I tried so hard to get this out yesterday, but it's Revenge of the Fifth, so it still counts, right?

Besides, I was (and am still) crazy depressed over the Clone Wars finale. It hurts.

Thanks to everyone for joining me on this! To the story!

Chapter Five

Ring of Kafrene

There was a near constant drip of traffic near the docks. Kafrene may no longer have been on any busy hyperspace lanes, but ships were always orbiting the area, waiting for open ports. How the place must have looked in its prime was something that Demo could not fathom.

After much protestation from Galen, Demo managed to break into an abandoned mining office. The walls were a patchwork of different paint schemes and each room had different tech dating to several years. Numerous companies had attempted to make a living off the dying colony, but all eventually fell into disrepair. She was a little surprised to find that none of the gangs had claimed the spot for themselves, but the security on the building had been tight. Someone wanted it to remain empty.

On the top floor, the building provided a clear view of the busiest sections of the docks, and it was there, through the blinds one of the few intact windows, that Demo had been standing for the past two hours, staring at the traffic with a pair of macrobinoculars she had purchased at the behest of Galen. Stealing from people who had done nothing to them did not sit well with him, and she did not have time to argue.

Galen had been silent the entire time. She had expected the boy to be on the brink of exploding with questions, but instead he was content to sit and stare. The earlier conflict had left a mark on him, and he did not know how to get past it.

It should have been a relief to her. Finally, she could get something done efficiently, but instead the silence was beginning to unnerve her.

She sighed.

"Come here, Galen."

Demo heard the boy slide from his seat on an old desk. A moment later, he was by her side, squinting out the window.

She handed him the macrobinoculars and took a moment to appreciate the boy's surprise. To be honest, her eyes did need a break from the strain, and here she was with a spare set, although the chances of him finding what they needed were slim.

"Whoa," the boy whispered as he took in the station. She didn't need to see the smile on his face; she could hear it. "Old Mara had a set of these, but they were nowhere near as good."

She let his gaze wander the area, keeping her focus on the docks. Some were open-air, allowing her to see what exact ships were docked, but others were closed off, and all she could do was infer from the appearance of those exiting the lifts and airlocks. Most of the travelers looked the same: worn down, dirty, most likely local miners that had contracts to some of the closer asteroids still being drilled. Their ships would be too worn down – and more than likely not capable of hyperspace travel – for their personal use. They needed to find a balance between nondescript and functional.

"What are we looking for?" Galen asked eventually, having taken in everything to his satisfaction.

"A ship," Demo answered, pushing the macrobinoculars lightly with her fingers in the direction she wanted him to look. "We need to get off this station."

"And go where?"

"Ship first, destination later."

"I see a lot of ships."

"You see a lot of freighters," Demo clarified. "Large ships mean larger crews, meaning the chances of taking the ship unseen are unlikely. We can't afford a gunfight down here."

Her blaster pistol was in desperate need of repair. It had taken a few hits in the last fight and risked overheating far more frequently, but she doubted the shops had the parts she needed, and if they did, it would not be cheap.

"We want something smaller? Something that won't be noticed?" the boy asked, looking up at her. She nodded. "We're not going to find anything like that here."

"We won't if you aren't looking," Demo replied, turning his head back to the macrobinoculars. The boy fidgeted, clearly not enjoying being forced to do anything – was he already bored? – but he settled in and fell quiet again.

Demo scanned the area, taking in the movement below. It was a busy hour. Shifts were changing over. Plenty of ships were coming in and going out, but nothing that caught her eye. She had once considered taking a public transport to the Core, but that idea was quickly discarded; she did not like the thought of being left with too many unfamiliar characters in such a small space, nor did she enjoy the idea of an unknown piloting them.

The First Order had spies everywhere, and she was not about to allow control of the situation to be in anyone's hands other than her own.

"Huh."

Demo blinked, looking down at Galen. "What?"

"A new freighter just landed, but only one guy got off. And he's got a really nice droid with him. It doesn't have rust or anything."

