The days dragged on without change or surprise. Every morning I woke up feeling the same cold and tiredness, and each day was consumed by repetitive, silent tasks. The work was monotonous, the environment harsh, and my mind wandered to aimless thoughts while my hands did what was expected: carrying the disassembled material to the containers.
The days passed. One after another, without any difference. The same noise of machinery, the same orders shouted from above, the same hot sweat running down my back. My feet, fingers, and muscles ached... even things I didn't know I had.
I slept in a rusty bunk bed, my legs drawn up and my stomach growling. Some guys talked among themselves, others simply stared at the ceiling until they fell asleep. I didn't speak. I barely thought. I just counted how many more times I could move my arms before they fell off.
The work wasn't getting easier. It just became more automatic.
And then, at the end of the fourth day, as I dropped one last piece into the bin, it happened.
A line of text crossed my vision. It didn't come from outside; it wasn't a sound or a voice. It was... a certainty written on the edge of my mind.
Boosted Stat: Dexterity +1
Stats:
Fortitude: 6
Toughness: 5
Dexterity: 7
Intelligence: 14
Willpower: 5
Charisma: 5
Skills:
Junkman's Eye (Passive): +10% scavenging efficiency.
Deft Hands (Passive): +5% dexterity in manual tasks.
Photographic Memory (Passive): Rapid retention of visual details.
Basic Adaptability: Learn basic skills 20% faster.
Seeing that small boost gave me a glimmer of hope; it was the second time it had happened since the first night, a clear hope that even though everything was gray and monotonous, something inside me was still growing.
That simple burst of improvement kept me going. Amidst the dust and silence, that small improvement kept me sane and, for a moment, happy. Tangible proof that something, no matter how small, was moving forward.
Everyone had roles based on what they knew; among a group of brats, there was barely any difference between my knowledge and theirs. Or so I thought, but there were many more than I thought who might well be decent engineers, given how quickly they disassembled and manipulated certain machinery. And from there arose ambitions to learn everything from them. My mind had never felt ready enough to do so, but all the groups monopolized the little they had in this place, and knowledge was one of those things.
But it didn't matter; even though I was inefficient, I understood more and more about what they were doing.
While I was lost in those numbers and small hopes, someone had placed their hand on my shoulder without me noticing how they had approached. Even though I wasn't paying attention, I had never trusted my surroundings. We were in the middle of one of the breaks, something that happened when an error occurred in the processes of moving cargo containers, a rare miracle despite the poor maintenance given to the equipment.
It was Zaru. She didn't seem here to fight, so she was just coming to talk.
"You've improved," she said when she reached my side. "Many said you wouldn't last the third day, and the rest were betting you'd make it to the fourth."
"At first, I didn't believe it either. But now... I want to see how far I can go".
"I like your attitude; some people don't usually last alone for that long. What's your name?" she asked.
I was silent for a moment. Honestly, no one came forward to have conversations with anyone outside of their group, and I hadn't received any help since that day. But the question was something that had hit me like a truck.
"I'm not sure," I answered with genuine confusion. I couldn't remember anything resembling a name; my memories of it seemed to have vanished.
"Sounds a bit complicated." She gave a small, almost imperceptible smile and sat down next to me, her hands on her knees.
Her skin was a shade of yellow, almost orange, adorned with symmetrical white markings that spread across her forehead and cheeks. Two montrals rose from her head, flanked by long lekku that fell to her shoulders.
I had to fight the urge to stare at her; her figure had brought back memories of something, but now my memories seemed jumbled and disordered.
"Can I ask you something?" I said, trying to sound casual. "What… are you?"
She looked at me, amused.
"Have you never seen a Togruta?"
"Togruta."
The word hit me like a sledgehammer. A familiar echo in my head, drawn not from a real memory… but from something older. Deeper. Something from my previous life.
Togruta.
Shili, monsters, Ahsoka…
My breathing slowed. Not out of fear, but because of a truth that seeped through the edges of my consciousness. It wasn't just that this world was strange, hostile, and harsh.
It was that I already knew it. was the Star Wars universe, and I was in it.
I tried to compose myself. Zaru hadn't noticed anything, and I didn't want him to.
