The Map

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You can feel the sand in your shoes, acting as a second layer of support in your boots. Your skin dry and grazed from the hot winds. You really do hate this planet. Sand everywhere. You'll be washing it out of your hair for the next week.

The Jakku heat gnaws at your skin, still present after the blazing sun has gone down. All you want is for this mission to be accomplished safely with no interruptions, no problems and certainly no killing. It really sucks when that happens.

You sit patiently on a basket woven stool, stationed close to the ground. The person your facing, the very reason you're here. The reason you were given the mission in the first place.

Lor San Tekka sits across from you, on a stool of his own in the middle of his clay hut located in the outer skirts of the Jakku desert. His face is weathered, wrinkles prominent on his skin. He hands you a small brown leather draw-string pouch. Lor places it in your hand and closes your fingers around it.

"This will begin to make things right." He says, his voice as old and weathered as his appearance. You nod at him, circling the pouch in your gloved hand.

"I've travelled many planets, seen many things," He continues, shakily resting his hand on his knee. "Without the Jedi, there's no balance."

You feel unease, the word 'Jedi' bringing back memories you wish to forget. You wish to cut out of your mind with your own knife.

"I'll take it immediately to my base on Takodana, and from there the Resistance will receive it promptly." You lean forward and grab his forearm giving it a tight squeeze. "We appreciate your help, you have no idea how long we've been searching for this."

Lor gifts you a pleasant smile. "I can imagine my dear, I can imagine. Give the General my regards."

You nod before swiftly standing from your seat on the ground, and start towards the material flaps of the hut. Outside you're greeted by your comrade. A friend since you first started working at Castle Takodana, and now a fellow associate that your not present on a mission without. Lera Gracol is one of the most talented pilots you have ever met, having started flying at the age of ten, she entered every speeder race known to the galaxy. That hard work paid off, seeing she's a pilot for the resistance now.

"Did you get it?" She asks, eyes wide with hope.

You nod, holding the little leather pouch in you hand. "We need to take it to base as soon as possible. The Resistance will come for it tomorrow morning."

Both re-wrapping your face coverings over your mouth and nose, you make way to your sand speeders to take you back to the ship.

Lera hops on her speeder, flicking switches for it to start. It rumbles under her, desperate for her to ride. But you stop along side your own, looking around the village narrowing your eyes in every dark corner and bend.

Lera looks your way, her brows knit together. "What's wrong?"

You raise a hand toward her, silencing her. A shiver runs along your spine making its way along the skin of your arms.

You sense eyes. Watching you.

With a loud sparking noise you watch as a blaster bolt flies past your head. You look toward Lera sitting on her speeder, she ducks just in time, the bolt having hit a pile of clay vases on the ground behind the speeders.

Immediately crouching to the ground you both make way looking for cover. You pass Lor's hut, snatching the blaster from your side, the knife in your boot a small comfort also. You grip Lera's arm and pull her behind a water tank. She has her own gun raised ready for the fight against the unknown.

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