A/N: Please feel free to kindly correct spelling errors.

I shove the spare parts into my sack, sling it over my shoulder, and heave it down the hill. How hard could it be, fighting a slave-owner? It's not like I'm his slave, and it's not like I can't fight for myself!

I trudge through the dirt and plants, hoping not to stub my toe on a stupid rock. As I wander, my mind and thoughts travel to a different galaxy, to the place I'm going directly after this mission. The planet with the twin suns, whatever it's name was. That's where my dealer is, and that's where I will deliver, collect my ransom, and go.

I heard that Mistress Halarish is quite... invisible. I better keep my eye out if I want to pinpoint which slave is her. I wonder if she's fiesty.

"I don't think this is such a good idea," XX-07, my droid, shuffles slowly behind me.

"No?" I reply sarcastically.

"According to my calculations-"

"F*ck your calculations, XX. Here, carry this for me." I drop my heavy knapsack, and fold my arms over my armor.

"Why must I carry such a burden?" XX replies.

"What, the bag? Or the responsibility?"

"Both."

I roll my eyes, "Just drag it behind you. Let's go; we only have 48 hours to deliver."

"According to my calculations, ma'am-"

"I told you not to call me that!"

"Reyna. According to my calculations, there is a 67.57% of complication during our 48 hours that will prevent an on-time delivery."

"Then I guess we better bet on the 33% percent success."

/ Time Skip /

After about an hour of on-foot travelling through plants and dirt, we've navigated our way towards The Imerial, a Hut-like hangout for gamblers, slave-owners and anyone looking for money and drinks. This should be...

"Aggravating, this looks aggravating. I suggest we turn back now and forget the money." XX-07 complains.

I take the knapsack from his grip, "Go ahead, be my guest. I no longer need you."

XX gasps, "You don't mean that, Captain Reyna!"

I glare up at his silver arms and legs, his astromech bot self.

"You're right. Put this together for me," I toss him bolts, wires, and other mechanical parts, and my gun. "Ten minutes."

"Why, I can't do it in five-"

"Two minutes."

"I said five!"

I smirk, "I heard two!"

//

After he has finished with my gun, I shove it in my bag with other random odds and ins. This might work. I step onto the stone path, more in-view of the locals in The Imerial. I wonder how well I fit in, looking down at my brown ragged cape, and my black spray-painted Mandalorian armor. My orange and blue hair gives me away a little, but not enough to raise a finger over the suspicion. XX, previously R4-66, spray-painted black like me over his number, should blend it with myself just fine. It's not like his height makes him any more noticeable. This should be fun.

With XX following behind me, covered in mud from the travel, I make my way inside the vast pale tent, welcomed by a strong scent of alcohol and ringing laughter. I look around my surroundings, noticing women, men, and other genders in fancy, richy outfits, drinks in hand. There is a counter and a waiter behind it, serving drinks and cooked plants from around the tent. The tent blocks out very little of the sun and breeze, and the tables near the back are touching the mysterious cloth. I slowly make my way there, looking past each guest to find the man I'm looking for.

I don't find him until he tip for his fun and jabbed harshly into my back, and my droid is on the floor in front of me.

To be continued...