The Rise of Pulsar Company/Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST HUNT

Nax sat in the back of Chalmun’s Cantina, leaning back in his seat. Despite how crowded the cantina was due to the band playing tonight, Nax’s corner was totally barren. Nobody came to bother him, since everybody was crowded either around the bar for Ackmena, or the bandstand for the…

Nax kept trying to think of their name, but it never came to him. They were definitely one of the more popular bands, but he was a bit too drunk to care.

Anyways, it’s not like he was complaining about the lack of company, though. Isolation was just how Nax liked it.

Nax looked down into his glass of whiskey, and his reflection looked right back at him. His light green and teal eyes contrasted heavily with his short, jet black hair and stubble. He also had unusually pale skin compared to other natives. Not to mention, his height was closer to that of a short Wookie, rather than the typical moisture farmer.

The smell of one of the Whiphids at the bar had finally reached Nax, so he downed the glass and pulled out his datapad from his brown duster to check his credits.

Less than a thousand credits. Far from ideal.

Nax sighed, and set the datapad back inside of the duster, fishing a few credits out and setting them on the table to pay for the bill. As he exited his corner, Nax nearly bumped into a group of rowdy Rodians, and managed to avoid getting hit in the face accidentally, but only just, with them cursing at him in Rodian. As he made his way towards the entrance, where the droid detectors were, he came face to face with a man in a black jacket and short, messy brown hair, with a Wookie following him. Nax and the man both tried to get past each other to get to their respective destinations, but only ended up blocking each other’s path several times.

“What, you wanna dance, pal?” the man asked, a cocky expression on his face. Nax immediately identified the man as a Corellian. More than a few of them had frequented the Cantina, usually smugglers. One having a Wookie with him though? That was odd, but even with Nax’s relative naivete, he knew he shouldn’t upset the guy, so he just stepped aside and let him pass. “That’s what I thought.” the Corellian remarked, and the Wookie gave off a low growl, before they both walked by.

Nax continued moving towards the entrance, past the droid detectors, and to the left of the entrance, was a flat terminal with a blue screen, with multiple buttons and a slot on the right. Nax pulled his datapad out, extended the connector that was previously hidden in the case, and put it in the slot. Instantly, the terminal flared to life, and a list of available bounties came up on screen. Nax tapped the screen, holding his finger in place, and flicked it upward once, then twice, perusing the available bounties, the prices steadily increasing as he did so. Eventually, it would scroll no more, and the final bounty in the list ended at ten thousand credits. Nax tapped the tab with the 10k bounty, and it expanded into detail.

// TARGET DETAILS //

Name: Vark Rurmiid

Race: Rodian

Sex: Male

Skin Color: Dark Green

Wanted for: Murder, Arson, Assault of an Imperial Official, Terrorism

Bounty: 10,500 Imperial Credits, Dead or Alive.

''Distinct Features: Usually wears a jacket made of Trandoshan skin, identifiable by Mandalorian emblem on back, left antenna is cut, visible scars on face.''

Last sighted: Mos Eisley, Kerner Plaza (5 days ago)

''Additional notes: Frequently carries an illegally modified DC-15S blaster, unconfirmed reports of anti-Imperial bodyguards, may have connections to terrorist cell. Target is EXTREMELY DANGEROUS, use utmost caution when eliminating.''

''Submit either the target themself, or proof of death to Captain Mazz Gaffi at the Imperial Garrison in Mos Eisley to receive payment.''

''Download additional information to datapad? (Yes/No)''

Without hesitation, Nax hit Yes, and the terminal started working. As he stepped away from the terminal, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Nax turned around, expecting to see someone he may have wronged accidentally, but there was only a woman who reached just past Nax’s chest. Her fair-skinned face was incredibly youthful, and she had long, white hair and bright blue eyes. Her clothes, however, were little more than peasant rags, but she didn’t seem to mind. She absolutely didn’t belong in Mos Eisley of all places, she looked too innocent and naïve, even compared to Nax. “Excuse me, are you a captain?” she asked.

Nax shook his head. “No.” he said simply, revealing his Concord Dawn inflection of Basic.

The woman’s eyes went wide, and she backed away. “Oh! You’re a Mandalorian, I didn’t mean to bother you!” she said, panicked, trying to escape the situation as fast as possible.

Nax just grabbed her arm as she tried to leave, and turned her to face him. “I’m not a Mandalorian, lady. Just sound like one. Now, what was that about a captain?” he asked firmly.

The woman calmed down, although she was still visibly on edge. “…Well, I’m looking for transport off-world.” she slowly said, picking her words carefully.

“And you haven’t found anyone willing to take you?”

The woman shook her head. “No, most… hmm,” she paused. “let’s say that most of the people in the “transportation” industry charge too much, and leave it at that.”

Nax immediately understood what she was referring to. “Ah, I see. You don’t have the credits to pay. Were you hoping I wouldn’t be charging as much as they do?” Nax asked, and the woman nodded once. “Well, I’ve got news for you lady, I don’t have a ship,” Nax said, and the woman’s expression turned sour, so she turned away, about to leave. “…But I do have an offer for you.” Nax finished. The woman half-looked at him from the corner of her eyes, wary, but interested.

“…And what would that be?” she asked.

“You stick out like a sore thumb around here. Mos Eisley’s about the worst place someone like you could be. By the time the suns come up, you’ll be either dead or in chains, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

She fully turned to face Nax, and he knew he had her full attention now. “So, what’s the alternative to staying here?”

“You could come with me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

Nax raised his hand, palm closed. “First,” he raised one finger. “I’ve got a safe place for you to stay, and a bed for you to sleep in.” He raised a second finger. “Second, I don’t have a reason to kill you.”

The woman paused to think. “How’s this supposed to help me get off this rock?”

