I was eleven. Yes, just the age of eleven when I grew up on my own in the streets in the Under City of Coruscant. My usual area was in Slum District G-17 that I roamed and scavenged for food. I didn't have anyone to look out for me and I didn't look out for anyone else. I just had to survive on whatever means I could manage. Being a scrawny kid, probably looking much younger than I really was, I was able to sleep in air ducts and use them for passage ways. Sometimes, getting an extra buck for food or some shoes meant some stealing to sell on the black market. Nothing much, though. I still didn't have that much strength due to lack of food.

My memory is mostly a blur for it had been so long ago since I was that young, but I can remember one day much clearer than the others.

There was something in the air that I felt. It was...strange, to say the least. It was as if it was calling me to follow it. Like a whisper. At first, it seemed absurd to follow this feeling. But, I didn't really listen to reason much. The whisper nearly dragged me to an old, small, garage where a sign lit in neon red hung above the door. My feet were sure to creep at every step as I looked around the shop. I figured it was a repair shop by the amount of vehicles and old droids there were. I didn't really know. I couldn't read.

The whisper began to lead me to a pile in the back corner of the garage where it was just junk. Old metal, broken pieces, and forgotten droids that others had given up on. An R3 unit caught my eye as it was in the front of the pile as it had been recently added. I kneeled down next to the black droid with orange highlights on various parts of it to break the darkness in the paint. My hands soon drifted over the droid as I looked over it. There were a few problems with the droid. A corroded battery, broken camera, etcetera. Nothing a little time and effort couldn't fix.

I don't know how long I had worked on that R3 unit, but it was long enough to where I felt myself leave the ground as a hand gripped around my upper arm. My body nearly flew up into the air as I must've been lighter than whoever picked me up had expected. The owner of the hand was soon discovered by me as he turned me around.

He was about seventeen. Fairly tall; I only stood at his chest at best. He had dusty brown hair that was short on the sides and spiked in the front. I remember his expression was angry at me as he glared at me with his blue eyes that were about the same shade as my eyes.

"Get out of here, street rat!" he yelled at me. "Go steal something somewhere else!"

"But- I was just fixing the droid-" I stuttered.

"Onthant! Where are you?" I heard another male voice call from afar. The owner of the voice was soon revealed as a man approached. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties as his rusty brown and red hair had small strands of grey in them. He looked fairly scary to a little kid like me as he stood at almost two meters and his hazel eyes looked annoyed. His face was gruff and his clothes stained in oil as well as some of his skin.

"I told you to fix that light in the back room!" the older man complained to the boy that held my arm in a tight grip still.

"Hold on. I gotta take care of this little thief, Dad."

"I wasn't trying to steal!" I squirmed. "I was just fixing that droid."

The older man looked to me and had to squint to see my eyes under my long, blonde, bangs that had grown out into a ragged mess. He probably couldn't even see my freckles as they were smudged under so much dirt and grime. His eyes looked sharply to the R3 unit that sat behind me. He stepped to the astromech as his son still kept a strong grip on my arm. After he pressed the button on the droid to turn it on, the droid sparked to life and whirred. It was able to work due to the fact I used the trash to fix the droid. It wasn't the best fix, but it worked. The older man stood up and looked over to me as if he was wondering if I was even saying the truth.

"How did you know how to fix that droid, kid?"

"I don't know. I just know, I guess," I responded.

As he kept a gaze on me, the man asked, "Where's your parents?"

I remained silent.

After a moment, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Jalo. Jalo Hikra."

"I'm Canto. Canto Solarburn," the man crouched down in front of me to my height and stuck out his hand for me to take it. We shook hands. "Onthant, let the kid go."

I felt the hand release my arm as a disapproved sigh followed from the boy.

"You got a home, boy? Anyone look after ya?" Canto asked.

I shook my head side-to-side.

"Now, can you fix things up like you just did normally?"

"I guess…"

"Dad, we can't think about keeping it. This rat's probably not even nine."

