A Living Nightmare

  Chapter 22: Course Correction

  “For every action we undertake, for every word we speak, for every life we touch- it matters.”

  Date: 5 BBY

  Location: Omerath - Elevator

  I woke slowly, consciousness returning like waves gently lapping at the shore, each pulse bringing clarity. My head pounded fiercely, and the steady hum of an elevator filled my ears, vibrating softly beneath me.

  I realized I was half-slumped against the cold, metallic wall of the elevator, Hal crouched beside me, concern emanating clearly through the Force. Opposite us, HK-47 waited in silence, his astromech chassis slightly battered but upright and alert.

  "Welcome back," Hal said quietly, offering a faint smile as I stirred. "Thought we lost you there. Again."

  I groaned, rubbing my temples to ease the lingering ache. "You know me, Hal. Can't seem to stay conscious these days."

  "Statement: Indeed, Master," HK chimed in brightly, his voice edged with smug amusement. "Your frequent episodes of unconsciousness are becoming quite predictable. Perhaps we should begin carrying stim-packs in bulk."

  Hal shot the droid a brief, irritated glare before returning his attention to me. "Can you stand?"

  "I think so," I replied, bracing myself on the wall as I rose slowly. My balance wavered momentarily, dizziness making the elevator shift and spin slightly, but Hal steadied me quickly.

  "Easy," he murmured. "You've pushed yourself hard. Maybe a little too hard."

  "Maybe," I admitted begrudgingly, leaning heavily against the cool metal. "But we got what we came for."

  "Affirmative," HK interjected cheerfully. "We efficiently neutralized an entire rebel cell, secured vital intelligence on Fulcrum, and caused significant structural damage. Today has been delightfully productive."

  Hal shook his head, half-smiling despite himself. "Only you, HK, could describe nearly dying as 'delightful.'"

  "Correction: Only the enemies died, Captain Meatbag. The two of you merely came close."

  The elevator slowed, the gentle hum fading as it approached the upper levels of the complex. Hal readied his blaster, his posture tightening in anticipation. Before he could raise it fully, I reached out, gently pulling his weapon down.

  Despite the murkiness clouding my Force Sight, I could still discern the pinpricks of energy echoing from wall to wall, flickering between life forms scattered around the level ahead. My senses felt clouded, hazy, but clear enough.

  "It's alright," I murmured, reassuring Hal quietly. "I don't sense any hostiles."

  He hesitated briefly, then nodded slowly, slipping the stolen blaster into his waistband behind his back, using his coat to conceal it. "Understood, sir."

  I leaned against the back wall of the elevator as the doors opened, waiting several moments to steady myself. Drawing a slow, steadying breath, my fingers lightly brushed the hilt of my ‘requisitioned’ lightsaber, comforted by its presence. I finally pushed off the wall, stumbling forward but catching myself quickly.

  "Let's head back to the Scythe," I said, clearing my throat. "Take the lead, HK."

  "Acknowledged, Master," HK replied, rolling forward swiftly and smoothly ahead of us.

  As we followed the droid, I overheard Hal speaking quietly into his comm piece, informing local Imperial authorities about the situation we'd left behind. After a brief pause, he glanced at me cautiously. "Sir, they want to speak with you personally."

  I sighed, exhaustion pressing heavily on my shoulders. My legs burned, and my Force Sight remained foggy, limiting my perception significantly. The inability to clearly sense my surroundings was unsettling. "No. They can wait, or better yet, tell them they can take it up with the Emperor. You know my authorization code by now anyway, just use it."

  Hal nodded silently, quickly relaying my orders through his comm as another elevator took us toward the Upper City. When the doors opened again, we emerged into the private hangar we’d rented, thanks to the generous donations of Bordis Qaloss, a loyal member of the Imperial Finance Division who owed Agent Farrkus several favors.

  Unfortunately, that meant I now owed the old man a few favors of my own.

  We boarded the Scythe, and Hal immediately moved to the cockpit to set our course. HK joined him, plugging into the co-pilot console to assist. I retreated into my quarters, the door sliding shut behind me with a comforting hiss. I began to remove the tattered junk I wore as a disguise, and put the Ocular Enhancer into the small footlocker at the end of my cot.

  Initially, I chose to meditate as I always had—through the darkness, letting the anger, fear, and violence empower me. At first, it was invigorating, recalling the viciousness with which I'd dispatched our enemies. I remembered the thrill of the fight, the exhilarating challenge of overcoming powerful opponents. Yet, soon those memories twisted, shifting focus to something far darker—the satisfaction I'd felt at ending lives, the disturbing joy that came from watching others beg for mercy before silencing them forever.

