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Despite the way hyperspace travel has now effectively shrunk the vast distances of the galaxy, convenient travel has never meant more frequent reunions.
Especially in a galaxy so boundless, with countless planets and cities, the odds of a chance encounter are infinitesimally small.
And yet, that's exactly what makes friendship all the more precious—and reunions all the more surprising.
Shaking off his thoughts, Amir boarded the Traveler. Just then, a rough voice called out from behind him.
"Amir, wait up," said Worf.
Amir had assumed Worf had already boarded the Rebel ship with the rest of the group.
"What is it?"
"I have a request," the middle-aged Devaronian hesitated. "I used to be a farmer. I've been a bounty hunter, a cook, a mechanic… but I just want to go back to being a farmer. I've been through too much. I don't want revenge. I'm tired. Could you give me a lift?"
Amir could feel the sincerity in Worf's presence through the Force. Though the red-skinned devil still radiated vitality, he was clearly weary.
"Of course. Where do you want to go?"
"I haven't decided yet. Maybe Valsha—I worked there once. But I really like Naboo. I heard it's peaceful and great for growing things."
"Why not go with the others to Adrion?" Amir asked, remembering the planet and its lush vegetation—perfect for spices and ingredients.
"Rango invited me to help him, but I…"
Thankfully for him, his red skin hid any blush. Still, Amir understood. Worf had turned down Rango's offer to help rescue the rest of Gurigena's people, and now felt awkward about joining the others.
"But you're fine asking me?" Amir sighed. That's the kind of strange camaraderie that only strangers seem to share.
Sensing no ill will from him, Amir said, "Come aboard. We're heading out anyway. If you haven't decided on a destination yet, just stay on the ship for now."
After getting Worf situated, Amir headed to the cockpit. Han Solo was already there, ready to go.
"Alright, two passengers onboard. What's your destination, Han?"
"You really brought that grumpy Devaronian? Come on, he doesn't exactly look like a friendly guy," Han muttered under his breath.
"You don't exactly look friendly either, and yet here you are."
"…Just don't say I didn't warn you. Whatever happens, not my problem."
"Relax, he'll be fine. Don't forget—I can see the future, remember?"
"…"
"So, about that bounty hunter—Captain?" Han asked.
"I'll give him a call." Amir fired up the ship, and the Traveler slowly lifted off the planet.
Once they breached the atmosphere, Amir disabled the signal jamming device. While moving at speed, there was minimal danger even if they were being tracked—by the time a signal went out, they'd already be gone.
The real risk was during long periods of being stationary.
Not yet knowing exactly how he'd been tracked before, Amir remained constantly vigilant.
With communications restored, Amir attempted to contact the Mandalorian.
Soon, a voice muffled by a helmet came through: "Glad you're not dead. Would've been a waste of my time."
"Thanks for your concern. Where are you now?" Amir asked.
"Nevarro."
"Where?"
"Just tell me where you are. I'll come find you." The Mandalorian sounded surprisingly upbeat upon hearing Amir was still alive—after all, the bounty was sizable.
"Come to Tatooine. Mos Eisley. Message me when you arrive."
"Copy that."
Han Solo had been listening closely. He suddenly remembered something. "That Razor Crest?"
"Yeah. I hired him to help during your rescue."
Han hadn't forgotten the ship that had fought alongside them.
Amir reactivated the signal jammer and jumped into hyperspace.
Eventually, the Traveler arrived in Tatooine's orbit. This time, Amir didn't head for Obi-Wan's hut—he parked directly at the local spaceport.
"Oh, Tatooine. I love the weather here. So warm," Worf said as he strolled through the main hall.
"Warm? It'll tan your red hide black," Han snarked.
"Actually, it won't," Worf replied. "It's a racial advantage. I thrive in heat, but I don't mind humid warmth either."
"What are you working on, Amir?" Worf asked, watching him tinker at the workbench.
"I need to build something to cloak my location. Otherwise, your dream of farming—and Han's spring fling—will go up in smoke."
Even though Pax had installed a signal jammer on the Traveler, Amir needed something portable for missions off-ship.
Though his body scan had shown nothing abnormal, Amir wasn't taking chances. He had no interest in being ambushed again.
So he studied the jammer's internal mechanics and began building a mobile version.
"Han, take my commlink and walk around outside. See if we get any incoming transmissions."
Han took the backup communicator from the cockpit and stepped off the ship.
"Nothing yet, Captain!"
"Go farther!!"
"Roger that."
"Have him meet us here!"
Worf stepped out as well, soaking in the sun.
"Your name's Han?" he asked.
"Yep. Han Solo. I know you—Worf." Though initially wary, Han was starting to warm up to him.
"Enjoying sunlight freely is such a blessing—especially after a year in the mines."
"No doubt. Ditching that damned Imperial helmet also made things easier for me."
They sat on the steps chatting.
"Why didn't you leave with the others?" Han asked the hulking man.
Worf thought for a moment and began, "I have nowhere to go. I contacted old friends—no replies. Probably forgot about me. Or they're dead. A lot can happen in a year."
"I don't want to go back to my old life. Danger, greed, betrayal… I'm done. I just want a ship to take me somewhere peaceful."
Han crossed his legs. "There's no such place anymore, Worf. Yesterday I was still an Imperial soldier—I'd know."
"Then I'll just stay on the Traveler for now. Amir already said yes," Worf said with a smile.
Han didn't reply. Worf's worldview clashed too hard with his own ambitions. Han dreamed of making a name for himself in the galaxy, too proud and driven to settle for a quiet life.
But the quiet didn't last long.
A Mandalorian was approaching.
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