Galen offered the macrobinoculars back and pointed in the direction of his discovery. Demo zoomed in on the target, taking in his demeanor, dress, and, as the boy had pointed out, the near immaculate state of his droid. Everything about them advertised that they were offworlders, the kind to be taken advantage of. She saw half a dozen denizens turn in his direction as he passed them by, curious and sizing him up, and he was oblivious to them all.

She almost dismissed him entirely, until he looked in the direction of their building.

She knew that face.

An old report from the Security Bureau by one Agent Terex – an unbearable, prideful man she'd had to work with on numerous training exercises – detailed a pilot of his description, as well as the droid.

"Resistance."

"The Resistance is here?! That is so co-" Galen froze as Demo glanced over at him. "I mean…um…sorry?"

Demo sighed.

There was no such thing as coincidence. Somehow, they'd heard of the attack, and perhaps even what happened on Canto Bight. They were looking for a defector, and would end up bringing the entirety of the First Order down on their heads.

They waited in silence while he entered a cantina. She could see him, just barely, through one of the viewports. His legs were twitching, jumping up and down out of nerves. He was waiting for something with information, and he wasn't doing it very well.

And then he left.

"He's got tails," Demo said, quickly glancing around the area. It wasn't hard to keep the pilot in view. He was the cleanest one on the station. "Lots of them."

"How can you tell?"

"They don't move normally, too focused on keeping an eye on their target," Demo replied, handing Galen back the macrobinoculars and checking her blaster pistol. She pulled the blade from her boot and held it tight against her wrist. "Makes them stand out in a crowd, especially from here."

"Like that Gran in the poncho?" Galen asked as he watched the scene.

"That's one of them. Good eye."

The grin that broke out on Galen's face seemed too big for him.

"I need you to do something for me," she continued, motioning for him to follow. They made their way back through the narrow corridors of the building, carefully retracing their steps. Some of the flooring wasn't stable. "Follow that man. He'll eventually head for a less populated area."

"How do you know that?"

"Whatever information he got in that cantina isn't something he wants to share. Once he leaves the crowd, I need you to keep him busy."

"What about you?"

"We need to lose the tails."

"Wait!" Galen called out, stopping Demo in her tracks. She looked back at the boy, about to chastise him for slowing them down, but was struck by the seriousness in his eyes. "Are you going to kill him?"

Demo sighed. That had not been her first idea, but the potential was always there. A dead man couldn't interfere, although the thought of being wanted by both the First Order and the Resistance did not sit well with her. She'd done a terrible job of keeping her head down as it was.

"No."

He smiled at that.

They entered the crowded streets together, taking a moment to relocate the pilot, who was still wandering the streets, content to let the horde of workers dictate where he went. He wasn't paying much attention to the world around him, mostly concerned with keeping his droid in sight. If this was the best the Resistance had, Demo wondered why the First Order insisted they were top priority.

With a quick nod, Demo watched Galen disappear into the crowd, his small form perfect for weaving through the throngs of miners. Meanwhile, she slowed down, allowing the crowd to pass around her, ignoring the grunts of discontentment and frustration.

The first target was the Gran that Galen had spotted. He was large, over a head taller than her, and trim, a grunt. It would have made for an interesting fight, one that she would have preferred her blaster pistol for, but Demo did not need to kill him. She just needed him to stop following the pilot.

Spinning the blade around in her hand, Demo made a quick swipe across the back of his right knee, tearing through muscle and ligaments. The Gran made such a loud cry as he fell to the ground that Demo quickly slipped through the crowd as their attention was diverted.

Next was a human, who had taken to stall hopping, pretending to look interested in trinkets that had no hope of being sold. She caught him as he passed by a small alleyway and shouldered him into the space, quickly slamming her hand against his neck, crushing his windpipe. It wasn't anything permanent, but it put him out of commission; it didn't matter that a handful of miners had witnessed the event. None of them cared enough to do anything.

