Chapter 75: A Trader’s Instinct

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all of it's Intellectual Properties is owned by George Lucas and Walt Disney, This fictional work and all of it's original characters are however mine.

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Kado's P.O.V. :

With our plans settled, we all stood in the docking bay, the hum of the Stellar Envoy’s engines filling the space as Tarek and Nick-03 ran the final flight checks. Rina, Jake, Arlos and Davik were staying behind on the station, which meant we’d have a functioning crew maintaining operations while the rest of us went to Ryloth. I gave one last glance at Jake, making sure he understood the unspoken warning in my look—don’t get yourself killed tinkering with those security droids.

“We’re not gonna be gone that long,” I said, crossing my arms. “I expect to come back to a station still in one piece.”

Jake let out an exaggerated sigh, waving me off. “C’mon, Kado. Have a little faith. It’s not like I’m gonna accidentally trigger another droid riot.”

Mira scoffed. “You better not. We just got this place under control.”

Shmi, ever the mother hen, chimed in with a gentle but firm tone. “Just promise you’ll be careful, Jake. No more untested programs without oversight.”

“Fine, fine,” Jake grumbled, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll have Davik and Rina look over everything before I push any updates.”

Davik smirked, giving Jake a hearty clap on the back. “And if you don’t, I’ll make sure your next ‘timeout’ lasts a little longer.”

Jake shot him a dry look but didn’t argue.

Satisfied, I turned my attention back to the ship. “Alright, Tarek just called in—flight checks are good, and we’re ready to go.”

Anakin, bouncing on his heels with excitement, looked up at his mother. “Can I sit in the cockpit again?”

Shmi chuckled, smoothing a hand over his hair. “So long as you listen to Tarek and don’t touch anything.”

He nodded eagerly, already running ahead to claim his spot.

With that, we boarded the Stellar Envoy. As we secured ourselves for takeoff, I turned back to Jake and Davik, who were lingering at the bottom of the ramp. “While we’re gone, I want you two to scout for any ships in the docking bays we can salvage or repair. We might be able to restore something functional enough to either sell or keep. Your call.”

Davik gave a sharp nod. “Already on it. We’ll sort through the mess and see if anything’s worth the effort.”

Jake grinned. “If we find something fun, maybe I’ll even modify it into something useful.”

I shook my head but didn’t press the issue. “Just don’t go overboard.”

With that, the boarding ramp lifted, and we secured ourselves inside. As soon as we were set, Tarek pulled us away from the station, the massive structure shrinking behind us as we slipped into the void.

Our first stop on Ryloth would be to offload our excess antique gear and trinkets. We’d already sorted through everything and marked what was actually valuable versus what was just taking up space. Once that was done, we had a supply run to take care of—Mira had a long list of mess hall provisions, and I needed to track down some specialized components for Jake’s latest round of upgrades. One item on my list was a modern jetpack, something up-to-date that he could use to cross-reference his jetpack prototypes on the Nick droids.

After that, we have plans on to spend time gathering news. I expected that would take at least a week, but no more than two.

I glanced over at Mira, who was already scrolling through her datapad. “Got a plan for the market?”

She gave me a side glance. “I know where we can get a good deal, but it depends on how fast we want to sell.”

“Fast, but not desperate.”

“Then I know the right places to start.”

Shmi, sitting across from us, spoke up. “And what about Gardulla?”

I let out a slow breath. “That’s part of the reason we’re gathering intel. If the mercenaries are still out hunting anyone tied to the relic, we need to know. And trying to learn if Gardulla has more of those data chips…” I trailed off, glancing at Mira. “Well, we’ll find out.”

Mira nodded, setting her datapad down. “Then we better be really careful who we ask.”

I leaned back in my seat as the ship slipped into hyperspace. Ryloth was waiting, and we had work to do.

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Tarek’s voice crackled over the comms, his tone as steady as ever. “Ryloth traffic control has designated us the same landing pad as before. Buckle up, initiating landing protocols.”

I exhaled through my nose and double-checked the harness securing me to my seat. No matter how many times I’d done this, re-entry still got under my skin. It wasn’t fear exactly—more like the jitters that came before a firefight, that little tension in the gut reminding you that things could go sideways real fast.