  These thoughts began to pile upon me, suffocating and oppressive. The haunting screams of those I'd slain grew louder—their desperate pleas, their agony, and fear overwhelming me. This wasn't power, I realized—it was twisted corruption. Horrified by the realization that I’d truly enjoyed the killing itself, I quickly broke free from the meditation, gasping for air, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest.

  Anxiety tightened its grip around me, infiltrating every breath until it exploded into a panic attack. My breathing became rapid, each gasp ragged and desperate, lungs refusing to properly fill. My hands turned clammy, trembling uncontrollably, sweat forming coldly on my brow. My Force Sight flickered, dimming and wavering as my mind spiraled deeper into chaos.

  Then, amidst the storm, a gentle whisper echoed softly. "Focus, young one."

  I froze, heart pounding wildly. Qui-Gon Jinn's voice carried through the darkness with tender reassurance. Memories of home flooded my mind. I felt a deep longing, and pain.

  Overwhelmed by guilt and exhaustion, I cried myself into a restless sleep.

  When I woke, soreness permeated my muscles, a lingering echo of physical and emotional strain. Stretching slowly on my cot, I attempted meditation once more, determined not to succumb to despair. My Force Sight had diminished further, barely able to detect even the walls around me. Instinctively, I reached for the Dark Side again but pulled away sharply. It was a harsh struggle, trying instead to find calmness and peace.

  Remembering Qui-Gon's gentle whisper, I focused inward, recalling times when I'd attempted peaceful negotiations, the few attempts at capturing Jedi instead of killing them despite orders otherwise. Anger and frustration rose again, memories of failure and reprimands, but this time I let them pass without gripping them tightly.

  Instead, I drew deeper into my senses, and slowly I felt something new—an intricate, gentle balance. The Force clung to me warmly, delicately, as if it were patiently awaiting recognition.

  Vader had once said I'd created a disturbance in the Force. Perhaps this was what he meant. An inner anchor, a vergence of raw energy. It felt heavy yet oddly comforting.

  Curiously, I reached toward the lingering light within that anchor, the warmth blooming softly as I touched it again, echoing my first true contact with the Force. “Beautiful,” I whispered, feeling the warmth wrap gently around me.

  My awareness expanded suddenly, senses cascading outward like a river rushing into a vast ocean. My consciousness swept outward, mingling with the swirling currents of hyperspace beyond the ship's hull, drawn purposefully to a distant point.

  Allowing myself to be guided, I followed the gentle tug, my mind soaring gracefully through the stars until I hovered above a lush planet of rolling fields, deep valleys, and serene hills. I recognized it with that short glimpse.

  Dantooine.

  The planet's name echoed clearly in my thoughts, a silent revelation that resonated through my very being. I was being guided here, called to this place by the Force itself. As I hovered above, I felt every breath of wind through the tall grass, every ripple in the rivers below, and the lingering scars that war had etched upon this tranquil world. It felt like the call of home.

  I opened my eyes slowly, the loose items that had been floating around me gently dropping to the floor. Taking a deep breath, I savored the return of clarity to my Force Sight—each object, each subtle shift of energy, visible in sharp relief. Rising slowly, I felt calm, thoughtful, almost grateful, as I made my way toward the cockpit.

  "Change of plans," I said firmly, stepping through the doorway. "We have a new destination."

  Hal turned in his seat, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "We can't just drop out of hyperspace on a whim, boss."

  "Fine," I sighed, understanding his caution. "But when we exit hyperspace, we're heading to Dantooine."

  Hal looked puzzled, curiosity edging his voice. "New orders?"

  I hesitated, unsure how much I should reveal. "Not exactly," I finally admitted. "The Force...it calls me there. And there's still a rebel cell to consider anyway."

  "Observation: Intriguing," HK interjected thoughtfully. "Returning to Dantooine after so long... It is most peculiar. Perhaps fate enjoys irony, Master."

  Hal nodded slowly, his thoughts clearly weighing our next steps. "Alright. We'll make the detour after we find Fulcrum's middleman."

  "Good," I replied, genuinely relieved at his quick agreement. My confidence grew with each clear glimpse through my renewed Force Sight. Turning to leave, I added, "Wake me when you need me."

  "Should be an hour until we arrive," Hal remarked casually, turning back to his console.