"Son, I'm getting old and you and I can't keep this shop on our own," the man stood up and looked to his son.

The argument Onthant was about to spit out was cut short by his dad when he proclaimed:

"The boy is allowed to stay. I don't want to hear another word out of you about this."

I didn't even get to choose if I stayed or not. Those two just decided I was going to stay. But, truth be told, I probably would've chose to stay anyways. Canto gave me the offer to stay with them and work at the shop with him and his son for the exchange of some food and shelter. Sounded like a pretty good deal to me. Getting free food for fixing up some old droids and speeder bikes? A street rat like I was couldn't be offered too much of a better deal.

Even though I was on ok terms with Canto, Onthant wasn't fond of me around. This was very prominent for the next couple rotations I stayed with the two. I named the R3 unit I fixed Beepy. It's a cheesy name for a droid, I know. But what do you expect out of a kid? I used the droid for helping around the place as he was useful for welding, being a flashlight, and an occasional companion.

The fact I called Onthant "big brother" one time probably didn't make matters better between me and him. Since I was so small, he could easily pick me up and keep a distance between him and me by simply shoving me and thus sending me a good few meters away.

When I was with the two, I got some new clothes since my old one weren't any protection needed around the shop. I got some long pants and a long-sleeve shirt, both fairly baggy as I was too small for them. I often covered my face from the bridge of my nose down with a bandana to keep out any fumes just like Onthant who always wore a bandana. It was fairly hard to see sometimes as my bangs kept covering my eyes since I refused to let Canto or Onthant anywhere near me with scissors and I couldn't handle them myself, so I just let my hair go the way it was.

I didn't say too much to anyone the first few rotations I stayed. My words usually few and far between as I just got my work done and got my food and I got to sleep in a little bed I made myself. I had never said anything to a single customer until the day I nearly got myself killed.

My eyes darted up from my work as a trandoshan walked in the door. He was fairly tall and had a menacing look on his face. A blaster was strapped onto his hip as well as several knives all along his belt. My memory recalls that R3 unit I had as my companion roll over to the male to greet him.

How innocent and sweet that droid was! How benevolent! How foolish!

I nearly threw my wrench at the trandoshan out of pure anger when my droid was chucked a good few meters away from him. My memory doesn't really recall what exactly I yelled at the man, but it was enough to get Onthant up to confront the man before he could reach me. Probably wanting to make sure he didn't have to clean up whatever blood I would leave if the trandoshan had killed me.

At the time, Onthant wasn't fully grown to his eventual height; probably 180 centimeters at most. He was only to the chin of the trandoshan as he placed a firm hand on his shoulder to keep a distance between me and him.

"Hey! I wouldn't do that if I were you, sir," he warned as he pulled his bandana off his face while I still kept mine on.

The trandoshan hissed as he looked down to him, "Is he one of your workers?"

"Yes. He's new; I'm very sorry about his behaviour."

Before I could even blink, the claws of the reptilian man wrapped around Onthant's neck. It was even quicker for him to shove him to the ground. My eyes widened with fear as I saw a tattoo on his left arm that was infamous in the Under City. Black Heth. It was a troublesome group near Slum District G-17 that was always harassing citizens and often adding another number to the kill count if they didn't comply to giving over their possessions or money.

"I'll be forgiving this time," he hissed. "Teach your workers some good customer-relationship skills. And don't forget that Snipe is your first complaint." The thumb of the trandoshan jammed at his chest as he spoke before he glared at me and then left.

Onthant was still on the ground on his bottom with his hand rubbing over the pain that was prominent on his throat. I was about to approach him when he stopped me by putting up a hand as he slowly stood up.

He spoke so hoarse as he still gripped his throat, "I'm fine!"

"I-I'm sorry about all that."

"It's fine...I saw he's part of Black Heth. They're a common scum that comes in here every once and awhile. Just-just don't anger anyone. Keep your head down and try to act hospitable towards customers."

"Thanks for that."

"Don't get used to it, kid."