"Heh. Since you truly don't plan to sell it, I've got an idea," Seneir said, as if a fun thought had just occurred to him. He couldn't stop smiling.
"Want to go big?" he asked.
Amir looked at the squid-head with interest. "Let's hear it."
"Come on. Go back, grab your precious treasure, and we'll deliver the Pykes a grand gift," Seneir said, excitement rising in his voice.
They returned to the ship and went over the plan again. By the time night fell, they were basically ready.
That night—Oba Diah might have been turned into a filthy mess by the Pykes, but they did know how to indulge.
In a fairly large restaurant, Amir and Seneir ate with gusto.
Looking around, nearly seventy percent of the nearby patrons were Pykes. Most of them held strange devices, and every so often they'd lean in, eyes half-lidded, and draw a few blissful pulls.
Their bodies were gaunt, their faces pale and dried out, their eye sockets dark. For a moment, Amir couldn't tell whether that was just their genetics—or the result of inhaling too much spice.
He was curious, but he didn't pry. On someone else's turf, staying low-profile was smarter.
Aside from the Pykes, Amir could see plenty of smugglers gathered here too. Some of them, he'd even seen on bounty listings—yeah, right around his own.
After eating, on the way back, Seneir and Amir split up for a while. Both wandered around the port area for a long time before returning to the Traveler.
They didn't rest long. At dawn, Amir and Seneir left the ship. No. 32 and BD-4 stayed behind.
Amir carried a briefcase. Seneir wore the smart combat backpack, which looked… oddly mismatched on him.
With clear purpose, they headed toward the core of the complex—the Pyke administrative center.
There were many people going in and out, mostly there for shady deals. Goods, intel—anything could be moved here with relative safety, as long as it had value.
Inside the building, the smell was stronger. With every breath, Amir felt his mind sharpen and stir, as if he'd been injected with restlessness.
"Heh. You smell it, right?" Seneir said. "Their home is soaked in spice smoke. Tsk. Luxury."
The dim interior was full of armed Pyke soldiers. They maintained order, and they watched everyone who entered and left.
Troublemakers were rare—but people who came just to mooch a hit were plentiful. One after another, soldiers caught them and tossed them out.
"We're here to sell something," Amir said as they reached a reception desk.
Behind it sat a Pyke sunk deep into a sofa. At his side was something like an incense burner. Every so often he'd reach over, shake it, and thick smoke would drift out. Then he'd close his eyes and breathe it in slowly, savoring.
"What are you selling?" the Pyke asked without moving, still lounging.
"Lommni spice," Seneir said.
At the name, the Pyke's eyes widened. He sat up.
"You have Lommni spice?" he asked.
Seneir, right on cue, pulled out a small bottle from inside his clothes. Inside was only a thin layer of golden powder.
This bottle was the one they'd seen yesterday—carried by that Duros. Last night, Amir and Seneir had tracked him down along with other peddlers of fake product, and they'd acquired plenty of "goods" from them at a "low price."
Seeing the bottle, the Pyke straightened and extended his hand.
Seneir handed it over.
But what was inside now wasn't the fake powder.
It was real Lommni spice—taken directly from Amir's crate.
The Pyke shook it a few times, popped the seal, and took a deep smell. His expression changed completely.
He became feverish, eyes shining with excitement, like he'd been handed a sacred relic.
Seneir casually pried the bottle back out of his hand.
The Pyke's gaze shifted from Seneir's fingers to the case in Amir's hand.
"That entire case is Lommni spice?" he asked.
Amir set the case on the desk and cracked it open just enough for a sliver of golden light to spill out—then snapped it shut again.
The Pyke's face lit with wild joy. He stood up, abandoning his "incense burner" without a second thought, tossing it back onto the sofa.
"Come with me. My superior will love this. We'll buy your goods!" he said, then led them deeper.
Amir and Seneir exchanged a look and smiled, following him.
Past the reception area, they passed a massive blast door, walked through a tunnel of stone and alloy, and entered a large hall.
There, the Pyke who was escorting them verified his identity at a terminal and guided them into the truly restricted inner sections.
Both Amir and Seneir perked up. If they'd tried to force their way in or sneak in, reaching this depth would have been anything but easy.
"Your goods are extremely valuable," the Pyke said as he walked. "And we will greet you with the highest sincerity."
He led them into a conference chamber.
Normally, only the most important clients were allowed to negotiate inside. Yet now the path had been opened for just the two of them.
After a short wait, a lavishly dressed Pyke entered.
"Stefan Gillman. A pleasure to meet you," he said, sitting opposite them. Two soldiers stood behind him like bodyguards.
"Straight to business," Amir said, setting the case on the table. "We have Lommni spice to sell. How much can you pay?"
The table was huge. Stefan tried to reach for the case but couldn't quite reach it.
Amir opened the lid a sliver again, revealing the golden powder, while Seneir handed him the small bottle.
Stefan opened it and inhaled as well, then looked toward the receptionist who had brought them. The receptionist nodded.
"Lommni spice is extremely valuable," Stefan said. "We're willing to offer two hundred thousand credits."
Seneir slammed his forearm onto the table, acting annoyed. "So the Pykes have no sincerity. You're trying to cheat us? Two million credits. Minimum."
Amir clicked his tongue inwardly. Seneir was going for a brutal opening number.
The crate was indeed worth far more than two hundred thousand, but at most it was around a million credits in real buying power. Credits went a long way. On Coruscant, an ordinary vendor might only make a bit over a thousand credits per year. Ten thousand was already a fortune.
"That's impossible," Stefan said, seeing they'd come prepared. "I can raise it to seven hundred fifty thousand, and that's my limit. More than that, and we walk away from this deal."
Amir pulled the case back into his arms. Seneir waved his hand and made a show of standing up to leave.
"One million!" Stefan blurted, suddenly anxious. "If you can't accept it, then we'll have to escort you out."
"One point two million," Seneir said with a smile.
"Regrettably," Stefan said, unmoved this time.
"Fine. Pleasure doing business," Seneir said, no longer pressing. Amir set the case down on the table.
"First, I need to inspect the goods," Stefan said.
-
-
-
-
-
STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST
🌌⚔️ STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST ⚔️🌌
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
📢 THE FORCE CALLS AGAIN! 📢
Star Wars: Relics of the Past has 100+ chapters ahead available on Patreon! 🌠🛰️
Ancient secrets, forgotten relics, Jedi echoes, and buried truths wait in the shadows of the galaxy.
✨ Some things were lost for a reason.⚔️ Some powers should never be awakened.🌌 And some stories begin long after history tried to erase them.
Follow the trail of ancient relics before the rest of the galaxy catches up.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
🛑 ALSO AVAILABLE ON PATREON:
🌃 Cyberpunk: Dogtown Legend🔥 Cyberpunk: The Relentless👩👦 Cyberpunk: Lucy Adopted Me and I Got a System🧠 My Cyberpunk 2077 Simulator🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?🛡️ Star Wars: The Rise of Mandalore🏰 Game of Thrones: Secrets Beneath the Dreadfort⚡ The Rebirth of Harry Potter🌹 R18: Reincarnated in Her World
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
🔗 Patreon: www.patreon.com/c/MrMagnus👤 Patreon Name: SrMagnus🐦 X / Twitter: https://x.com/SrMagnusBook
⚠️ Let the Power Stones guide future updates!