Nax grabbed the datapad from the terminal, and headed to the door, but paused at the frame. “The details are a tad sensitive, so I’d rather discuss them in private. That is, of course, if you’re willing to come with me.” he offered, gesturing outside the cantina. The woman looked back inside, and saw more than a few sets of eyes were staring at her.

She quickly looked back at Nax. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

Nax shrugged nonchalantly. “You don’t, but if you’d rather take your chances and stay in Mos Eisley, be my guest.”

The woman looked back into the cantina, and then back to Nax when she saw that the number of eyes staring her down had only gone up. “Let’s go.” she said quietly, and both she and Nax exited the cantina. As soon as the door shut behind them, the woman whistled, and Nax heard an astromech beeping, and then the unmistakable sound of an astromech’s motivator. Out from an alleyway in front of the cantina came a meter tall astromech, but instead of the droid having the domed head of an R2 unit like Nax was expecting, he saw a cylindrical head. The droid got closer, and stopped in front of Nax and the woman, right in the light of Tatooine’s three moons.

The droid beeped happily, the lights on its chassis flickering. The woman gestured to the unit. “This is R5-G0, my… astromech.” she hesitated at the end. R5 was, much to Nax’s chagrin, an R5 unit. He’d heard horror stories from spacers about these little monstrosities. Bad motivators, bad attitudes, bad everything. Then again, an astromech was an astromech, and Nax’s plan called for one.

R5 beeped three times, and then a panel on the chassis opened, extending its grasper, offering it to Nax, trying to shake hands. Nax took the droid’s offer, and the droid’s grasper slowly shook, before retracting into the shell. The droid then wobbled a bit, and spun its head around. “Looks like he likes you.” the woman smirked. Maybe Nax was wrong, at least about this R5 unit. He did have to admit, he liked the droid’s aesthetics compared to the R2 and R4 units.

Regaining his focus, Nax pointed around the side of the cantina. “My speeder’s just over there.”

--

The X-34’s turbines winded down just outside of Nax’s home. “This is the place.” Nax said, pulling up at the base of a large hill in the dunes, with some vaporators nearby.

“This is your home?” the woman asked incredulously, and R5 gave a long, low beep.

“It’s the garage, but yes.” Nax said, and the previously concealed garage opened up for the landspeeder. Nax gently guided the vehicle inside, and powered down the repulsors and turbines, the landspeeder hitting the ground with an audible THUNK. Nax and the woman both dismounted, and R5 rolled off the speeder, but Nax caught the droid, and righted him.

The lights then kicked on, and a door to a staircase that led to the rest of the house opened automatically. Nax, the woman, and R5 filtered through. At the bottom, they came to a four-way junction, and Nax pointed to the left. “Living room’s that way, take a seat, I’ll get you something to eat. Should have some bantha steaks left in the kitchen.” he said, moving straight ahead towards the kitchen, while both R5 and the woman went to the living room.

Nax stepped into the sandstone kitchen. All of the appliances and furnishings contrasted heavily with the sandstone, but Nax didn’t bother going over their meticulous little details. Instead, he walked to the sink to wash his hands and then he went for the conservator at the back, on the right side of the room from the entrance. On the front door was a small board with some notes on it.

''Check the vaporators, air intakes might need cleaning. -Dad''

''Restock on food, have a weeks worth left''

''Get more packs for Trax’s blaster''

Nax frowned at the first and third one, and he opened the conservator door, reaching for some of the bantha steaks on the shelf. He paused, and quickly realized he didn’t have anything prepared beforehand, he grabbed a pan and set it on the stove, before taking one of the frozen steaks out and setting it on the pan, turning the stove on and closing the conservator. The steak quickly started thawing out, and soon, the smell of cooked bantha was wafting through the house. Nax had to practically sew his jaw shut to prevent himself from salivating all over the meal.

While he wasn’t as good of a cook as he wished he was, he managed to cook the steak fairly evenly, about medium-rare. The woman hadn’t specified what she preferred, so Nax just went with his own personal preference. He deliberated on adding seasoning and sauces, but decided against it. Grabbing a plate, he carefully slid the steak onto it, grabbed a fork and a knife and set them on the plate, and filled a glass of water up for her, and shut the stove off before carrying all of it to the living room.

The first thing he saw was the woman examining dear old dad’s slugthrower rifle with her back turned to him. She evidently didn’t know he was there, but R5 sure did. The droid rotated his head around slowly, and then let out a low whir to acknowledge Nax’s presence. The woman then turned around, sweeping Nax with the barrel of the rifle, completely oblivious, and she locked eyes with him, dumbstruck. Nax was already tense, but then he noticed she had her finger on the trigger, and although the rifle wasn’t pointed at him, he didn’t want a ricochet.

Cautiously, the woman set the rifle back where it was hanging on the wall, and sat down on the couch. Nax set the plate and glass on the small table in front of her, and sat down adjacent to her in one of the living room chairs. There was a tense, uncomfortable silence, with the only sounds coming from R5 slowly turning its head between the two. Nax was entirely focused on the woman, keeping R5 in his field of view, and the woman was just staring silently at her plate.

She eventually quietly mumbled something, and dug in to the steak at a pace that would have made Nax’s brother blush. In under a minute, the plate and the glass were both empty.

“…Thank you.” she said quietly, not removing her gaze from the plate. Now that there wasn’t any significant background noise, Nax could hear a faint upper class inflection in her voice, likely from the Core. That, however, failed to explain why she was in rags, and why she was all the way out in the Rim.