The last tail had actually moved ahead of the pilot, no doubt setting up a trap for further down the corridor. Demo nudged through the crowd as fast as she dared without attracting the attention of the older male.

She couldn't be as obvious as the last two, or risk alerting the pilot and scaring him off, so, Demo used the environment around her.

She walked right past the last tail and gave him a quick shove into a particularly large Arcona. A fight broke out from there, tumbling into a Jogan fruit stand and erupting the corridor into chaos. This gave the pilot an opportunity to escape the main halls into a maintenance corridor, with Galen following closely behind.

Satisfied that the pilot was finally alone, Demo backtracked to another alley, hoping to find a secondary entrance to the maintenance access. She moved quietly, swiftly darting past beggars and rusting droids until the alleyway swung back around, taking her exactly where she wanted to go.

Demo kept her blaster pistol firmly in front of her, waiting for the moment that Galen's distraction failed and the pilot cleared the area. But as she crept closer, she could hear two distinct voices engaged in conversation. Despite Galen's constant pestering questions, the pilot did not seem to mind. He sounded as if he enjoyed the interaction.

She continued forward into the opening, keeping as silent as possible. Demo did not want to take the chance of spooking the pilot while he was capable of grabbing Galen. She had to do this slowly.

The boy noticed her, eyes briefly flicking in her direction before he continued to speak to the pilot.

"I needed to distract you somehow."

Taking that as a signal, Demo leapt forward, striking out at the pilot's right leg with her foot. She followed up by lodging her left knee into the back of his and following him to the ground, keeping pressure on his calf as she wrapped her arm around his neck.

She quickly fired a round at his droid. Her blaster pistol wasn't capable of ion disruption, but the stun setting at the highest voltage seemed to do the trick. The droid made a very human cry and shot backwards, short-circuiting and shutting down.

"Hey! What are you-"

Demo tightened her grip around his neck, getting the pilot to submit to her, his hands held high. She quickly returned her blaster pistol to her holster as she searched for the pilot's.

"Can I have it?" Galen asked as she produced the weapon. Demo narrowed her eyes, choosing not to answer as she quickly disabled the blaster and latched it to her belt. She was going to need all the advantages she could get.

"So, I take it you're the fugitive from the First Order, right?" the pilot asked. "I mean, you have to be. You're not asking for any credits."

That confirmed all her suspicions then. The Resistance had somehow discovered her, but whether it was through the events she caused or if they were privy to the mission beforehand, she could not say. Either were terrible options, and put her and Galen at further risk.

"You didn't shoot me, which is nice. Means you don't want me dead. And if you don't want me dead, that means I have something you want, right?"

The pilot enjoyed the sound of his voice too much. No wonder he and Galen had struck up a conversation.

"You know, I've never been good at these guessing games. You're gonna have to speak u-"

Demo grunted, grabbing the pilot's head and pulling back until she got a good view of him. He seemed surprised by what he was looking at.

"Do all members of the Resistance talk this much?" she asked, noting the grin on Galen's face.

"No, just me. I've been told it's a problem."

Sighing, she released his head. It was quickly becoming apparent to her that she should have left well enough alone. But leaving the Resistance pilot to his own devices may have called down more trouble than she was prepared to deal with. If they were lucky – which was not a term she put much faith in – the pilot had gone unnoticed, and this intervention might keep the First Order in the dark.

"Get the droid," Demo ordered, watching as Galen began pushing the loose components back into the astromech's frame.

She was beginning to debate where to take them when she felt the pilot grab her arms and pull her down to the side, taking both of them solidly to the ground. Then he rolled on top of her, his shoulders pressing on her chest.

Her arms loosened as she attempted to breathe and the pilot was quick to scramble out of her grasp.

Angry, mostly at herself for letting him get the better of her, Demo reached out and dragged him back by the collar of his jacket, and used the momentum to swing on top of him, sitting on his chest in turn.

