Seated at my small workbench, I meticulously assembled the miniature components of what could become a functioning lightsaber. It was an experiment more than anything—a theoretical design crafted from spare ship parts. The device, while incomplete, intrigued me. It was significantly smaller than any known lightsaber, the item being only an inch and a half long and less than an inch wide. The finished product would be barely bigger than the bearings I already used in combat. Unfortunately, I lacked both the small Kyber crystal I'd require and a suitable housing. My Mandalorian steel slugs were long gone, and the makeshift components scattered before me were a temporary solution at best.

Still, I pressed on, finding solace in the rhythm of building something with my hands.

Reaching under my bunk, I retrieved the strange rock that had gnawed at my curiosity since the day we found it. Its weight felt satisfying in my palm, the faint sloshing sound inside teasing secrets it refused to share. Rolling it over in my hands, I examined it under the dim workbench light, my mind spinning with possibilities.

“What are you hiding?” I muttered, the words half frustration, half wonder. The temptation to crack it open lingered stronger now than ever. But I knew the risk. Whatever was inside could be fragile—its value easily ruined by impatience.

“It’s best to wait for the right moment,” Xanthe’s voice echoed gently in my mind, a steady presence that had become both a guide and a companion.

I sighed, placing the rock carefully on the workbench. “You’re right. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Patience wasn’t my strong suit, and the rock’s mystery taunted me. Yet, Xanthe’s reasoning held firm. Damaging whatever lay within wasn’t worth satisfying my curiosity—at least not yet.

Leaning back in my chair, I studied the scattered pieces before me. Without a proper housing or crystal, the prototype was nothing more than a thought exercise. Still, the potential was there. If I could find the right materials—and maybe unlock the rock’s secret—it could be something remarkable.

My thoughts shifted to the immediate problem at hand: survival. Telo’s IV was our next stop, and time was slipping through our fingers. The ship was fast, but resources were dwindling.

“Once we reach Telo’s IV, I’ll need to find work fast,” I said aloud, half to Xanthe, half to myself. “We don’t have the time—or the resources—to start a shop from scratch. Competing with established businesses isn’t an option either.”

Xanthe’s presence hummed with thoughtfulness. “You’ll figure it out, Roan. You always do.”

Her quiet confidence steadied me, even as the weight of uncertainty settled deeper in my chest. The Outer Rim was unpredictable, and Telo’s IV would be no exception. Pulling on my utility belt and securing the pouch of bearings and sand, I made my way to the bridge.

“How long until we arrive?” I asked Retra, leaning casually against the wall.

She glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “Impatient, are we? Less than an hour. We’ll be there before you know it.”

“What’s the plan?” Teya asked, turning her chair slightly to face me. Her voice carried a hint of concern.

I folded my arms, considering my words. “I’ll need to find work—something that pays fast. That might mean showing off some serious skills. If I can avoid revealing my connection to the Force, I will. But if it comes down to it…” I trailed off.

“Sounds risky,” Teya said, her brow furrowing with worry.

“It is,” I admitted. “But we don’t have a lot of options. We need to stay ahead of our pursuer, and that means resupplying quickly.”

Teya hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “What if we draw the Empire’s attention? What if they track us here?”

I took a breath, steadying myself. “I’m less worried about their patrols or forces. From what I’ve heard, the Emperor and his apprentice—Darth Vader—are tied up with the resistance. They can’t be everywhere at once.”

Teya frowned, the conflict in her eyes clear. “We should be helping the resistance.”

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I met her gaze, my tone soft but firm. “In a way, we are. Every resource the Empire sends after us is one they aren’t using against the resistance. Our existence is a threat they can’t ignore.”

Retra chimed in, nodding thoughtfully. “That makes sense. Wars aren’t just about battles—they’re about resources. If we can force them to spread thin, that’s a win. Attrition can turn the tide.”

“But people are dying,” Teya whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

“People are always dying, Teya!” I snapped before immediately softening my tone. “Look, I get it. But we don’t have to die right now. As long as we’re alive, we’re a problem the Emperor has to deal with. Over time, that will matter. He can win all the battles he wants, but if he loses the war, it’s over.”