Nax shrugged it off. “It’s not a problem. Now, on to business,” Nax said, and the woman almost immediately jolted her head towards him. “You want off Tatooine, and so do I. Main problem is we’re both poor and we don’t have a ship. Now, I’ve accepted a bounty worth ten thousand credits to help pay for a decommissioned starfighter that I plan to buy off of a trader in Mos Espa for around sixty thousand credits. I’ll need a partner to help make getting the money easier, and you’re probably my best bet.” The woman said nothing, and merely observed Nax, still cautiously weighing her options. “I’ll give you half of whatever credits we have left once I get the ship, and then free transport to whatever world you want to go to. Coruscant, Naboo, anywhere you want.”

The woman remained still, and said nothing.

“You don’t have to answ-“

“Deal.” she suddenly said, startling Nax.

He quickly regained his composure. “…Well, in that case, I’ve only got two questions. First, can you shoot?”

“…Only blaster pistols.”

Whatever, Trax’s DL-44 should work fine for her.

“Alright, noted, so second, what’s your name?”

The woman was taken by surprise, and she hesitated for an unusual length of time for something as miniscule as a name. “….Kyra.” she eventually relented.

“Nax.” he replied, and the uncomfortable silence returned. Eventually, he broke the silence and coughed. “Well, Kyra, if you’re going to be my partner, you’re gonna need a place to sleep. Come on, I’ll take you to my brother’s room.”

Nax had left Kyra and R5 in his brother’s room to go make his own dinner. The room was pretty small, clearly only fit for one person. There was a dresser directly in front of the sliding door, with a single person bed to the left of the dresser, both of them taking up the entirety of the back wall.

Next to the head of the bed was a durasteel nightstand with a clock, and to the left of the doorway was a small desk with some tools on it. She let her guard down a bit, and walked up to the dresser, pulling out one of the drawers to reveal multiple sets of standard work clothes, or at least standard as you get on a backwater like Tatooine.

She started undoing the rags she had been wearing as of late, and pulled them off, tossing them on top of R5’s head, revealing her lightly bruised body. She pulled out one of the more comfortable looking robes and slipped it on quickly, just in case Nax came in to check on her.

She immediately felt more at home, so she grabbed the rags off of R5’s orange and white head, tossing them under the desk. R5 gave a happy string of beeps, and Kyra shut the light off, before collapsing on the bed, exhausted. She thought of one last thing before falling asleep.

“Maybe things are finally turning around.”

--

Fear.

That was the one thing Kyra felt as she ran through the aged white corridors of the Cranky Bantha. She didn’t care for the men chasing after her, or for the blaster bolts and slugs being sent her way. She didn’t care for the klaxons blaring. She didn’t even care that she would probably be killed.

All she wanted was to get off this damned ship.

She kept following the little astromech that had let her free through the seemingly endless corridors of this horror show of a corvette. Even though it was only minutes, it felt like hours. At corners, Kyra would blindly fire behind her with her stolen Defender blaster pistol, not caring whether she hit anyone or not, only intending to distract them, maybe injure them.

The crowd chasing her kept growing, with Trandoshans and Rodians joining the fray. Curses and yells kept being shouted at her, obscenities and threats of death the only dialogue they would have for the time being.

Kyra and the droid had finally managed to put a good bit of distance between themselves and the crowd, and as she followed the droid down another corridor, the droid had stopped, and beeped at her when she ran by to get her attention. Kyra turned around, and saw the little droid spewing oil on the floor, and was trying its hardest with its little manipulator arm to point at her Defender, and then at the spill.

Kyra finally caught on to what the droid was trying to do, and nodded, taking cover near one of the doors, far away from the spill, with the R5 unit doing the same. The distant sound of what must have been twenty thugs charging down a corridor quickly grew closer, and Kyra readied her blaster pistol.

The mob blindly charged into the spill, and the front ones fell over, trampling the ones further back. That put a massive wrench in their plans, and one of the humans that had fell into the pile sat up, and looked at his oil covered hands. “…oh, sithspit.” was all he managed to say, before Kyra squeezed the trigger on her pistol, and shot a bolt into the oil spill. There was a bright flash, and an intense heat, and Kyra instinctively shielded her eyes from both.

Kyra didn’t know too much about blaster pistols, all she overheard was the other crewmen ragging on her guard for using a Defender, calling it an underpowered piece of trash. She silently hoped that the ones that said that were in the pileup, burning alive right now.

The droid quickly started rolling away, even faster than before, and Kyra followed, trying to put some distance between herself, and the screaming mass of bodies, as well as trying to get away before the smell hit her. The screams slowly grew distant, and the heat died down. With a quick look behind her, Kyra saw they weren’t being pursued, and the droid led her into the maintenance section of the corvette.

It wasn’t long before he led her to the escape pods, and the droid stopped at the only remaining escape pod, turning around and chirping happily at Kyra. She slowed down, and was about to thank the droid, but before Kyra could do that, there was the sound of a powerful blaster, and three green bolts shot out of a doorway, hitting the droid and causing it to explode in a shower of fire, scrap metal, and sparks.

Kyra just stared, slack-jawed at what just happened, and out from the same doorway came a Weequay, carrying a long, crossbow-like blaster on his shoulder. His scarred, brown, leathery skin made him look more like a well used bipedal sack, rather than a sentient organism, and he had so many braids, Kyra couldn’t even count them. He wagged one finger at her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’ve caused me a lotta trouble today, lady. Yer not worth the price anymore.” he said, clearly angry.

Kyra didn’t even have time to react as he levelled the blaster at her and fired once.

--

Kyra shot up in bed in a cold sweat, hyperventilating. She touched her forehead, checked herself, and then she realized she wasn’t on the Cranky Bantha anymore. Kyra breathed a sigh of relief, and then shielded her eyes as R5 shined his light on her, giving a low, long beep of worry. “I’m fine, R5.” she said in a soothing tone of voice, and the droid shut the light off, although Kyra could still faintly see the outline of the droid looking at her.