Her blaster pistol was in her grasp a moment later, pointed at his head. Pulling the trigger wouldn't solve all her problems, but she had to admit, a part of her wanted to. Without orders, things such as wants were becoming more frequent in her decision-making. She wanted to shoot him, she wanted to follow him in the first place, she wanted to know what he wanted from her.

"Using the stun setting within two feet of a target causes irreparable damage to the nervous system. You won't be doing that again."

The pilot nodded, moving the one arm not pinned to his side by her leg back to the surrender gesture. "No, I sure won't."

Demo watched him a moment, studying his face, looking for any telltale signs of a lie. Psychology wasn't something she knew much on, but training in the event of capture told her of several things to watch for. The nervous shift of a man who was lying, the changing pitch of the voice, the inability to make eye contact. It all told her the pilot was speaking truthfully.

She stood slowly, backing away from him to where Galen was fidgeting with the droid.

"How am I supposed to move it?" the boy asked, rolling the droid lightly until its processor that doubled as a head hit the ground. "It's gonna get damaged."

Frankly, Demo didn't care how damaged the droid was – she mostly had a mind to sell the thing – but Galen had that look on his face, just like when they had bought the macrobinoculars. He wasn't going to budge until she'd solved the problem.

He seemed to get attached to anything he interacted with for more than a few seconds.

She sighed, kneeling down with her blaster still firmly pointed at the pilot, who had finally sat up. Her fingers scraped under the unit's 'head,' searching for the magnetic release. Pressing down, she heard a click and the processor slid into Galen's hands.

"Hey! Beebee-Ate!" the pilot shouted, rushing forward, briefly forgetting that she had a blaster pointed at him.

Demo quickly stood and stepped forward, reminding him. But instead of slowing down, he attempted to disarm her, gripping the top of her blaster pistol and pushing it down. He assumed she wanted him alive, and was willing to risk that she didn't want to drag his unconscious form across the station either.

But she countered him, using the space he created to quickly head-butt him, before dropping on one knee and twisting her hands to return the blaster's muzzle to his body rather than the ground, not that it mattered. The one hit leveled the man, leaving him clutching his head.

"Leave it, Pilot," Demo warned, standing again. "Droids are dismantled easily. You should know its fine. Now, get up."

He glared at her, but complied, rubbing his temple. She never understood the offense some seemed to take on behalf of their droids. They were expendable, portable computers. One could always be built to replace another. The First Order had a low reliance on them, preferring the intuitive capability of humans to programming.

Demo gestured to the pilot with her head. "Give that piece to him."

"What?!"

I'm sorry, Beebee-Ate.

That one phrase circled Poe's mind over and over as he allowed himself to be escorted through the back allies of Kafrene. Frustrated, embarrassed, and more than a little disturbed that he was carrying what equated to his friend's head in his hands, Poe was silent the entire time.

The pounding in his temples didn't help either.

Kriff, her head was hard.

The First Order operative was hardly silent. Aside from her directional commands, she was often engaged with the boy, albeit frustratingly. He kept asking her questions that she was slow to answer, but he was clearly more eager with every syllable he pried out of her.

This wasn't something Poe had expected. What was a First Order defector doing with a kid? Did the kid know who she was? Was he just someone she was using on Kafrene for the time being? Why was he so willing to help her?

What did she do to his droid?!

Poe huffed and turned around, facing the defector. She raised her blaster pistol again, annoyed.

"Keep moving."

"No," Poe replied, much to the defector's disdain. Her eyes narrowed, and he saw her finger reach for the trigger. "Go ahead, shoot me. You going to drag me across Kafrene by yourself?"

"If I have to."

Yeah, she looked like she would.

She wasn't like most operatives he had encountered – although it hadn't been that many. Most had been smug, arrogant, seeing the rest of the galaxy as beneath them. Leia had mentioned that the First Order had grown from the remnants of the Empire, and the personality had clearly carried over.

