven this difficult to apprehend. But I shouldn't be surprised, since I have seen firsthand what a capable warrior his father was."

Luke clenched his fists so tightly he felt his nails dig into his skin. How dare this Imperial mention his father? "And if he has even half of his father's capabilities, he should also possess similar traits, like how General Skywalker always rushed in to save the day. Which is why I want him to know that very soon, I will begin to terminate the residents of Slave Town."

The others exploded in outrage. But Luke only had ears for the disgusting Moff on the holoprojector. "Turn yourself in, Skywalker," Locus growled. "But fear not; I owed your father an immense debt, and thankfully, Lord Vader's plans coincide with mine. Should you surrender, you will join highest ranks of the Empire, and help us bring an end to the Rebels' anarchy. I say it one last time: for the sake of these disposable slaves, but more importantly for your own sake, surrender. It's what your father would want—"

"Oh, to hell with this fat worrt!" snapped Nailah, and shut off the message.

Han glanced at Luke drily. "Let me guess. We charge in to save the day, blasters blazing?"

Luke clapped him on the shoulder. "That's usually how it goes, Han."

The smuggler blew his cheeks out. "I guess I should have gotten used to it by now." He turned to Nailah. "Naliah, Kashvi, get the wounded to rendezvous with the closest Rebel team. The rest of us will head to Slave Town. Make sure we're packing enough firepower, this is going to be a one way trip."

The duo nodded and they rushed off. "In the meantime," Han added, and walked to the outpost entrance, "let's get this over with."

Luke and Chewbacca shared a look, and they walked after him, where the Talons stood waiting. "No time for long goodbyes," Han told the Talons. "Locus is getting ready to exterminate the entire population of Slave Town to make Luke surrender. I take it you haven't had a change of heart."

Luke looked at the Talons. Save for SN, even if there was a twinge of unease in their expressions, they still looked resolved. Zar shook his head. "Afraid not, Captain Solo."

Suddenly, Han looked a bit awkward. "Um…look, Zar…if we ever have to do another job again, I'll try not to play Sabacc just for a few extra credits."

Zar bristled. "What do you mean, you'll try—" He broke off. "Wait…does that mean we're even?"

Han glanced at Chewbacca. "What do you, Chewie? Should we let them off the hook?"

The Wookiee stroked his jaw thoughtfully. Zar gestured at Dendro to come over. "Please translate for me," he whispered to the Besalisk. "I'm still rusty."

Chewbacca growled his answer. Dendro looked outraged, and his throat swelled. "No way, we might be able to convince Kalia to cook it for half price, but that's all you're getting from us!"

The Wookiee let out a warbling laugh and barked a reply. Han nodded and held out a hand. "Yeah, we're even."

The Talons looked relieved, even SN didn't try to ruin the moment with a smart comment. Zar shook Han's hand. "Take care, Han. If there are any ladies on our next job, I'll do my best not to charm them too much. And try to make sure the kid doesn't get into trouble."

Han shrugged. "Zar, I might be able to bust through the blockade, but I can't work miracles."

The other Talons gave their farewells to Chewbacca. "Hey, fuzzball," said the SN. "I…please do me a favor. Keep an eye on R2? I felt a connection with that astromech, like we both came off the same assembly line."

Chewbacca barked a reply. Han gave him an indignant look as they headed to the transport. "Oh, I have the easy job? Let me tell you, Chewie, that droid couldn't possibly cause any more trouble than the kid…"

Luke stepped forward. "I guess this is it," said Luke, his eyes fixed on Zar's.

Zar nodded. "That it is."

Luke looked down at the ground. "I understand. I don't like it, but I won't try and change your minds." He looked back up to observe them all. "Hope you all got everything you needed out of this mission. And thanks for all of your help."

He walked away. The sooner they freed the slaves, the better. "Hey, kid!"

He turned around to see Zar had taken his helmet off. All of the Talons, SN included, stood at attention, and saluted. "May the Force be with you, Luke," said Zar, his grey eye full of respect. "Always."

Luke nodded, and turned back to join his team, ready to continue the fight against the Empire.

Even through his content state, Hyerox felt the disturbance in the Force. Something was wrong. He didn't know what yet, but he knew his plans were being thrown into peril. "Ontho!" he said loudly. "Check with our Imperial friend! Ask what the Empire is up to now!"

The Yucari nodded and took out his comm. As he spoke into it, Hyerox looked around the cantina again. Thankfully, nobody looked like they were planning on betraying him, the Snivvian's death had seen to that. Even Arkeem seemed more focus on making money, and if what Hyerox felt was correct, the Iktotchi was pleased at striking a blow at the Empire.

