Rango felt a tickling sensation on his face.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw a furry arm.
Wait—a furry arm?
"ROOOAAAR!!"
A deafening roar exploded in his ears, snapping him fully awake.
He tried to sit up, but his body was still numb. Every muscle screamed in pain.
His vision finally cleared, revealing what the furry arm belonged to: a massive Wookiee, sitting cross-legged, holding its head in its hands.
Rango had heard Amir talk about Wookiees many times. If he remembered correctly, they were mostly gentle—unless provoked.
So he decided to try his luck.
"Hello?"
"ROAR!!"
Rango shut his eyes, accepting his fate as the Wookiee's spit splashed all over him—perhaps the rarest rainfall Coruscant had to offer.
Once the Wookiee finished growling, Rango looked around the dark surroundings. They were inside a giant cargo container, with only the Wookiee and himself present.
Rango started planning his escape. His knife was gone—of course the Trandoshans wouldn't leave such a risk.
His only potential ally didn't speak his language, so even basic questions were out of reach.
And every movement sent waves of pain through his body. It felt hopeless.
All he could do now was rest and wait for his strength to return.
He reached into his jacket lining, trying to retrieve a stim-pack Amir had given him. But the stim and a nutrient bar both fell to the floor.
A large furry hand reached down, grabbed the syringe, and calmly injected it into its own arm.
Rango gave the Wookiee a grateful glance and allowed his body to relax. That effort had drained the last of his energy.
Then, resting his ear against the Wookiee's stomach, he heard a deep growl.
Startled, Rango flinched—until he realized it was just the Wookiee's stomach rumbling.
"Rooow..." the Wookiee growled sheepishly, scratching its furry head.
Rango wasn't sure how to offer the nutrient bar, so he forced his aching arm to reach for it. In doing so, his hand brushed against cold metal.
Chains.
The Wookiee was a prisoner too.
With effort, Rango handed over the nutrient bar. The Wookiee let out a grateful grunt and devoured it in one go.
"ROOW!!" The sound was filled with joy.
Despite his condition, Rango couldn't help but smile.
CLANK! The container doors burst open. Several Trandoshans entered, wielding electro-batons. One jabbed the Wookiee, drawing a sharp, pained roar.
"Move it! No playing dead!" two others barked, lifting Rango and forcing the Wookiee out of the container.
It was only then that Rango noticed the Wookiee's fur was chestnut brown.
The corridor outside was dim, barely illuminated. Their shadows danced in the flickering light.
They were thrown into a cage, and the door was slammed shut behind them.
The steel floor was cold and damp. Rango lay on it, gritting his teeth through the pain.
The chained Wookiee gently lifted him and propped him against its side.
"Th-Thanks..." Rango muttered, gasping for air.
Time passed. Only their breathing filled the silence.
"If you're going to Tatooine, you'd better be careful," Pierre warned. "That place is full of scum and always on the brink of riots."
In the workshop, they were eating dinner. Amir had just mentioned his intention to head to Tatooine.
Veronica finished her cup of beast milk and leaned back on the couch. "Don't worry. The ones who should be scared are the criminals."
"Haha, still dependable as always, Veronica," Sain laughed—earning a sharp glare from her.
"Rango probably wanted to go too, but where is he? He hasn't shown up all day," Amir asked.
"No clue! I tried messaging him—nothing," said Little Jay, already heading back to his droid projects.
"You think he took a job behind our backs?" Veronica guessed.
"Unlikely," Amir muttered. "I passed by the port earlier and didn't see him."
"Maybe the port ghost got him!" Little Jay exclaimed.
"What ghost story are you on now?" Amir sighed. "Let's go check his place after dinner."
They hopped on their speeders and soon arrived at a small house.
Rango had grown up alone. He used to have a grandfather, but he'd disappeared when Rango was still young.
They knocked, but no one answered.
Amir's gut told him something was wrong.
"Let's split up. Something definitely happened," he said, frowning. "I'll check the port again. Veronica, try the bars. Little Jay, scout the places we've used to lay low. If anyone finds something, report immediately."
They all nodded, urgency settling in.
The night port was still buzzing with activity. Starships loading and unloading. Droids and workers hurrying about.
Amir returned to Rango's usual spot and found a management droid.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for a worker who's usually assigned here," Amir asked politely.
"A worker? Ha! There are thousands of workers here, and they rotate constantly!" the droid replied stiffly.
Suppressing irritation, Amir pulled out a credit chit and held it near the droid's compartment.
The hatch popped open and swallowed the chit.
"Haha! A worker, huh? I know them all! Name?"
"Rango. A Farlin."
"Ah! Let me check…" The droid froze, accessing its database. "Rango... Rango... here! Last night, he handled a shipment from... hmm? Origin encrypted. No work records after that."
"What about the recipient? Who received the goods?"
"Oh... well, normally that's classified, company policy—"
Amir flashed another chit.
"Ah! Yes, well... most of the time. One moment." The droid awkwardly tapped its head, pretending to override protocol. "Recipient found!"
"Stacey Bradley."
"Madam Bradley... of the Underground Arena!"
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