Kyra rubbed her eyes, and then looked at the clock. Just past six in the morning. She yawned, and got out of bed, heading to the kitchen to grab something. Maybe caf? She hadn’t had that in a…

…

…Kyra couldn’t actually remember the last time she had caf. Nor could she remember anything prior to waking up on the Cranky Bantha. She could remember things like her name, what blasters and slugthrowers were, and even a bit of experience using blaster pistols, but her personal life, who she was outside of a name, any sort of specific details were all totally lost to her. It didn’t immediately scare her, but as she made her caf, she struggled to remember anything. It unnerved her to hell and back.

She put some sugar in her caf, and headed outside to watch the suns rise, R5 in tow.

--

Kyra took a sip from her mug, waiting for the suns to come up over the ridge, the wind blowing her hair back. She half-looked behind her, and noticed a line of three grave markers near the six or so vaporators. Brushing her hair out of her face, she went to go take a look, R5 in tow.

Two of the graves looked freshly dug, and the third looked like it had been battered by the elements for a good twenty or so years. The two fresh graves had the words “TRAX” and “DAD” scrawled on them in poorly written Aurebesh script, while the older grave had the word “Bo” on it, and was written much more neatly than the other two.

Kyra suddenly felt a pit develop in her stomach, and she heard the man door to the garage open behind her. She half-turned, and saw Nax stumbling out, carrying something in his hands. He evidently hadn’t noticed Kyra, and he headed towards the vaporators, shielding his eyes from the rising suns. He kneeled down near the base of the closest vaporator, and set what he was holding on the ground, which turned out to be a toolbox, and a…protocol droid head?

Kyra cautiously approached him, and R5 followed her, but the mechanical whir of his motivator gave them both away.

“Didn’t expect you to be up this early.” Nax said, not taking his attention away from the vaporator.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Kyra said, before taking another sip of her caf.

The protocol droid’s eyes quickly lit up. “Guests? We have guests, Master Strag?” it said in the posh, polite tone of voice typical of the 3PO series.

Nax sifted through the toolbox, and went to work on the vaporator. “Yeah.” was all he said.

“Greetings! I am Z-3PO, human-cyborg relations!” the droid greeted.

Kyra hesitated briefly. “I’m Kyra, and this is R5-G0. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Z-3PO.” she said, gesturing towards R5.

R5 gave a happy beep, and then a series of more normal sounding beeps.

“Oh, my! What a friendly little droid you are! I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am still capable of performing my duties as programmed by the fine engineers of Cybot Galactica!”

There was another brief, awkward silence as Nax silently worked on the vaporator.

“…If you don’t mind my asking,” Kyra started, visibly questioning if she should even ask. “I saw some graves by the door.” she finished, and Nax stopped working, but didn’t turn to face her. “How did they die?”

“You have no right asking me that.” Nax suddenly snapped at her.

“I… you’re right. I’m sorry.” she apologized, and R5 gave a long, sad beep.

Nax sighed, and put his tools back in the box. “No need, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” he said as he picked up both the toolbox and Z-3PO’s head. “…Do you really want to know?”

Kyra slowly nodded once. “…If you’re comfortable with telling me.”

Nax gestured to the older grave. “That was mom. She died when my brother and I were born. Never knew her, don’t really mind that she wasn’t around.” he said, and then gestured to the newer graves. “As for these two, last month, some guys came around every few days and tried to buy two of our vaporators. Dad kept refusing them, said the price wasn’t good enough, and eventually they stopped coming around. We thought they either gave up or got their vaporators from some other moisture farmer.”

Kyra remained silent.

“We thought wrong. About a week after they stopped coming, my brother and I were sitting in the living room waiting for dad and Z-3PO to come back inside, since a dust storm was coming. We heard shouting, and then blaster fire. We grabbed our guns and ran outside, and there must have been ten guys with two transport speeders. They were all well armed and were probably organized, maybe insurgents, maybe mercenaries. Anyways, we started shooting, they shot back. Don’t think we killed anyone, but we drove them off, though they took two of our vaporators. I got scraped by a bolt, but Trax got shot in the chest several times.”

Nax opened the man door. “Z-3PO’s body was blasted apart, dad was dead when I got to him, and Trax died in my arms. Buried them both the next day.” Nax said, setting the toolbox on the floor.

“…I’m sorry.” Kyra said, totally at a loss for words.

Nax half turned to her. “…Why? You didn’t know them.”

Kyra shrugged. “I was just offering my condolences.”

Nax set Z-3PO’s head on the workbench in the garage. “I’m not all boo-hoo about it. I was going to leave eventually, now I just have more reason to. There’s nothing left for me here.” he cracked his knuckles and then went downstairs. “I’ll make something to eat, and then we’ll head out.”

--

Nax pulled the landspeeder up near Kerner Plaza and parked it. R5 rolled off, and both Kyra and Nax got out. Kyra was wearing a duster similar to Nax’s, and she had a face wrap with goggles to hide her features. Hidden inside her duster was Trax’s DL-44, tucked away in the holster. Nax had given her a brief rundown on how to use it, and stressed the importance of conserving ammo for it.

Nax had his own weapon shouldered, a pump action shotgun where the pump was sideways, with a foregrip jutting out. Nax also had a bandolier of several shells for the shotgun strapped to his chest. It was still early in the morning, and although there were some people in the streets, it wasn’t necessarily packed, with the only standouts being a two-man Stormtrooper patrol on the street corner.

“Where are we going?” Kyra asked, although her voice was muffled through the face wrap.

“Visiting a friend of mine. He’s a blaster merchant, probably knows our target, or at least, did business with him at some point.”

“…How do you figure that?”

Nax rolled the question around in his head for a bit. “My friend doesn’t exactly deal in ‘legal’ blasters. He’s a freelancer, the kind that prefer to dance around Imperial regulations. Benefits of being on Tatooine, I guess. The work on the guy’s blaster is definitely my buddy’s.” Nax said, shrugging. “He’s actually how I got this shotgun. That DL-44 of yours is his work, too.”

