A cesspool of the downtrodden, the Refugee Sector on Nar Shaddaa is home to both the misfortunate and criminals alike. Offering their protection for credits, the criminal organizations that control the sector tax the populace outrageous sums. Unable to provide these fees, refugees are forced to work under hazardous conditions producing glitterstim and adrenals for their overseers. Some of these refugees are addicted to the substances themselves—for which the cartels increase the price of their tithes in exchange for a share of the product.

Crammed with stalls and makeshift hovels, several of the sector’s inhabitants find refuge on the streets and in the alleyways. Those who managed to avoid the dangers of drug production can be found selling their limited and often defective goods to others. Behind these stalls, a selective stock of black market wares is hidden, reserved for mercenaries and thugs.

Littered with garbage, it is obvious that no maintenance droids have been programmed to maintain the sector. The surrounding towers have fallen into decay, bits of debris falling every so often into the middle of the street. The duracrete streets are covered in a film of filth and chemicals from the abandoned warehouses, making movement cumbersome when traveling through the most inhabited areas.

Patrols armed with blasters and vibroswords come through these areas regularly, making a show of force to advertise the merits of their ‘protection’ while extorting the occasional shopkeeper. Screams and shouts are a common enough sound, which is never in the refugees’ best interests to interfere in.

You’ve been tasked with the retrieval of data from a thief who absconded with sensitive information. Not only is this to safeguard the Brotherhood, there’s also a substantial, but little-known bounty on the target, and the goodwill and favor to be earned from the source the data was thieved from. Of course, not everyone will go along with it. There may be those who desire to ensure the thief succeeds, and the source of the data is embarrassed. There are harsh penalties for those who return unsuccessful, and rewards for those who ensure the safe delivery of the information. No matter which side you’re on, you know success is vital.

The walls shook again.

His paws were cold and ached deep in the bones, cramping with it, stiff. Nevertheless he still waved brightly to the man that came in to the cellblock, covered in thick serpentine tattoos and smoking and smelly stick that made pungent blue billows. The man sneered at him and dropped the tray of food he carried on the floor, spattering most of it, then kicked the remainder to slide across the metal under the bars.

"Thank you," Sven said politely as he crawled over from his corner. "Want to hear a joke?"

"Shut up," snapped the man, and turned around and slammed the door back shut behind him, leaving the Togorian alone again.

Round little ears pinned back, slumping, and a long thick tail drooped. But he shook his head and shook it off. No, no! No sads. Not today bad thoughts!

Nobody who brought food or any of the others ever wanted to hear jokes. There had been more people in here before, in the other cells, and they had been mean too and hadn't wanted to be friends either, but Sven had tried. Then they'd been taken away.

It was so lonely.

He missed his family--

No.

The thought poofed away. Sven cheerily grabbed the tray and scooped some of the mush up with his paw, then licked it up. He didn't have much else to do but clean his fur anyway so that was fine. He was very hungry. And so bored. Well he'd make up more stories and jokes.

The walls shook harder.

What was that? An earth-quake? Did moons do that? Maybe it wasn't a moon at all! Maybe it was a star whale with this city on top of it. Maybe the mean Hutts hurt the whale to make it go. Just like these people did.

Sven wasn't stupid. He knew they were gangsters, and they were keeping him for some reason. But all he could do was be positive!

The next shake was very bad and very close. His ears flinched downward again. So loud.

Also there was the screaming. But he heard a lot of that a little down the hallway so he usually ignored it. Pretended it was bad singing and sang along. This time seemed like it was an awful lot extra though. And coming from both directions.

Maybe the angry star whale was eating them. Maybe whales got hungry too.

Something BANGED right outside the door. Sven jumped, and finally shrank back against the back wall of his cage. He didn't want to be eaten. He just wanted to go home and tell a joke and someone would laugh and be happy...

Another scream, which cut off, and the sound like metal tearing apart. And then the door jiggled. And very gently opened.

A face he didn't know if he'd ever see again poked in.

"Kitten?" the Mirialan called, very very softly and kindly. He stepped in as soft as tiptoes. There was a figure with tattoos on the ground behind him, not moving. "Kitten, it's me, Ruka... It's okay, I'm here to get you out..."

Violet eyes fell on the Togorian, and his scarred, scary face immediately softened into the one Sven knew. Green and nice, like blue and happy, who made him cookies and hugged him. Ruka and Cora.

"...Papa?" Sven asked, coming out of the corner. His ears perked and his tail flicked. He jumped up unsteadily and ran to the bars, excitement flooding him. "Papa, Papa! Hi! You're here?"