This defector, however, was just…nothing. The biggest emotion that came from her was frustration. She didn't talk to him, didn't tell him what she intended to do with him, didn't engage in any way, shape, or form that wasn't directly related to a task. He knew droids that were livelier.

Poe sighed, looking down at BB-8. Well, part of him. Now would be a good time for that infectious personality that Leia had been talking about.

"Look, I know that the First Order is searching for you and-"

She shot him.

The headache was worse, pounding drums behind his eyes. He reached up to block the light that was still managing to make its way through his eyelids, wondering what Black Squadron had done the night before to make him feel like this.

Then he remembered.

Poe shot up, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the bunk above him. He sat still a moment, breathing, readjusting to the world around him. There was a soft whirring of a fan overhead and the distant hum of the machinery that engulfed the station.

A blonde head popped up at the end of the bunk, grinning at him.

"Welcome back," the boy said. "I'm Galen by the way."

"Galen?" Poe echoed, rubbing his head. Nothing was bleeding or broken, or so he hoped. Everything hurt so it was hard to tell.

"Yep! Galen Marek!"

"Nice to meet you, I think," he replied, turning to put his feet on solid ground. "Name's Poe Dam-"

He froze. Staring at him, no more than three feet away on a chair, was the defector. She was leaning on her knees with her blaster pistol in hand, finger resting on the trigger well. He didn't remember hearing anyone moving when he woke up.

Poe blinked, unable to take his eyes off her. "Has she been here this whole time?"

"Yep!" Galen confirmed, bouncing over to stand just beside them. "Demo does that a lot. She won't move for hours, like a statue."

That wasn't creepy at all.

"Like before you showed up, we were watching the docks, and she just stood there without budging for-"

"Galen," the woman, Demo, warned softly, glancing over at him.

The boy quickly quieted, moving away to the far corner where BB-8 was, still off but no longer in pieces.

They were in what appeared to be an old garage. Poe could make out faint impressions where tools once rested on walls and countertops. Most of the place had been stripped, leaving the bolted down bulk furniture to collect dust. The one light at the center of the room flickered frequently, threatening to plunge the room into darkness.

Poe looked back to the woman, who was watching him again.

"So, Demo is a weird name."

"The humor isn't working, Pilot."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Demo sighed, no longer staring blankly at him. She was analyzing him now, and Poe felt a little uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"How did you find me here?"

Poe shrugged. That seemed fair. "We got intel on a dead senator's assistant on Canto Bight, then on an attack here, and you were connected to both."

Her eyes narrowed. "People die on Kafrene everyday unnoticed. How did the Resistance think to check here?"

"We have a droid in charge of our spy network."

He heard a click on her blaster pistol. "No more humor, Pilot."

"I really wish that was humor."

There was a moment of silence as they watched one another. It was briefly broken by Galen knocking loose a floorboard and mumbling rapid apologies.

She stood. "You need to leave."

Poe blinked, momentarily shocked into silence. He hadn't expected that.

"Wait, that's it?" he stood, confronting her. "You take apart my droid and shoot me, only to tell me to leave?"

Her blaster pistol returned to his face.

He gulped, raising his hands. "Seems reasonable enough."

"Hey!" shouted Galen as he crossed the room again. "You promised you weren't going to kill him!"

"I didn't promise anything," Demo replied, moving her arm as Galen attempted to grab it. "If he won't leave, he needs to be dealt with. He's attracting too much attention."

Poe felt a little offended at that. "Last I checked, you were the wanted one."

Demo gave him a hard look, one that reminded him a little too much of Leia when she was about to tear apart his entire argument.

"Your missions to Ovanis and Megalox Beta beg to differ," she countered. Poe felt his heart drop at the mention of his missions. "The First Order knows all about you, Poe Dameron. And despite that, you were sent here for me, by yourself, and you allowed yourself to be followed by men who I had to dispose of before dealing with you."

She lowered her blaster pistol. "I'm not going to help the Resistance. Your mission is concluded. Leave."