  I paused, blinking in surprise. "An hour? Did you find a wormhole to bend space?"

  He chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair. "You were locked away, sir. Thought you'd need the rest after everything that's happened."

  I shook my head with a soft chuckle, grateful for his consideration. "Alright. See you in an hour then."

  Hal sighed as he slid open one of the Scythe’s maintenance panels, drawing out a clean cloth and a small tin of oil. His fingers flexed restlessly before he began dismantling his E-11 Blaster Rifle. It was a ritual, one he’d clung to since his earliest days as a trooper. The simplicity of it, the mechanical precision, was something that made sense. Something real. Something to ground himself in the madness around him.

  Piece by piece, he laid out the components on the nearby table, the sharp scent of solvent wafting through the small cabin. Barrel, power cell, actuating module—all placed with meticulous care. With a gentle twist, he detached the trigger assembly, setting it aside.

  As he began to wipe down the carbon-scored barrel, Hal’s gaze shifted toward HK-47, who was plugged into the co-pilot console, his rusting chassis twitching now and again with some unknown process, despite or almost in spite of the maintenance work done some weeks ago.

  “Never heard of Dantooine before,” Hal admitted, his voice casual but edged with curiosity. “Doesn't exactly sound like anywhere important.”

  “Statement: It is not, Captain Meatbag.” HK’s voice whirred with that unsettling, too-eager enthusiasm. “Dantooine is a remote, rustic world situated in the Outer Rim Territories. Historically, it has been of little interest to the Empire. Its primary exports are agriculture and bantha meat. However, during the Old Republic era, it was home to a Jedi Enclave.”

  Hal’s hands paused, the cleaning cloth resting on the blaster’s barrel. “A Jedi Enclave? That’s probably why Alonzo wants to go there, right? Still... doesn’t sound like much of a target.”

  “Extrapolation: During the Jedi Civil War and subsequent conflicts, Dantooine was the site of numerous battles. Jedi, Sith, Mandalorians... many have left their scars upon its soil. However, its value had once been of strategic importance but has since been downgraded to a mere historical curiosity."

  “Sounds like a backwater.” Hal resumed his cleaning, his fingers rubbing oil over the polished metal with a determined care. “You sound like you’ve been there before.”

  “Admittance: Indeed, Captain. I have visited Dantooine several times during my previous... assignments. During the Jedi Civil War, I accompanied my former master to the ruins of the Enclave. I must admit, the sight of the slaughter was most invigorating, if inelligant.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Hal snorted, shaking his head as he slid the reassembled trigger assembly back into place. “Yeah, sounds like you had a blast. So, you just kill whatever your master points you at?”

  “Clarification: I kill whatever my master commands me to terminate. My efficiency is not in question. It is my purpose.”

  “Your purpose, huh...” Hal muttered, fingers tightening as he slid the blaster’s barrel into place with a satisfying click. “Well, hope you’re ready for more of that on Dantooine. Alonzo seems hellbent on going there after we drop in on Nigiri.”

  “Observation: The Master’s logic is most intriguing. Whatever draws him to Dantooine is worth investigating. And, of course, if violence is required, I will be most eager to assist.”

  “Yeah, figured you would.” Hal let out a short breath, eyes narrowing at the polished weapon resting in his hands.

  Location: Nigiri Atmosphere

  The Scythe trembled slightly as it cut through the upper atmosphere of Nigiri. My Force Sight danced across the controls and ship's layout, the mechanical pulses and thrums of powerlines flaring sharply against my senses as I made my way to the cockpit.

  My head still felt foggy from the meditation, the ache in my throat reminding me I hadn’t had a proper drink of water since waking up. I rubbed my temples, trying to clear my head, but the haze persisted.

  “Atmospheric entry complete. Wind speeds registered at eighty clicks an hour. Turbulence will be noticeable, Master.” HK-47’s voice crackled through the comms, his tone sounding almost gleeful at the prospect of mechanical mayhem.

  I pushed my senses through the viewport, my vision blurred but still clear enough to make out the rolling landscape below. Nigiri’s surface was a hellscape of harsh salt flats and jagged rock formations, their edges sharp and glinting as the rainbowed crystalline rain hammered down. The salt flats themselves stretched endlessly, shimmering as the turbulent air whipped across them.

  Every twenty minutes, the crystalline rain swept through, glittering shards hurled by the howling winds. From this height, it looked almost beautiful—ribbons of shimmering ice slicing down from the tumultuous clouds, gathering in jagged piles before the scorching sun melted them down into valuable stratum deposits of Borazium Crystals.

