The Broken Fence
It was one of those forgotten backwater planets the Wayfinder drifted through every few cycles - out on the galactic fringe, off the major hyperspace lanes. No traffic. No questions. Exactly the sort of place where one of their most reliable fences operated. Low profile, clean credits, and a strict policy of not asking how you got the goods . Brains didn’t like it the moment the comms went dead. “No handshake signal,” the Twi’lek muttered from the ramp, fingers dancing across his datapad. “No reply on any of his usual frequencies. Just static.” Spike shifted his weight, wincing slightly as he rolled his injured shoulder. “Last time that happened, it was Jawas. I’m still not convinced they don’t follow us.” Jugro snorted, checking both blaster pistols. “And last time before that, we walked into a nest of battle droids.” With Cap’in still laid up from the previous job, Brains took point - quietly, efficiently. He raised a fist and the crew fanned out: Jugro, Mon Kir, Choppa, 5E, Mom...