The Halcyon starcruiser was a nice detour, Din would admit, even if he hadn’t meant to chase a bounty onto the vessel, only to discover they had slipped off before it launched, leaving him stranded aboard with no way to disembark. So here he was, forced to book himself a cabin with no other choice.

From the attendant processing his reservation, he learned that the ship — apparently 275 years old — was operated by the Chandrila Star Line. He pretended to care, nodding just enough to be polite, while his real intention was to shut himself away in the cabin for the duration of the journey. The Halcyon would remain in hyperspace for fourteen standard days. The stars, it seemed, were mocking him.

At last, the attendant handed him a data-card key. Din muttered a quiet “thank you” before skittering off like a startled womprat toward his assigned cabin.

Room 628. Six decks? Really?

He swiped the card and nearly slammed the door shut behind him. His shoulders loosened a fraction. At least he’d been given a suite… a queen-sized bunk with a plush coverlet and a wrapped piece of Chandrilan chocolate on the pillow, a wall-length viewport that could polarize at the press of a button, a refresher large enough to fit four of him comfortably, a holoscreen dominating the far wall — among other luxuries.

Suddenly, Welcome aboard the Halcyon, a pleasant, feminine droid voice chimed from nowhere. I am D3-09, your personal artificial intelligence assistant, here to accommodate your every need during your voyage. Would you like to know the scheduled activities? Shall I confirm that the dining selections fit your dietary restrictions? Would you like—

Din jabbed a random control on the wall, and the voice crackled out mid-sentence. He exhaled. Finally, peace and quiet.