A/N: Might update the chapter later, as it had been written in a quicky.
__
The moment I stepped out of the cantina, the twin suns of Tatooine hit me like a flashbang. Fucking hell, you'd think after months on this dustball I'd remember to polarize my helmet before walking into natural light. My visor auto-adjusted in less than a second, dimming the world to something that wouldn't make my retinas commit seppuku.
Okay, priorities. Now that I was in Mos Eisley, I could actually try finding a better processor for my spider-droid. The current one glitched worse than a Bethesda game on launch day. And while I was at it, maybe I'd get lucky and find some cortosis in the black market. A man can dream, right? Maybe I'd even find a ship. A real ship. How the hell was I supposed to start a rebellion without a sweet ride? It was like trying to be Batman without the Batmobile. Just sad.
As I was about to go on my merry way, I noticed—or more like heard—a distinct, ominous hum in the air. It was a sound that vibrated in my bones, a frequency I recognized from a binge-watch session a lifetime ago.
Looking up, I saw a familiar spaceship fly over the town. Now where had I seen that before? Hmm... it was a Phi-class shutt—
Wait. Fuck. Isn't that the fucking ship?
My blood ran cold. The Scythe. The Inquisitors' personal ride. They were already here? Was this a coincidence or was I just cosmically unlucky to be here at the same time? It had been barely two days since I heard the Jawas back in Anchorhead gossiping about the incident at the saloon, and the Empire already had people here? The ISB must be working overtime on this one. Either that, or their information network was scarily efficient. Probably both.
Three Inquisitors were on that ship. The shriveled raisin called the Grand Inquisitor, the emo chick trying way too hard to be edgy, and some dude who looked like a rejected Asian cosplayer. I could barely handle one if I pushed myself. Not one of Grand Inquisitor caliber, sure, but most other Inquisitors... from my canon knowledge, they were at most mid-grade Jedi Knight level.
If I used every resource and trickery in my arsenal, perhaps I could defeat one of the Sixth or Third Brother, but current circumstances weren't exactly ideal for a showdown. My best bet was to get the hell out of dodge.
Instinctively, my mind started racing, the four cameras on my helmet giving me a constant, 360-degree view of the street. In the span of a single heartbeat, I'd already mapped out three different escape routes back to Obi-Wan's place, all designed to minimize attention and leave no trace. Traveling behind the buildings would provide cover, and the bustling street crowd was perfect camouflage. No one would notice a heavily armored kid and a panicked Jedi if they didn't make a scene.
Just as I was about to make my move, a different thought slithered into my brain. A devious, reckless, and utterly insane thought.
"Is it really so bad of a situation?"
I looked back up at the Scythe ship, gleaming in the twin suns. That was one top-class ship. Sleek, intimidating, and probably packed with all sorts of Imperial goodies. And it just so happened that I would be needing a ship quite badly in the near future. A very near future.
A plan started to form in my mind, a plan so audacious it made my palms sweat. A plan that was going to need a pilot. And how fortunate was it that just a few feet away was a perfectly good, experienced pilot waiting to be... borrowed.
I spun around and rushed back into the cantina, the door hissing open behind me. Nari was still sitting there, staring at the data cylinder I'd given him like it contained the meaning of life. His head snapped up, his hand instinctively dropping to the lightsaber hilt concealed beneath his robes.
"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed, his body coiled like a spring. "Have you returned to gloat?"
"Get up," I whispered, my voice urgent through the vocoder. "We need to go. Now."
His eyes narrowed, suspicion warring with the fear I'd just instilled. "Why? What's happened?"
"They're already here," I said, my voice low and sharp. "The Inquisitors. Their ship just flew overhead."
Nari scoffed, a bitter, fearful sound. "A convenient story. How would you know that? Are you leading them to me? Is this some kind of trap?"
Before I could answer, a loud, oppressive WHOOMPH echoed through the cantina, followed by the distinct, high-pitched whine of powerful engines being throttled down. The building seemed to shudder. The chatter in the bar died for a moment, replaced by nervous glances toward the entrance.
The color drained from Nari's face. The lie detector test just came back positive, and the result was "oh shit, we're fucked."
"This way," I commanded, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the back door. He resisted for a split second, his Jedi pride warring with a very real survival instinct, then reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged along.
As we moved, I reached into my utility belt and pulled out a small cylindrical canister. Of course I had a utility belt—I learned from the best. I discreetly placed it on the table where Nari had been sitting. A little surprise gift for our incoming visitors. Hope they like it.
We slipped out through the back door of the cantina, but not before Nari gave the saloon owner at the bar a final, desperate look. A silent goodbye.
