I’m back, considerably more bruised than earlier, which was a few hours ago. The guards beat me. For the third time this week. I guess someone’s finally starting to become annoyed that I never say anything. To them, at least. But to this little recorder I tell all.

The black eye that’s slowly swelling on my face is yet another painful reminder of how much I hate the Empire.

Back to the story. I stowed away on a cargo ship heading to Concordia, Mandalore’s moon. It’s rich with our nearly indestructible beskar iron ore, and its soil is good for agriculture because it’s rich in minerals. I had never been, but I had heard stories about how pretty the part that wasn’t part of the mining industry was. Because this is in the time a little before Duchess Satine outlawed all mining operations except for a select few.

When we had landed and I was able to sneak out of the ship without being noticed, I sprinted away from the ship then slowed my pace to a walk. That way I just looked like another one of the people milling around the small chain of docking bays where my ride was.

Tourists of various species strolled around, either part of the tour groups or there on business trips. Some looked so loaded with cash and other valuables that my inner thief was practically yelling at me to pick some pockets. But I couldn’t. I had to focus on my mission. The faster it was completed, the sooner I got paid, and the more I got paid.

A bunch of displays around the platform told me about the moon’s agriculture, its mining, its governor…

I stopped short. The governor looked so much like the man who had hired me! I couldn’t believe it! Pre Vizsla, Governor of Concordia the caption beneath the image silently screamed at me.

That was weird. I wanted to let it go, dismiss it as a stupid coincidence, but let me make something clear. I have this weird feeling I get sometimes. Like I know things that other’s don’t. Once, it told me to steer clear of such and such a job. Later I found out that the person who took it had wound up walking into a trap and dead.

Coincidence? I think not, because it’s never been wrong before.

I know that I can trust that feeling, whatever it is. And now, it was whispering to me that this was indeed the guy who had hired me. But now that I knew: why? Why did someone so powerful on Mandalore need a bounty hunter such as myself to check out an old mining facility?

I didn’t have a mirror, but I could tell that I had that glint in my eyes that was one of the reasons that I was so feared in the Mandalorian criminal underworld. I always got it when I was excited by the bounty I was after. Because I was hunting.

I looked at a holo-pad my employer – or, I should say Governor Vizsla – gave me to find the place. It was pretty out of the way, but the terrain was kind of rough. I would need a speeder or it was going to take forever.

I spotted a Rodian couple locking up their dull yellow rented speeder. The male said something to the female (I don’t know what because back then I only understood a few words), putting the keys in his pocket. They laughed, starting to walk towards the booth where you book the guided tours.

And the booth just happened to be in my general direction.

I kept my pace just right, and then… I bumped into them. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir! I wasn’t watching where I was going!” I said in a rather convincing way.

From what I understood, he said, “It’s okay, little girl.” Then he patted me on the head and they walked on.

Shaking my short, choppy hair with its bangs in a rigid line where it had been flattened by his wide hand, I got it back to its usual messy state. Then, with a last glance back at them to make sure they hadn’t seen me, I darted over to the yellow speeder.

Tossing the keys in the air triumphantly, I sat down in my new acquisition. I put them in the ignition, and sped away to finish my job.