Kyra cocked her head. “Really?”

“Mhm. Both the scope and the scope mount are gone, and the internals were reworked to accommodate the trigger being moved closer to the grip. Trax liked the ’44, but hated the unnecessary weight, so I called in a favor, and a week later, Trax comes home with his new custom ’44, giddy as hell.” Nax explained as they walked into the nearby bazaar.

There were a few merchants with their shops open, and way in the back of the bazaar was Nax’s friend with his back turned. The trio walked up to his rather simple looking stand, and Nax tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said, and the man turned around. He was half a head shorter than Nax, had short brown hair and strong facial features. Unlike Nax, he lacked facial hair, and was far more tan. “I’d like to call in a debt owed to the Strag family for saving the Novar homestead from a Tusken raiding party around, I dunno, a year ago?”

The man studied him briefly, and then his brown eyes widened. “Nax! It’s been too long!” he said happily, pulling Nax into a bear hug. After nearly crushing Nax, he let go from the hug, although maintained an incredibly strong grip on his arms. “How’ve ya been?!” he said, his voice filled with glee, shaking Nax.

“Been better, Thel.”

Thel leaned to the side, and noticed Kyra. “Who’s your friend?”

“She’s my partner, we-“

“She?” Thel suddenly interrupted. “You don’t mean to tell me you’ve suddenly gotten yourself a you know what, Nax.” he teased, elbowing his friend.

“What? No, it’s a temporary arrangement. She helps me with bounties to get credits for a ship, I get her off-world.” Nax replied, totally unphased by his friend’s teasing. “Speaking of bounties,” Nax said as he pulled out his datapad and showed Thel its contents. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this Rodian, would you?”

Thel’s expression suddenly changed from jovial, to totally serious. “No.” he said, like he wasn’t just laughing and joking with his friend seconds ago.

Nax rolled his eyes. “I know your work, Thel. It’s all over his blaster. The stock’s definitely your work, the trigger’s custom, the grip’s done exactly how you do all grips. You even re-did the front and rear sight posts like I’ve seen you do to some E-11s. I can even see your little calling card near the handguard. It’s your work.” he said, revealing just how much he knew about his friend’s craftsmanship.

Thel sighed, and rubbed his temples. “Nax, you know I keep customer details confidential. We’ve been over this.”

Nax looked thoughtful for a minute. “Trax is dead.” he said, and the significance of this was lost on Kyra.

Thel’s expression, however, totally shifted. “What?” he asked.

“Trax is-“

“I heard you the first time, Nax.”

“He never called in on that favor you promised him. Do this for me, and I’ll consider that debt paid.”

Thel was incredibly hesitant, understandably so. If the target had found out it was him that had leaked his location to the pair, he’d be dead within the hour. Eventually, Thel sighed and lowered his head. “Alright, fine. The guy you’re after plays Pazaak pretty much all day, in a back alley near the Lucky Despot. The games are apparently low stakes, so don’t expect too much extra loot. He’s also got two bodyguards who’re packing, probably at the doors.” he said, and then looked Nax in the eye. “Just this once, Nax.”

Nax thanked his friend, and the trio departed. On their way back to the speeder, Nax turned to Kyra. “Lesson one of bounty hunting: form a network of contacts. You’re more likely to find out a target’s whereabouts from dealers like my friend Thel than any random pedestrian.”

Kyra looked back at him. “I thought bounty hunting was just pointing and shooting?” she asked, totally serious.

Nax snickered at the ridiculousness of that question. “That’s more like a quarter of the work. The rest of it is investigating, following up on leads, making use of contacts and such. It’s not nearly as easy as the holovids make it look.”

They arrived at the speeder, and Nax hoisted R5 onto the back of the speeder, and the pair hopped in. “What made you think he’d pay the debt back?” Kyra asked, curious.

Nax turned the speeder on, and started driving it towards the Lucky Despot. “Thel’s shiftier than bantha droppings, but if he makes a promise or says he owes you one, he means it. Whole reason he owed us favors in the first place was because Trax and I helped fend off a Tusken raiding party that was attacking their family homestead. I used my favor on landing Trax that ’44 you have in your holster, and Trax never used his before he died.”

“But why use a favor like that on something like this?” Kyra asked as they turned a corner, the massive hulk of the Lucky Despot coming into view.

“Personal reasons.” Nax said simply, and at that, Kyra chose to drop the subject entirely. The rest of the trip was silent, and after a while, Nax pulled over, not too far from the entrance of the Lucky Despot. Nax powered down the speeder, and all three of them got out. Not too far from where the speeder was parked was a back alley. It had all the signs of being used for backroom card games; suspicious looking door guards, proximity to a known crime lord, which in this case was Lady Valarian, the works. Nax peeked around the corner, and there didn’t seem to be anyone nearby aside from two heavily armed guards; a male Zabrak, and a female Weequay. Both of them were carrying long blasters, possibly shotguns, and wore what looked like medium armor. The Zabrak had an ACH-14 helmet loosely strapped to his head, while the Weequay wore some sort of face mask that mostly concealed her features. Nax turned back to look at Kyra and R5.

“Set your ’44 to stun.” Nax told her, and Kyra did so, flicking the switch on the barrel. “R5, go cause a distraction. Get them away from the door or knock them out. Your choice.” he said, and the droid used its manipulator arm to give a mock salute, rolling off into the peripheral vision of the guards. Nax peeked around the corner again to keep an eye on the situation.

