Chapter Text
Spaceport, Nar Shaddaa
It was always loud when one entered the atmosphere of the Smuggler’s Moon. That just happened when one went to a large criminal underworld dominated by bounty hunters and crime lords.
Even as an old G9 freighter descended from the sky, it was not enough to drown out the loud music and chatter that already flooded the air. The air that smelled like spice exhaled from the lungs of its users. It was almost intoxicating.
When a young smuggler stared out the window of his freighter, it was still a lot for him, despite how many times he had been to the moon. Noah Cryler was not comfortable around the majority of the people who walked along, many of them had knives behind their backs.
He was not even comfortable around the green-scaled Rodian in the blue vest over his black shirt. One eye was as black as the space above, the left was covered by a patch. A blaster pistol holstered on his right had left Noah glad that he had his own if things went bad.
Turning around, the young man saw the all too familiar sight of the Rigger-Class’s cockpit. Sparse yet strangely roomy. A selection of screens at different length and width was on the left side with a command console as the controls. All to set up communications for those hiring him.
Besides him, the only other occupant of the cockpit was a domed astromech. A grey head with black plating, a white torso with the same black plating, and blue legs that he rolled around on.
The droid beeped in binary, a casual tone in his noise.
“Let’s get the cargo unloaded, R4,” Noah told his droid, walking past him. “We might make a good payday.”
Pressing a button to open a door, Noah headed to the cargo area of his ship. It was spacious enough to house multiples of crates and containers, perfect enough for a smuggler like himself. Six crates stacked on the ground were the target of his attention.
Noah climbed down the ladder to the durasteel floor. His leather boots were comforting if the floor was either hot or cold from the temperature control. He eyed the cargo, making sure each crate was in the room with him.
R4 did his task and lowered the loading ramp, leading to the outside.
With the hovering systems on the crate activated, Noah pressed the controller on his wrist. As he moved, the containers followed him. Without legs, they simply floated in the air, following the smuggler as if they were trained hounds.
Once he exited the ship, Noah felt the humidity of the Smuggler’s Moon. Yet at the same time, he was cold on the high platform. He was thankful to be wearing his brown jacket. It also helped that it was comfortable and he looked good in it.
The young man stopped in front of the Rodian who hired him. The crime boss had his arms across his chest, having waited long enough. He had no time for civilities.
Noah could see that much. He gestured to the crates he had pressed to stop. “All of the goods are inside, Chivaw. Not that it was easy.” He still heard the angry yelling from Ord Mantel.
“Check them.” Chivaw ordered, not looking behind him to see the two under his service.
The orange Rodian and the matching Quarren, both in rugged clothes belonging to disgruntled gangsters, walked past both people in the middle of a deal. They got to work on lifting the lids off, pulling out blasters with extra power packs, canisters of what could only be spice, and small devices that Noah could identify as stealth field generators.
“It's all here, Boss.” The other Rodian confirmed in Huttese. He held up one such E-11 blaster in his hands.
Chivaw gave a nod and looked back to the other end of the deal. “It’s old tech, but just as good as anything nowadays. I’m also a tiny bit nostalgic.” His lone eye lit up.
One of the workers opened the last crate and had a long rifle in his hands. It might as well had been something to hold on a shoulder given the siz. A small scope to help in aiming the weapon was attached to the side.
“You even got one of these beauties?” Chivaw could not take his eyes off the instrument. He marveled at the black and silver plating for the thing that could club an enemy just as it did in shooting. “Our partner did a most excellent job with this one. This rifle was banned by the old Imperial Senate.”
“T-7s, I’ve heard.” Noah replied as he too eyed the tool. “Now, about my paym–”
Chivaw did not take his eye off the items. “Yes. Yes. Hand him his credits.” He called out to a third worker.
Said-worker walked over to Noah, handing a case over with their hairy hands.
Once he had his goods, Noah took a moment to open the case, and saw a large sum of credits inside. He made sure to count each individual golden ingot. All of it seemed right until he spotted only the smallest amount of one-hundred and sixty-five coins in the case.
