Ah Rysi, it's all going to pot. 

So Karl is really cancelling your contract? 

Yeah, it looks that way. And the Inspector says there's no recourse for my men these blaggards shot on account that no one outside my crew will testify against them.

They've got the townsfolk scared. Slark's men have been making threats around town.

So what are you going to do about it? Everyone here knows you and your crew are the best team this town has hired in a long while. 

But it's the council who pays the bills. And Slark's crew have promised to do the same work for half the price. It looks like I'm just out of a job.

Maybe not.

Who are you?

My name is Dodava and I represent a certain party interested in hiring your services. 

You need a wood crew?

No, we need someone who knows these mountains. My friend here was just telling me about an Imperial stronghold.

Have you ever heard of Burnium Ro's stronghold?

And you are?

Name's Bron and let's just say I have a reason to hate the Empire. They took everything from me.

Well my problem isn't with the Empire, it's with a Cartel pushing me out of my business.

Maybe we should talk somewhere more private, it'll be easier to help you understand.

Louis, I need you to clear this place. Can you do that for me?

Sure Vic, sure.

Thanks, I owe you one.

I'm shocked! Shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!

Your winnings, sir.

Oh, thank you very much. Everybody out at once!

Will you lock up for me, uncle?

Yes dear. Now Vic, I'll just be in the back if you need me.

Alright, start talking Dodava.

I work for Lady Priya of the Flame of Zhar. I was hear on Ikkrukk when Bron came to me with some interesting information. Information we pay highly for. But we need a local who can get into Burnium Ro's stronghold and retrieve it for us.

I don't need money. And I don't want to trade trouble with one Cartel for another. 

The Flame of Zhar is not a Cartel. We're more of a syndicate.

Meiloorun, meilarun. What's the difference?

I'm not here to recruit you, and you don't have to like us. But I have information on this Slark and his gang. Information that can help you get rid of them. Help me get what I want and we can help you get what you want.

Following the Imperial Remnants dastardly actions of burning the fields and homes of farmers on Reytha, Bri-sen, much lesser known cousin of renowned Talz chieftain Thi-sen, is once again trying his hand at farming, but this time on Codia. 

Perhaps Bri-sen should have taken the events on Reytha as a sign that farming wasn't for him. However, Bri-sen had become rather fond of farming. He missed his goldfruit farm. Perhaps he'd grow a new one some day. He had meant to go back home to Orto Plutonia, but he'd accidentally boarded the wrong flight to Batuu. It had been chaotic. Many farmers had lost both their homes and their livelihoods. Thankfully both he and Iicari had made it out alive. She had decided to stay on Batuu for the moment in Tabanna. He hoped to see her again. The Confederacy of Free Systems had an outpost on Codia and was helping war refugees start new lives there. Many were staying in Tabanna for the time being. He was one of the first to settle permanently on Codia. He had been given some seeds to start growing food to sustain himself and materials to build a home. They regularly shipped supplies to him and a few more refugees would arrive. They had settled all around the valley near the outpost. Bri-sen's house was the closest to the outpost, but it was still a decent walk. Maybe Bri-sen would send word to Iicari when the next supply run arrived. No one had previously lived on Codia. It was quiet and peaceful, but also lonely. It beat having to deal with imperials, clones, or droids invading his home and slaughtering his friends and tribe. Bri-sen liked the peaceful life, but wished for friends again. For now, Codia was P'zil. Home.

Vasher had imagined a repair shop.

What he found was something closer to a droid graveyard run by very small lunatics.

Parts covered nearly every surface of Brikk Voss’s cramped workshop. Tink, Zip, and Klik had already placed Red on the workbench and were swarming over the damaged chassis while BD-9R chirped diagnostics.

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Brikk opened a panel in his cybernetic forearm. A slender probe extended from one finger and plugged directly into Red’s processor.

“You built that into your arm?” Vasher asked.

“Needed it.”

Brikk studied the readings.

“Motors I can fix. Power system too.” He tapped the processor housing. “Memory core’s the problem.”

“Can you replace it?”