The silly nickname seemed to hurt the man to hear, but Ruka smiled at it, at him. He was beside Sven in an instant, and the bars were gone, the entire cage wall floating apart into pieces. They lowered to the floor very gently and only made tiny tinks of noise.

And Ruka hugged him. Sven clung back.

The Mirialan's voice was thick and harsh and deep with his funny accent when he kissed the top of Sven's head.

"Yeah, kitten, I'm here. You're safe, I've got you. I've got you." A deep breath, shaky. "We're going to get you home safe. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry it took me this long. I saw you. Dreaming. I'm sorry, I've got you. You're safe."

It hadn't been too long, Sven thought. Five days? Ten? He'd counted but counting was boring and he forgot.

"The people let you in?" Sven asked when Ruka let go enough to look up at him. So much closer now. Wow! Did Ruka get shorter?

Something dark and terrible flashed across Ruka's face, eyes burning gold for a moment. Sven noticed all the veins in his eyes had burst, and there were black lines running all over his face in the pattern of veins too.

Sven blinked it away.

"No, they didn't. But it's okay now. We can leave. Come on. I'll carry you. We're going to go home."

"YAY!" the Togorian yelled, and then remembered. "Wait, we can't go yet! We have to help someone."

Ruka stilled. "Who? I checked the other times, they ain't any other captives."

"They're not here. One of the others talked about them. They said they're a thief and they were going to find them!"

The Mirialan paused.

"A...thief? Sven, no. We ain't helping no ganger rat thief. We need to get you safe. That's most important."

Sven's chest puffed up.

"But they'll hurt them! That means," he felt tears in his eyes but barreled on, "that means they're in trouble! And we help people in trouble. That's what you said. You and Papa, Papa."

Cora and Ruka had saved him. And others. Because that's what they did.

Ruka looked angry for a second. Then just like he had to poop. Then he swore and scrubbed at his face. There was some blood on his hand.

"Ayyyyyy, Diosez sanos Bogan ey Ashla vikaj! Fine. Fine, yes, honey, that's... What we do. But I have to get you safe first. I get you back to the ship, and then I'll go...find this thief. Okay? Can you tell me about them?"

"Uh..." The Togorian tried to think. Remembering was hard. He shook his head. "No. But! I'll know them when I see them! I can go with you! I can help! I got better!"

"Sven..." Ruka said, the way he did when he was already saying no.

"Please, Papa! I CAN fight! And be good! I've been training! Let me help! I'm going!"

By the end he was already walking to the door, wobbly or not. Ruka was in front of him in an eye blink.

"No," he said, and then, "not by yourself. And not like that. They've got to have something here somewhere we can use to protect you some." As he spoke, he unclasped his armored cloak emblazoned in Lotus symbols, and swung it around Sven's bare shoulders. It was nice and warm. The Togorian purred hard.

"I had stuff. Lightsabers and clothes. They took them."

"Then we'll find it. And then..." A sigh. "Then we'll find your thief. But promise me one thing first."

"What?"

"Don't open your eyes until we get out of this kriffin' spice den. You ride on my back and don't look. Promise?"

Sven paused, glancing behind Ruka. The man who'd dropped his food was the one on the ground. He didn't see blood, and the man's chest still moved, but his legs were at odd angles.

When Cora and Ruka had found him years ago, he'd been surrounded by bodies, blood. A massacre, they'd called it, whispering to each other while he napped between them, wrapped in two cloaks and gently rocked and petted.

He looked back.

"Okay."

Ruka crouched, and Sven climbed on his back, purring again. He ducked his head and closed his eyes, and didn't open them even though it was very boring for probably forever until Ruka said so. It was quiet, except for eventually some groans and whimpers from behind or around them.

And then they were outside again, and the Mirialan said, "Okay. Open."

Sven opened his eyes wide with a fluttering blink as he took in his surroundings. He was now in a brighter place, different than the dark, dingy cellblock with the cruel man.

“Papa,” the Togorian mewed. “Did you hurt some people?” His lips curled with the playfulness of his voice.

His Papa’s voice mirrored the kitten’s mewing as he spoke. “No kitten. They were done with our visit and decided to let us out.”

Sven jolted up in excitement as he leaned back and tightened his hindleg grip on Ruka’s back. He cheered with his small fluffy paws in tight fists, taking this small victory to his heart that maybe his cuteness or even his Papa was able to win over these unkind people.

“See Papa!”

