Vasili tried to appear casual as he traversed the walkways spanning a residential sector near the spaceport. The neighborhood was composed of terraced habitation cubes built above the sweltering streets where the lower class dwelled. He tried to be mindful of passing hovercars and ships, whether belonging to law enforcement or the triangular starship of the bounty hunters who had caught his friends.

Vasili carried his Sonn-Blas F-9E sniper rifle broken down in a briefcase, and wore a thickly padded molt-scooper’s uniform - that is, a padded maroon outfit designed to keep workers safe while working close to flowing lava. While he had been afraid that his working-class uniform would stand out in this neighborhood, nobody was watching him. In fact, he had to push through crowds of people standing on the balconies, gawking at the fighting down below. He had to ignore the desire to pull out his scope and watch the drama of humans chasing aliens and fighting with local law enforcement.

“Look at them!” a Mustafarian shouted. “They’ve got blasters!”

“Where?!”

Vasili heard the gasps, and stopped to watch as what looked like stormtroopers shot at something he could not see. His mouth fell open. There was a sudden explosion in the street below, and the walkway shifted as if blown by a strong wind.

“Stormtroopers! They’re killing people!”

“Will the stormtroopers come here?!” a child squeaked.

Vasili edged away from the crowd and ducked between two habitation cubes. Utterly confused, he dug out his communicator.

“Sindo! Regis! You there?” he said.

“I’m here, Vasili,” said Sindo, breathing hard from exertion.

“I thought you were heading to the ship!” he said. “What are you guys doing? You picking fights with local rent-a-cops or something?!”

“What? No! We haven’t gotten out of the armory yet!”

Vasili forced out a laugh. “Well, nice job sparking a revolution!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?” Vasili leaned out to make sure no one was coming near. “There’s fighting in the streets. Somebody played a recording of the Empress, and it got everyone riled up. There’s even people in stormtrooper gear causing a scene!”

“Seriously? I…” Sindo fell silent as Artoo beeped in the background. “Oh. Artoo says he may have had something to do with that.”

Vasili laughed. “Okay. Well, I can go hot anytime you guys need backup.”

“No, Vas,” Regis cut in suddenly. “Just get to the ship. We’re hot-wiring a prisoner transport. We’ll call when we’re ready for exfiltration.”

Emboldened by his old Sergeant’s no-nonsense attitude, Vasili said, “Yes, sir!” before signing off.

* * *

“Damn you, Luke!” Leia shouted, her face burning red as she watched herself on the large viewscreens surrounding the chamber.

She turned around in a circle, unable to breathe as the anger thrashed around in her chest, desperately hoping she was only dreaming as the recording repeated, “Human history is nothing but the subjugation and enslavement of aliens by privileged humans!”

“Breathe, Leia!” said Luke. “I can feel your anger. But we’re not the only ones seeing this. Can’t you feel it? Your feelings are magnified by what’s going on out there, and-”

“Don’t tell me what to do! You keep telling me what to think, what to feel…!” Leia shouted, finally turning her attention back to Luke. “Don’t you see that everyone’s against me? Luke, why are you doing this to me!?”

Luke tried to shield himself from the volatile emotions pouring out of his sister in waves, threatening to drown his consciousness and turn him into a puppet of anger. He knew that if he gave in to the anger, to the feeling of being treated unfairly, then they would destroy each other.

“I’m trying to save you, Leia! I know how it feels to think that the ones you love are against you! I know-”

“You don’t know anything.” Leia pointed at Luke with surprisingly icy force in her voice, as if consciously channeling her anger rather than riding it like a wave. The sudden shift was disorienting. “You think you’re saving me? That’s delusional. I’m trying to save you. But I don’t know if I can anymore.”

“Save me?” said Luke, unable to hide his confusion.

“Luke, when you massacred those nonhuman people on Tatooine, it put an awfully big target on your head.”

Luke was taken aback. He wondered at first if she was talking about Regis’s shoot-out in Mos Eisley. “Are you talking about… on Jabba’s barge?”

“The Hutt Cartel wants you dead, Luke. They want me to turn you over.” Leia lowered her finger and tilted her head back while keeping her eyes on him, an odd gesture like something from a nightmare. “What would you have me do, Luke? Tell me, if you’re so wise. How do I deal with them? How do I save you from yourself?”