Poe just stood there a moment, watching her. When he set out for the Ring of Kafrene, he hadn't known what to expect, but every scenario he had gone over in his mind was better than this one. This wasn't a woman who wanted help; this was a hardened soldier on a mission, despite having fled the First Order. If it weren't for the fact she was offering him the chance to leave, he'd say the general's worry of a trap was justified.

Not wanting to get shot again, Poe didn't argue, making his way over to BB-8.

Still, he couldn't help himself.

"Then why did you leave the First Order?"

She watched him, quietly, and for half a second, Poe thought she'd lift her blaster pistol again. But she didn't. Her gaze, normally locked on him, dropped, leaving her briefly vulnerable.

When the station alarm began to ring – a dull, singular note that dropped at a slow cadence – the walls returned and she stiffened, immediately taking in the entire room before charging to the door.

"Stay here," she ordered, glancing at Galen. As far as she was concerned, Poe was no longer part of the equation.

Poe sighed. "Well, that could have gone better."

He couldn't even say it was his worst encounter. Leia said not to believe in luck, but something clearly wasn't working out in his favor.

Kneeling down to his droid, Poe triggered a few switches and watched the lights on BB-8's reticle fire up. As soon as his systems finished booting up, his astromech immediately fired off a scream and began to search for his attacker.

"Hold up, buddy. It's me. You're safe."

BB-8 gave him a series of curt – and unrepeatable – chirps before focusing on Galen, who was still standing in the middle of the room. Producing his shock prod, the little droid attempted to charge the boy, who squeaked and ran behind a column, before Poe grabbed him.

"No, Beebee-Ate! Don't attack the kid!" he shouted, gritting his teeth. Poe hadn't been aware of how strong the droid was.

"I'm sorry!" Galen's voice shouted from behind the column. "I didn't know she was going to disable you!"

After another series of rude whistles – seriously, where did he get this language from? – BB-8 finally quieted down and began to observe their surroundings.

Poe sighed, rubbing his throbbing temples. The alarm, though not shrill, was not helping. If anything, it was adding to the stress that had been piling on top of him since he landed on Kafrene. He didn't know what the alarm meant, but he was certain he wouldn't be leaving on his ship anytime soon.

"She didn't mean to."

Blinking, Poe looked up. Galen was leaning out from behind the column.

"What?"

"Demo. She didn't mean to leave the First Order. Before we landed here, she told me she was going to turn herself in."

Standing, Poe made his way over to Galen. The boy still watched the droid warily, but made his way fully out from behind cover.

"We? You came here with her?"

Galen shrugged. "I was her mission."

Poe didn't know what to say. There were too many questions circling in his mind. But he could feel a chill crawling up his spine at the thought of the First Order needing to take children.

The door opened and Demo marched back inside. "Galen, we need to go."

BB-8 whistled and charged toward her, but when she raised her blaster pistol, the droid quickly changed his tune.

"Now."

"What's happening?" Poe asked.

She leveled a glare on him. "Exactly what I was trying to avoid. The First Order has shut down the docks. We're trapped."

. . .

The people who lived on the station had flooded the streets, fleeing the area as First Order soldiers began to enter. Demo had wondered if they would attempt in incursion of a larger scale, given their muted presence in the galaxy, but Kafrene had been determined not important enough to worry about appearances. It was why she chose it, after all. What she thought had been a favorable quality was starting to work against her.

Even the narrow alleyways were packed with citizens desperate to get to another part of the station, not wanting to be collateral in whatever fight was coming. The First Order did have a reputation of leaving bodies in its wake. Demo had taken to simply forcing her way through at blaster point. There was no reason to be subtle now.

Galen, for once, did not object, though his grip on her hand tightened every time.

"Where are we going?" she heard the pilot call out from behind her. Of course, he had tagged along.

She should have just shot him again.

