Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (According to Morden Grey)

To the Reader—  Without you, I am nothing.  The Ugnaught scratched his pig-shaped nose and growled under his breath as he rode the repulsorlift up to the lower quarters of Cloud City. He glared at the large cart containing various items dropped accidentally or on purpose into one of the many reactor shafts; displeased the dwellers above were becoming more conscious of their belongings. Those who never ventured down to the processing vanes or reactor bulb didn’t know their fallen or cast off items would turn up where he and his associates worked. He predicted only a few weeks remained in which he could sell what he found before they realized he profited from what they discarded.  Bort would miss the credits he acquired from offworlders, but felt overjoyed thinking of never returning to the lower quarters of Bespin again. In his time of selling the many treasures he plundered from the shafts up and down the reactor stalk, he’d learned three things: Tall people could not be trusted, he preferred selling and trading with pirates to merchants and if you couldn’t afford your own ship, you had no business buying his precious wares. Bort knew he wasn’t as clever or charismatic as his clientele, so he made rules to protect himself from swindlers.   Instinctively he squinted when the light surrounding him shifted from dim and artificial to a natural glow from the moons orbiting the planet. The repulsorlift slowed to a halt and before he could maneuver his squat body off the platform, two Bothans approached his cart to rummage through his wares. Bort squealed at them as he pulled his goods towards the small droid parts emporium where he set up shop. He breathed a sigh of relief seeing the two canine-looking scavengers head toward the landing pads rather than follow him.   He waved to a human standing behind the counter of a droid-part kiosk—Erlek Tin, a man he’d known for several years yet never spoke too—and sauntered to the small entrance of a storage crate sitting next door.   After briefly glancing over his shoulder, the Ugnaught quickly punched his clearance code into the datapad securing the greater portion of his goods. Seconds later the cyberlock beeped and then clicked, allowing him to open the gate and pull his cart of salvaged items inside. Bort tapped the holopad on his right, causing the lights to power on and a countertop rise from the ground. Everything but his newest finds were already on display and so it took him little time to prepare his wares for the evening. The moment he finished placing the new pieces on the counter and empty shelves, he started on cleaning and polishing anything with metal on it.   Bort smiled upon hearing the sound of repulsorlift engines and sublight drives powering down at the landing pads a hundred yards away. He’d lived in Bespin long enough to know what smuggler ships and transport vehicles sounded like. Keeping his head down to hide traces of desperation, Bort focused on giving his treasures a shine he could see his reflection in.   His vision of credits stacking themselves into small, neat towers shaped like Cloud City were cut short by two looming shadows obstructing his light. Bort let out a curt snort as he looked up and then inhaled sharply upon seeing who stood before him.   Clad in white armor and armed with E-11 blaster rifles stood two Imperial stormtroopers.   “You think the little roba can speak basic?”  Bort tossed the rag and component he was shining onto the counter and got to his feet. “Of course I speak basic! What you want?”   One had no way of knowing the expression of a stormtrooper, as their helmet design always made them appear angry. The shoulders of the one who spoke slumped, at the same time he let out an exasperated sigh. “Calm down sir. We just have a few questions and then you can go back to selling your garbage.”   Bort folded his stubby arms defiantly over his chest. “First you insult me and then my goods! Be gone with you! You bad for business!” He started forward, waving his hands. “Go now! Go!”  Both troopers raised their weapons at the Ugnaught. The soldier who had been quiet until now spoke, “A couple questions and we’ll be on our way,” when Bort continued forward he shouted, “Hold it right there!”  The Ugnaught stopped. “What your question?”  The stormtroopers paused, as though they’d lost their train of thought. And then the first asked, “We’re looking for a Weequay. Seen any pass this way?”  Bort rolled his eyes. “Not in past month. I see Ugnaghts, stormtrooper, Human and Bith. No Weequay.”   The stormtroopers lowered their rifles. “Alright then,” Both turned to go, but the second one turned back and c****d his head to the side. He walked forward, pushing the shopkeeper aside to get a better look at one of the Ugnaught’s possessions in a display case on a high shelf. With complete disregard for Bort’s property he smashed the glass of the display case with the handle of his blaster rifle.   The Ugnaught shop owner squealed in anger. He jumped up, trying to snatch the item from the trooper. “What you doing?! That mine! Bort almost died in isopod to get that! Give it back!”  Holding it up out of reach, the Stormtrooper started to recite, “All contraband under Imperial Penal Code Section 67, subsection 8, Part E—HEY!”    The metal cylinder was well out of Ugnaught’s short reach, but the exposed leg behind the soldier’s knee wasn’t. Bort bit down as hard as he could and caught the object when it fell from the stormtrooper’s hand. Moving with uncanny speed for one of his stature, he bolted for the landing pads, knocking over the second soldier in the process. They shouted at him to halt, but Bort refused. The Ugnaught knew his time on Bespin was over; assaulting a member of the Imperial Army earned him a one way ticket to a remote mining planet in the Outer Rim. He ground his teeth and growled at the metal-handle object in his hand. Bort hadn’t necessarily been attached to the item, what made him angry was the confiscation part of the ordeal! He had half a mind to toss it over the side of a landing platform.   