Both of the guards tracked R5 cautiously, although they didn’t level their weapons at him. “Git.” the Weequay commanded, pointing off into the distance. R5 beeped incessantly, pointing at something else with his manipulator arm. “I said git!” the Weequay yelled, kicking R5, who gave the droid equivalent of a yelp. R5 evidently gave up, and suddenly, a small electrical storm shot out of his front chassis, stunning the two guards and knocking them out cold. R5 turned around and gave a happy series of beeps, satisfied with himself. Kyra and Nax both dashed over to the bodies, looking for some place to store them from sight. Nax spotted a nearby dumpster, and grabbed the Zabrak, while Kyra grabbed the Weequay, and they both dragged them over, disarmed them of their weapons, and then tossed the bodies in the dumpster.

Nax pointed to the door and unholstered his shotgun. “Stack up, get ready to breach.” he said, and Kyra looked at him, confused. Nax just sighed, and rubbed his forehead. “Take one side of the door, I’ll take the other. Come in after me, and check your aim. I’d rather not get stunned accidentally.” Kyra nodded in understanding, and leaned up against the wall opposite to Nax, while he leaned in closer, careful to not trip the automatic door system. He could hear idle chatter coming from behind the door, then laughter, and then a moment of silence, followed by yelling.

The yelling grew louder, and then Nax realized that it wasn’t friendly yelling. They were angry, and if Pazaak was anything like the few Sabacc games he had seen, the shooting would start soon. Nax charged in without warning, and Kyra was temporarily stunned, but she followed nonetheless.

Inside, there were four, make that five humanoids surrounding a square table. Two were seated, staring at each other, one a human and the other, a Rodian. Both of them had blasters drawn. Two of the humanoids, a male Twi’lek and a female Mirialan, were pointing their blasters at the human and the Rodian, respectively. The fifth, another human who was clearly nervous, was trying to point his blaster at everyone, but kept switching targets, unable to focus on one specific person. Kyra and Nax both stared at the ensuing standoff, and everyone turned to look at the intruders.

Kyra was the first to make a move, if “make a move” meant panic, accidentally fire a stun blast and hit the Rodian, lose control of the weapon, and then shoot herself with a stun blast and knock herself out.

Before Kyra hit the dirt, everyone started shooting at everyone. A few blaster shots were sent into the doorway, but Nax grabbed Kyra and dragged her behind the wall and into cover. Nax flicked the safety off on his shotgun, poked out of cover after fumbling with the awkward grips on his shotgun briefly, and fired a shot off, eviscerating the upper torso of the Twi’lek, and splattering violet colored blood onto the Mirialan and the ceiling. Nax retreated back to safety before they could retaliate, racked another shell into the chamber, and then poked around, just in time to see the Mirialan and the seated human fall dead, scorch marks replacing most of their facial features.

Time seemed to slow down as Nax exposed more of his body to get a bead on the guy who couldn’t pick a target. Both of them had their weapons ready to fire, and Nax managed to shoot first. On impact, the man stumbled back, whiffing two shots from his DH-17, one going wide, and the other nearly missing Nax’s face, hitting the wall behind him. He racked the shotgun again, and the man tried to raise his blaster, but Nax shot again, and he hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Nax quickly scanned the room for further hostiles, before deeming it clear, racking another shell, the plasteel hull clattering against the hard floor. Keeping one hand on the pistol grip, he checked the Rodian’s pulse.

Still breathing. Lucky he didn’t get nicked by a stray bolt in the crossfire

Nax leaned in close, and noticed the dark, almost leathery green skin of the Rodian, as well as a cut antenna, and multiple scars along the snout. He was wearing a jacket that had some sort of skull on the back of it, with the jacket looking like it was made from lizard skin. Strapped around his body was a leather holster, and a DC-15S carbine, exactly the same as in the datapad.

Nax took the holster and blaster off of the Rodian, and without any hesitation, he pulled out a pair of stuncuffs, and slapped them around the Rodian’s wrists, before pulling out a second pair, and shackling him at the knees. He then noticed that the Twi’lek had a large bag strapped around his body, large enough to fit several weapons. Nax moved over, grabbed the partially wet bag from the Twi’lek’s still warm corpse, and began looting the bodies, taking credits, datapads, Pazaak cards, and blasters alike, tossing them all into the bag with reckless abandon. Any profit was good profit as far as he was concerned.

When he was done, he set the bag on the floor, and grabbed the Rodian, tossing him over his shoulder, before heading outside to find R5 patiently waiting for Kyra and Nax to come out. Nax quietly motioned for R5 to follow him, which he did. Nax tossed the target onto the back of the speeder. “Guard him while I grab Kyra and our loot. Feel free to zap any Jawas that come near. Or anyone that tries to take the bounty.” Nax ordered, and R5 gave a salute with his manipulator arm, chirping happily.

Nax went back inside and picked Kyra up, throwing her over his shoulder, but not before picking up Trax’s ’44, setting it inside Kyra’s holster. He carried her back to the speeder, and gently set her down in the seat, with R5 staring at her, and then back at Nax, before resuming his little patrol detail. Nax went back in for a final time, grabbed the bag, any weapons he had missed, and took them back to the speeder, setting them all in front of Kyra’s feet, picking R5 up and setting him on the speeder, and then getting in himself, turning it on. The repulsorlifts and turbines roared to life, and he slowly eased his way onto the street, careful not to let the target fall off. The Imperial Garrison wasn’t too far, and he didn’t want to try and wake Kyra, since the stun blast from the ’44 should be wearing off shortly.

Or now, as evidenced by Kyra’s rumblings. She slowly sat up in her seat and rubbed her head, groaning. “…How long was I out?” she asked groggily, holding her face in her right hand through her mask.

“About ten minutes or so? We got the target, and some stuff we can sell.” Nax replied, and Kyra groaned again. “Something wrong?” he asked, concerned.

“I feel like my insides’ve been totally scrambled.” Kyra complained. “Hey, can we slow down a bit?”

Nax lowered the throttle. “Thanks.” Kyra said, holding her stomach, obviously not feeling too well.

