"Uh… fine." Amir couldn't be bothered to ask again. "So it's just the three of us?"
"Of course. Fewer people is better," Seneir said. "And with you—and your half-cyborg friend—you can guarantee my safety. No need to bring anyone else."
Seneir had a lot of confidence in Amir.
Back on Coruscant, when Amir was still a teenager, he would occasionally help Seneir with odd jobs to earn pocket money. Even then, Amir had been fascinated with blasters and had used his own credits to have Sane get him a compact pistol. Not long after, Seneir got to witness Amir's shooting firsthand.
And at that time, Amir had already begun to brush against the Force—always able to do things ordinary people couldn't. Little by little, that familiarity grew, until he and Seneir became close.
Back then, Seneir was basically a middleman—collecting intel, posting jobs. Looking back, Amir and the other kids had, one way or another, benefited from his care. At minimum, the jobs Seneir gave them were low-risk and high-pay.
Soon they reached the Traveler. Seneir spun around excitedly, looking everywhere. "Most of it's the same as before, heh. After I got it, I only flew it once—just to park it in the berth I rented. Hey, why did you install a furnace on the ship? Aren't you worried about an accident?"
He stared at the huge furnace in the empty compartment, genuinely shocked.
"I added safety limiters. It won't be a problem," Amir said, calmly watching him roam around the lounge.
"What's this—jetpack? Doesn't look like one." Seneir wandered into the workshop and spotted Amir's smart combat backpack.
"Oh, this is good stuff," Amir said. "I built it myself. It can automatically assist your attacks—high accuracy—and it also has a stun-discharge and ignition function. Perfect for someone like you… a special case."
He had almost said "old coin-hoarder," but couldn't find the right word fast enough.
"Really?" Seneir's eyes lit up. "Heh. I'm not much of a fighter—something like this would actually help. If it works, I need one."
Seneir strapped the pack onto his back.
"There are buttons on the straps to turn it on and off," Amir explained. "The weapons auto-acquire targets. When you attack, they'll coordinate and engage similar targets. You can also set it to indiscriminate mode—just make sure there aren't any friendlies nearby."
Amir was genuinely pleased with the invention and couldn't help pitching it.
Under Amir's guidance, Seneir powered it up. Three mechanical arms snapped out and adjusted slightly with the direction of Seneir's arm.
"Looks solid," Seneir said. "Heh. How much? I want one."
Amir hadn't really thought about selling them—he mostly built them for fun. But since Seneir asked, he did a quick on-the-spot estimate.
Most of the parts weren't expensive. The key value was Amir's own intelligent control system. Everything else was just common components—hundreds of credits could buy a pile.
"Just take it," Amir said. "It's not worth much. Consider it a gift."
The Traveler alone had already paid him back enough.
"No, no, I'm paying," Seneir insisted, pulling out 5,000 credits. "A thing like this is usually rare even if you have money."
Amir didn't argue and accepted it. Five thousand was a lot—enough for an ordinary family to live comfortably for a year.
"You're still the same," Seneir said. "Never stingy when it comes to credits."
"Heh. Maybe because you always paid fair," Amir said, heading toward the cockpit. "Alright. Where are we going?"
"Heh. No rush. The fight doesn't start until tomorrow. We'll go there first and wait," Seneir said, marking a coordinate on the star chart.
"What place is that?" Amir frowned. The map didn't display a name—just a clean, unmarked world.
"Oba Diah. You've heard of it," Seneir said with a smile.
"Oba Diah?" Amir's expression shifted. "You're not taking us to the Pyke Syndicate's administrative hub, are you?"
He remembered now.
This planet was essentially a Pyke stronghold. The infamous smuggling syndicate used profits from spice and other contraband to build imposing facilities here and live in extreme luxury and indulgence.
And as an administrative center, Oba Diah functioned as the hub of the entire Pyke Syndicate. Every day, countless packets of data flowed in and out. Whether business or conflict, major decisions were discussed and finalized here. Valuable intel from anywhere in the galaxy would pass through this place and be reviewed by the Pyke leadership.
"If we don't come here, how do we get anything useful?" Seneir said.
"It won't work," Amir said, concerned. "A single base getting hit isn't enough to make the Pykes pull forces from Oba Diah."
Even if most of the people stationed here were soft and spoiled, the top tier still existed here. They held the Syndicate's highest authority, and the security protecting them would naturally be formidable.
"But if they learn about it in advance, they'll mobilize," Seneir said, calm and confident. "And the spice base you found is the closest one to Oba Diah."
"You're still underestimating how important a spice base is," Seneir continued. "It's not 'just' a base. By Pyke custom, major spice bases are usually located at the source—at production sites. Those sites are their crown jewels, kept hidden at all costs to keep other powers from finding them."
"Because once the location is exposed, you get endless harassment. Every shipment attracts thieves. That makes the base's position extremely awkward. What we do is make them realize: the base has now entered that awkward situation."
"And to preserve the Syndicate's authority, there's only one thing they can do—rush in as fast as possible and hit hard. They have to show force, make everyone understand they are not to be trifled with, and stop people from getting ideas."
"Even if the base can't be saved, anyone thinking of robbing them again will have to think long and hard about the consequences."
Amir nodded. If the Pykes "accepted" the loss and did nothing, everyone would start thinking they were weak. Rivals would push harder, thieves would swarm, and the Syndicate's status would erode fast.
So even if the loss was inevitable, they still had to respond—and respond more brutally than usual—warning everyone who coveted their money and restoring a reputation for lethal retaliation.
"Can we even enter that planet?" Amir asked. "What if we land and get arrested immediately?"
He'd heard of Oba Diah, but only in passing. He didn't know the details.
"Of course you can enter," Seneir said. "Not only Pykes live there."
"What else?"
Seneir rubbed his hands together and grinned.
"Heh. Pyke slaves…"
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STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST
🌌⚔️ STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST ⚔️🌌
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📢 THE FORCE CALLS AGAIN! 📢
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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.
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