Brikk frowned. “Easy. But whatever wakes up afterward wouldn’t be Red.”

He turned to the others.

“We do it the difficult way.”

The Anzellans cheered.

Vasher found this deeply concerning.

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The workshop erupted into motion. Tink disappeared halfway inside Red’s chassis. Klik worked through corrupted memory addresses with BD-9R while Zip vanished into a pile of parts and returned holding a power regulator.

Brikk eyed it. “Where’d you get that?”

Zip grinned.

Brikk sighed. “Never mind.”

Then Red’s core surged.

“Cut power!”

Brikk drove his cybernetic hand into the chassis. Metal contacts snapped from his wrist and clamped onto the regulator.

Crack.

Smoke curled from his arm.

Vasher stared. “Is that bad?”

“For the arm? Yes.” Brikk glanced at Red. “For him? No.”

Minutes later, Red was stable—but still dark.

Brikk studied the readings. “Memory’s intact. He just can’t find his way through it.”

BD-9R connected to Red and began a slow series of familiar chirps while Klik rebuilt the damaged memory paths.

Nothing.

Then—

beep.

Red’s eye flickered to life.

A second beep followed, sharp and distinctly irritated.

Vasher laughed.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

The Anzellans erupted in celebration.

Brikk allowed himself a small smile.

Vasher looked at him. “What do I owe you?”

“Parts.”

“That’s it?”

Brikk glanced at the celebrating Anzellans.

“And caf.”

He sighed.

“A lot of caf.”

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The cantina lights were low, washed in the amber haze of Dorin’s filtered atmosphere beyond the viewport. Vasher Drayn sat alone in a corner booth, flight jacket still creased from the Ashlon campaign, helmet resting beside a half‑empty glass. Across from him lay the scorched chassis of BD‑R3 “Red,” the little copilot droid who’d saved his life more times than he could count. He poured a second drink and let it sit untouched, a quiet memorial in the dim light.

The door hissed open. An Ugnaught in a grease‑stained vest stomped inside, trailed by a BD‑unit and a swarm of tiny Anzellans carrying tool satchels. They weren’t here for him; they moved with the chaotic purpose of a crew already late for their next job. But the droid stopped mid‑stride, tilted its head, and chirped sharply at the sight of Red’s broken frame.

Vasher stiffened as the droid approached his table. “Hey—easy,” he muttered, pulling Red closer.

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The Ugnaught arrived a moment later, grumbling. “BD‑9R, leave the man alone. We don’t poke at strangers’ scrap.” But the BD‑unit ignored him, projecting a flickering diagnostic holo over Red’s damaged core.

Before Vasher could protest, the Anzellans swarmed under and over the booth, squeaking orders at each other as sparks flickered beneath the table. Tools clattered. Someone shouted triumphantly in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Stop—stop! That’s my droid!” Vasher snapped.

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The Ugnaught raised both hands. “Relax, pilot. They’re just checking the damage.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t need to. I know a BD‑unit in trouble when I see one.”

BD‑9R hopped up onto the Ugnaught's shoulder and projected a soft holo—Red’s last stable memory, a brief moment of calm before the fighting turned ugly. Vasher’s anger faltered, replaced by the familiar ache of loss. The Ugnaught studied Red’s core, his expression shifting from annoyance to something closer to concern.

“This one’s been through hell,” he murmured. “But maybe not beyond saving.”

He snapped his fingers, and the Anzellans instantly packed up Red’s parts with military precision. Vasher stood, torn between instinct and hope.

“…Fine,” he said at last. “Take him. But I’m coming with you.”

The Ugnaught shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

BD‑9R chirped encouragingly as the crew filed out into Dorin’s storm‑lit night, Red’s faintly glowing core cradled in an Anzellan’s tiny arms. Vasher followed, leaving the untouched drink behind.

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The Preservation and Research Foundation have begun exploring the rocky deserts on the bright side of Codia's second moon, the Phoenix Moon. After several months of planning and gathering funds, made possible with the Confederacy of Free System's interest in the Codia system, several of the Foundations members and leaders have gone back into the field! They have discovered an abandoned ruined city after weeks of trekking in the desert and are beginning to investigate the question: why was it abandoned?  

