Regis slept throughout the day, soaking his bed in sweat as he tossed and turned in his cramped hovel. He dreamed of a hologram of Sindo begging for help, calling out to him from all the way across the galaxy. He ran to her but could not reach her. Suddenly he was lost in the blue glow of the hologram, nothing more than a lifeless recording of himself, forced to watch as a pig-like Gamorrean stripped Sindo's clothes off and threw her to the ground.

"Get away from her!" he tried to scream, but his voice was only a thin hiss.

Sindo reached out to him, then Jawas surrounded her. Chattering in their inhuman tongue they grabbed one of her naked legs and began stripping the skin from her. He tried to run to her, horrified as their saws separated soft flesh from bone. Regis realized he was wading through muddy water that covered him up to his waist. The woman in the white dress urged him on.

"Who are you?!" Regis shouted.

The woman in the white dress slowly pulled back her hood... then tentacles of bright green sprung from her face, covering her and threatening to drown out his sanity.

Regis woke with a start, then jerked in alarm at the strange droid hovering over him. He reached under his pillow, then remembered he had not owned a blaster in years.

"Artoo," said Regis, closing his eyes. "It's just you."

Artoo beeped with concern.

"It's nothing, buddy," he said. "You're lucky you don't dream."

Artoo launched into an update on the repairs he had conducted throughout the day. Regis rose and set a few patties on the burner, then poured himself some blue milk. He peered through a narrow window, ignoring Artoo as he continued beeping. It was late in the day, and the neighborhood was empty, most likely because everyone was out scavenging. Regis had missed an entire day of scavenging. Since fresh trash had been dropped on them only yesterday, the others would notice his absence and consider him crazy for not showing up. He did not care at all. He took a big sip of blue milk, then flipped his patties on the burner.

"Artoo," he said. "We need to talk."

* * *

The sun was setting, casting the empty square before the Cantina in a hellish red glow. No bouncers stood out front, and only a slouching Jawa watched Regis cross the street. He entered the Cantina and was buffeted by the smell of rancid sweat. Creatures turned to him in the gloom but he ignored them as he made his way toward the table where he had sat the night before. He gestured to a Twi'lek server and, while he waited for his drink, he watched Sindo.

His old teammate spun around a pole for the amusement of the meager day crowd. Regis drank and watched her through a cloud of anger, noting the pale, beautiful curves of her legs and belly even as he stewed in rage. Her green eyes turned to him, then she adopted a stony expression even as she ignored him and continued dancing and squatting.

His first mug went empty far sooner than he expected, and he impatiently signaled for another. Regis was not a regular drinker, and already felt the dreamlike haze brought on by Cantina rotgut. Still, he knew he would have to be quite a bit more drunk in order to accomplish his objective.

"Having a good time, Sergeant?"

Sindo stood over Regis with her hands on her hips. Seeing that she did not look pleased, Regis took his second drink from his waitress, then ignored her.

"What are you doing here, Regis?" she said. "Obviously you're not here for fun."

"Is that why you're here?" he shot back. "To have a good time with the locals?"

"I had to move on. You know that. That's what you did, too. Nice pants, by the way."

"You seem good at that - moving on. You couldn't get a job piloting something? Even trashliners need pilots, you know. You like this line of work?"

Sindo turned away. Seeing the look of hurt on her face, Regis felt a twinge of regret. But his anger was so great that he only wanted to spread more pain before this day was out.

"Don't blame me, Reg. Without any safety nets, life is hard for humans. Maybe it's been bad for you, but believe me, it's been worse for me. Just... don't make trouble for me. I need this job. Alright?"

Regis gave her a look. Fuming, Sindo left.

He was on his third drink when he saw Sindo sitting with a big Ithorian, a creature like a giant tapeworm that had a mouth like a hole that jerked open and shut with excitement. The slimy creature leaned over to peer at Sindo's breasts, its mouth puckering oddly. Regis fixated on her smile, noting she seemed to be in a better mood than when she had spoken with him.

After his fourth drink, he stood up and felt the floor wobble. He turned to leave the bar and somehow the table followed him, screeching as he unsuccessfully tried to walk around it.

"You okay, little man?" said a rough-looking Weequay behind the bar. "Not too drunk to pay, are you?"

"Get blasted, scab-face," said Regis. Emptying his pocket, he sent a handful of credit chips clinking over the bar and onto the floor. Though he knew the aliens in here hated him for existing, and drawing attention to himself would ruin his plan, a part of him that did not care had taken control. He welcomed any violence they might bring to him, and smiled when none of the aliens stopped him from leaving.

"Cowards," he muttered, stumbling into the door jamb on his way out.

* * *

Regis found Artoo waiting for him when he got home. In silence he went up to where Big Painful sat propped up in the corner, then hefted it into the air. He stumbled backward and Artoo beeped in concern.

"I'm fine," he said, righting himself.

Big Painful was a heavy steel tank of compressed air connected to a hose which was connected to a spigot, and from the spigot hung a steel rod which he had jammed inside. Living on a rough world filled with aliens who resented his very existence, but being unable to procure an actual weapon, Regis had put together Big Painful, a one-shot device that was as dangerous as it was unwieldy. In order to avoid bringing unwanted attention to the device, he piled on a few other odds and ends - a satchel, an old blast shield hanging from a set of wires, a ruined droid arm on a utility belt that he could wear like a necklace. Though painfully weighed down, he looked like a confusing mess rather than a threat, which was exactly what he wanted to look like.

By the time he was ready, his little home was completely dark, and felt like the dreary abode of a ghost. He swayed on his feet, considering his destination.

"You ready for what we talked about, Artoo?" he asked.

Artoo beeped once.

"Good. Grab the cart and let's go."

Artoo rolled forward a pace, then beeped fearfully.

Regis scoffed. "Plan?" he said. "No, Artoo. Plans are for infantry, or AT-AT cushion jockeys who like to sit in air-conditioned cockpits. I told you... I'm special forces. After tonight, they'll be trying to figure out what happened here for years to come."

Artoo beeped once again, but Regis ignored him and hit the door switch. As the cool night air struck his face, he said, "Hail Vader, and hail the Emperor!"