Amarant grabbed the Kuranu girl, his serrated pincer threatening to break the delicate skin of her arm.

“Don’t hurt me. Please.”

Pathetic.

The transport’s ramp splashed into a puddle of water as it lowered. Amarant sniffed as he dragged the female from the ship. It was raining again. He didn’t mind. He liked it. It reminded him of Florn. Amarant could never return home, not after he’d murdered his entire nest, but Grizal was the next best thing. Before the attack on Valo, he’d taken to hunting the rexx-boars in the forest. Maybe he would hunt later today, after he had delivered his prize.

At least the female hadn’t been a nuisance as he’d made the long journey to the base. Without a Path, Amarant had been forced to make a series of short jumps, which had taken an age but which the Republic shuttle had handled admirably. It was a good little ship. Perhaps he’d ask Lourna if he could retrofit it with a Path engine and some proper guns?

And there she was, in the middle of the exercise yard, not caring a jot about the rain that hammered against her mask. He’d tried to hate her for leaving him behind, but he knew he would’ve done the same in her position. She’d said it often enough: Survival was all that mattered.

“I’ve brought you a present, Dee,” he said, shoving the Kuranu forward. The female slipped on the wet rockcrete, landing at Dee’s feet.

“Two presents,” the Tempest Runner said, indicating the Republic ship with her disruptor. “Where’d you steal that?”

Amarant puffed out his thorax proudly. “From the Jedi outpost.”

Dee’s tone barely changed, but Amarant knew she was impressed. “And who is this?”

The female spoke before he could reply. “My name is Klerin Chekkat.”

“She spoke of a great weapon,” Amarant added quickly, not wanting the girl to steal his thunder.

“Did she now?” Amarant imagined her eyes flicking up to him. “And you weren’t followed?”

Amarant shook his segmented head. “No. I told them I would hurt the female.”

“And you checked for homing beacons?”

His long tongue went dry.

“Well?”

“I … I didn’t think.”

Lourna Dee brought up her rifle and fired. Amarant howled as he lost an arm, the flesh dissolving in the disruptor’s beam. She shifted, firing again. Another arm vanished.

The barrel didn’t drop.

“Have you finished wailing?”

Amarant nodded, the charred stumps burning in the rain.

“You’re lucky it’s not on full power.” Dee didn’t shout. She didn’t have to. “You could have brought the entire Jedi Order to our door.”

Amarant forced himself to speak. “I am sorry, Runner.”

“Sorry?” Another squeeze of the trigger. Another limb gone. “Lucky for you, we scanned that junkheap before you landed.”

“And did you find anything?”