Star Wars:The Apprentice

I took a seat at the sabacc table, adjusting my posture to appear relaxed but not careless. The other players barely spared me a glance—just another gambler trying his luck. But I wasn't here for luck. 

Across from me sat Varko. He was a Weequay, older than most, with deep scars running along his leathery skin. His clothes were expensive, but not flashy, and the way he carried himself told me he wasn't just another thug. He was a man who had survived long enough to be trusted by someone like Kane. 

Krivis leaned over the table, grinning as he shuffled the deck. "Gentlemen, let's make this interesting." 

The first few hands played out normally. I made small, calculated bets, never overreaching, keeping my presence unremarkable. Varko barely looked at me. He was focused on the game, sipping his drink between rounds. 

Then, I started using the Force. 

A light touch here, a gentle nudge there. Nothing blatant—just enough to sway the odds in my favor. I reached out with my mind, feeling the cards in the deck, shifting them subtly as Krivis dealt. 

My hands improved. 

I started winning. 

Not too much, not too fast. Just enough to get noticed. 

Varko raised an eyebrow after my third consecutive win. "Beginner's luck?" he muttered, studying me for the first time. 

I smirked. "Maybe I'm just good." 

He chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "We'll see." 

The next hand was a high-stakes round. The pot had grown, and the tension at the table thickened. Krivis dealt the cards, and I reached out again. I could feel the cards shifting, see the patterns before they unfolded. I adjusted my own hand just slightly, ensuring I had the winning combination. 

Varko frowned as he looked at his cards. He glanced at me, then back at his hand. 

"I'll raise," he said, tossing in a hefty stack of credits. 

I matched his bet without hesitation. 

His eyes narrowed. 

The final card was dealt. The moment of truth. 

I glanced at my hand—perfect. I had him. 

Varko exhaled through his nose, then smirked. "All in." 

The table went silent. 

I didn't hesitate. "Call." 

Varko laid his cards down—a strong hand, but not strong enough. 

I revealed mine. 

The room murmured. 

Varko stared at the cards, then at me. For a moment, I thought he might pull a blaster. 

Then, he laughed. 

"Impressive," he said, leaning back. "You don't just have luck—you have nerve." 

I smirked. "Comes with the territory." 

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "I like you, stranger." He pushed his empty glass forward. "Buy me a drink." 

I signaled the Twi'lek server, ordering another round. As she brought the drinks, Varko turned to me. 

"You're not here for credits," he said, swirling his glass. "So what do you really want?" 

I met his gaze. "An introduction." 

Varko smirked. "To who?" 

"You know who." 

His smirk faded. He leaned in slightly. "And why would I do that?" 

I kept my expression neutral. "Because I'm useful. And because I don't like wasting time." 

Varko studied me, his fingers tapping against the glass. Then, after a long pause, he grinned. 

"Alright, kid. Let's see just how useful you are."

I took a slow sip of my drink, forcing myself to stay composed as Varko leaned back in his chair, taking his sweet time savoring his own. The cantina buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and low murmurs of conversation, but none of it mattered. Every moment spent here was another moment wasted. 

I came here for Zarlin Kane—not to play sabacc, not to impress some middleman who thought too highly of himself. My patience was wearing thin. 

Varko had spent the last ten minutes dancing around my request, throwing out vague comments, testing me. Seeing how far he could push. 

I wasn't here to be tested. 

I set my glass down a little harder than I intended, earning a glance from Varko. His smirk didn't fade, but his eyes sharpened. 

"Relax, kid," he drawled, swirling the liquid in his cup. "Things like this take time. You don't just walk up to someone like Kane. You have to earn his attention." 

I clenched my jaw. "And how much longer is that supposed to take?" 

Varko chuckled, shaking his head. "You're impatient. That's dangerous." 

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "I don't have time for games. You either take me to Kane, or I'll find him myself." 

Varko sighed, setting his glass down. "And how do you plan to do that, huh? The man's a ghost. You don't find Kane—Kane finds you." 

I exhaled through my nose, forcing down the irritation clawing its way up my throat. I hated this. The waiting. The subtle power plays. The endless hoops I had to jump through just to get close to one man. 

I had spent years under Sidious, enduring his torturous lessons, sharpening my skills, strengthening my mind. I had killed, bled a Jedi's kyber crystal, trained under a Sith Lord, and yet here I was—forced to grovel for the attention of some criminal. 

It disgusted me. 

Varko studied me, his amusement flickering. "You really don't like being strung along, do you?" 

I didn't respond. 

He smirked. "Alright, I'll bite. You're eager, you've got guts, and you know how to win." He tapped the table. "But Kane doesn't meet just anyone. He doesn't care about money, strength, or reputation. You want his attention? You have to prove you're worth something." 

