Star Wars: Empire of the Eternal Star

{Chapter 18 A Sudden Commission}

Bang!

The bar's flimsy wooden wall suddenly burst apart, sending splinters flying in all directions. A man with a bruised and swollen face was hurled through the opening, his body hitting the dusty ground with a sickening thud. He groaned in pain, rolling over as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Before the stunned patrons inside could react, the towering figure of the T-850 stepped through the gaping hole, its imposing silhouette casting an eerie shadow across the floor.

The cyborg's cold, unfeeling eyes scanned the bar like a predator surveying its prey. Without hesitation, it reached out, gripping a pair of drunks by the scruffs of their filthy tunics. The two men, still reeking of alcohol, barely had time to let out startled yelps before they were unceremoniously hurled outside like sacks of garbage.

Bang!

The bodies hit the ground hard. A few more men, already too intoxicated to properly react, staggered backward in fear before collapsing into their own vomit. The impact sent dust swirling into the air, mixing with the foul stench of sweat and stale beer. The entire brawl had been over in mere moments—one-sided and brutal.

Leo stepped through the wreckage with an air of nonchalance, his grip firm around a half-empty bottle. Behind him, Edison followed, dusting off his coat as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The fight hadn't been much of a challenge. The drunks had barely put up any resistance, and T-850 had ensured that most of them wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Leo, a seasoned explorer with more battles under his belt than he cared to count, hadn't even needed to use the Force. Not in public, at least. A simple bottle was enough to handle these lowlifes. And if he was being honest, part of him welcomed the distraction. He had been feeling an odd sense of restlessness these past few days—an irritation gnawing at the edges of his patience. The brawl had been an outlet, a chance to let off some of the pent-up aggression building inside him.

"Go to hell! Are you looking for trouble?!" Leo spat out, his voice laced with raw fury. He didn't care if these fools understood his words or not. His rage burned too hot to be contained.

His breathing was heavy. His vision swam in red. Something inside him was unraveling, something he couldn't quite control. His fingers clenched around the neck of the bottle until his knuckles turned white.

"You... you son of a Bansa sh—" One of the downed drunks groaned, his voice thick with defiance.

Before he could finish his insult, Leo slammed the bottle across his face, the glass shattering upon impact. The man crumpled instantly, his unconscious form twitching slightly before going completely still.

For a fleeting moment, Leo felt a rush of satisfaction—a brief, electric release from the frustration clawing at his chest. His heart pounded against his ribs, his breaths ragged and uneven.

"Get out!!!"

His voice, though not particularly loud, carried an unnatural weight. It was like the growl of a storm, a whisper of death slithering through the air. The spectators—those who had been gathered around in amusement just moments ago—now stood frozen, their faces drained of color.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Leo noticed movement. Another drunkard, emboldened by stupidity, was attempting a sneak attack from behind.

Without even turning his head, Leo raised his hand.

A sharp crack echoed through the air as his palm connected with the assailant's face. The man was flung backward, landing several meters away with a dull thud. No one questioned how Leo had managed such an inhumanly strong slap. No one commented on the faint arcs of electricity dancing across his fingers before vanishing into the night. The only thing that mattered here was power, and Leo had just proved he had plenty of it.

"Let's go back to the spaceship and head for Mos Espa Harbor," Leo muttered, exhaling deeply. The brief surge of adrenaline was already fading, leaving behind a familiar, gnawing exhaustion.

Before leaving, he delivered one final, contemptuous kick to the groin of a downed drunk, ensuring the man wouldn't be making trouble for a long while. The crowd parted in silence, not daring to meet Leo's gaze. In a lawless place like this, strength was the only language that mattered.

"They're from the Needle Rat Gang," Edison noted, nudging one of the unconscious men with his boot. "Just a bunch of small-time thugs. Sometimes they do work for Jabba, though. We should get moving—no doubt they've already called for backup."

The spaceship's master, experienced in such matters, wasted no time rifling through the pockets of the fallen. He retrieved a handful of credits, a few crude weapons, and some trinkets of minor value before rising to his feet with a satisfied nod.

