238036032-Star-Wars-A-New-Dawn-by-John-Jackson-Miller

Chapter Three
The horn- headed Devaronian miner charged from the disabled personnel
transport across the pressurized cavern’s floor.
“You punk kid!” he yelled as Kanan exited Expedient. “What were
you trying to prove back there?”
Kanan was still in his early twenties, but he hadn’t answered to “kid”
ever. And certainly not when the name came from a dunderhead like
Yelkin, whose job it was to drill holes for explosives. Kanan turned and
walked alongside his ship, opening up cargo hatches as he went.
The muscular miner stomped after him and grabbed at his shoulder.
“I’m talking to you!”
With quick reflexes, Kanan grabbed Yelkin’s hand and spun around,
twisting the other man’s arm. Yelkin winced in pain and fell to his knees.
Kanan didn’t let go. He spoke in low, calm tones into his captive’s
pointed ear. “Your ship was in the way, pal. I have a deadline.”
“We all do,” Yelkin said, struggling. “You saw them shoot that
freighter. The Empire’s come to check up— ”
“Then go faster. But don’t go stupid.” Kanan released his hold, and
Yelkin fell to the ground, gasping. Kanan brushed off his long- sleeved
green tunic and turned back to Expedient.
Several miners arrived at Yelkin’s side. “Blasted suicide flier!” one
said. “They’re all cracked!”
“Someone needs to show you some manners,” another said to Kanan.
“So I’ve heard.” Unworried, Kanan looked around the landing bay.