Ruka looked to his side, analyzing the environment for more potential threats. He forced a sound of air through his vocals in affirmation, taking in Sven’s reaction as his success. Contemplative thoughts compounded his mind as the excitement of his kitten was drowned by each consideration of possible threats, angles, and ways to protect the little one. He half considered going against his word Before he could assess where this thief had been, the kitten yanked on the Mirilian’s hair.

“Papa, Papa! There!”

Sven clung closely to Ruka’s face and hair, small claws pulling small but pinpoint friction against his skin. He leaned far forward with his furry little paw pointing straight ahead. Ruka clenched his teeth with the utterance of pain, teaming with the urge to remove the little one from his shoulder. He strained his neck to reduce the digging sensation in his skin to focus on where Sven had pointed towards. His royal violet eyes scanned the individual crowds scattered in the murky streets, some huddled around metallic barrels of fire for warmth. Movement between a few unfortunate citizens caught Ruka’s attention as he noticed the wanted thief before he slithered between two buildings.

“Hold tight, kitten.”

The Mirialan pushed his hand lightly against Sven’s plush fur until he was sure that the little one was now safer on his back. Remembering the alley the thief slipped into, he jogged as quickly as he could to not lose the bounty. Ruka slid almost effortlessly across the smooth flooring with a whispered hum until a slight reflexive pivot put friction and resistance against the metal as his steps squeaked. Each step pushed him further as he navigated his surroundings in his senses and felt the intensity of his steps increase with his purposeful intention to find this thief quickly. Where he thought he would easily find the thief he was left with finding an empty alleyway that winded around the building just to his left. Keeping up with his focus, Ruka continued to take each step with forced pressure against the metallic floor with the ball of his feet.

Just minutes into his sprint, he felt a sudden tingle and flash of a malevolent vision against his kitten and himself. The vision flickered and glowed as if it were a strong flame until it was snuffed yet leaving a slight afterimage. The wispy smoke swirled in uncertainty as if a shadow hand wafted through until it grasped the last remnants of the lasting afterimage. A fleeting tingle until it came back as a massive thunderous smack as the thief stepped around a corner drawing his blaster.

"Don't move," the thief snapped, ragged and wild-eyed, sweat on his skin making dark spots in his clothes, down his sides and the seat of his pants. The blaster pistol shook lightly, but aimed right at them.

"Don't do this," Ruka replied, quiet and light and hard. He'd frozen, except to shift to be absolutely sure Sven was angled away from the barrel he stared down, and as protected by his body as possible. "You shoot at us, I will stop you."

"Just let me go!" the man cried, sneering. His finger fretted in the trigger. "You-- karkin' monster, saw what you did-- get away from me--"

"Hey!" Sven protested, popping his head up from behind his Papa's shoulder. It got him hissed at and that protective hand trying to shove him back down, but he was slippery, working around. "Papa is nice! And I'm nice too! We're helping you!" He paused, then asked, tail flicking hopefully, "Did you like my jokes?"

"You gotta be kidd--" The Mirialan's glare strongly encouraged the thief answer differently. "...kidding me, they were so. Funny. Yeah."

"Yes!" Sven chirped happily, cheering again. While his arms waved, he also waved a paw at the man. "Guns are mean, get rid of it, let's be friends."

The thief paused, eyes unfocused, then dropped his blaster, tossing it aside. He smiled sickly at them. "Do you wanna be friends? I got this good deal we can be in ...split us, 70/30 for you..."

"Yes--" the kitten began before Ruka cut him off.

"No." He summoned the blaster in a telekinetic grip, dismantling it into pieces in the air that all dropped back to the ground. The thief jumped, pressing backwards. "Look. You safe, right? So we're good, right? Okay, kitten?"

"...but Papa we were going to play. He has a game..."

"No, Sven."

"Safe?" the thief echoed, and laughed, a bit hysterical, spitting and mean. He sniffed and then spat, crusted with blood and blue dust around his nostrils. "You crazy, friend. I ain't safe long as I got this."

He moved to pat his bag. Sven mewed, demanding, "Oooh, a surprise?! Let me see!"

Easily the thief tossed it over, and the kitten scrambled down to snatch it. But then Ruka's senses, a storm warning, roared again, and he shouted, grabbed his son, and leapt.

Blasterfire rained down the alleyway, a packed-tight killing field. The thief's body danced in place before it fell nearly obliterated in burns. The Mirialan alighted onto the filthy, cramped roof above, his son's claws burrowed so tightly into him to draw blood, fur fluffed in fear.

"Hang on, kitten," Ruka ordered again, trying to be gentle even as his saber lit and pinwheeled in the air, batting away bolts that turned towards the roofline. He took off running, the plasma blade following obediently to his direction.