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Nyna steered the speeder through traffic, switching lanes multiple times until she was sure that no one was following them. After she confirmed that there was indeed no one chasing them, she settled into a single lane and headed toward the Corellian Sector, each member of the quartet lived. Though she knew that it could be a risk to go back to where they lived, Nyna felt that being on their home turf gave them a slight advantage over anyone who might come looking for them. Although no one seemed to have followed them here, Nyna knew that they needed to find someplace to hide, at least until they had a plan. 

“My place is right around the corner. We should ditch this thing and go there.” Joren said from the back seat.

“That's insane. They're looking for us, don't you-” Joren cut Nyna off.

“Exactly. They're looking for us. They'd never think that we're stupid enough to go to our homes.” Joren argued.

Nyna had to admit, even though she didn't like the idea, it did make some modicum of sense. So she took the speeder toward Joren's apartment, then about another block further south where she parked the speeder in an alley that didn't seem to have much foot traffic, and then the four friends made their way back toward the apartment. 

The trip back toward Joren's apartment was uneventful. There had been no signs of either the Kath Hounds or the Imperials, and they were able to traverse the city block without any trouble. They moved through the crowd almost as if it were just any normal day, nobody seemed to pay them any mind as they made it to Joren's apartment building. As they reached the front door, Joren reached down and scratched Nara, the stray rib-cat that hung out in the neighborhood on the top of the head and went through the door.

To Joren, the hallway leading toward his apartment seemed darker than usual. The building itself seemed more run down than it normally did. Or perhaps; he thought, that maybe he was finally seeing the place for what it was. Though this building was never what anyone would consider nice, for most of his life, it had been home. It had been the place where his father would play all kinds of games with him as a child, some of which were little more than exercises to hone his skills as a Force wielder. It was where his mother, when she wasn't out on a job, would cook them dinner. It was the last string of connective tissue that he had to his family.

But now, it was his past. 

The quartet made their way down the hall and to the turbolift which would bring them to Joren's floor. Like the rest of the building, the turbolift looked to have seen better days. It creaked as they stepped on, and made a mournful whining sound as it made its journey upward, before coming to a stammering halt when it reached its destination. Joren led the way down the hall toward his apartment, passing an Arcona that Joren recognized as Bax, who lived several doors down from him. Joren gave a halfhearted nod of acknowledgment as they passed by, and continued on to the door to his apartment. 

Once they went inside, the four friends gathered in the living quarters where they began planning their next move. The truth was, none of them knew what to do or where to go from this point, though they knew that between the Imperials and the Kath Hounds, they wouldn't be able to stay on Nar Shaddaa. 

“We need to get off world, we can figure out where we're going once we're on the move. The longer we wait here, the harder it will be for us to get out.” Dono said

“Well, that's a problem itself. We've got no transport off this rock.” Nyna said hopelessly.

“We should go see my dad.-” Kelsa chimed in. “-he's got a couple of freighters that he can smuggle us out on. Then we can figure things out from there.” 

As the others agreed to Kelsa's plan, Joren silently excused himself and made his way to his chambers. The room itself seemed dark, almost cold. To Joren, it was strange being in the room where he had slept every night from the time he was a child, knowing that this would be the last time he would be there. 

There was something there that he needed to get before he left this cesspool forever. He made his way over to his closet and began rooting through his things. He pushed aside clothes and souvenirs that he had collected over the years, until finally he found it. It was an unassuming durasteel box, however, to him, it may as well been a treasure chest. 

He fumbled with the lock until it finally opened. Inside the box there were several things that he'd held dear. There were several notes that his father had written after he had become sick. Some were words of wisdom, lessons of the Force that he wanted to pass on to his son, reminders of the Jedi way. There was one that his father had written just days before he passed away, telling him just how proud his father had been of him, and how it had been his privilege to call him son. 

There were also a few other keepsakes, some baubles that his mother had brought back to him after her various “business trips.” There was also his mother's prized necklace. It was a beautiful piece of art, said to be made from songsteel, which gave gave it a certain luminescence. His mother always wore it, or did so whenever she wasn't on a job. He took the necklace out of the box and held it between his fingers for a moment. 

Then his eyes fell on his prized possession. 

His father's lightsaber. When he held the weapon in his hand, he felt a true connection to his father. He remembered the first time he saw the brilliant blue blade, and how transfixed he was on the glowing blade and the droning humming sound that it made. After his father had passed away, he would take the lightsaber out and just hold it in has hand, occasionally activating it, allowing the blue-white glow and the hum of the weapon to make him feel closer to him. 

After a few moments, Joren snapped out of his reverie and closes the lid of the box and tucked it under his arm. He didn't know why he'd been so transfixed on the weapon, or really why he'd been drawn to be box and its contents, particularly the lightsaber. It had been almost as if something had called out to him and led him to it.

 He was no Jedi. He had no use for the weapon. Then he realized, it wasn't about the lightsaber at all. It was about maintaining the one thread that still connected him to his parents. Everything in that box was all that remained of his parents, and even though he was leaving his home, he wasn't ready to let go of them just yet.

He made his way back to the living chamber and rejoined his friends. They looked tired and worried, and they appeared to be ready to get as far away from Nar Shaddaa as they could, and put this all behind them. 

“Alright, let's get out of here.” Joren said as the others got up and they headed for the door, hoping for an uneventful return to the hidden speeder.