Looking over his shoulder, the Ugnaught jumped seeing how fast the stormtroopers caught up to him. He cursed his short legs and pushed his body to move faster. If he could just make it to one of the many vents leading down to the core of the city, he could avoid the Empire long enough to get a transport offworld…  Bort’s hopes were dashed away upon seeing the troopers at the edge of his vision on either side of him. They were flanking him, pushing him away from the ventilation shafts and toward the landing pads where there was nowhere to run. Winds closer to the edge of the city were stronger, and Bort almost lost his footing twice evading the two soldiers.   “Alright that’s far enough!” called out one of the stormtroopers. “Drop the weapon and get on your knees.”   Bort stared at the metal cylinder in his hand in confusion.   Before he could sort the puzzle out in his mind, the roar of thrusters filled the area. Hot air blew all around him tugging forcefully at his apron and shirt. Turning around, he held up a hand over his beady, squinting eyes to keep from being blinded by the ship’s floodlights.   “Back away from the Ugnaught,” came a woman’s voice over a speaker. “Or I will regretfully open fire, stormtrooper or not.”   When the stormtroopers hesitated, the stranger fired a warning shot. “The next one will launch the two of you off this platform.”  The stormtroopers turned and ran, one yelling into a com he pulled from his belt; “Calling for reinforcements, landing pads, sector seventeen, level N-138…”  The sound of whirring motors of a cargo-bay door opening came from behind the blinding lights. At the end of the platform stood an orange-skinned, goggle-eyed humanoid, not much taller than Bort.   Calling out over the sound of the engines she said, “I imagine they’ll return momentarily. If you don’t want to end up in the spice mines you have precisely three seconds to decide whether or not you’re getting on my ship. One…”  Bort checked his mental list as fast as he could: Short, check. Owns a ship, check. Probably a smuggler…?  “Two…”   Two out of three was good enough for him. He sprinted up the platform as fast as his legs could carry him.   “A wise decision,” the female said as she tapped the button to close the cargo doors.   Bort made himself comfortable on one of the chairs sitting behind the pilot’s seat and breathed a sigh of relief. His curiosity turned to confusion as their short flight took them to the other side of the city. He squealed, “Why you stay? Bespin not safe! We go!”  The orange-skinned female turned to him and stared for a moment before adjusting the lenses on her goggles. “Know this Ugnaught; I am not a transport service. I spotted the troopers chasing you from afar and intervened because I loathe junk merchants slightly less than the Empire.”  Bort blinked several times and then swallowed.   “You will pay me for my services and we will part ways. I cannot be involved with harboring a fugitive. I’ve remained neutral in this galactic war and I plan to keep it that way.” She turned back around and lowered her ship down into one of the several ports reserved for those traversing the city.   Bort searched his various pockets, but all his credits were in a safe back at his shop. He cleared his throat until the female alien turned to face him. “Bort...broke.”  She arched a hairless eyebrow. “This is not good for you I’m afraid,” she paused looking the Ugnaught over. “What about that?” she asked, nodding to the metallic cylinder.   Bort follwed her gaze down to his hand. His eyes lit up and he held it out to her. “Keep it! Good riddens!”   After relieving him of the object that possibly cost the Ugnaught his business, she opened one of the cargo doors. “It is unlikely they will look for you in the City, they will assume you went off world when you boarded my ship. Return to your shop. Retrieve enough credits for passage to Takodana and take the first transport you can out of here. Do you understand?”  The Ugnaught nodded his head. Seconds later he hopped off the ship and vanished into crowds of people just beginning to appear to enjoy the nightlife of Cloud City.   The pilot shook her head. “Ugnaughts.” She waited several minutes before flying back to where she picked up the one called ‘Bort’. Two stormtroopers approached her vessel, made sure no one watched and climbed in. Moments later they exited Bespin’s atmosphere.    The two men removed their helmets and tossed them unceremoniously into the corner. While removing the forearm and chest pieces, one commented, “You know Maz, you could have just paid the little guy,”   “You think so?” she asked, her eyes remained fixed on stars in front of her. “I don’t know who knew he had possession of this,” she held up the lightsaber. “If the Empire or bounty hunters ask him who he sold it too, I don’t need any record tracing it back to me.” She set the weapon down in front of her.   The man shrugged. “Fair enough.” he approached the front of the ship and sat in the co-pilot’s chair. He picked up the lightsaber handle and began examining it more closely. “Are you some kind of Jedi, Maz? Why did you want this thing anyway?” Just as he looked into the end where the blade ignites from she shook her head and took it from him.   “I have my reasons,”   The second mercenary, now dressed in his own faded, dented armor joined his companions up front. He nodded toward the lightsaber and asked, “So how did you know he had it? The Ugnaught?”  Maz turned to the mercenary and smiled. “Pirate’s intuition.”