Noah pulled out some of the coins, pointing with his right hand that held them. “What is this? I thought we agreed on just as much coin too?”
“My apologies, I thought the credits would be enough.” Chivaw finally took his eye off the trade items. “That should be enough until the next job.”
“Not a lot of places in the Outer Rim accept Republic credits.” Noah called out his employer, still holding the open case. “Nobody on Tatooine wants nothing but coin.”
Chivaw shrugged it off, grabbing a coin from a pocket on his jacket. The symbol of a crescent circle and three dots above was impeded into the circular currency. He smirked and tossed it to the floor, expecting anyone so desperate to dive onto the ground and pick the coin up.
Not wanting to pick a fight and lose a later job offer, Noah shrugged and picked up the coin. He walked up the ramp, making sure to not get in the way of the ones inspecting the unloaded cargo.
“R4,” Noah called out to his droid, who waited at the top of the ramp. “I’ll be heading to the club so that I can get these credits in the stick. You stay here, let me know if anything comes up.” He was careful in how he spoke to his co-pilot.
Giving an affirmative beep, the domed companion lead forward. Sighing in a calm manner, as if he did not mind, Noah put his left hand on the head of his friend. He gently nudged, letting R4 know that he did a good job.
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The Rogue Reactor
Among the urban canyons that were lined on each side, different effects of lights were lit for attention. Advertisements and different effects were used to help lure in the attraction of customers. Airspeeders were parked close if the spaces were available. Otherwise, they would need to be parked in hangers that would need to be bought for reservation.
For the night, people walked across the steel streets, basking in the fun made by lives of crime. The stench of the alleyways where deals and tradeoffs were made, the aurora of sadness from those who lived on the streets, and the noises of those who went about their business. While a city that covered the globe, it was nowhere near the top levels of the rotating capitals of the Republic.
As he made it through his walk, Noah was on the defensive. He may have been lucky with Chivaw. However, most others on the Smuggler’s Moon would have shot or stabbed him for the amount of credits that had been uploaded to his chip. He had to have the right protection on him, a sharp blade and pistol holstered on his belt did the trick.
Especially as the young scoundrel went to his usual hang-out spot on the planet he has made multiple pit stops on.
The first time he came to the moon of Nal Hutta, Noah was told that the Rogue Reactor was one of the “nicer yet affordable bars” that anyone who needs a break would go to. If he needed a drink, he would head there when he was around.
He walked through the entranceway that blared light through the crimson tinted glass. He made his way past the refreshers for anyone that needed to empty themselves of refuse. It smelled like some on the male half would miss and hit the floor. The young man, who had been forced to clean some floors himself, hoped that the janitors were on-duty.
The main area of the club was most certainly wide enough to welcome in members of many races from across the Galaxy. It was dim and buzzing, filled with the many unsavory sorts who traveled for illegal work. Smugglers, bounty hunters, slicers, and information brokers made it their business to be there.
On the right end of the room, a band consisting of a Bith, Togruta, Kitonak, and Harch played their musical instruments. Their soulful mastery of the arts had filled the room with the enjoyment of those who listened. A familiar tune amplified the atmosphere of the establishment.
On the left end, gamblers would be seated on couches and chairs in front of three holoscreens. One on the left displayed powerful podraces swooping across a barren track, the middle showed opposite teams of droids competing in a game of Nuna-ball, and the right visualized the running of fathiers with jockeys on their backs. Anyone betting on their teams or racers had their credits ready to give or earn.
Aside from maybe the music, Noah had no interest in anything except the bar in the center. He walked over to the counter and found himself a stool. With all of the drinks on display, he contemplated whether he wanted to get drunk or not.
If another job was available, he would need to be sober. If he wanted to briefly celebrate another well done but underappreciated job, he would be knocked out on the counter.
“Same thing, hun?” The same Gran barkeep, triple-eyed and antennae on the top of her head, asked the exhausted regular.
Noah nodded in approval. “As always.”
