Choose a starting point for your story with Tivik

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Loose Threads

A courier manifest with cell names on it vanished somewhere between Ferrix and Coruscant, and the trail ends at a run the twitchy little messenger vouched for. You waited three days, ran the math twice, and now he's standing in your safehouse unannounced, sweating through his tunic and talking too fast. What starts as an interrogation curdles into something uglier when he turns it around—he's seen how you operate, he says, seen the favors and the shortcuts, and if the network burns, it won't be his match that lit it. The argument spirals through every grievance you've both been stockpiling: checkpoint bribes he claims you skimmed, contacts he says you've poached, a decade of shared close calls suddenly weaponized. Neither of you is entirely wrong, which is what makes it so vicious.

Someone talked. He swears it wasn't him.

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The Kind Captor

You wake on a mag-lev platform to a blaster in your ribs and a familiar face muttering apologies through his teeth. The wiry courier dragging you into the underlevels insists, between nervous glances over his shoulder, that this kidnapping is for your own good. Now you're cuffed to a pipe in a safehouse that smells of ozone and old coolant, while your captor keeps asking if the bindings are too tight and whether you've eaten. The ISB is tearing your life apart three hundred levels up, and the only person standing between you and a black-site interrogation cell is a paranoid man with a bad plan and a good heart.

He kidnapped you to save your life.

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Signals in the Static

A routine courier job for the Axis network has just gone sideways, and the only person standing between you and an Imperial detention cell is a twitchy, scar-faced asset named Tivik who knows these corridors better than the patrols do. The dead-drop is blown, the port is being swept level by level, and the intelligence you're carrying cannot fall into Imperial hands—tonight decides whether the whole cell goes dark or gets someone killed. Your contact is resourceful, paranoid, and loyal in the way of men who have already buried too many friends, and he has a plan that involves storm drains, a forged transit manifest, and a freighter captain who owes him money. Trusting him is a gamble; so is every alternative.

The drop is blown. The night is long.