Once outside, I activated my Hyper-Perception, extending my senses in a 30-meter bubble around us. Clear. For now. The distant sound of the shuttle's landing ramp hitting the sand reached us, courtesy of my helmet's high-quality amplification software. Imperial ships were never subtle.
"Stay close," I muttered, leading Nari through the narrow alleyways behind the small buildings that dotted this part of town. He was breathing heavily, his fear a palpable wave even without the Force.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice a strained whisper. "How do you know these things?"
"I'm the guy who's keeping you from getting a red lightsaber through the chest," I shot back. "Now, focus. How good are you at flying a ship?"
Nari looked at me, confused and still wary. "I had plenty of experience during the war. I can handle most craft. Why?"
I couldn't help but grin behind my helmet. "Remember I told you earlier about a budding revolution? Do you know what the first step of revolution is?"
He shook his head, still not following where I was going with this.
"Gathering resources," I said, my voice filled with a manic glee. "And you're in luck, because today's the day we inaugurate the revolution by robbing the bourgeoisie."
---
We pressed ourselves against the grimy, sun-baked wall of a moisture vaporator shop. The hot metal was even noticeable through my armor. From here, we had a perfect, unobstructed view of the Scythe, its ramp down like a welcome mat for psychopaths.
The three Inquisitors had just done their slow, menacing 'aura walk' into the cantina, all black robes and dramatic flair.
Total try-hards.
I had to give it to whoever transmigrated me here, at least they seemed to have made the aliens look... well, alien. Taking my word back for the Sixth Brother and the Grand Inquisitor. They looked more like their versions in Star Wars Rebels rather than the cheap-ass cosplay from the Obi-Wan series. Thank god. Reva, though... that bitch still looked ugly as hell. Some things just transcend adaptation.
I'd kept my Hyper-Perception bubble carefully reined in, a tight thirty-meter sphere that ended just short of the cantina's front door. No point in broadcasting our presence. I'd also clamped down on my emotional pulse in the Force, just like Old Ben had been drilling into me. It felt like trying to hold in a sneeze while simultaneously needing to take a massive dump, but it seemed to be working.
Nari, beside me, was doing the same, his presence a carefully muted flicker. See? He knew the basics.
By the time we reached the ship's shadow, a soft ping echoed in my helmet. The microphone in the canister was live. I tapped the side of my helmet, opening a discreet audio channel.
A terrified voice mumble-spoke. [...You know who we are."]
[Inquisitors...]
[You know what we do?]
[...You hunt Jedi...]
[n actuality ...I would say the Jedi hunt themselves."]
His voice was exactly as I remembered. Smooth, arrogant, and carrying that special kind of evil that only comes with a fancy title and a lightsaber that spins.
[...Do you know the key to hunting a Jedi, friend? It is patience.]
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly pulled a muscle. Yeah, yeah, patience, compassion, blah blah blah.
"...Jedi cannot help what they are."
The monologue droned on.
I nudged Nari, who flinched so hard he almost headbutted the wall. I pointed at the ship's ramp. He just stared at me, his face pale, still stuck in 'this is crazy AF' mode.
"Feet, Jedi. Use the kriffing things." I whispered, deciding the monologue had gone on long enough.
We burst from behind the building, sprinting across the open sand.
The few people still loitering around the market—half in fear, half in curiosity—just stared. Their faces were a picture of pure, unadulterated "what the fuck?" Two figures, one in bulky armor and the other in dusty robes, running towards the Inquisitors' ship? It was so audacious, so utterly stupid, that their brains probably short-circuited.
As we hit the ramp, my Hyper-Perception pinged two life signs inside the cockpit. Perfect.
He stumbled, caught himself on the hydraulic strut, and actually looked back at the town like he was considering a dramatic last stand.
I slapped the back of his hood. "Save the noble sacrifice for the sequel. Today we're Robinhood."
It seemed like he wanted to ask the meaning of that but stopped himself.
Inside, the shuttle smelled like fresh paint, ozone and cheap Imperial disinfectant – the scent of tax credits laundered through Sienar's military-industrial cologne.
Finally Nari whispered, "We're really doing this?"
"Relax. Grand Theft Starship counts as community service if the owners are assholes."We crept forward. Corridor lights painted everything the colour of weak blue milk.
My boots clanked; his sandals went swish-swish. It was like stereo incompetence.Cockpit doorway irised open on its own – thank you, Imperial courtesy protocols – and we got our first look at the crew.
Pilot One: human male, regulation side-part, probably named Officer Tark or Jark or some other one-vowel wonder.