"You sure do gather information quickly," Leo remarked with a smirk.

They continued down the street toward Truda's docking bay, their presence causing pedestrians to instinctively step aside. The reputation they had just earned ensured that no one wanted to cross their path.

But then—

A voice.

Low. Guttural. Coming from the shadows of a nearby shed.

"I have a business deal. 10,000 Wupi. Are you interested?"

Leo turned, his senses immediately sharpening. A woman emerged from the dimness, her green skin reflecting the faint glow of nearby lights. A sniper rifle was slung across her back, her posture relaxed but predatory.

His first instinct was to ignore her. This reeked of trouble. But before he could walk away, Quinto grabbed his arm.

"Boss," Quinto murmured, "Jabba stiffed us on the last job. Only paid us 2,000 black leather. We took a loss. If we don't pick up more work, we won't even have enough fuel to leave the planet."

Edison, ever the negotiator, stepped forward. "If you're looking to hire us, this isn't exactly the best place to discuss business."

The Farin woman smirked. "You've got strength, a good ship, and the guts to back it up. That makes you the right people for this job."

"And how much are you making off this?" Edison asked, folding his arms.

"Not your concern," she shot back. "What is your concern is that you need credits, and I'm offering them. So? You in or out?"

The master pilot wasn't one to be easily intimidated. He met her gaze evenly. "20,000 Wupi. And full details upfront. Otherwise, find someone else."

The woman hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "Deal. Follow me."

She lifted a hidden panel inside the shed, revealing a staircase that descended into darkness.

Edison glanced at Leo. After a brief exchange of looks, he followed the woman down. Leo and Quinto trailed close behind, while T-850 and Spard remained topside to watch their exit.

The basement was dimly lit, its air thick with the scent of oil and damp stone. The woman activated a communicator, and a holographic projection flickered to life.

The figure that appeared was tall—unnaturally so. His skeletal frame was wrapped in black robes, his face pale and elongated, hidden beneath the shadows of a hood. A mechanical breathing mask covered his chin, emitting a faint, rhythmic hiss.

Leo's breath caught in his throat.

Hego Damask II.

A name that sent a jolt of recognition through him.

He quickly lowered his head, forcing his expression into neutrality.

"This is the crew?" Hego's voice was smooth yet cold.

"They're the best you'll find on Tatooine," the Farin woman replied.

Hego nodded. "Very good." The Muun nodded. "I am Hego Damask II, your employer. Your job is simple. Go to the planet Mykito, pick up a guy named Semid, and then send him to the planet Loon."

Leo's pulse pounded.

Hego Damask II.

A name he never expected to hear here. A name that could change everything.

And a name that terrified him. Hego Damask II!!! When Leo heard this name, his eyes suddenly widened! He quickly lowered his head to hide his emotions to avoid being noticed by others.

Edison didn't think too much about it, he just nodded and asked, "That's all?"

"I promise you, that's all. Of course, you also have to know that since I asked you to pick him up, it means that there are other people who are interested in him. If you can do it, you will get a generous reward, and... the friendship of Damask Holdings Group." Hego Damask II said lightly.

"Then who is the opponent we need to face?" Edison asked again.

"This is an unofficial commission, so your opponent is everyone."

The village officer thought for a while, nodded slightly to Leo, and then replied: "Okay, we'll take this job."

"I'll send you Semid's information." Hego said, his eyes falling on Leo, "Your companion looks... a little scared?"

Leo's heart skipped a beat, but he tried his best to appear relaxed.

Mura Te said, "He is a new member of our crew and has never seen the world. With Quinto and I on this trip, there will be absolutely no problems."

"Very good, it's best not to let such newcomers affect your mission. This is very important. You must reach your destination within 89 standard hours." Hego said slowly.

"That's for sure." Edison replied quickly.

After the call ended, the Farin woman put a heavy bag in the village specialist's hand and threatened: "This is 5,000 Wupi. I will give you the remaining 15,000 after the mission is completed. Time is running out, you must set off immediately, don't play tricks! You can't afford to offend this person!

*****

[Easter Egg Chapter Attachment 1: Hego Damask II]