Yavin-5 was a trade world. Most of its citizens were merchants, their families, and the lower-class workers in their employment. The majority of visitors were travelers just like us. We docked at the one metropolitan city on the small planet. After receiving directions from the portmaster on likely locations for hyperdrive parts, we set out across the vast marketplace that comprised the city.

Scarves and hats disguised our appearances as usual. It wasn't at all uncommon for people's faces to be hidden on worlds such as Yavin, so we didn't stand out. In the narrow streets packed with businesses, I caught sight of holoscreens displaying news here and there.

"General Organa dead, Resistance crumbles." The screen played a short clip of the general's downcast face. Another read: "First Order dreadnought blown up by dwindling Resistance forces." I narrowed my eyes at the second one—it was certainly hard to believe.

Then again, who would've guessed the Resistance could destroy Starkiller Base, imploding the entire planet in the process?

"Stay close, Lucy." I felt Vegas take hold of my hand as we weaved through the crowded street. "I have a weird feeling."

My eyes turned to the faces in the crowd, scanning, trying to sense what Vegas was sensing. He worries too much. Traders, travelers, workers, and the usual hired muscle were the only individuals I could see. No one would recognize us in a million years. The more I looked, however, the more nervous I became.

"This is the first one," Vegas muttered, pulling us into a junk shop.

The shop was littered with shiny pieces for vessels, weapons, appliances, and many more that I didn't recognize. The feature they all shared was their bright, chromium shine. An equally shiny protocol droid stood at the rounded counter in the middle of the shop. Vegas approached with brisk steps.

"Hi," he said gruffly.

"Welcome to Tana's Relic Emporium," replied the scripted droid. "We offer a variety of replacement parts for all your technological needs."

"Yeah, thanks. What I'm looking for is a part to a Mark IV Hyperdrive Standard, not the Superdrive."

"Yes, sir. The Mark IV Hyperdrive Superdrive," chirped the droid.

Vegas heaved a heavy sigh.

I meandered around the shop while Vegas tried getting a straight answer out of the droid. There was even a small selection of silver and platinum jewelry—no gold, though. I caught sight of myself in the shiny surface of a plated necklace; I quickly looked away.

"I do believe we do not have what you are looking for," the droid announced, looking from his data screen to Vegas' pissed face.

"'Do not'?" he snapped.

"We do not," it repeated.

I sensed Vegas' frustration. It had been seven days of searching for the repair piece. Granted, Yavin was only our second stop since the hyperdrive went down. But Vegas' sense of urgency—his drive to keep moving—injected a bit of panic into our every step. I turned to leave the shop even before Vegas was finished chewing out the droid. Vegas is as grumpy as an old man today.

A fierce-looking woman stood at the threshold of the junk shop, causing me to halt in my tracks. "Excuse me," I breathed, drawing back. She had an overwhelming presence. A mercenary? I briefly wondered if I was just as intimidating when I—

"Who are you?" the woman asked, eyeing me.

I immediately scanned her armor for any sign of the First Order. There was nothing besides a distinct-looking bird's wing on her shoulder plate. "Who's asking?" I shot back.

"Yavin-5 Security Corps is asking," she stated evenly. Her mouth was hidden behind a purple scarf, but her eyes were a striking neon blue.

Fortunately, I had seen the uniforms of the Security Corps at the spacedock. She was lying. Before I could get the words out of my mouth, Vegas stepped partially in front of me.

"You're not with Yavin," he interrupted.

"And you are?" the woman asked, going nearly nose-to-nose with Vegas.

"None of your business." Vegas' hand found my wrist and yanked me toward the exit. I looked back at the shop as the crowd swallowed us; the woman stood on the doorstep, staring at us.

"I asked you to stay close," Vegas reminded me, moving his hand to close tightly around mine.

I chose not to respond. "Who do you think she was?" I asked instead.

"A bounty hunter, maybe." I heard the frown in his voice. "Not a good sign."

My stomach immediately twisted into knots, and I swallowed hard. Why would there be a bounty hunter after us? The question died in my throat as the reality of it sank in. No one had confronted us like that before. Was our lucky streak coming to an end? I prayed to the stars that that wasn't the case.

