The cantina is quieter at midnight. Most of the rowdy crowd has gone, leaving only the serious drinkers and those with nowhere else to be.
I sit in the corner, back to the wall, helmet on. My usual spot. The droid server knows my order—warm broth, nothing stronger. Need to stay sharp even now.
Greef left an hour ago. We settled the contract. A Nikto pirate crew that'd been raiding Guild shipments. Simple job, clean takedown. He paid in credit sticks and information.
Said there's a rumor of other Mandalorians on the edge of the sector. Maybe not just rumors this time. I've followed enough dead leads to be cautious, but hope... hope is harder to kill than a kriffing krayt dragon.
This was after the job he mentioned in his earlier message—see A Message from Karga.
The neon lights flicker. Someone in the corner is playing a sad tune on a slit-drum. It reminds me of the covert, somehow. The songs we'd sing after the forge cooled.
I finish my broth and head back to the ship. Another day. Another hunt.
This is the way.