"Fine?! How could it be fine?!" Kaharman snapped.
"Th-then why did you—?!" Millisyn demanded.
"Because he is fine!" Kaharman shot back, even more worked up.
"????" For a moment, everyone in the room—people and droids alike—froze.
"I'm very sorry, Amir. Please wait a bit. I need to run more tests on him first. Forgive me—I haven't seen such a high-quality patient in far too long!"
Amir could understand that some people had… quirks. And Kaharman had been easygoing up to now, so Amir didn't make a fuss. He let the doctor continue poking and prodding 032. Only Millisyn kept glaring at the Adynian like she wanted to bite him.
The only real concern was whether 032's body could handle being tossed around like this.
As if sensing Amir's worry, Kaharman added, "His body is strange, but it isn't wrong."
"Strange? Not wrong? Those two words belong together?" Amir asked, baffled.
"No, no—I mean… um… he won't die."
"Then we're good." Amir went to a corner of the room and sat down to watch.
Millisyn stared at Amir, scandalized, but she still followed and sat nearby, arms folded, silently watching too.
Honestly, Amir was curious himself—what was 032 made of?
He didn't know how much time passed. Amir was starting to nod off when Kaharman finally stopped.
He slid 032 back into the nearby medical pod, then moved to a bank of instruments, manipulating controls and studying the data.
"I'm hungry!" Millisyn had been bored out of her mind. Now her stomach was growling too—she couldn't take it anymore.
"Then let's go grab something outside first," Amir suggested.
"Yay!"
Not wanting to interrupt Kaharman while he worked, Amir quietly led Millisyn and BD-4 out.
Once they were out of the "little clinic," Amir noticed the fully-converted woman at the door was gone, replaced by someone who looked like a professional bodyguard.
"Where's the one from before?" Amir asked.
"Shift change."
Amir didn't press. He headed to the nearest restaurant.
The moment he walked in, he spotted a familiar "fellow patient": Harley—now with brand-new arms—holding court at a table with a few other well-dressed people.
Harley noticed Amir immediately and lifted his right arm high in greeting.
Amir had a decent impression of him—Harley had explained a few things earlier—so he went over.
"Hey, I still don't know your name," Harley said.
"Amir. This is my little sister, Millisyn," Amir said.
"Beep-beep-beep!" BD-4 protested at not being introduced.
"And BD-4," Amir added, resigned.
"Amir—nice to meet you. How's your friend? I heard Kaharman personally stepped in. If so, he'll be fine," Harley said.
"From your lips to the Force." Amir glanced at Harley's arms. "Looks like your surgery went great."
"Perfect. Feels almost factory-new—well, from the outside. Sit. Since you're here, eat with us," Harley invited.
Amir checked Millisyn's expression. She didn't seem opposed, so he sat. Two others were already at the table.
"Guys, these are the ones I met at the clinic. You didn't see the patient he brought in—looked half dead! Skin all rotted through, like a meiloorun left out for a month!" Harley said vividly, completely ignoring the fact people were eating.
Amir wasn't close to 032, but hearing it described like that still felt wrong. He also couldn't exactly argue in public. Harley was… a little off.
Across from them, the two men's faces tightened slightly, but they kept polite, awkward smiles.
"Hello, Amir—and Miss Millisyn. I'm Kordel Gilbert. This is Kili Gaetner. Like Harley, we're merchants. Not insanely wealthy, but we've got some resources and we know people. If you ever need a hand, you can come to us."
After quick introductions, Amir and Millisyn got down to business—food. They took the menu and ordered the restaurant's specialty dishes.
With strangers around, Amir didn't feel comfortable eating like a starving nexu. Even Millisyn forced herself into something resembling table manners.
Harley might have been loud and tactless, but he was straightforward and social—no chance of an awkward silence with him around.
Amir eased into the conversation and learned they were all in the mineral trade. Harley might look like a lovable brute, but he was quietly loaded.
In plain terms: his family had mines.
"I'm jealous of Harley—his ore is practically right outside his doorstep. Business is brutal for us now," Kordel, a dark-skinned man, said with a grim face. "Most of our sites got seized by the Empire. Years of development—equipment, labor, credits—gone. We built it, they took it."
"I'm in the same boat," Kili said, offering a calmer tone. "But I recently got a line open to the sector governor's office. Things finally stabilized."
"Out of more than a hundred sites, we're down to forty-something. Total value's under four million credits now. Pathetic," Kordel sighed.
Amir silently revisited his own bank balance and sighed too. He was still a long way from his dream of retiring as a rich farmer on Alderaan.
"I heard the Faruk Sector was taken by the Empire recently," Kordel said.
Amir's ears perked up. Faruk—that was where he'd rescued Lango before.
"I heard that too!" Harley said, tearing into a steak. "They took over a bunch of mines. Just bandits with uniforms."
"Keep it down, Harley," Kili warned. "There could be Imperial senators nearby. If someone hears you, you'll be in trouble."
Harley immediately shrank in his seat.
"I've been there," Amir said, giving a rough summary of what he'd seen, trying to draw them out. "I even saw a Star Destroyer."
"Terrifying power," Kordel muttered. "There was a local leader—Greta Berry. Easy to deal with. She controlled a lot of mining rights; we traded with her plenty. Good thing I heard she got out."
Greta… After she'd helped Amir, he'd never seen her again. But as long as she was alive, that was enough. If fate wanted it, they'd meet again.
"What about you, Amir?" they asked, looking at his young face. "What do you do?"
"I… I'm still a student," Amir said. He couldn't exactly call himself a happily unemployed drifter. "Student" wasn't even a lie—an apprentice was still a student.
"A student? What do you study?" Harley asked, scratching his head. "I've been thinking of donating money and buying myself an honorary professor title. People keep saying I'm uncultured. I envy you book types."
"Mostly… research into ancient sites and ruins," Amir said smoothly.
It was a convenient lie—because he did want to ask about Masassi crystals. These men worked in minerals and excavation-adjacent trades. If anyone had heard rumors about unusual crystals in old structures, it would be people like them.
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🌌 Star Wars: Relics of the Past
📢 The Force Calls! 📢
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