[Q17 - Socorro - FZ] This Town Might be Big Enough for the Two of Us...

On the streets of Vakeyya...

The streets of Vakeyya were alive in the way only frontier towns could be.

Vendors called out from beneath faded awnings, peddling Socorro's famous spiced tea to weary travelers. Merchants haggled over cargo prices with the desperation of folk living one bad season away from ruin. Nomads passed through the dusty avenues beside settlers who'd traded wandering for walls long ago.

There was real life here, and Carm drank it in.

After so much recycled air on Farstine, breathing beneath an open sky felt almost foreign. Warm sunlight rested on his skin. The dry desert wind carried with it the smell of spice, dust, and burning fuel.

For the first time in a long while, he felt at ease. At least for the moment.

Lady Pria's orders had been clear. The Flame was consolidating operations on Socorro, and the upcoming summit between the galaxy's underworld powers promised opportunity, or disaster.

That was why Carm had called in his slicer. They needed information before going into danger.

"So what's the job, Carm the One Arm?" the slicer asked with a crooked grin. Carm still wasn't used to the nickname.

"Lady Pria's meeting with the Hutts, the Pykes, and anyone else with enough credits and blasters to set up a criminal enterprise. I want us knowing exactly what we're getting into."

He lowered his voice. "I want you inside their networks. Find whatever you can on their financials, their weapons shipments, any new territories they're expanding into. Anything they don't want found."

The slicer's expression tightened. "You're asking me to spy on some dangerous people."

"I know." Carm acknowledged, and reached into his coat and handed over a credstick. "I'll double your pay."

Her eyes widened. "And if things go sideways?"

Carm gave a small shrug. "You call me. Nobody working for me gets left behind."

For a moment, she studied him, then she nodded. "It'll be done." She disappeared into the crowd, swallowed whole by the bustling street. Carm watched her go.

The future of Socorro felt uncertain. Things were simpler when he had the one mission of taking out Drego. This was uncharted territory, and he wanted steadier footing before taking the next step.

"Hey! Offworlder!" The voice cut through his thoughts. Three armed thugs stood across the street, and they looked like trouble.

Their leader strode forward with all the swagger of a man used to winning fights he started. Scarred armor hung from his frame- Imperial by design, though time and hard living had nearly worn the Empire out of it. Nearly.

The man jabbed a finger into Carm's chest. "Not sure what business you got on my planet, but I think it'd be wise if you packed up and left."

Carm raised his hands slightly. "Easy there, friend. We're just passing through."

The thug sneered. "I'm no friend of yours." His gaze drifted to Carm's clothing and  shining cybernetic arm. "Syndicate folk. Always trouble. Almost as bad as the nomads."

Carm slowly took a step back. "Alright. No trouble. I'll be on my way." He turned.

"Not so fast, offworlder." Carm froze. "No one turns their back on me." A blaster whined to life behind him.

Then a crack rang out. The street erupted into chaos as merchants dove for cover, the sound of shattered glass and commotion everywhere. 

Carm instinctively checked himself for a wound. Nothing. He turned to find the thug laying dead in the dust, a smoking hole emenating from him. His companions stared in stunned silence.

Then they ran. Cowards always did.

The street slowly fell quiet. Carm grabbed the blaster from the fallen thug and looked up.

Beneath the great arch overlooking the avenue stood a lone figure.

Wide brimmed hat disguising his features. A beskar breastplate bolted to his chest. A long rifle pointed at Carm, clasped in steady hands.

The stranger lowered the rifle first. Not because he had to, but because he chose to.

The measured clink of beskar echoed through the silence as he approached.

"The name's Kellan Varo." His voice was low and dry as the Socorran desert. "I've been tracking that Imp for weeks. Was hoping to bring him in warm." He glanced down at the corpse. "But I don't much care for them who shoot folks in the back."

Carm lowered his blaster. "You're a bounty hunter?"

Kellan checked the rifle's charge pack. "Pays better than farming."

Carm's eyes drifted toward the beskar breastplate. "A Mandalorian bounty hunter?"

For the first time, something flickered across Kellan's face. Carm couldn't make anything of it. "There are no Mandalorians left." The words carried the weight of something greater. "I'm just a man trying to make a living on the edge of the galaxy."

Carm looked between the body and the stranger. "Whoever you are, that was one hell of a shot."

Kellan shrugged. "It's a long rifle, and it wasn't much of a distance." He slung the weapon lazily to his side. "Word of advice, outsider." His gaze swept over Vakeyya's crowded streets. "On Socorro, never turn your back on a man you haven't buried."

Carm gave a small laugh. "I'll remember that." His expression darkened. "I didn't know there were Remnant out here."

Kellan snorted. "There aren't." Then he nudged the corpse lightly with his boot. "But vermin always find dark places to hide."

Carm extended his hand. "I'm Carm."

Kellan looked at it for a moment before taking it. A firm grip. The sort folks used when words weren't enough.

"If you're looking for work," Carm said, "the Flame always pays its debts. Sounds like we share a dislike of the Empire."

Kellan considered that. The desert wind stirred dust between them. At last, he nodded. "If your credits spend, we'll get along just fine."

Carm smiled. "Maybe someday we'll even make a syndicate man out of you."

Kellan barked a dry laugh. "Wouldn't count on it." He turned toward the fallen Imperial and sighed. "Now come on."

He jerked a thumb toward the sheriff's office at the end of the street. "Dead men don't walk themselves to the marshal."

Together, the two men lifted the body and began the long walk down Vakeyya's dusty street.

Above them, the sun began to dip below the black mountains of Socorro.

Somewhere beyond that scorching horizon, trouble was brewing.

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Better angle showing the full build:

As always, I'd love any comments, critiques, suggestions for how to improve!