“Leia, Jabba enslaved you,” said Luke, unable to hide his revulsion. “You should be making demands on them, not apologizing! And why should I apologize for saving you and the others from them?!”

“Because it’s your fault they were in that position in the first place!”

Unsure how to respond, Luke stood in silence, forcing himself to take in slow, deep breaths. In the background, he heard layers of Leia’s voice echoing from the viewscreens, saying, “The era of making excuses for human behavior is over…”

Leia slowly walked around the platform, her hand grasping the guardrail as if she was suddenly exhausted. “Luke, have you ever wondered why every alien world is so underdeveloped? Ever wonder why they’re so strange and scary? It’s because of us. We did it to them, Luke. We took everything from them, and forced them into a position of resentment. I learned that in Jabba’s palace. And I learned something about human nature, too.”

Luke felt waves of pain radiating from his sister like jagged pieces of glass piercing through her aura. The fact that she could be in such pain tormented him. “What did you learn, Leia?” he said.

She stopped and slowly turned to him. “That everyone you love will abandon you.”

“But… but I never…”

“You sent me in there, Luke. Were you already working for our father at that point? Was I your rival already? Is that why you threw me away?”

“No, Leia!”

“And yet I still want to save you, Luke. I still want to protect you.” Leia gave Luke a sad smile, which twisted on one side of her face into something like an inhuman smirk. “But the only way I can keep them from taking you from me…”

“Leia-” Luke began, but was unable to finish before Leia reached out toward one of the viewscreens.

“... is to show them your broken, bleeding body! And convince Viddu the Hutt that I’ve punished you!”

Snow danced along several viewscreens as Leia pulled at one through the Force, ripping it from the wall and sending a shower of sparks falling below. The heavy viewscreen came free, then it flew toward Luke.

* * *

“I’m telling you! Your boss is in on this!”

Mogo jabbed his finger into Barbero’s chest. Barbero was a high-ranking Mustafarian law enforcement officer in a fine red uniform. He was a native of the planet. His most trusted subordinate, Radeks, listened in alongside a dozen other officers. They were stationed behind a line of patrol hovercars outside of the armory, waiting for the prisoners to either break out or give up. As soon as the bounty hunter had dropped out of the sky and tried to throw his weight around, Barbero had tried to show him that he would not be pushed around. He was having a tough time of it, though, as the Mandalorian bounty hunter did not seem to know or care that he was outnumbered.

“Look, tough guy,” said Barbero. “You don’t know my boss. My boss has the front and back entrances covered with about fifty of our finest-”

“No, idiot!” Mogo spat, now jamming two fingers into Barbero’s chest. “I don’t mean your braindead superior, I mean the guy who runs this planet!”

“Uh… Mister Calrissian?”

“Yes! He was there when my teammate got his head blown off! We gotta flush these guys out!”

Barbero was taken aback. “Seriously? No, we’re going to wait them out. They don’t have any food in there!”

Mogo tilted his head. “You definitely wouldn’t cut it as a bounty hunter. You guys always think sitting and waiting is the solution.” He scoffed. “You have to get in there and grab your target. That’s the way you do it! That is, I mean...” Suddenly drawing himself up, Mogo said, “It is the way.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“It’s just something we do, it’s how we talk - Mandalorians, I mean. It is the way. Listen, it makes sense. Alright?”

Barbero glanced at Radeks, then rubbed his forehead as his head started throbbing. While he thought the bounty hunter was too thick headed to understand anything, the truth of the matter was that Barbero felt out of his league. He could tell that something big was happening, but it was way over his head. He was relieved when the bounty hunter suddenly turned away, as if conferring with an ally.

“Mogo, you there?” Zuckuss’s voice came through the Mandalorian’s comm.

“I’m here, boss!” said Mogo. “These desk-jockeys are trying to push me out of the-”

“Let it go, son,” said Zuckuss. “Empress Organa wanted some Imperials in prison, and technically speaking, that’s where they are. But the shooter who got 4-LOM has me worried. Plus there’s even more Imps shooting up downtown.”

“What do you want me to do, boss?”

“I want you and Dengar to cover their ship. It’s still sitting on the platform. Get over there and keep an eye out for anybody who makes for that ship. Understand?”