The flow of the crowd was disrupted ahead by a large man standing in the middle of the street. Confused voices mixed together into a cacophony of different languages. I tugged at Vegas' hand when I realized that he didn't see the man. He didn't feel that, either.

"Vegas!" I finally yelled, digging my heels into the ground. Immediately, the large man's face turned toward us with an equally large grin. Did I really just say Vegas' name out loud? I turned away from the man instinctively.

The woman was still there, standing in front of the shop. Did she hear it, too? Vegas navigated us away from both of them, practically pushing his way through the crowd. In a matter of minutes, we were already halfway back to the port. A small alleyway eventually gave us a reprieve from the crowd.

"Who were they?" I asked, panting as though I had sprinted the whole way.

"I don't know," Vegas replied, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He pulled the scarf away from his mouth to gulp in extra air, his eyes scanning the crowd out on the street. "I don't want to know."

"Should we leave?" I asked. My fingers fiddled with the loose strings on my sleeve, an old habit coming to the surface. Feeling like a hunted animal, I struggled to regain control of the decision-making part of my brain.

Vegas released a tense breath. "You sound like me," he mumbled.

"You've kept us safe so far," I granted with newfound appreciation.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Vegas pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know," he repeated. "They might just follow us off-world too if we leave without that part."

I mulled the thought over. "Agreed," I said. "But we can't use the main street now."

Without warning, Vegas lurched forward with a grunt. I caught hold of his forearms and felt most of his weight leaning into me. "What...?"

A sudden, sharp pain in my arm caused me to gasp, and I looked down to see a sleek, silver dart poking out of my clothes. I screamed as the sensation of scortching fire ripped across my chest in the blink of an eye. Then, I was falling, and I have no memory of hitting the ground.

I regained consciousness in a very hot room. I lifted a hand to my aching shoulder, immediately stopping when I felt the piece of metal sticking out of it. Panic swept through me. Where am I? How did I get here? Nausea rolled in my stomach but I swallowed hard, willing my mind to overcome it. Keeping the metal as stable as I could, I sat up to better visualize my shoulder.

A dim, greenish light illuminated the wound. The dried ring of blood that surrounded the puncture site indicated that I had been unconscious for quite some time. A tranquilizer. With my eyes shut tightly, I pulled the dart out of my shoulder with barely a second thought. Shooting pains ricocheted down my arm as a trickle of blood started anew. Grimacing, I pressed my palm against my oozing shoulder.

My surroundings were difficult to make out in the green hue. Humming machinery and warm metal surfaces made it seem like the engine room of a spacecraft. Definitely in space, my senses told me.

Yavin.

The memories came back with a rush of adrenaline. I immediately began searching for Vegas. My last memory was of a large man standing in a crowd of people, Vegas holding my hand tightly.

I froze at the sudden sound of a metal latch on a door. My eyes quickly scanned for a hiding place, but it was hopeless amid the darkness. A small light illuminated an alien figure as it came closer.

"Zikway?" the voice said. "Iba zikway un Babway."

The language wasn't familiar to me—it was definitely not Basic. The alien figure turned out to be a race I wasn't familiar with, either. I startled when its large, orange eyes looked down at me where I crouched in the darkness.

"Zikway?" it repeated, scratching its tiny, bald head. I decided it wasn't an immediate threat and rose slowly to my feet. "Ooman," it then said, pointing to me.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, motioning to myself. "Human." I then motioned around the room and asked, "Another human?"

"Ooman," it said again, pointing across the room.

I cautiously made my way in that general direction, bumping into what might have been a table along the way. My hands reached out into the darkness, searching. When my foot hit a soft object, I fell to my knees and quickly recognized Vegas' body frame. He was lying on the floor.

"John, John...," I murmured, trying to find his hands. "Are you alright?"

"Lucy..." His voice sounded as dry as a desert. "We were right...they must be bounty hunters."

I felt my chest tighten at the thought. "Where are they taking us?"

"To Supremacy," he said in a completely defeated tone. His voice cracked in a way that I had never heard before. "There's no doubt."

My spirits crumbled as I pictured Supreme Leader Snoke's ship. We are going to be executed. Without saying a word, I knew Vegas was thinking the exact same thing.