A ship eases across the vast backdrop of space. It's a big bulky thing made to move huge cargo; it's old, battered from travels and worn with grease and filth. It's sluggish trail through space shows a telling confidence; huge canons shoulder the vessel, with row upon row of smaller blasters ready for trouble, the weapons whir and twitch, the gunman inside sat in the darkness ready and waiting to pull down hard on the trigger. This is a smuggler's ship disguised as a spice vessel; a cheap façade, but enough to make those who don't want trouble to turn a blind eye. The smugglers are plenty; sitting around on the top deck playing cards, drinking, playing a game or two of Dejarik. It's not just work. It's a way of life, if you've got the stomach for it. Feeding time; the smuggler's take their scraps, and some of the rations, and take it down to the bottom level of the ship. There lies cage upon cage of captured civilians from across the galaxy, different languages, different homeworlds; last week Deek, one of the less intelligent smugglers, was careless when feeding the wookies. It only took a second, a minor lapse in concentration, then, snap, the wookie pulled his left arm out of his socket, broke the arm in two places, bit a chunk from his shoulder for good measure. That wookie got blasted; the rest settled down. Deek had the arm removed, preferring to use the artificial one created for him in the med bay instead of waiting it out in the bacta tank. With his robotic arm he tossed scraps of food into the cages. The captives were so hungry by this point all pretense had been forgotten. They scrambled for food, slapping it into their mouths; all different creatures of the galaxy trying to survive. There wasn't enough food for all of them. It was common to lose twenty-five percent of the cargo on the way; jumping to light speed was dangerous; if you're caught in range of a tractor beam there's no telling what trouble you could get to. These smugglers played it safe; preferring the journey to take months instead of weeks.

Isa, a young man from an insignificant outer rim world, sat at the back of the human cage whilst the others scrambled for food. He wasn't going to lower himself to that. He hadn't had more than a mouthful to eat in a week. His body was thin with hunger; the leather coat he wore hung from his frame. The others in the cage had long since discounted him; believing him to be dumb in the head; he certainly had a peculiar look in his eye. When Deek passed Isa lifted his head and watched Deek throw the food into another cage. This one filled with Jawas; a human had placed with them, there was something about this human that interested Isa, he couldn't put a finger on it.