The moment we hit atmo, the shaking began, turbulence rattling through the ship like we were in a Nexu’s jaw. I clenched my fists against my thighs, forcing myself to breathe evenly. It’d pass in a few minutes, same as always.

That’s when I felt a small weight on my lap. I blinked down at the droid staring up at me with its single photoreceptor—Zero. Anakin’s little astromech-class ‘companion droid,’ though calling Zero just a ‘companion droid’ was like calling a blaster rifle just a stick. The kid must’ve noticed me tensing up, and in that way only a six-year-old could, decided I needed moral support.

I scoffed, shaking my head but appreciating the gesture. “Thanks, kid,” I muttered, patting the droid lightly before handing it back. No way in haran was I admitting I was nervous, though.

The shaking stopped soon after, and true to form, Tarek set the Stellar Envoy down smooth as you’d please. The moment we landed, the N5 security droids were already assembling at the cargo doors, Shmi standing armored at the rear, blaster rifle in hand. As the ramp lowered, the droids moved in formation, sweeping the area with efficiency that had me momentarily amused.

“I feel like a politician,” I mused dryly, watching them work.

Shmi snorted over the comms. “Then you’re in the wrong line of work.”

I smirked but didn’t reply, stepping forward as the port official approached to process our docking. After handling the formalities, I toggled my comm. “Tarek, once you’ve secured the ship, meet me at the cargo doors. You’re going to help me offload and sell the antiques.”

A beat of silence, then Tarek responded, clearly surprised. “Really? Usually I stay with the ship in case we need a fast exit.”

“Exactly why we have security droids now and we can trust Nick-03 to have the ship prepped and ready just in case. Change of pace will do you good.”

I could practically hear him debating with himself before he finally sighed. “Fine. I’m on my way.”

With that settled, the rest of us gathered just outside the ship for a final rundown of our assignments.

“Nick-03 and two N5s are staying with the ship,” I started, making sure everyone was clear. “Mira, Shmi, and I'm pretty sure Anakin as a tagalong will handle the supply run for the station’s mess hall. Stick to the safer districts, and if you get a bad feeling about a vendor, walk away.”

Mira nodded, her expression unreadable. “We’ll be fine. It's your errand you should be worried about”

Shmi adjusted the strap of her rifle. “Two N5 droids will be with us. We’ll be fine,” she repeated, her tone implying I didn’t need to worry.

I still would, but I nodded regardless.

“Tarek and I are handling the sales,” I continued. “We’re offloading what we salvaged—at a good price. No short-selling, no getting lowballed.” I glanced at Tarek. “You’re going to learn a thing or two about negotiation.”

He smirked. “I hope I don’t have to shoot anyone to seal the deal.”

I grinned back. “Only if they really deserve it.”

With that, we split up, each team heading toward their respective objectives. The streets of Ryloth awaited, and with them, the business of the day.

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We made our way through the bustling market streets of Ryloth, weaving between stalls and vendors hawking everything from exotic off-world spices to refurbished blasters of questionable legality. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling street food and the low hum of trading negotiations in multiple languages. Tarek and I weren’t here for casual browsing, though—we were heading to a potential buyer, one who might appreciate the so-called 'antiques' we had to offer. The 'goods' were still safely stored back in the Stellar Envoy, but that was intentional. Before we made any deliveries, I wanted Tarek to understand more than just the logistics of flying a ship; he needed to know how to move merchandise.

Earlier, back at the ship’s cargo hold, I walked him through cataloging procedures. It’s a lesson that sounds mundane, but one that could prevent us from making mistakes when dealing with buyers. The last thing we needed was to accidentally sell off something valuable at a loss—or worse, try to move an item we didn’t actually have. As we walked, I kept the lessons going, speaking loud enough for Tarek to hear me over the market noise.

"It's not just about what you're selling," I told him, "it's about how you sell it. Who you sell it to. Where you sell it. All of that changes the value."

Tarek furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? An item is worth what it’s worth, isn’t it?"

I smirked. "Not exactly. Think about it—when we talk about these blasters and gear we salvaged, I keep calling them 'antiques.' Why do you think that is?"

Tarek opened his mouth, then hesitated. After a beat, his eyes lit up. "Because ‘antique’ makes them sound valuable?"