I narrowed my eyes. "And how exactly do I do that?" 

Varko grinned. "Simple. There's a man who owes Kane a great deal. He's been dodging his debt for months. Bring him in—alive—and I'll set up a meeting." 

I exhaled sharply. More hoops. More wasted time. 

But I had no choice. 

"Fine," I muttered. "Where do I find him?" 

Varko slid a small holopad across the table. I activated it, and a blue projection flickered to life—a grainy image of a middle-aged human with a scar running across his chin. 

"Name's Rhyas Tarren," Varko said. "He's been hiding out in the lower sectors, moving between safe houses. Word is he's got protection. Not much, but enough to be a problem if you go in blind." 

I studied the image, memorizing his features. 

Varko leaned in. "Do this right, and you'll have your meeting. Fail?" He smirked. "Well, let's just say Kane doesn't like people who waste his time." 

I scoffed. "Neither do I." 

With that, I grabbed the holopad and stood, shoving my chair back. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the cantina, my patience wearing dangerously thin. 

This was taking too long.

I moved through the lower sectors of Krivis, my hood pulled over my head, blending into the dimly lit streets. The deeper I went, the worse the air smelled—stale, metallic, thick with the scent of oil and filth. Neon signs flickered above rundown shops, and the few people who lurked in the alleys kept their heads low, avoiding eye contact. 

This was where men like Rhyas Tarren disappeared. 

I had studied his movements, gathered what little information I could from Varko's contact. Tarren was careful—he never stayed in one place for too long, always moving, always watching his back. He had protection, but nothing that could stop me. 

I reached a street corner and slowed my pace. Across from me, a small two-story building stood wedged between a pair of half-collapsed structures. It was barely holding together—cracked duracrete walls, rusted durasteel doors—but the windows were reinforced, and two guards stood at the entrance, blasters in hand. 

I could sense more inside. 

Tarren was here. 

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes for a brief moment. The Force pulsed around me, invisible yet powerful, waiting to be wielded. I let it guide my focus, stretching my awareness outward. 

Four more men inside. Blasters. No Jedi, no Force-users—just criminals. 

This would be easy. 

I moved forward, my steps silent. As I approached the guards, they tensed, gripping their weapons. 

"Stop right there," one of them barked. "Turn around and walk away." 

I didn't. 

I raised my hand, channeling the Force, and before either of them could react, I clenched my fist. 

The air around them seemed to tighten—then they collapsed, clutching their throats, gasping for air. They struggled, kicking against the ground, eyes wide with terror. 

I held them there for a moment, watching them squirm, then flicked my wrist. Their bodies jerked violently before going still. 

I let them drop. 

The door was locked, but it didn't matter. With a wave of my hand, the mechanisms inside twisted and groaned, and the door slid open with a dull hiss. 

I stepped inside. 

The moment I did, a blaster bolt tore through the air toward me. I tilted my head, letting it pass inches from my face. Before the shooter could fire again, I flicked my hand, sending him crashing into the wall. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. 

The other three men barely had time to react. One reached for his communicator—I crushed his wrist with the Force. Another raised his blaster—I yanked it from his grip and sent it flying across the room. 

The last man turned to run. 

I reached out, and his body froze mid-step. He struggled, his legs kicking against nothing, but I tightened my grip. 

"No one leaves," I said coldly. 

I threw him against the far wall, and he crumpled, groaning in pain. 

The room was silent now. 

I turned my attention to the back, where a metal door stood slightly ajar. 

Tarren was inside. 

I pushed it open with the Force. 

The room was small, dimly lit by a single flickering light. A desk, a few scattered datapads, and in the corner—a man. 

Rhyas Tarren. 

He was older than I expected, his face lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He was already reaching for his blaster when I stepped inside. 

I didn't give him the chance. 

I raised my hand, and the weapon flew from his grip, clattering to the ground. He tensed, his jaw tightening. 

"You should've paid your debt," I said. 

Tarren exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Figures Kane would send someone like you." 

"I don't work for Kane," I replied. "But I need to meet him. And you're the price." 

Tarren's expression darkened. "So, what now? You kill me?" 

"No," I said simply. "You're worth more alive." 

He scoffed. "And if I resist?" 

I raised my hand again, this time gripping his throat with the Force. I didn't tighten, just enough to remind him who had control. 

"You won't," I said. 

He struggled for a moment, but he knew it was useless. Finally, he sighed and nodded. 

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's get this over with." 

I released him, stepping back. "Smart choice." 

I reached for the communicator on my belt, contacting Varko. 

"I have him." 

There was a pause, then Varko's amused voice came through. 

"Well, that was fast." 

I looked down at Tarren, who was rubbing his throat. 

"Tell Kane I'm ready to meet."