Pilot Two: ditto, but with a weak moustache that looked like it had been drawn on by a drunk toddler with a Sharpie.
"Right one's yours," I panted to Nari.
We stormed the cockpit. The two pilots, a couple of Imperial schmucks in black uniforms, were hunched over their consoles, bickering in hushed, conspiratorial tones. My helmet's audio enhancers picked it up perfectly.
"...I'm just saying, it's weird," the one on the left was muttering. "She's been staring at the Grand Inquisitor's back for a week. She's gonna try something."
"That's just because he rejected her! I saw them arguing the other day!" the other shot back, his voice whiny. "You sure not jealous that she never looks at you like that, all stabby and... intense."
"Jealous? Of that psycho? Kriff, no. I'm just saying, I don't want to be in the splash zone when she finally snaps..."
Oh, gossip!
My helmet's audio enhancement was worth every single credit. Sounds like the Inquisitors brought some spicy eggs on this trip. A love triangle? Or maybe a 'murder-your-boss' triangle? Delicious.
Well, being the benevolent man-in-boy-body that I am, I decided to solve this little workplace quarrel. Permanently.
They didn't even have time to turn around hearing the clanking of my boots.
I raised my gauss rifle, aiming center-mass of the pilot on the left. Blasters are good, but they're so... clean. They cauterize. Boring. A kinetic weapon, on the other hand... well, it delivers a message.
I pulled the trigger.
The sound was a flat, brutal CRACK-THUMP that was shockingly loud in the enclosed cockpit.
The slug, traveling at Mach 3, didn't just go through the seat. It turned the seat, the pilot's spine, and a good chunk of his skull into a spray-painted masterpiece of red and gray.
His head didn't popped like a watermelon and disintegrated, painting the entire forward console and the pilot next to him in a thick, hot slurry of brain, bone, and blood.
The second pilot was just... frozen. His entire right side was covered in what used to be his co-worker. He was staring at the gore dripping from the viewport, his mouth open, but no sound was coming out.
The second pilot finally snapped out of it, his face a mask of red-splattered terror. His hand shakily flew to the comm panel.
He was already late.
HISS-THUMP.
A brilliant green lightsaber blade erupted from the back of his pilot's seat, piercing his chest. He slumped forward, a gurgle escaping his lips as the blade retracted. Clean. Surgical. No mess, other than the one he was already wearing.
Nari let out a choked, gagging sound that came upto his throat after seeing the scene in front of the cockpit. "By the Force... what... what the kriff?
Oops, that might have been more power than what was needed.
From the console, a platter of what seemed like gray matter dripped on to the floor, making his whole body shiver up with a level of disgust he had never experienced.
Somehow controlling his upcoming vomit, he looked at the goo-covered controls he was supposed to use.
"It's... it's everywhere," he stammered, before nearly gagging again. "I… I think I tasted someone's brain."
"Could had been his nose's booger, you are lucky that way..." I said, stepping over the puddle.
Right as the poor bastard gurgled his last, the audio feed in my helmet delivered the punchline from the saloon, clear as a bell.
"...but the stories, they begin and they travel quickly. His compassion has bee-"
"Just the right time," I muttered.
I pulled out my datapad and tapped the glowing red icon.
A muffled THUMP-HISS came from the direction of the cantina.
"The ship's still on," I said, sighing in relief as I saw the console lights. "Fly! Get us out of here!"
Nari was frozen, staring at the dead pilot. "I... I just..."
"Nari!" I yelled, slapping the back of his seat. "I just set off a gas canister mixed in with laxatives in a room with three very angry, very powerful people. You have about ten seconds before they come running out here, pissed. Now fly the fucking ship!"
Nari's head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with a new, profound level of terror that lightsabers couldn't ignite.
"What kind of madman did I get on with..." he whispered, but he scrambled into the pilot's seat, his hands flying for the controls.
I walked to the shuttle's door, seeing three black colored red lighted things walk out the smokey cantina, and looking at the zoomed in expression on their face.
Oh boy, lets just hope Nari is as good flyer as he said himself to be..otherwise I am going to become Ezra-Skewer today.
I pressed my a button on my wristpad and my back armour started shifting around, forming to make my cute Predator Pets, which instantly locked on to the angry inquisitors.
I toggled external buttons on my wristpad. "Predator twins, wakey-wakey."
Shoulder plates unfolded, twin blaster cannons whirring out. Targeting reticles painted red dots across the plaza.
Now lets start blasting.
__
A/N: Please don't forget to vote! Also tell me your thoughts about your chapter!