  “Planet’s looking real hospitable,” I muttered dryly, coughing as my throat tightened. “Wonderful place to build a city.”

  “It’s a mining operation, sir,” Hal replied from the pilot’s seat, his focus divided between the controls and the viewport. “The actual city’s underground. Everything above ground is either mining rigs or processing stations. The locals harvest the crystals, sell them for a profit. Borazium’s a high-demand product, and Nigiri’s about the only place you can get it in decent quantities.”

  “And it all started a couple of years before the Clone Wars,” I mused, the facts coming to me slowly. “And yet, not a single welcome party in sight.”

  Hal’s eyes darted to the barren landing bay as we descended, the lack of any Imperial presence evident. “Exactly. No officers, no governors. Just some dockworkers handling cargo. They don’t give a damn who we are.”

  “Guess we’re not exactly high-priority visitors,” I chuckled, my laugh turning into a rasping cough that made me wince. My throat was parched, my body still sluggish from sleep. “Hell, I doubt anyone here even cares who I am.”

  “Affirmation: Indeed, Master. Their indifference shall make eliminating them all the more satisfying, should the need arise.” HK-47 added cheerfully.

  I shook my head, more amused than anything. “Always so cheerful, HK.”

  “Statement: A positive disposition is essential for optimum performance, Master.”

  The Scythe touched down on the docking pad with a shuddering lurch, the hiss of hydraulics followed by the low hum of systems powering down. The rainstorm continued to howl above us, the muffled sounds of crystalline shards smashing against the hull like a deluge of shattered glass.

  Hal stood up from his seat, stretching his shoulders. “So, we’re really doing this, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, the unease lingering in the back of my mind like a shadow. “Let’s get what we came for and get off this rock.”

  "Understood, sir. I'll get us some coverings." Hal replied with a determined nod before heading toward the rear of the ship.

  “Let me put my armor on then, I want them to know the Empire has come for their head.” I say, turning and making my way back to my quarters.

  I was halfway through securing the new chest plate’s fastenings when I heard the soft hiss of the door sliding open.

  “Didn’t take you long to get ready,” Hal’s voice came from the doorway. His tone was casual, but I could feel the curiosity radiating off him.

  I continued adjusting the armor, letting the clasps click into place. The suit felt heavier than my old one, but in a solid, dependable way. Plates interlocked over my shoulders and ribs, forming a segmented design that allowed better movement. More angular, less sleek. Almost brutish.

  “You sure this is what you want to wear?” Hal asked, though his voice was edged with admiration rather than criticism. His eyes roamed over the armor, his attention lingering on the helmet tucked under my arm. “It’s... definitely something.”

  “Something?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” Hal took a few steps into the room, the door sliding shut behind him. His gaze never left the armor. “Looks like something made for intimidation. Especially that helmet. The visor... Reminds me of a Mandalorian’s, but... I dunno, more angular. Sharper. Like they wanted to make you look like something out of a twisted legend.”

  “Perfect,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. My fingers traced the edges of the helmet, feeling the way it flared out at the neck before slanting backward. Reminscient of Vader's own mask, helmet aparratus.

  “Well, if you’re aiming to scare the shit out of someone, you’ve got the right idea,” Hal continued, his voice almost approving. “Though, I’ve gotta admit, it suits you. Looks like something they’d give to one of those special ops commandos from a action holo-vid.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “So, I guess that means it’s working.”

  “Sure. If you want to come off like something out of a bad dream.” He crossed his arms, still studying the armor. “Does it at least feel comfortable?”

  “Fits well enough,” I said, strapping the gauntlets into place. The reinforced plates felt dense, but balanced. Weighty, like wearing power itself. “Only downside is I can’t see it. Not really. Aesthetics aside, what about the armored portions?”

  Hal’s response was immediate. “You’ve got reinforced plates over your shoulders, segmented panels along your ribs and back. Heavy sythweave layers for underarmor and stylish boots there too. Solid, better than the other Inquisitors. Palpatine might just be trying to be your sugar daddy.”

  I slipped the helmet over my head, the cool metal pressing against my temples before sealing in place with a muted hiss. A display lit up, the faint sound of an electrical hum buzzed in my ears.

  “What do you think?” I asked, my voice slightly altered through the helmet’s filters.

  Hal paused. “Should do the trick.”

  “Good.” I straightened my posture, rolling my shoulders to test the fit. “Did you get the ponchos?”

