Young Padawan Mia Ayden finds herself on Nar Shaddaa, a polluted planet ripe with sin and crime. Sent on the first solo task of her long journey to Jedi knighthood, Mia has the misfortune of crossing paths with a Sith Lord who is eager to "enlighten" her.
A thick smog suffocated the city of Larin, and its towering skyline struggled to rise up through the fogged clouds. The various towers' radiant lights shone only dimly through the haze. Just as all of the planet of Nar Shaddaa choked in that smog so too did it choke in crime, corruption, greed and gluttony. The Larin city-sector was perhaps the seediest Nar Shaddaa had to offer—shattering glass and runaway blaster fire dotted the city-sector's underlying mechanical whirs and hums. No sector was as welcoming to the galaxy's absolute worst.
In the Larin sector, standing in a quiet alcove beneath a thick, partially-torn tarp was Mia Ayden, a young Padawan on the cusp of twenty. The young woman stood at just over five-and-a-half feet, clad in a tan cloak and modest beige vestments beneath it that clung loosely to her perky chest and slender form. Mia sported a full head of intense, reddish-brown hair tied up in neat tails that each hung down just past the nape of her neck. Her thin lips were only a few shades darker than the fair, light complexion of her flesh, and her vibrant emerald-green eyes never left any confusion as to her wishes or feelings. The thin, silver-plated hilt of a lightsaber rested calmly at her hip. Mia gazed off the near balcony off at the distant city proper, unable to make out much of it through the grayish smog.
"I hate this planet," She grumbled, thankful her Master was not present to quickly criticize her for her contempt.
Mia tapped her foot impatiently, clutching a circular device in her hand as she awaited any word on her task. Six nights ago the Republic had lost a light cruiser in Hutt Space, just a short ways out from Nar Shaddaa. Attributing the loss of the ship to a failure of its life support system, the Republic arrived later to discover the ship empty, ransacked and looted. That cruiser had been transporting a datadisc, which held on it what Mia could only presume was incredibly sensitive information. Of course, the Republic had declined to disclose what exactly the datadisc held to Mia or her Master. Mia scoffed at the thought—though the Republic loved to keep the Jedi in the dark, Mia knew the Republic to surely be lost without them.
Moments later, the holocommunicator in Mia's grasp began to pulse and shake. She quickly opened her hand, holding the device on the flat of her palm, and a bright blue light sprung out from its projector. In that blue light spawned the flickering image of Mia's mentor, Jedi Master Nif Kenn. A Twi'lek, Nif's bald head sported thick, hairless brows as well as two long lekku, headtails that protruded from the back of his head and draped far down his shoulders. Nif was known to be one of the more soft-spoken and serene of all the Jedi. No doubt it was why he had been chosen to take Mia—a troubled orphan—under his wing. Though Mia would likely deny it, she had indeed grown fond of the man and his guidance.
"Master," Mia greeted him.
Nif smiled at his protégé and bowed to her. "Padawan. Republic Intelligence has finished tracing the disc. It's in the Zena District, a hub for scrap traders on Larin's lower-west wing, beneath the surface."
Mia nodded. "And if the datadisc's new owner refuses to return it?" She asked, one eyebrow cocked.
"Then convince him—
gently,
" Nif quickly added, his bright image making a sharp gesture with his hand.
"Understood," Mia said, standing tall with confidence.
"Do not be afraid," Nif assured her, his voice gentle and soothing. "We knew this part of your journey was to come. Every child must find its feet, every bird its wings. Find your wings, Mia."
"I'm a Jedi, Master Kenn. I do not fear," Mia bolstered, her chin high and shoulders straight. And she spoke the truth—she felt no fear towards what, if anything, was to come this fateful night. Rather, Mia was utterly confident, perhaps overly so, as her Master knew she was prone to be.
"You are not a Jedi yet, Mia," Master Kenn gently corrected her.
"
Yes,"
Mia sighed—her Master loved to remind her of that.
"And Mia—if you by chance become endangered or your life threatened, please, do not hesitate to flee," Nif warned her, taking on a sudden grave tone. "Know your limits. Be wise.
Be calm
."
Again Mia nodded. "I understand, Master."
"Good," Nif beamed Mia another wide smile, pleased by his Padawan's sureness, and gave her a curt nod. "Then go."
Nif's holo-image collapsed into the communicator, and Mia promptly slipped the device into its hook along her waistband.
The trip to the Zena District was a brief one, and Mia moved briskly. She drew the curious eyes of various species of onlookers as she traveled, but that was per the usual. The gangsters and outlaws that called Nar Shaddaa their home knew a Jedi when they saw them, and were wise enough to steer far clear of them. That was just as well—Mia wanted nothing to do with that lot. Mia knew them to be more likely to grope her than to show her the respect and awe she rightfully deserved.
Mia descended a steep flight of stairs, her tan robes wisping gracefully behind her. As she rounded the first bend towards the Zena District it became apparent to her that, strangely, there was no longer a soul in sight. An utterly empty district within a city was an odd occurrence to be sure, and Mia had never seen anything like it, least of all on Nar Shaddaa.
Mia rounded the final bend to the Zena District, a cavernous, high-ceilinged cove beneath the greater Larin area. It looked much like any other marketplace Mia had visited, with various stalls and stores, many of which boasted bright, extravagant neon signs. But already Mia knew something to be wrong. Like the walkway leading to it, the marketplace was devoid of any sign of life. It was near-silent, with little sound beyond the standard ambience of Nar Shaddaa's humming. An unnatural cold nipped at Mia's ears and drew a single shiver from her.
"
Hello?
" She shouted.
Naturally, Mia's wandering eyes were drawn to the largest, most colorful sign in the district—
JUNK, SCRAP & SCAVENGE
—affixed diagonally above an open door in the southeast corner. Her hand resting cautiously on the hilt of her lightsaber, Mia carefully stepped through the entryway and into the shop.
Inside the dimly-lit store, Mia could see that, sure enough, its walls were lined with shelves full of all manner of junk and scrap. Half-crushed droid bits, malfunctioning blaster parts, and nondescript mechanical innards that Mia herself didn't recognize. In the corner closest to Mia was a kiosk-like counter, and in the corner farthest from her stood a de-activated protocol droid, its left forearm having fallen from its elbow socket onto the floor below it. Mia approached the droid cautiously, eyeing its wiry, stripped-down frame. She gently rapped her fist against its metallic skull.
"Don't suppose you know what happened," She quipped dryly.
Mia looked to the droid's arm on the floor, mystified by it. For a fairly tidy shop, it puzzled her to no end as to why this droid's arm would be left lying about, as opposed to being placed atop the store's many shelves. Mia's eyes drifted from the arm to the wall behind the droid, and there she finally saw it: a faded black mark, a blemish splotched against the sterile aluminum of the wall. Mia furrowed her brow as she took a finger and traced it along the cool metal of the droid's upper arm, down to the still-warm stump at its end. Suddenly, it became clear to her.
Blaster fire.
A revolting aura suddenly broke over Mia, a sense of utter dread and disgust that threatened to turn her stomach. Mia took a deep, calming breath before she spun round. In the entryway not twenty feet before her stood a towering man, tall and muscular but lithe, garbed in a midnight-black cloak and hood that cast his face in darkness. At his hip sat a thick-hilted lightsaber.
