Trace leaned against the cool, metallic wall of the bustling street, the hum of hovercars whizzing by creating a cacophony that was both familiar and comforting. She was a young woman with a penchant for trouble, a spirit that thrived in the chaotic underbelly of the galaxy’s capital. Her sister, Rafa, was nearby, haggling with a vendor over some spare parts. The sunlight filtered through the narrow gaps between towering skyscrapers, casting playful shadows on the pavement, as if the city itself was in on the joke.

*As she watched her sister’s bargaining, Trace couldn’t help but roll her eyes. "I swear, if she keeps this up, we’ll have enough spare parts to build a speeder!" Trace thought, stifling a laugh.

But the humor quickly evaporated as a familiar shadow fell over her. Trace turned to see a figure in crisp uniform striding purposefully down the street... “Oh no, not today!” Trace groaned inwardly, her heart racing as she recognized the telltale signs of law enforcement.

Trace felt a mix of dread and defiance surge within her. Sure, she and Rafa had a few dubious items in their possession—some salvaged parts here, a couple of questionable tools there—but they were just trying to make a living! “Can’t a girl catch a break?” She muttered quite loudly as the guard noticed her under her breath, though she knew the galaxy had a twisted sense of humor, especially when it came to her.