The remainder of the trip was silent, until they pulled up on the Garrison. Nax hopped out, leaving the speeder on idle, with the loot, Kyra, and R5 inside. Nax, however, pulled the now conscious and currently very angry Rodian off of the speeder. He was screaming what were presumably curses and threats of death in Rodese, but Nax paid him no mind. The Stormtroopers guarding the garrison though were probably just snickering behind their helmets. “Sit tight.” Nax told Kyra, before walking into the garrison.

“…Not like there’s much else I can do.” Kyra grumbled, letting her head fully collapse into her hand.

--

The guards let him through, and brought him directly to Mazz Gaffi, the Rodian still shouldered and cuffed. Gaffi was the local Imperial Garrison commander, and was, for all intents and purposes, the de-facto commander of Imperial forces, at least in Mos Eisley. He was by no means young looking, but he wasn’t exactly old either.

Nax knew very little about him, but if the drunken banter of Stormtroopers was to be believed, he was a veteran of the Clone Wars, making him, at best, in his late thirties to early forties. He was evidently a shrewd tactician, although Nax, nor the majority of the Stormtroopers posted in Mos Eisley, actually saw him do anything really worthy outside of what basically amounted to paper pushing. Then again, he was smart enough to be able to utilize a poor situation and turn it into a great boon, seeing as how he was authorizing the wealth of independent contractors and bounty hunters in the area, such as Nax, to be able to bounty hunt for the Empire on worlds that are near the border of their sphere of influence. They could help restore order to the Empire, and they could make some extra credits on the side. It’s a win-win for everyone that actually had some longevity in the galaxy.

“Where do I set him?” Nax asked, and Gaffi cleared a nearby table, staring expectantly at Nax, who then set the Rodian on the table. He tried to squirm away, but Gaffi simply smacked him, and then leaned over to stare at the captive.

“My, my, my… if it isn’t Vark Rurmiid,” he taunted, and the Rodian’s eyes widened in fear. Gaffi grabbed the Rodian by his chin, and forced him to look at the officer. “You’ve been quite the thorn in our sides as of late, you insufferable pile of excrement. I will see an end to that, personally, but first…” he turned to Nax. “How did you find him?” Gaffi inquired.

Nax remained straight faced. “I was playing Pazaak, and he just walked in on my game. Knew who he was from the bounty you posted, so I dropped the game, zapped him, and brought him here. Kinda hard to forget a face with a ten thousand credit bounty on it.”

Gaffi raised an eyebrow. “Just like that? No fight?”

Nax shrugged. “I mean, zapping him did cause a bit of a firefight, but he didn’t get hit as far as I can tell.”

Gaffi didn’t show it, but he was laughing on the inside. He smirked down at the Rodian. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The ‘Oh-So-Valiant’ Vark Rurmiid, taken without any resistance. Pathetic.” he derided, before fully devoting his attention to Nax, clearing his throat. “Now, as for you, I’m authorizing the full payment of ten thousand and five hundred standard Imperial credits, provided that you have an IPKC, as well as a bonus of two thousand credits for bringing Vark in alive.” he said smugly, holding out his hand. “Your datapad?”

Nax fished around in his duster and produced the datapad with his IPKC stored on it, which Gaffi took. “Right this way.”

--

The heat of Tatooine’s twin suns was finally getting to Kyra. She didn’t exactly feel fine to begin with, actually. She’d embarrassed herself, nearly got herself killed, nearly cost them the bounty, and probably almost got Nax killed. Her stomach pains and headache from accidentally stunning herself only compounded her problem, and all she could do was sit and wait, holding her head.

Imperial paperwork would be the death of her, possibly literally.

Kyra had almost drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the turbines as if they were white noise. The only thing preventing her was a loud group that had suddenly appeared behind her, walking up the street.

“…sssoo thisss guy, he’s in the dirt, begging for hisss life, right?” a Trandoshan hissed.

“Yeah?”

“The bounty ssaid dead or alive, so I just looked him in the eye, grinned, and then I ssslagged that ssucker. You ssshould’ve seen that girl’s face!”

Kyra heard someone else, a man, sigh. “Can we stop screwing around and get back to work? The boss’ll have our heads if we get back to the ship without any leads.” he said, clearly frustrated. Despite his frustration, he sounded like he had a level head on for their situation, whatever it was.

“Shut it, you coward.” a third, feminine voice said as they passed by the speeder. Her voice sounded rough and gravelley, and she was probably ugly to boot.

“Ssstop.” the Trandoshan suddenly hissed next to Kyra. She heard him sniff the air, and then she heard him sniffing closer to her, practically in her ear. “Thiss one smellsss… familiar.” he coldly said, and Kyra felt a shiver go down her spin.

“How familiar?” the woman asked, and the Trandoshan sniffed again.

“…Very.” he replied.

Kyra heard the telltale sounds of an approaching Stormtrooper patrol, and silently hoped either they, or Nax, would drive these people away. “You three,” one of the Stormtroopers said through the helmet vocoder. “State your business.”

Kyra opened her eyes, and saw a five man patrol of Stormtroopers, all armed with longblasters, with the one that Kyra assumed was the commanding officer having orange pauldrons on top of his standard armor. The three that she was afraid of all seemed to be unarmed, the woman was a particularly ugly Weequay, and the man was a scrawny looking human.

“State your business.” the officer repeated, and there was a tense silence.

“Just reclaiming our property!” the Trandoshan suddenly said, and tried to grab Kyra. As soon as he touched her, a blaster bolt whizzed by, and hit the Trandoshan directly in the head, dropping him dead. The Weequay and the human fled, and the Stormtroopers surrounded the body.

“Clear.” the officer stated, before turning to Kyra. “Sorry about that, ma’am. Carry on.” he apologized, before muttering “fraggin’ lizards” under his breath, the vocoder heavily distorting it and nearly rendering it inaudible.