Then Hyerox's attention turned to the newcomer, the Trandoshan. Terro was an unusual color for his kind; mostly red scales, with a few dark blue stripes, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a cloak over black and grey clothing similar to what his fellow Trandoshan hunters wore, but with some various tribal, almost primitive additions. And various items, scales, teeth, small coils of hair, dotted his person here and there, along with a strange device with three orbs on his wrist. But Hyerox sensed nothing from him…nothing except tense anticipation, as Terro's eyes darted from screen to screen, doubtlessly looking for a new trophy to claim as his own.

"Hyerox!" said Ontho, snapping him back to reality. "You were right. The Empire just put out a message for the whole planet to hear. They're trying to get a rebel called Luke Skywalker to turn himself in—"

"Hold up," Arkeem interrupted. The Iktotchi looked up from his console, his eyes narrowed. "Skywalker? Like the old Republic general?"

"How am I supposed to know? My planet barely interacted with the galaxy before the Empire, remember?"

Arkeem growled in annoyance, then turned to Hyerox. "Sir, with your permission, allow me to use that Jedi spawn as target practice for my new TIE Reaper—"

Hyerox ignited a crystal and cleaved through the bar in rage. "SILENCE!"

The whole bar had gone quiet. Ontho held back a whimper as he looked at the gash Hyerox had cleaved into his bar. The fight had gone out of Arkeem's eyes as he nervously rubbed one of his ruined horns. The various criminals did their best to simultaneously pay attention to their boss and fly their stolen ships. And Terro glanced at Hyerox cautiously for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the screens.

Hyerox hissed between his teeth. "No, you can't kill Skywalker, and we can't let the Empire get him either. I was hoping my servants would have added more volunteers to their ranks by now…but oh well, they wouldn't have mattered in the long run anyway." He turned and addressed the group as a whole. "Change of plans. Commence phase two immediately, unfortunately, the Empire has forced our hand. And remember, we want to provide them with as many problems as possible."

Ugwa wrung his green hands anxiously. What was supposed to have been a smooth string of performances on Yuca had turned out to be a disaster. And now this. If only the Stormtroopers at the spaceport would just let him and his band leave this stinkball, but instead, the head trooper barely even glanced at his identification. "Listen, Ugwo Go—" he began.

"It's Ugwa Ogo!" snapped Ugwo, and snatched his identification back.

"Whatever. It's out of our hands."

"Then call your boss over! My band has suffered enough delays on this rock already, no thanks to you Imperials, and now we're already behind schedule! I need to call my agents on Rodia soon or our next concert—!"

The trooper and his comrades pointed their weapons at him. "Stow it, Rodian. Manager of the Star Nymphs or not, there's nothing we can do. No offworld transmissions, and nobody allowed off the planet, until Lord Vader gives the word. Now get lost!"

Ugwa stood rooted to the spot and glanced behind him. The band were nearby, all staring at him worriedly. Thanks to their profession, they had been able to make a living, and more importantly, stayed out of the Empire's way. But now it looked like their careers were going to take a major hit, unless—

His ears twitched; they had picked up a faint, but unmistakable sound. He looked up, and on the horizon, saw a swarm of Imperial ships flying towards the city. "What's going on, Sarge?" asked one of the troopers. "Thought they told you this place wasn't important enough for them to send reinforcements."

Ugwa felt his antennae buzz. And as his father, and his father before him always said, 'trust the antennae, son. Always.' "Guess I was wrong," said the trooper who had berated Ugwa. "Must be our lucky day—"

Ugwa turned on his heel and sprinted towards the band. "Take cover!" he screamed at them. "Take cover!"

As the band's expressions shifted from worry to panic, he vaguely heard the Stormtroopers react behind him. "He's running for it! Blast—!"

Before the Sarge could finish his order, the screech of green lasers drowned him out, and Ugwa's vision was engulfed in fire and smoke. But as he felt his body tumble and scrape against the ground, he knew that at least he was still alive. Then two sets of hands hauled him up to his feet.

"Ugwa! Are you alright?!"

It was his band. Thankfully, they hadn't lost anyone. He turned and saw that the troopers weren't so lucky. The laser fire had flung them around like discarded toys, leaving the spaceport unguarded. And already, he could hear screams of the populace, no doubt heading for the spaceports. "Get to the ship!" he coughed. "We have to get off this planet before the TIEs come back!"