ANH 'verse. Slaver's transport on Tatooine. Start the story.

[random_xtras]

Restless, weary drones and organics rustled in the darkness of the hold, many of them uncomfortable in the heat of the world they'd landed on a few hours earlier. Over in one corner of the stinking, sweltering space two pair of glowing optics shone. The ones that were further from the floor held fear, the lower set, large and pale blue, held only patient exhaustion.

The silver femme frowned as an organic tentacle brushed against her leg, then moved her wrists in the restraining cuffs and looked up at her mentor as her soft voice broke the noisy silence.

"Random, I'm hungry."