Teya’s hands tightened into fists at her sides. “I just hate feeling like we’re running while people suffer.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I hate it too. But staying alive isn’t just about survival—it’s about being ready to make a difference when it counts.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy. Retra broke it with a quiet laugh. “Well, at least we’re consistent—we don’t make things easy on ourselves.”

As the ship’s navigation system chimed, signaling our approach to Telo’s IV, I smiled faintly, grateful for the small levity shared moments ago. We were far from safe, but now it was time to find work and ensure our survival.

The ship shuddered slightly as it entered the planet's atmosphere. Telo’s IV was a world with a complex history. Once a proud location of both a Jedi academy and part of the Service Corps, it bore scars from wars long past. The academy had been obliterated decades ago, and the Service Corps—a haven for those with weak or no Force abilities—was wiped out more recently. The people here, however, carried a deep empathy for Force-sensitives. Stories of genocides targeting innocent Force users, many of them children, were etched into their collective memory. Some of those children had been their own, and their sympathies lingered despite the Empire’s propaganda.

As our ship settled onto a docking pad, Retra and Teya stopped to pay the docking fee while I moved ahead. “I’m going to head to the market and find work there,” I told them over my shoulder.

They nodded, and I continued toward the bustling heart of Telo’s IV. The market stretched before me, vibrant and alive, with rows of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to mechanical wares. Like most markets, it was organized into distinct sections: food, general goods, household items, and finally, the repair shops and shipyards. My destination was clear—the mechanical section.

I passed by stalls filled with basic tools and poorly refurbished droid parts. Most of the mechanics were independent craftsmen, scraping by on small repair jobs with meager resources. One shipyard, however, caught my attention. It was larger than the others, with a clean, professional sign that read: Mike’s Custom Builds and Repairs. Beneath the shop’s name, another sign hung prominently: Now Hiring – Temporary and Lead Technician Positions Available.

“Custom work,” I murmured to myself. That meant this shop catered to higher-paying clients with specialized needs. The risk would be higher, but so would the rewards. I decided to take my chances.

Walking inside, I spotted a man crouched over a custom engine, wrestling with a misfitting housing. “Baktha pudu!” he swore under his breath. His skin was darker than my own, and his hands were thick with calluses—a sign of an honest laborer who worked with more than just words.

“What’s wrong, friend?” I asked, stepping closer.

The man turned to me, his frustration shifting to curiosity. “The housing doesn’t fit. We built the engine to spec, ordered the casing to match, but the damn casters got it wrong. It’s supposed to bow out here,” he gestured to the center of the casing, “not in.”

I studied the piece and frowned. “Can’t you just order another one?”

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. “I would if I had time. The client expects the project done today, or they’re pulling the contract. It’s been a nightmare getting parts for this build. I can make most things myself, but something like this… I don’t have the tools to fix it.”

Seeing an opportunity, I stepped forward and gestured for him to watch. “Let me try something.”

The man folded his arms skeptically but gave a small nod. Using the Force, I channeled energy into the metal casing, heating the area until it became malleable. Carefully, I reshaped the warped section, pushing it outward into the correct bow. Once the form was perfect, I cooled the metal instantly, tempering it. To finish, I polished the surface with fine sand, removing any carbon build-up, and finally used a precise arc of Force lightning to restore the anodized layer, giving the steel its protective finish.

I set the casing down with a soft clang, stepping back to inspect my work. It was flawless.

The man’s jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with disbelief and awe. “By the stars… How did you…?”

I extended a hand, breaking him from his stunned silence. “I’m Roan. I’m looking for short-term work—something that pays well. You know how it is for people like me. Always on the move, staying ahead of the Empire.”

The man broke into a grin, gripping my hand firmly. “Mike’s the name, and I could use someone like you. Hell, I’ve got backorders piling up, and your touch could turn this whole shop around. What do you say? Temporary or not, you’ve got a place here.”

His earnestness struck me. I’d taken a risk showing my abilities, but I’d gauged him right. Mike was honest, a rarity in these times. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mike. Let’s get to work.”

As we finalized the details, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. We couldn’t stay on Telo’s IV for long, but in the time we had, this shop could be more than a source of income—it could be a safe haven, however brief.