Critical Mass

Prologue

"There is one thing in the world more
wicked than the desire to command,
and that is the will to obey."

- William Kingdon Clifford

Ring of Kafrene

It had once been a populous mining site, home to a multitude of cultures and corporations, but the collapse of the Empire lead to many of the mines being closed down – no more Death Stars to build after all – and the area fell into disrepair. The Hutts attempted to take control of the region, but their reach had dwindled over the past decade, leaving the station in the hands of local gangs. It had become a hotbed of illegal activity – not that things had been easygoing under Imperial rule – with a reputation that rivaled some of the Outer Rim worlds.

So, of course his person of interest would be holed up here.

Poe Dameron sighed as he stepped into the spaceport, vaguely paying attention as the docking clamps grinded into place. The old, two-seater freighter was a far cry from his T-70, but the point of the mission was to not draw attention to himself. Also to preferably not get his ship stolen. An X-Wing wouldn't last more than an hour in this spaceport. He didn't even think the freighter would, and that rusting block hadn't seen active service since before the Clone Wars.

BB-8 rolled up beside him, gently nudging his boot and whistling softly.

"Yeah, buddy, I'm starting to think I should have left you home too," he replied.

The air was stale and stank of grease, oil, and other things he'd rather not think about. Most of the equipment was retrofitted mining machinery with exposed wires and layers of rust. Something electrical was sparking on the far end of the docking bay, and there was a lone astromech lying on the ground. Occasionally it beeped, but no one seemed to care.

Inside the station was bound to be interesting.

"I wouldn't linger, if I were you."

Poe turned to the bay doors, finding them open and occupied by a dark green Rodian. He was tapping on a datapad.

"This level's got a faulty grid. Power tends to cut and then you're off for a nice – if brief – space trip."

Panicking, BB-8 cried, launching a cable into the nearest wall.

Poe pat the poor droid before walking to the doors. Eventually, he heard the sound of his friend rolling behind him – and then rapidly in front of him.

"What's my docking fee?" he asked, feeling a small amount of relief when the doors closed behind him.

"Hundred fifty credits first day. One hundred for every day after."

"And what's the fee if I don't want my ship to go mysteriously missing?"

If Rodians were capable of smiling, the one before him would be grinning from ear to ear.

"Add another fifty credits on top," the Rodian replied, accepting his credit chip. "Here I thought you were another one of those Core pilots. Come to this heap looking for adventure, and they lose everything but the clothes on their backs. Sometimes, they lose those too."

"I used to be," Poe said, walking down the narrow corridor. He ignored the way the lights flickered as he passed by, as well as what could be described as whimpering on BB-8's part.

The doors at the end opened slowly, grinding on gears that were undoubtedly rusted as well, revealing an unusual world.

The Ring of Kafrene was an outpost that connected two asteroids. There was no natural atmosphere, gravity, or vegetation. It was rock and metal, a self-contained unit that relied heavily on trade to keep running. Problem was, Kafrene didn't lie on any well-travelled trade routes. Without the allure of a thriving mining community, most vessels moved on to safer, better known stops.