  “Yeah.” He held up a thick, dark tarp-like material folded over his arm. “Two, they have hoods. Enough to cover us both. Should keep that fancy armor of yours from getting shredded out there.”

  “Good thinking. Last thing I want is to get torn to pieces by the local weather.”

  Hal’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “You and me both.”

  “Alright,” I said, doing a few more measured stretches and small hops to make sure everything was in order. The heavier plating settled on my shoulders, its weight surprisingly comforting. “Let’s go.”

  He nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he turned and led the way out of my quarters.

  Hal handed me one of the dark, weighted ponchos. They were designed to keep most types of hazards from tearing our skin to shreds or melted off, but I just didn’t want my armor to get scuffed. He pulled one over himself, the material rustling as he secured it over his shoulders and chest. I could sense the thoughtfulness in his actions, the way he double-checked the straps and bindings before moving on to his blaster. I stretched out my arms, feeling the new armor’s weight and contours. The material hugged tightly against my body, the plates more angular and segmented than the smoother design I had worn before. It was nice to have some form of change.

  I threw the dark covering over myself, feeling the weighty but durable material settle across my shoulders. I secured the fastenings, letting the hood fall low over my helmet’s visor.

  “HK, stay here with the ship. Keep the comms open and monitor the local channels. If anyone decides to try something stupid, I expect you to handle it.”

  “Statement: With great pleasure, Master.”

  “Good.” I nodded to Hal, the cold dread of anticipation crawling up my spine. “Let’s go.”

  We stepped down the boarding ramp and into the chaotic, glass-laden air of Nigiri.

  The boarding ramp lowered with a metallic groan, the sound swallowed by the furious howling of the crystalline storm outside. Wind screeched as it twisted through the hangar, dragging shards of glittering ice across the ground like razors.

  I hesitated at the edge of the ramp, the weight of my new armor pressing down like an oppressive hand. The coarse fabric of the poncho wrapped around me, a temporary shield against the raging elements. Hal stood beside me, his own covering already fluttering wildly in the powerful winds.

  “So... where’s our murderous tin can?” Hal asked, nodding his head back toward the Scythe. "Not that I'm complaining. Glad he’s staying behind."

  “Yeah, I figured you’d be. I wanted to bring him along, but...” I trailed off, pulling the coarse poncho tighter against my chest. "A stormtrooper and an Inquisitor make a more imposing figure. Plus, HK’s not exactly subtle."

  "Fair enough. We still need to get him a new chassis, though," Hal said, his tone mixed with irritation and reluctant fondness. "That little rust bucket isn't gonna last forever."

  "I have someone in mind," I replied with a hint of slyness. "Just don’t remember what planet they were on."

  “Someone the Seventh Sister knows?” Hal asked, his suspicion clear.

  I shook my head with a bitter laugh. "Like I would trust the Seventh Sister, let alone anyone she knows."

  Hal snorted. “Makes sense. That droid’s liable to do who knows what.”

  I felt his amusement, mixed with an edge of anxiety. The storm’s rage didn’t help. I took a cautious step forward, feeling the crystalline shards grind beneath my boots. Even through the thick soles, I could feel them slice into the bottom and stick to there.

  “Come on, we need to make it to the entrance before the rain starts back up,” I said, adjusting the poncho’s hood over my helmet. The reinforced plating felt cold and unyielding, but reassuringly solid. My senses reached out, the Force giving me a rough outline of our surroundings. The distorted air currents clung to everything, whipping the sharp fragments in unpredictable patterns.

  “Yeah, because being shredded by glass rain sounds like a real fun way to go out,” Hal muttered, his voice clipped as he adjusted his own hood.

  I started walking, each step careful and deliberate. The air was thick with mineral scent, laced with a faint hint of rust and oil from the mining rigs scattered across the flats. Their towering forms rose like twisted skeletons above the salt-crusted ground, digging ceaselessly into the earth’s brittle skin.

  “What a miserable place,” Hal commented as we pressed on. “Can’t believe anyone would willingly live here.”

  “Credits are a powerful motivator,” I replied, my voice muffled slightly by the helmet. “And a few tons of Borazium Crystals are worth a fortune.”

  “Still,” Hal continued, eyeing the distant shapes of machinery strung across the landscape like crude metal veins. “Seems like there’d be better ways to make a living than slowly getting torn apart by the weather.”

  “Maybe for some.” I shrugged, the motion made clumsy by the armor’s weight. “But most of these people probably don’t have much of a choice.”