I nodded approvingly. "Collectors and enthusiasts—two very different types of buyers—pay a premium for items with history. A collector wants something rare and in good condition to display. An enthusiast might want something old but functional, to modify or restore. Then you have traders and brokers who don’t care what it is, only what they can flip it for. The trick is knowing how to pitch the goods to the right audience."

Tarek rubbed his chin in thought as we walked. "So if we tried to sell these just as old gear, we'd get less?"

"Exactly. Old gear is junk to some, history to others. You have to control the perception." I patted his shoulder. "Stick with me, kid. By the time we leave this rock, you'll have a better head for business."

Our conversation carried us all the way to our first prospect—a modest but reputable weapons shop tucked between two larger vendors. The exterior wasn’t flashy, but I had dealt with this seller before, and if there was one thing I valued, it was honesty. Even in a place like Ryloth, where morality bent to survival, there were still those who did fair business. And in this case, fair business meant not trying to swindle us outright.

I gave Tarek a meaningful glance as we stepped toward the entrance. "Let’s see if we can make ourselves a deal. And maybe," I added with a smirk, "find a few buyers who aren’t fond of slavers while we’re at it."

Tarek gave a small nod, the wheels clearly turning in his head. He was learning. That was good. He’d need it in the days ahead.

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The first sale of our ‘antique’ weaponry—refurbished modular blaster pistols and rifles, fine-tuned using the station’s assembly line—was a smashing success. Our first buyer after all happened to be a quiet supporter of some the active anti-slaver groups, which made the deal all the more satisfying. I explained this to Tarek as we walked to our next potential buyer, noting the importance of knowing exactly who you’re selling to. His initial reaction was surprise, and I could see the gears turning in his head as he started piecing together how I managed to have inside knowledge on these sorts of buyers.

“Wait, how did you even know he was a supporter?” Tarek asked, still processing.

I smirked. “Tarek, I literally just taught you about knowing your market. This is one of the ways you do that.” I gave a nod of appreciation. “Plus, gotta give credit where it’s due—Mira’s been digging up good intel for a while now.”

Realization dawned on him, and his surprise turned into outright admiration. It was satisfying to see him start to put the pieces together. We spent the rest of the day bouncing from one buyer to the next, focusing on those with known affiliations to anti-slavery causes. When we exhausted our list of confirmed 'allies' or same alignment if you prefer, we moved on to collectors and enthusiasts—particularly those with good reputations or subtle ties to the anti-slaver groups like informants and such. We weren’t just selling mere weapons; we are selling poetry, we were putting them into the hands of the right people to free the people.

By the time we returned to the Stellar Envoy, the twin suns of Ryloth had already dipped below the horizon. Mira’s group—Shmi, Anakin, and her, flanked by two of our N5 security droids—had gotten back much earlier while there was still daylight to spare. They reported nothing major in the way of trouble, though apparently, some local thug got bent out of shape after realizing that an armed and armored  of women (plus a kid) wasn’t about to be pushed around.

“Let’s just say,” Mira recounted with a sly grin, “he’s going to be enjoying a liquid diet for the next couple of weeks.”

Anakin, perched on a supply crate, added enthusiastically, “It was awesome! Mom barely even moved, and Mira just—wham!—knocked him right on his tail.”

Shmi, ever the level-headed one, rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “He picked a fight he couldn’t win.”

That was an understatement.

More importantly, their supply run had been a success. They’d managed to purchase a cargo hold’s worth of non-perishable food supplies—enough to keep both the Stellar Envoy and the station well-stocked for a good while. They even picked up some of ‘Jake’s crunchy work snacks,’ a phrase that honestly sounded like some sort of holonet commercial, but knowing Jake, it was probably just a fancy way of saying ‘whatever keeps me from passing out mid-project.’

With everything settled, we decided to eat out instead of rationing our fresh stock immediately. Of course, this being Ryloth, trouble was inevitable. Fortunately, it wasn’t aimed at us. Some domestic dispute flared up across the way, but aside from a few passing glances, no one paid it much mind. Business as usual in this part of the galaxy. We weren’t about to get involved unless it spilled into our lap.

After finishing our meal, we headed straight back to the ship. Ryloth at night wasn’t a place we were keen on exploring—especially with Anakin in tow. There was no need to push our luck. Tomorrow would be another busy day, but for now, we could finally catch some much-needed rest.