"We aren't going anywhere," Demo replied, shoving a miner out of the way as they entered a maintenance corridor. It was quieter, with fewer residents willing to risk losing themselves among the winding steam pipes. "You can deal with the First Order your way. Go get captured or killed. It'll be a good distraction."

"Like it or not, you and I are both on the same side right now. Neither of us wants to deal with the First Order, and we can do that better together than alone."

Demo bit her tongue, continuing to navigate the narrowing corridor. She did not want to admit it, but the pilot had a point. These weren't overconfident gangsters. If she got into a confrontation with First Order stormtroopers, her chances were drastically different. Though the average trooper did not possess the training she did, they made up for it with numbers and blaster power, and her lack of knowledge about the station's layout gave them a chance at cornering her with no escape.

Having additional help would ease that burden.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"I'll take your silence as reluctant agreement," the pilot continued. "Can I have my blaster back?"

She sighed, stopping in place. Releasing Galen's hand, Demo reached for his blaster, quickly fumbling with it to enable the firing mechanism, before offering it to the pilot. But when he reached to grab it, she quickly pulled it back.

"You walk in front of me."

He looked between her and the blaster, and nodded. "Alright."

"Can I have a blaster now?" Galen asked.

"No," Demo and the pilot replied in unison.

They continued through the station, finding themselves in a similar position, only this time he listened to her commands. The alleys had gotten quieter the further into the station they walked. Demo suspected they may have entered an area most citizens avoided.

"So, where are we going?" he asked again.

"The deep interior," Demo replied, watching their surroundings closely. They had slowed down significantly. "Control of the station is split between a handful of gangs. The further from the ports, the more their sectors overlap."

"Okay, so besides getting ourselves killed by gangsters instead of stormtroopers, how does that help us?"

"Nothing unites individuals like an invading force. The First Order will be hard-pressed to make it further than the civilian sectors," she said, glancing down an empty corridor. "And they won't be able to maintain a presence without severe casualties. If we lay low long enough, they'll be forced to move on."

"How do you know that?" he asked, chancing a glance back at her.

"Is asking useless questions the only thing you can do, Pilot?"

He was silent after that. What was the phrase he had used? Reluctant agreement?

They continued, slowly making their way through Kafrene. The large, civilian buildings began to disappear, leaving them amongst windowless, crude mining warehouses that stored equipment and materials. In between these facilities, were wide spaces where enormous laser drills sat, unused, before large craters carved into the asteroid's surface.

There was a buzz, however, in the distance, growing the further they went. The sounds of people and panic, and above it the shouts of those giving orders.

They exited the corridor at an overlook, with stairs that would bring them to the mining floor. Below them, hundreds had gathered, shuffling into various buildings, some even being led into elevators taking them into the mines below. All of it was being orchestrated by heavily armed gangsters who shouted orders and waved their blasters haphazardly.

"Someone's taking advantage of the panic," the pilot mused, watching the scene unfold with a grimace. Demo watched a woman relinquish her jewelry.

"Someone always does," Galen said quietly.

Demo glanced down at him before sharing a look with the pilot.

The astromech whistled beside him.

"Exactly," he said, leaning on the railing. "We can't get corralled into one of these places. We won't be coming back out."

"Agreed," Demo replied, searching the area. "We need to find smaller buildings, an onsite office that won't be useful to them."

"Or we stick to the alleyways. Keep on the move."

Both had their advantages and disadvantages, yet neither sat well with her.

As they sat there, watching the fray, debating their choices, Demo felt a chill run down her spine. Something wasn't right.

"Get into the crowd."

The pilot looked at her. "What?"

"Do it now. Galen, go with him."

The boy, now well acquainted with her tone, grabbed the pilot's hand immediately and pulled him down the stairs.

She waited until they disappeared before turning around, raising her blaster pistol in time to see Gunner walk around the corner into the alley they had just left.

He'd found her.

.

.

.

Cookies to anyone who gets the name drop. No, not that one. The other one.

The journey begins! And boy, is it going to be a crazy one. Until next time! May the Force be with you!