"And you?" she asked suddenly, glancing at me. "Where are you from?"
Another complicated question that made my chest tighten. What was I going to say? I couldn't mention anything I really knew. So I improvised, still watching her.
"I don't remember either," I replied. "My memories feel hazy; the only thing I remember for sure is waking up in this place a few days ago."
"Then you're luckier than most. No one who arrives here has a good story they're happy to remember," she shrugged. "I was taken from my world years ago. I don't even remember what I looked like."
There was something sad in her voice, which she seemed to have tried to hide, and her smile seemed intent on cheering me up along with her words.
"You don't talk much," she commented after a brief silence. "I thought that, after surviving four days here, someone would at least want to scream or curse the heavens."
"I did," I told her with a faint smile. "Only not out loud." She laughed; it was a brief, almost dry sound, but genuine.
"I guess it's better this way. Those who scream don't last."
We sat in silence for a moment longer. I stared at the floor, the dirty earth, and then my worn boots that looked like dozens of previous owners had worn them. The normality of it all seemed grotesque to me. I was in Star Wars, and I was still a nobody among nobodies… No, now it was different; I wouldn't settle for what I had.
"Why did you come talk to me?" I finally asked.
Zaru turned her head, as if the question wasn't strange; she just hadn't expected it to be so direct.
"Because you've improved. The first day, you were dead inside. Today, you're just tired. It's a change, and because no one survives alone here."
"My group understood that a long time ago. If you go on your own, you only break faster," She added more softly and looked around. The break was almost over. "Think about it. Maybe you don't have to be alone."
________________________________________________
The fifth day arrived like the previous ones: with cold, tiredness, and that metallic taste in my mouth that was already starting to seem normal to me. But something had changed. Something small. It wasn't physical, not even mental. It was a different awareness... of not being so alone.
I had accepted Zaru's proposal the night before; I had never worked with anyone else since I arrived. At least, not in the real sense of working with others. It was always everyone on their own, competing to not be the slowest, to not attract the wrong kind of attention. But that day was different.
Zaru waited for me at the start of my shift. He didn't say anything at first, just gave me a slight nod, indicating I should join them. His group was already settling in next to the assigned container.
I joined them unceremoniously. No one welcomed me, but they didn't push me out either. Zaru simply said, "
You're taking medium-sized pieces. If there's anything more complex, give it to me or Vekk.
" Vekk was a thick-armed, dark-skinned boy with a judgmental gaze, but he said nothing. He watched me for a second and continued on his way. The rest was automatic.
There was a rhythm in the group, even though they didn't talk much, they understood each other. One passed a tool, another held a structure; Zaru ordered things quickly and precisely. I adapted as best I could. I stumbled a couple of times. Once, I almost dropped a valuable piece. Zaru caught it before it hit the ground. He didn't say anything to me, just looked at me.
They didn't seem to bother talking to me, nor did they seem to care that I was there. I was beginning to get the message. As long as I did my part, they wouldn't leave me behind, but I couldn't be useless either. That was new. That... hurt, in a way. As if I realized how much I'd needed it from the start, knowing I had something to lean on.
"Good," Zaru said at the end of the shift, his face covered in dust. "You're not in the way. We'll see if you're still the same tomorrow."
I didn't smile. But something inside me loosened a little. As if the air weighed less.
Somewhat ironic because at night the air was thick, the exhaust fumes and the reused fuel seemed to be in constant contact, resulting in an amalgam of odors that seemed toxic, something I heard happening frequently. The shift had been long, and the routine was always the same.
Zaru looked at me when I entered the barracks and nodded, barely a gesture, but enough. I approached his group, and no one seemed to mind.
There were seven of them, including me. Few compared to the other groups.
"So the new one survives more than three days," said a Zabrak with dark gray skin and worn horns. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd always had dust in his lungs. "Everyone was talking about how you wouldn't last more than a couple of days."
He sat on the ground with his legs crossed, a nut twisting between his fingers.
"Vekk," he introduced himself with a smile on his face. "You were useful today. I'm sorry we didn't talk. It's just something we decided to test the new guys."
He was tall, and from what I'd seen of their group dynamics while paying attention to the groups, he was the muscle of the group.
