Wayfarer's Promise - Part 1 - Buying Hope

Posted on Mon Aug 31st, 2026 @ 4:56am by Shipmaster Allore Titha

1,445 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Daiyu
Location: Daiyu — Commercial Shipyards
Timeline: 2 days following the loss of the *Gauntlet*

There were easier ways to spend ten million credits. Allore Titha had considered most of them during the speeder ride across Daiyu. She could have purchased a smaller freighter. Something second-hand, anonymous and common enough that nobody would remember seeing it leave the planet. A battered Corellian transport would have done the job. There were thousands of them scattered across the galaxy, and another one appearing on a cargo manifest would barely earn a second glance. That would have been the sensible choice. Unfortunately, sensible stopped being quite so simple when you were responsible for a crew. And three children. And enough secrets to have Darth Vader's hunters following your trail across half the galaxy.
Allore sat back in the passenger seat as the speeder moved between Daiyu's endless towers, watching rain streak across the transparisteel beside her. Far below, the city disappeared into layers of neon and darkness. She hadn't said much since leaving the safe house. There wasn't much to say.
The *Gauntlet* was gone. Even thinking the words still hurt more than Allore wanted to admit. It had only been a ship. Durasteel. Wiring. Engines. Computers. That was what she kept telling herself. But it had also been the first place they had truly been safe after Coruscant. The first place Kyle and Miran had slept without expecting clone troopers to come through the door. The place Illenya had slowly begun becoming something other than a frightened Padawan trying desperately to act older than she was. The place Allore had stopped being Shia Teraan. The place where strangers had gradually become crew. Then friends. Then family. She looked down at her hands. There had been no ceremony when she abandoned it. No final walk through the corridors.

No chance to stand on the bridge one last time. She had simply ordered everyone off her ship and stayed behind long enough to make certain the Empire would find nothing useful when they came looking. That was probably for the best. Allore had never been particularly good at goodbyes. The speeder banked to the left. Ahead, Daiyu's commercial shipyards rose from the surrounding cityscape. Unlike the cramped freighter docks where the *Gauntlet* had landed, this part of the city catered to people with considerably more credits to spend. Vast hangars stretched across several interconnected platforms, surrounded by illuminated landing pads displaying ships from dozens of manufacturers.

Cargo haulers. Private yachts. Passenger transports. Old military surplus vessels with their weapons supposedly removed. And more than a few ships whose ownership histories were probably best left unexamined. Allore's gaze moved across them. None felt right. She hated that she was even thinking in those terms. A ship didn't have to feel right. It needed reliable engines, adequate cargo capacity and a transponder that had never appeared in an Imperial investigation. That was all. At least, that was what she had told herself before she saw the listing.

**WAYFARER'S PROMISE**

Independent Heavy Cargo Transport. Eight decks. Passenger capacity. Crew accommodation. Medical facilities. Independent cargo handling. Shuttle and vehicle bay. Long-range capability. And enough internal space that if they needed to disappear into the Outer Rim for six months, they could. The asking price had almost made her choke. Nearly ten million credits. She had closed the listing. Then reopened it less than thirty seconds later. Allore sighed. "I must be losing my mind."

The driver glanced toward her. "Ma'am?"

"Nothing." The speeder descended toward the shipyard. Allore straightened the dark jacket she wore over her brown trousers and checked that the small holdout blaster concealed beneath it remained exactly where it belonged. Her lightsaber was somewhere considerably less obvious. Daiyu might be lawless, but walking into a shipyard carrying the weapon of a supposedly extinct Jedi Order would still qualify as remarkably stupid. The speeder settled onto the arrival platform. Allore paid the driver in physical credits rather than using an account. Some habits were worth keeping. She stepped out into the rain. A service droid immediately approached beneath the shelter of the terminal awning. "Welcome to Vandar Independent Ship Sales," it announced brightly. "Are you seeking commercial, passenger, industrial, luxury or specialised transportation today?" Allore looked through the enormous transparisteel wall behind it. Ships filled the hangar beyond. "Commercial." The droid's photoreceptors brightened. "Excellent. What cargo capacity would you require?"

