After a long, satisfying sleep, Amir slowly got dressed and glanced at the time on his communicator.
Following the intensity of the recent mission, he'd slept a full fifteen hours before waking up naturally.
He tied back his messy hair with a headband and stepped out of his small bedroom.
"So hungry… what's for breakfast, Pierre?" Amir yawned as he called out.
"It's not even noon! If you're starving, grab a nutrient pack," Pierre replied from the workshop.
"I really don't want that stuff… And what are you doing, Little Jay?" Amir asked, spotting the boy working on a speeder bike.
"I'm painting it! Giving my new ride a fresh coat—just like your Kola!" Jay said proudly.
After realizing he couldn't afford the XP-30 landcruiser of his dreams, Little Jay settled for a secondhand flight speeder instead. It resembled Amir's bike a bit, except it was pretty badly rusted.
"While you were gone yesterday, Dad helped me upgrade all the parts. Now it performs just as well as your Kola!"
Amir leaned in to check the engine and control grips. The upgrades weren't bad.
"Still ugly," Amir said encouragingly.
"The engine's better than yours!"
"Still ugly."
"I'm repainting it!"
"Still ugly."
"!!…"
Seeing Jay rise to the challenge, Amir nodded in satisfaction.
"I'm heading out to buy some food. We're having a feast at lunch!"
He was in a great mood—he'd found a stash of credits and valuable parts aboard Vronis's ship, now rechristened The Voyager.
"Awesome!" Jay beamed, going right back to his "art project."
In the workshop, Pierre was repairing an old astromech technician droid.
"I'm grabbing ingredients. Let's invite Veronica and Rango for lunch," Amir repeated as he passed.
"You must've done pretty well this time, huh?"
"Oh yeah. Big time." Amir yawned again, stretching in the sunlight streaming through the open door.
"Go ahead. Maybe you'll run into Sain and BD-4. They went to the port this morning to pick up a shipment."
Amir nodded and headed up toward the surface levels.
The Mels' repair shop was located on the third basement level of a residential district—not exactly chaotic, but not exactly tidy either. Some people worked hard, but many preferred taking shortcuts.
So even though food was sold around here, there were no proper vendors that stocked fresh ingredients daily.
After a short walk, Amir reached the commercial district above and headed straight to his usual spot.
Calling it a shop was generous—it was basically a food stand crammed inside a rusted iron box on wheels. It didn't move anymore; it just served as a makeshift kiosk.
"Hey, Hope! Got anything fresh today?" Amir called.
The vendor was a Gran—a goat-like species with two small horns on their head (in addition to ears) and three eyes arranged in a triangle.
Hope was a friendly Gran, like most of his kind. Amir often bought ingredients here.
"Amir, my boy! You're in luck. I've got something new today," Hope said, his eyes lighting up. He stepped out from the side hatch and pulled Amir inside.
He reached into a corner sack, pulled out a smaller one, and then yet another—this time retrieving a small, hard, nut-like orb.
Amir took the strange round object. "What is this?"
"I found it by accident while sourcing goods on Naboo. It grows on a tree called Malaka."
"Malaka, huh? Sounds like something you'd only find on a peaceful, polite planet like Naboo," Amir quipped.
"Huh? Anyway, take a sniff first," Hope said, ignoring the joke and pushing the nut toward him.
Seeing Hope so excited, Amir grew curious.
He had once discovered that this three-eyed goat sold a bizarre sauce that turned out to be amazing when cooking—so good that it had replaced soy sauce in his personal rankings.
Since then, Amir had become a regular and asked Hope to keep an eye out for unique spices. Even though this world had its own flavor palette, it never quite satisfied his expectations.
After all, he came from a land of legendary cuisine.
He lifted the little nut to his nose and inhaled deeply.
The scent was hard to define—fragrant, but with a sharp, spicy edge.
In that moment, long-buried memories surged up: scallions, ginger, Sichuan peppercorn, star anise, rice wine, bay leaves… and a freshly cleaned goat's head.
Well… maybe skip the goat head. He looked at Hope's goat-like face and decided to be respectful.
"This is good stuff. How much do you have?"
"There was only one tree in that village. I asked around, but no one knew where more might grow. Next time, I'll try searching Naboo's countryside or forests."
"I'll take this sack for now. I want to test it out," Amir said.
"Well… you know you're the only one interested in this kind of thing…" Hope said, rubbing his hands.
"Relax, I'll pay you properly."
Amir pointed to a medium-sized sack in the back. "That one."
He handed over a 50-credit chip—a significant amount. Credits had far more value than dollars, and 50 credits was extravagant for just ingredients.
"Hehehe, you got it! I'll keep my eye out for more of these," Hope said gleefully. He normally earned that much selling nutrient paste and other food all week—now he could earn it by picking up a few forest nuts. What a deal.
With the honest Gran happily motivated, Amir left with his small sack of Malaka nuts. He grabbed a few barely-passable vegetables and two skinned Nuna chickens.
They looked awful, but tasted great. And with the promise of the Malaka nuts? Expectations were high.
Among his purchases was a root veggie that resembled taro.
Perfect for a big chicken hotpot today.
As he made his way home in high spirits, Amir suddenly spotted a familiar figure down a nearby alley.
"Veronica? There you are. I was just coming to invite you and Rango over for lunch," Amir called out as he walked up.
He found Veronica standing before a small figure in a dark robe.
"Shh! Don't talk! I'm having my fortune told by a witch!" Veronica shot him a death glare and hissed at him.
Amir now noticed the robed figure—a short humanoid, no taller than Veronica's shoulders. He couldn't see her face, but it was clearly a young woman.
She was holding Veronica's right hand, studying her palm carefully.
"I was just gonna say—" Amir began.
"Shut up."
.
.
.
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