“But the shooter who got 4-LOM-”

“Is going to make for that ship.”

“Right. Right! Understood.”

Barbero stood ready with a harsh word prepared for Mogo as he signed off from his comm. Without waiting for him to speak, Mogo slapped him on the shoulder in a condescendingly friendly manner.

“I’ll leave these guys to you, then,” said Mogo. “Alright, sport?”

“Who do you think you’re-”

Mogo’s jetpack sputtered to life, then he rocketed upward. Barbero watched the bounty hunter disappear into the dull maroon sky, then shook his head at his subordinates.

“Unbelievable!” he muttered, disappointed that the others only glared at the armory’s vehicle entrance. Realizing that there would be no easy way to get his dignity back after dealing with the young hot shot, he leaned against one of their patrol cars and joined the others in staring at the wide doorway. The lot was quiet, other than the echoing loop of Empress Organa’s voice droning in the distance.

“They’ll probably make some demands, won’t they?” said Radeks.

Before anyone could respond, the vehicle entry door slowly rose. Barbero crouched behind a patrol hovercar and aimed his blaster, and the others followed suit. His blaster suddenly felt heavy in his sweaty hands.

“Stay focused,” said Barbero. “Watch that doorway. Be ready for any-”

Barbero’s voice was drowned out as an engine roared, then a riot control van came barreling out of the entryway. The driver glared at them with a wide-eyed, maniacal expression as he drove straight for the blockade. The officers fired, turning the lot into a superheated tangle of shrieking plasma beams. The van’s windshield spiderwebbed, then the van swerved as its oversized tires melted under a hail of plasma fire. The driver flew back as the cab was blasted into pieces. Officers on the left side of the barricade ran as the van flipped onto its side, then fell shrieking against two patrol hovercars.

“Move! Move!” said Barbero, racing to the back of the van with his blaster extended. The others followed suit, their hearts racing with the rush of suddenly feeling like military tactical operators after years of filing reports for robberies and assaults that would never be resolved. Even lying on its side the van’s engine was still racing, the wheels spinning and throwing melted rubber from twisted rims.

Only Radeks ran to the obliterated mess of metal and glass that made up the front of the van. He blinked when he saw one of his own comrades lying in a twisted heap against a seat to which he had been tied. Radeks opened his mouth to shout a warning, but his voice was drowned out as Regis and Sindo leaned out of cover from the armory’s entryway and started blasting officers standing out in the open around the van.

Barbero turned in confusion, and fired one shot into the darkened entryway before a white helmet turned in his direction - then a blast smacked into the center of his chest, vaporizing a chunk of flesh and fusing ribs with lungs in a charred, blackened mass. He fell back against the van and watched in mute horror as the special forces stormtroopers did not fire in panic, but rather, took controlled shots, each blast dropping a Mustafarian officer and sending the others scattering.

Radeks dived behind cover. Peeking over the side of a hovercar, he saw that the field was littered with dead officers. A few who managed to reach cover were in a blind panic as they called for backup. Radeks tried to come up with a plan, but his mind was running in circles.

He dropped behind cover, and did not see Regis signal with a hand gesture. Regis and Sindo stalked onto the field while Chewbacca and Lando sent shots over the hovercars. The remaining officers kept their heads down, hoping that backup would arrive soon. So it was that Radeks looked on in horror as two stormtroopers inexplicably came around the makeshift blockade, somehow flanking them within moments of turning the tide against them. With clinical precision the stormtroopers fired shots into the center mass of each officer - and as Radek raised his blaster in shaking hands, Regis raised his blaster and fired, catching Radek’s throat with a shot that stripped away flesh and revealed an exposed trachea cauterized shut. He fell dead.

“Secure,” said Sindo.

“That’s it,” said Regis. “Got ‘em.”

Lando leaned out of cover with his mouth hanging open. “Okay,” he said, glancing at Chewbacca. “I can see why they want these guys locked up.”

Regis turned to Lando and pulled off his new stormtrooper helmet, which he had relieved from a confiscation locker. Despite his cool demeanor, he looked as if he had dunked his head into a pool of water. “It’s not hard when everyone’s working together,” he said.

“Well, we need to get moving. You guys better strip out of that armor.”

Regis and Sindo shared a look.

“No,” said Regis. “The armor stays on!”