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Blasted 9

Meanwhile, in another corner of the galaxy…

Broken Droids – pieces and parts – are piled in every nook and cranny of an under-ground workshop. An old man sits at a table with a magnifier over one eye. Hundreds of miniature watch pieces lay scattered on his workbench. Carefully, the man examines a tiny nugget of uncut crystal.

“Hello, my little Chrononium,” he says, speaking in a singsong voice. He refocuses the light above so it shines onto the rock between his fingers. “Yes, just as I expected!” he says excitedly. “You capture the light and you do not let it go!”

The floor seems to disappear in darkness. He raises his hand and the table and watch pieces vanish. Lowering his hand again, light spreads to the pieces near the gem’s glow.

“Ah, If my friends find more of you little guys… Ha, then we will really have a show, eh?!”

Hearing a ringing in his ear the old Timer pulls at his earlobe, “Hello?” he says. The tinging voice inside his head responds, Qui-Gin? Uh, Doctor Gawn, we have another Chronocom!

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