"Large."

"Crew complement?"

"Variable."

"Passenger accommodation?"

"Yes."

"Defensive systems?"

Allore looked at the droid. It paused. "Within applicable Imperial regulations, of course."

"Of course."

"Budget?"

Allore hesitated. That question hurt. "Ten million."

There was a noticeable pause. Suddenly the droid became considerably more attentive. "Please follow me, honoured customer."

"Naturally."

Allore followed it through the terminal. They passed several vessels. The droid enthusiastically described each one. Allore rejected them almost immediately. Too small. Too obvious. Not enough accommodation. Insufficient cargo space. No shuttle capacity. One had an engine configuration that Covo would have probably declare an insult to mechanical engineering within five minutes of seeing it had she stuck around. Another had cream carpeting. Allore had three children aboard. Absolutely not. Then the droid stopped.

"Perhaps this vessel would be more suitable." The hangar doors ahead began to open. Allore slowed. Beyond them sat a ship considerably larger than anything the droid had shown her so far. Not elegant. Not pretty. Not in the way yachts or diplomatic transports were pretty. It was broad, practical and unapologetically built to work. Cargo access dominated portions of the lower hull. The engines looked large enough to move the vessel even when fully loaded. Its armour showed the kind of construction meant to survive years of hard use rather than impress someone looking out of a luxury viewport.

Allore took several steps forward. For the first time since entering the shipyard, she said nothing. The droid moved beside her. "The Wayfarer's Promise. Independent heavy transport. Eight operational decks. Extensive cargo capacity. Dedicated passenger accommodation. Medical facilities. Vehicle and shuttle support. Long-range navigation systems. Recently refurbished environmental systems and hyperdrive."

Allore's eyes narrowed. "Recently?"

"Within the last nineteen months."

"Why hasn't someone bought it?"

The droid paused. "The vessel is somewhat... specialised."

"Meaning?"

"Most independent operators do not require a ship of this size."

There it was. Allore continued studying the ship. Most independent operators didn't have her crew. Didn't have three children who needed somewhere to grow up. Didn't need enough cabins to take on passengers without putting strangers anywhere near the younglings. Didn't need a medical bay.
Didn't need storage for months of supplies. Didn't need a shuttle bay and space for speeders. Didn't need enough cargo space to continue earning credits while simultaneously carrying whatever equipment became necessary to keep a group of fugitives alive. She started walking toward it.

"Full inspection."

"Certainly."

"Engineering first."

The droid hurried after her. "I can arrange for a sales representative—"

"No."

Allore didn't stop. "I want to see the engines before I listen to someone explain why I should buy it."

"That is... highly irregular."

Allore glanced over her shoulder. "So is spending ten million credits without checking whether the hyperdrive works."

The droid seemed to process that. "An excellent observation."

"Glad we agree."

They crossed the hangar. As Allore approached the boarding ramp, the scale of the vessel became more apparent. This wasn't another *Gauntlet*.
It couldn't be. Trying to replace the old ship would be pointless. This would have to become something new. Allore placed one hand against the hull beside the entrance. Cold durasteel met her palm. For the briefest instant she closed her eyes. There was no Force vision. No great revelation. No whisper from destiny telling her she had found exactly what she needed. Just the quiet hum of a ship waiting for someone to decide what came next.
Allore opened her eyes. "Wayfarer's Promise," she murmured. The name had seemed overly sentimental when she first read the listing.

Now... Perhaps not. Behind her the sales droid waited. Allore stepped onto the ramp. "Show me everything." Because if she was going to spend ten million credits on a new home for her family... She intended to know exactly what she was buying.

Three hours later, the shipyard records showed 5 ship purchases, one a small sleek vessel, housing for 5 was sold to S'Alora ThiaShan. A mix of the two names to send Imperial data watchers down that spiral. And Wayfarer's Promise was sole to a shipmaster Adrian Hallows from Corellia. And the image with Adrian's purchase was of an older human male in his mid to late 50's with salt and pepper hair.

Three hours later after that, it was put out that crew was being sought to get the Wayfarer under way.

TBC

 

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