"No problem, I understand," I replied with a slight nod.
"Zaru says you lost your memory," a higher-pitched voice mocked.
"Shut up, idiot," Vekk said, annoyed.
"What? Not that he seems to care," she replied, disinterested, pointing at me.
"It's something I've accepted and decided to move forward with."
It wasn't just something I was saying to avoid trouble; it was a reality. I'd lost the luxury of being able to worry about the memories I'd lost, and I had to move forward.
"That's a good mentality to keep in this place. They call me Kyi," she said without looking at me. "If you use my tools without permission, I'll stab you in the hand." She was
a Rodian, sitting next to a lamp that looked like it had been stolen, repairing something small with quick, confident movements. Her greenish skin was stained with grease, and she had a pair of makeshift glasses on her forehead.
I couldn't tell if she meant it. I didn't dare to find out, either.
At the top of the bunk, a thin girl leaned forward. She was a little over fifteen.
"Don't get into fights. Not with outsiders, and certainly not with us. All groups have rules; ours are simple. Don't bite the hand that feeds you... or the one that lets you sleep in peace."
"And you are...?"
"Size."
Her eyes were dark, too serious for her age. She lowered her head again, as if she didn't care to get to know me better.
"Hey, calm down," said another from the floor, leaning against an empty crate.
A human, his hair disheveled and his teeth slightly crooked. He played with a nut as if it were a die, tossing it in the air and catching it with a twist of his wrist.
"I'm Rusk. If you need anything, just ask. I'm not saying I'll get it, but I like trading... even in this hole."
He smiled cheekily. An honest smile, but with an edge.
But my eyes kept searching for the boy who had helped me for the first time in this world, and then I saw him, under a bed wrapped in its covers.
A boy with blue skin, with intense red eyes that seemed to see beyond the metal and dust. His eyes could barely fight off sleep as he looked at the rest of us.
"Nyylo," was all he said; he seemed too tired to speak anymore.
Finally, Zaru.
She was still sitting, carving a small piece of metal with her dull knife.
"No one here is special. We all help each other and collaborate to achieve our goals," he said without looking at me. "You haven't earned the merit yet to know about them. But something tells me it won't be long before that happens."
I nodded. In that corner, under that dirty light and uncomfortable atmosphere, I sat down. It wasn't the most welcoming of tasks, but in this world, that was already a lot.
______________________________
The days continued their course, the same but different. The work was the same, but the fact that they didn't was only pleasant. Being with Zaru's group changed more than I could have imagined. They didn't talk much—no one in this place spoke more than necessary—but little by little, I earned a space for myself. Or maybe it was simply less of a burden when everyone shared the effort.
Little by little, they were getting used to me, entrusting me with more important tasks, and where the conversations used to be something I only heard in the background, now I participated in them.
One night, as we huddled among patched blankets, it was Tash who spoke first. Kyi, who always seemed to have grease on her hands, tossed me a nut and said,
"Here. Do you know the difference between a pressure joint and a support joint?"
I shook my head. She clicked her tongue.
"You'll learn. If you don't want them to explode in your face."
And I did learn. During breaks, she would show me broken parts she'd pulled from somewhere, explaining functions, wear, and connections. Her patience was harsh, but she was truly capable; they all were.
Nyylo, the boy with blue skin and huge eyes, was something else. He never spoke loudly. He never got angry. He taught me how to move lightly among the debris, how to search through the wreckage without cutting my hands, how to read the movements of others to avoid collisions and shouts. I had an almost natural instinct for not attracting attention, and in a place like this, that was golden.
And every so often, Zaru was there. He observed more than he spoke, but when he corrected something in my posture, when he wordlessly passed me a tool, or when he let me cover an important position, I knew it was his way of teaching me.
It was satisfying; not only was my body improving, but with each passing day, I felt like I was moving somewhere. I wasn't the same as yesterday. Every morning I woke up, and when night came, seeing the fruit of all my efforts was what allowed me to sleep peacefully.
The days always seemed to go by the same way. The noise, the dust, and the infernal heat. But my body responded better. My hands were more precise. But what calmed me most these days was that I didn't feel alone.