Amir pushed the briefcase forward across the table. Stefan stared at Amir's hands, then quickly pulled the case to his chest, eager to open it.
The instant he finished unlocking it, the already-dim lights in the room began to flicker—then abruptly went out.
The Pykes all panicked. The lights had been fine—why would they suddenly die? Don't tell him the whole place lost power?
Stefan was the most furious of all. He was one second away from finally verifying the Lommni spice—why did it have to go dark now?!
"Looks like your infrastructure isn't quite up to standard," Amir said, smiling.
In the darkness, Amir extended a hand. The credit storage cards on the far end of the table silently flew into his palm.
Stefan's mind flashed back to Amir's earlier "thank you."
Why did he say thank you?
Like waking from a nightmare, Stefan shot his right hand forward and pawed at the tabletop in front of him—where he'd just placed the purchasing funds.
He felt every corner, every edge.
Nothing.
Gone. All of it—gone!!
"Grab them!" Stefan finally understood. The whole thing had been a con.
Before Stefan even finished shouting, Amir was already out of his seat. In a pitch-black room, the darkness itself became the best cover for him and Seneir.
Stefan panicked now—but he wasn't afraid.
Before bringing them into this conference chamber, he'd arranged dozens of heavily armed men in ambush outside the hall. The moment he gave the order, they should have flooded in.
Because this "deal" had always been a Pyke trap.
Once they learned only two people had come to trade, the Pykes never planned to pay. The plan was to lure them inside the base, confirm the goods were real, then probe for the source.
If they could extract the spice origin, the two sellers would be useless afterward—dispose of them. If they refused to talk, then the Pyke cells had plenty of time to "help them reflect."
What Stefan never imagined was that he'd become the one being played first.
Two people—two—daring to make a move inside Pyke territory.
But the outcome still wasn't decided. Hunter or prey—hard to say.
Suddenly, a green blade ignited beside Stefan with a sharp hum.
A graceful arc—then two Pyke screams, immediate and ugly.
Stefan shouted again.
Where were his reinforcements?!
Only then did he realize: it had been this long, and the ambush force still hadn't come in. They should have been here already.
And then—cold metal touched the back of his head.
Stefan slowly raised both hands. He knew the feeling of a blaster barrel.
"What—what are you doing?!" Stefan screamed, voice cracking. "This is our base! You can't get out after this!"
The person behind him ignored him, calmly patting and searching his clothes until they found a card in his jacket pocket.
"The Pykes won't let you—!"
A brutal удар struck the back of his neck. Stefan's eyes rolled white, and he collapsed unconscious.
On the other side of the room, the green blade flashed again—clean, efficient. The remaining Pykes were harvested.
Then the lights came back on.
"Remarkable ability," Seneir said with a grin, holding Stefan's authorization card. "I've seen plenty of Jedi. None like you."
"I'm improvising as I go," Amir said, re-hooking his lightsaber to his belt. There were only four Pyke soldiers in this room. He'd already handled them. Against criminals like these, Amir didn't hold back.
This whole infiltration plan—using Lommni spice as bait—was something the two of them had built together.
Yesterday, they'd deliberately tracked down every fake-spice seller in the port, swept up all their stock at low prices, and filled the case. The fakes were too easy to expose, so they used a small bottle with a tiny amount of real Lommni spice to pass inspection.
That was the hook.
Whether the Pykes intended to trade or rob, they would lead them somewhere more "convenient"—and that place would always be deeper inside the base, where everything was under Pyke control.
Once inside, the plan was already half complete.
The rest was Amir's work.
At the Imperial lab raid, Amir's success controlling the elevator had opened a door in his mind.
The moment they entered this conference chamber, he began sensing the surrounding infrastructure—electronic components, wiring, the lighting system, the door controls.
For Amir, it wasn't difficult.
With the lights off, he could disappear and remove armed threats first, while Seneir closed in on Stefan to secure the authorization card.
So far, it had gone perfectly—better than expected, in fact.
Amir tossed two of the credit cards from his pocket to Seneir. Each one held 200,000 credits—enough to drive anyone mad.
Seneir stared at the cards, then at Amir. This wasn't pocket change. Even if Amir kept it all, Seneir wouldn't have complained. Seneir had asked Amir for help—this operation relied almost entirely on Amir's skills, resources, and execution. Seneir had mostly contributed the idea.
"Take them," Amir said, seeing what Seneir was thinking. "Don't overthink it. Without you bringing me here, I'd never see this money."
Seneir nodded. This was real wealth. Even he couldn't refuse it—credits mattered to everyone, and he needed them right now.
"I owe you a favor," Seneir said—rarely serious, and with none of his usual smug grin.
"Don't worry about it," Amir said, smiling. "Just remember to call me next time there's something good."
He was excited too.
These credit cards stored funds as electronic currency. You could withdraw anywhere, or swipe them for purchases—but mostly in developed Core Worlds. In large portions of the Mid Rim and Outer Rim, the system still wasn't widespread.
On Tatooine, you could pull one of these out and still fail to buy a meal. Half the locals didn't even like credits—they preferred precious-metal coinage.
"So what now?" Seneir asked, eyeing the sealed chamber.
"We push straight through," Amir said, grabbing the case—now filled with counterfeit spice—and walking to the main blast door.
He was still keeping the door unpowered. Anyone outside who wanted in would have to cut their way through.
Unfortunately for them, they didn't have the right tools.
Seneir took position beside the doorway, leaned to one side, and pressed the activation button on his smart combat backpack.
The top arm extended. The blaster barrel tracked forward, steady and watchful.
Seneir wasn't firing yet, so the pack stayed silent.
Amir held the case in one hand and felt the wiring through the wall.
Somewhere inside the wall—a place no one would ever look—the broken circuit suddenly reconnected.
On the other side, a dozen armed Pykes stared as the alloy blast door—previously dead and immovable—suddenly opened.
They were already itching to charge. A long time had passed since they'd received the boss's signal. What was happening inside?
If nothing was wrong, fine.
If something had gone wrong, they were finished—because getting thrown in a cell for incompetence meant saying goodbye to spice for a long, long time.
Just as they lunged forward…
A case flew straight at their heads.
And in the doorway stood a robed figure, his right hand pushing forward—slow, controlled, absolute.
What—?
Their attention snapped to the incoming case. The latch wasn't fully closed, and as it flew, golden powder spilled out.
But something warped the flow.
The powder, the case, the air itself—like a storm wind had struck. The gold dust became a roaring golden torrent, blasting forward.
It coated their bodies.
And with their breathing, it slid into noses, throats, lungs.
For Pykes, this wasn't just inhalation.
It was a straight-line strike to the soul.
They coughed violently. Then everything spun.
Their vision doubled, split, smeared—replaced by impossible scenes. Beautiful, unreal, overwhelming sensations hammered their nervous systems.
In a heartbeat, every Pyke lost control of their body. They slumped against walls and collapsed to the floor, vacant eyes unfocused, their minds cast off to some other plane entirely.
At the same time, Seneir squeezed his trigger.
His blaster and the backpack fired together—dense intersecting lines of red bolts that blanketed the corridor.
Golden spice haze braided with crimson blaster fire, creating a scene that was bizarrely enchanting—
And drenched in blood.
With no ability to resist, those Pykes were nothing more than live targets. In two seconds, more than ten of them fell under blaster fire.
"Heh," Seneir chuckled, accepting a filter mask Amir handed him. "That's a strong hit. I doubt there are many beings in the whole galaxy who've ever inhaled an entire crate at once. You lot… died feeling real good."
They stepped over the bodies, cut through the golden haze, and vanished from the scene at a sprint.
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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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