Members of the Expedition:

Tolli Sierras: archaeologist graduate of the Telosian Academy who studied under Professor Nicholas Robert Quibbles Ph.D. until an accident with Quibbles' remnant employers left her injured. Jal Mes stumbled upon her by pure coincidence and took her to Kashyyyk, where she was almost eaten by a mind-controlled Wyyyschok spider controlled by Dr. Quibbles, who also happened to be Jal's rival. They have since all worked out their differences over a picnic of Leivaks and roasted porg and meiloorun sandwiches. She is currently working as an intern with the Foundation while looking for graduate programs. 

Jal Mes: native of the planet Duro, prior to it becoming uninhabitable and former member of the Keepers of the Force. He left due to his wanderlust and love for the stars. His reluctance to speak Galactic Basic and preference for Durese has caused friction with others, which made his adventures on Ossus and Hoth, well, interesting to say the least. He is also fluent in Shyriiwook. On the whole, his people skills are rather stunted due to living with repressed monks. Only recently he joined up with the Foundation. He almost exclusively drinks the Durese drink Leivaks, which he hopes more his colleagues would appreciate the wonderful aroma of, but alas! His academic interests are in force/spiritual-related artifacts and languages. 

Dr. Aposta Ramm: the Head of the Research Department for the Foundation. One of the original members of the Foundation, Dr. Ramm works both on her own research projects whilst also directing foundation members to interesting new projects or inquiries from both academic journals and people who don’t want their heritage and artifacts to fall into the grimy hands of warlords, pirates, or other opportunists. 

Professor Pod Floon: the Head of Activities for the Foundation following his exploits with the intrepid Harnabus Clod and Galactic Gazette journalist, Kitsa Rigo, on the jungles of Imynusoph. He was a tenure track professor at the Chandrilian Academy, but decided to take a several year long galactic sabbatical to explore the furthest reaches of the galaxy. His research is focused mostly on flora and fauna, and he will enthusiastically take any opportunity to go on further adventures, despite his new work in administration which he tackles with a little less, but great enthusiasim! 

Geeno Rii: An elderly Rodian academic whose only interest in life is pottery. No, seriously his entire office is just stacks of pottery and boxes filled with meticulously identified and sorted pottery shards and items. He even makes his own pottery when he isn’t digging it up and studying it. Dr. Ramm convinced him to join the expedition by promising that there'd be plenty of pottery on the Phoenix Moon.

Ehezeva Di’an: Originally a Freedom Fighter on Ryloth, Ehezeva has since pursued her passion for archaeology and artifacts following the success of the Ryloth Insurgency. 

BD-4: a refurbished BD unit, found by Ehezeva in the marketplace of Tabanna.

Note on Characters: Pod Floon was created by Sam, and his exciting past adventures can be read here! Jal Mes and Tolli Sierras appeared previously here and here. There's also room for more! It'd be great to see more relic hunters pop up around the galaxy :)

The RZ-1B A-Wing Interceptor is an upgraded production variant of the legendary RZ-1 developed by Chardaan Shipyards under the New Republic Fleet Development Initiative. As peace slowly returned to the Core Worlds following the Galactic Civil War, the New Republic commissioned a modernized interceptor that preserved the blistering speed and exceptional maneuverability of its predecessor while addressing the needs of a growing fleet.

The redesigned ion engine nacelles feature high-efficiency exhaust nozzles for improved thrust and fuel economy, reinforced stabilizer foils for greater control at extreme speeds, and integrated maneuvering thrusters that enhance precision handling during combat and carrier operations.

During the Galactic Civil War, Rebel sympathizers secretly assembled A-Wing interceptors beneath the watchful eyes of Imperial overseers. With the rise of the New Republic, those same shipyards openly resumed production and were awarded the A-Wing Replacement Project. The resulting RZ-1B became Chardaan's pride and joy, carrying the planet's legacy into a new era of New Republic starfighter production.