Kyra wasn’t about to try resting again, but Nax suddenly hopped in, throwing whatever she had planned out the window. “The hell’d I miss?” he asked, looking over to her.

Kyra hesitated again. “Nothing important.”

The turbines finally roared to life after sitting on idle for what felt like an eternity, and Nax began to drive the speeder back towards the bazaar, where Thel was. “Got twelve thousand credits from that Rodian.”

Kyra half-turned her head. “I thought it was ten thousand?”

“Got a bonus of two thousand for bringing him in alive.”

Kyra’s eyes widened a bit. “That much for one target? If all bounties are like that, we’ll be outta here in no time!” she said, her spirits suddenly lifted.

“And that’s where I have to crush you. Bounties that high are exceptionally, and I mean exceptionally rare. Most jobs sit around the thousand credit range, maybe two thousand if you’re lucky. The majority of what I make is from resold gear and pilfered bank accounts, hence, the bag.”

“…We going to Thel?”

“Mhm.”

“…Can we not? I’m still not feeling too great.”

Nax internally debated overturning her request, but decided against it. “Sure.” he said, before immediately changing course from the bazaar, to the general direction the house was in. He could always sell the weapons and drain the bank accounts later, anyways.

--

By the time Nax had finished work on his landspeeder, the suns were setting. He had added some small durasteel guards to prevent R5 and any captives from falling off. R5 had even pitched in a little, using his built-in fusion cutter to slice up chunks of scrap metal lying around the garage. The additional weight and increased air resistance probably wouldn’t play nice with the repulsorlifts, but hey, it worked.

Nax lifted up his welding mask, and saw Kyra come in wearing sleeping ropes. She looked considerably better than when they had first got home, but her hair was a mess, and something was clearly on her mind, so Nax waved her over. “Something wrong?” he asked.

Kyra nodded. “A lot of things are wrong.” she said, seemingly staring through Nax. “When you left the garrison, you saw the dead Trandoshan, right?”

Nax nodded, and Kyra took a deep breath. “He was…” she gulped, “…one of my captors. I was a slave, and he was a slaver.”

Nax suddenly understood why she wanted off-world. “But he’s dead, so what’s the issue?”

“His two colleagues got away, and he said something about how I “smelled familiar” before trying to grab me.”

Sithspit.

“So, not only do the slavers I escaped from know that I’m still alive, they also know what I wear and the general area I’m in.” Kyra said dejectedly.

“…What else was the matter?” Nax asked. He was already helping her off-world, couldn’t hurt to help her feel better about her situation.

Kyra sighed. “You saw what happened when we raided the Pazaak game. I panicked and stunned myself. The only reason I’m alive is because of you. I almost cost you that entire bounty because of my incompetence. We’ve only known and worked together for about a day, but I already feel like I’m a huge liability to you. I can’t shoot someone, and you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.” her expression soured, and she hid her face. “I’d rather not drag someone I barely know into my own problems, or just kill someone because of my incompetence.”

Nax stood up and grabbed her hand, surprising her and causing Kyra to yelp. He then dragged her over to the man-door, and grabbed the DH-17 from the bag. Nax pulled her outside, and offered her the pistol. “I’m having none of that defeatist garbage, especially not from my bounty hunting partner. Take this.” Nax commanded, and Kyra was still surprised, so she obeyed, displaying trigger discipline without Nax even needing to bring it up.

“Face the ridge.”

Kyra turned to face the ridge where the moons were just now coming up.

“Put both hands on the grip, and point the blaster at the ridge.”

Kyra did exactly that, and Nax put both hands on her shoulders. “Now, spread your legs out so that you’re stable and not moving, and lean forward. Aim down the scope, keep your grip on the blaster strong. Then I want you to pull the trigger. Don’t jerk it.”

Kyra waited a bit to position herself, and then she fired a shot, the red bolt lighting up the surrounding desert, before impacting the sand. She jolted a bit, but otherwise held on tight.

Nax continued training her well into the night. After all, a chain was only as strong as its weakest link, and Nax intended to reinforce that weak link until it was practically beskar.

--

Allo Lostur sat in his captain’s chair on the bridge of the Cranky Bantha, a retrofitted CR90, enjoying some Juri juice one of his crew had brought up from Mos Eisley. He swirled the drink around for a bit, before taking a sip. His fourth ground crew was late for their regular check-in. The ''Cranky Bantha'' had a bit of a… slave revolt recently. Most of the revolting slaves were reshackled and appropriately punished, but one managed to escape. His most prized and valuable possession, specifically, was gone.

When he found out she had not only killed twenty of his best men, but stolen an astromech and seemingly disappeared, he was beyond furious, and immediately ordered ground teams to secure her.

As he was about to take another sip, his commlink buzzed in his ear, and he pressed down on it. ''“You’re late.”'' he growled.

…

“No, I don’t care about your excuses. I want results, and unless you have them, you can come back up here so I can ''cut your damn heads off myself.''” he threatened through gritted teeth.

…

…

“He what?”

…

“I don’t care that he’s dead. ''Where. Is. She?”''

…

Lostur threw the glass down, shattering it, and spilling the remainder of his drink on the floor. “''YOU FOUND MY MOST PRIZED POSESSION AND '''RAN AWAY FROM HER?!'” he suddenly roared. “I DON’T GIVE A MYNOCK’S ASS THAT YOU WERE SURROUNDED BY BUCKETHEADS, WHEN I GIVE YOU ORDERS, 'YOU DO THEM!'” he screamed with unbridled fury. If he didn’t have everyone’s attention on the bridge before, he did now.

The person on the other end of the commlink apologized, and quickly ended the conversation. Lostur held his head in his hands and groaned. “I’m surrounded by incompetent lobotomites.”