  “Guess we’ll find out if anyone’s willing to talk.” Hal’s voice was slightly muffled beneath his own hood, but I could still catch the tension threading through it.

  We pushed forward, the city’s underground entrance looming ahead like a black maw set into the jagged landscape. I could feel the hostility in the air, the raw aggression of the storm mingling with the subtle unease of the people hiding below.

  That subtle unease turned into a sudden surge of fear as blaster fire echoed out from within the tunneled entrance. Hal instinctively unclasped the holster to his E-11, but I placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him at ease.

  A hundred meters away from the black maw, a figure scampered out, huffing and puffing for air. Their presence was a beacon of fear and exhaustion, every movement jittery and erratic. In their panic, they slipped on the jagged crystals littering the ground, falling hard with a shriek of pain. Several shards sliced into their flesh, and I caught the sharp clink of metal as something tumbled from their grip and slid across the flattened ground.

  They grit their teeth, dragging themselves forward through the terrain. But then a voice purred from the darkened entrance like a spider savoring a struggling fly. Confident. Cruel.

  "Now now, Kabuu. That wasn't very nice of ya, sweetheart," spoke the hunter, each word laced with a southern drawl and modulated by a helmet.

  Methodical steps crunched over the crystal-coated ground, the hunter’s approach patient and unhurried. The desperate creature on the ground clawed their way toward the object that had slipped from their hand—a blaster, from what I could imagine.

  The hunter foolishly took their eyes off their prey, glancing at us and offering a casual wave. "Oh, looks like we got some newcomers to town! Let's wrap this up quick now, Kabuu. Mrs. Elkip don't like not gettin' 'er creds ba—"

  Four trigger pulls, and four blaster bolts tore through the air.

  Kabuu, in a final act of desperation, had managed to grab hold of their blaster and fired wildly at the bounty hunter. The bolts sizzled through the air, aimed with all the precision of a terrified animal.

  I reacted on instinct. The Force pulsed from me, stretching outward like an invisible net. I could feel the energy surrounding the bolts, burning through the air, and with a thought, I stopped them. The crimson bolts hung motionless in the air, a breath away from incinerating the creature now cowering on the ground.

  The bounty hunter’s helmeted head tilted in surprise, their casual demeanor faltering as their attention snapped to me. For a moment, they simply stared, then glanced down at Kabuu, who was now frozen in terrified confusion. The creature's eyes shifted back and forth between the glowing bolts and the hunter, panic overtaking what little sanity they had left.

  I twisted my fingers slightly, the motion subtle but filled with intent. One of the frozen bolts reversed its trajectory, slicing through the air until it collided with Kabuu’s hand.

  A strangled scream tore from Kabuu’s throat as the blaster flew from their grip, spinning wildly across the jagged ground. They cradled their injured hand to their chest, writhing in pain and sputtering curses I couldn’t understand.

  The bounty hunter let out a deep, throaty laugh, clearly entertained. "Heh... well, I guess I owe ya a drink or four for savin' my hide," they rasped, voice calm and amused despite the chaotic scene. "Name’s Vos'la Kaa. Bounty hunter by trade, in case that wasn’t obvious."

  Kabuu let out a pained whimper, trying to drag themselves toward their fallen blaster. Their hand stretched out, trembling with the effort.

  “Now now, Kabuu,” Vos'la purred, their voice laced with a dark humor. "Still tryin’, huh?”

  Their boot came down hard on Kabuu’s outstretched hand, earning a pained yelp. The hunter chuckled and crouched down. “You really shouldn’t have run. Both me and Mrs. Elkip don’t like it when folks make her work for her credits.”

  Kabuu’s other arm swung wildly, a desperate attempt at a punch. The hunter sidestepped it with casual ease, delivering a brutal kick to their ribs, followed by a bone-jarring punch to the face. Kabuu’s head snapped back, body slumping with unconsciousness.

  “See? Ain’t that much better? Nice and quiet.” The hunter straightened up and looked back at me, curiosity clear even through the helmet’s modulated drawl.

  “Well, Inquisitor,” Vos'la Kaa continued, "I reckon you’ve made things a lot easier for me. Can’t say I expected one of you to be out this way. What brings ya to our little slice of hell?"

  I offered a smile beneath my helmet, my voice calm and assured. "I have need of a bounty hunter, actually."

  Getting this one's help might save us a lot of time. The Force seems to have a sense of humor.