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Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Doctor Aphra
  3. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  4. SCENE 1
  5. SCENE 2
  6. SCENE 3
  7. SCENE 4
  8. SCENE 5
  9. SCENE 6
  10. SCENE 7
  11. SCENE 8
  12. SCENE 9
  13. SCENE 10
  14. SCENE 11
  15. SCENE 12
  16. SCENE 13
  17. SCENE 14
  18. SCENE 15
  19. SCENE 16
  20. SCENE 17
  21. SCENE 18
  22. SCENE 19
  23. SCENE 20
  24. SCENE 21
  25. SCENE 22
  26. SCENE 23
  27. SCENE 24
  28. SCENE 25
  29. SCENE 26
  30. SCENE 27
  31. SCENE 28
  32. SCENE 29
  33. SCENE 30
  34. SCENE 31
  35. SCENE 32
  36. SCENE 33
  37. SCENE 34
  38. SCENE 35
  39. SCENE 36
  40. SCENE 37
  41. SCENE 38
  42. SCENE 39
  43. SCENE 40
  44. SCENE 41
  45. SCENE 42
  46. SCENE 43
  47. SCENE 44
  48. SCENE 45
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  51. SCENE 48
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  53. SCENE 50
  54. SCENE 51
  55. SCENE 52
  56. SCENE 53
  57. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

But since I’m not the reflective sort, I didn’t do that at all.

I simply checked the coordinates of my destination. There were some really nice bars on Son-tuul.

But I wasn’t going to any of those.

SCENE 16

INT. SON-TUUL BAR. LATER.

Atmosphere: Glasses clinking, bar chatter, bets being placed, and—

slightly in the distance—the raucous noise of people cheering for a fight about to start. This is the dirtiest, scummiest bar you can imagine, with patrons to match.

APHRA (narration):

No, I had to go to the one with the illegal backroom fighting ring.

That’s where I was going to find all the individuals of colorful backgrounds and questionable morals that I’d need for my latest mission.

Okay, okay: I chose that bar. As a meeting place for my specially selected wretched individuals. I knew that’s where they’d feel most at home.

Because it’s where I felt most at home.

It was one of those establishments where something’s always skittering around in the cobweb-laden shadows. Where the bar top hasn’t been cleaned in millennia, and the resulting crust of grime is so thick, it’s basically given you a whole new disgusting surface to set your smeary glass on.

And where the very important business of drinking yourself into oblivion is always getting interrupted by something.

I’d barely downed my first drink when the ruckus started. The bouncer was being very choosy about who he let inside…

SON-TUUL BOUNCER:

I don’t think so. Your kind aren’t welcome here.

The bouncer lets out a scream as blasterfire hits him square in the chest.

APHRA (narration):

I tossed back the last of my drink and craned my neck toward the entrance, trying to see what was happening.

Of course it was my guys. Of course.

Never trust a bunch of bounty hunters to play it cool.

IG-90:

Statement: I have made my point.

APHRA (narration):

IG-90: thoroughly logical assassin droid. And, I’m pretty sure, the one who fired that shot.

BOSSK:

Are you sssssure about that, IG-90? Hissss…

APHRA (narration):

Bossk: known Wookiee-killer extraordinaire. Which…might be a problem. Since we had a Wookiee on this mission and all.

IG-90:

Query: Where is the Wookiee?

BEEBOX:

He saw there was a pit fight in the back. Dumb lump got nostalgic.

APHRA (narration):

And that’s Beebox. Very short. But carries a big gun.

These boys were going to help me carry out my next mission. But I hadn’t yet seen the aforementioned “dumb lump”—definitely the linchpin of this adventure.

So I followed them as they headed for the sleaziest part of this sleazy backroom fighting facility. I kept my distance, walking a few paces behind so they wouldn’t see me. I wanted to get a sense of how they interacted with each other, how they’d work together. If any of them were prime candidates for tanking our mission before it even started.