Within minutes, the worker presented a glass of Ardees in front of the customer. Eager for his drink, Noah took a sip. The taste of fermented grains touched his tongue. Over the years, it took a while, but he gained a love for the sandy-colored beverage.
“-- Order is looking for a BB unit.” One human patron, who also sat at the counter, said to a colleague next to him.
The Selkath stroked the lobes on the front of his head. “That’s what I’ve heard. Call came out on Tatooine.” He spoke in his native tongue.
“No, you idiot,” A human woman slapped the amphibious creature on the back of his right shoulder. “That was Jakku. A scavenger I know lives there, he told me that the First Order came and attacked a whole village.”
Another patron was walking around, a drink in his hand. “What’s so special about this droid?”
His friend was carrying two glasses. “It has a map to Luke Skywalker. That’s what the word is.”
“Skywalker?” Noah muttered under his breath. He looked toward the other patrons, listening to the word on the streets.
“I thought he was dead.” One voice was confused.
Another was even more baffled. “Thought he’s a myth?”
Noah stared into his glass. He had heard it all before. A bounty hunter, a broker, or whoever else had claims about finding clues to the legendary Jedi Master. The majority were just false leads for credits, schemes to make more money.
If the Last Jedi was anywhere, it would be the dust in the wind.
Then—he felt it.
A growl from inside of him. A pain that passed like he ate or drank something foul. Even in a bar like this, he knew he had no chance of being poisoned. That would have had the perpetrators either thrown out or arrested by the private enforcers of the planet.
However, it was not in his stomach that he felt the pain. It coursed from his mind to everywhere in his body. A pulse that screamed danger.
“Your glass is half full,” The woman next to her bounty hunting acquaintances had noticed. “You can’t hold that much liquor?”
It made the dazed smuggler wobble at his seat. Noah could hear voices that were not in the room. See things that were not in the room with him. Cries of terror and suffering penetrating his mind like a ship crashing in.
The surface shook, rumbling and cracking at an intense pressure. Mantle and concrete were sent flying and if they were not colliding with each other, they instead stomped out the cries. It was as if a minuscule sun had materialized out of thin air, heading directly for the planet from which it stood.
Confusion. Terror. Dread. Regrets. A longing for more time.
All of it was felt before vanishing as just quickly as it appeared.
It was as if millions of voices cried out, then silenced just as suddenly as they were made.
“What the kriff?” One of the bounty hunting trio was able to break through the noise.
When Noah opened his eyes, he could see that everyone was heading outside. Despite the toll he felt as if his legs were weakening on him, the confused man joined the others outside. He had to shove or slide right through, trying to get a better view. Even as they had ceased occurring, the voices he heard had lingered.
Once he was through the crowd of people, he made his way to the balcony. Everyone else who had earlier minded their business had now looked up to the sky. Pressed against the dark night sky, a red light, narrow yet visible to the eyes of everyone, stretched across the black and star-filled space. What was more outrageous was that the red beam had split into five extensions of itself. In the same number as the rays, five orbs blinked in and out.
In witnessing this sight and what he experienced, Noah was left bewildered. Though it was clear that both were connected. “What the hell is going on?”
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The Mid Rim World of Lo’Romoria
The red celestial orb hung in the black void of space like a gem among the stars that already glittered. Next to the orbiting sun, it was the brightest thing in the star system. Anybody seeing the planet from their ship’s viewports would witness reddish orange cover the surface while blue waters flooded it.
The triangular ship of a capital ship orbited the toned world. Incredibly massive, the command ship imposed its dominance on those who witnessed it.
A blocky, wedge-shaped capital ship with a stepped dorsal hull, a broad rectangular command tower, smooth armored plating, and an imposing, monolithic silhouette. It lacked the delicate sensor towers of an Imperial Star Destroyer, instead looking heavier and more corporate-industrial in its construction.
Though it was not defenseless. Sixty twin-barrel turrets lined the opposite sides of the ship. Twin domes adorned the crown of the command bridge, generating protective shielding that protected the vessel from the enemy.
On the other end of the space battle, two ships recognizable from the days of the Rebellion which later became the New Republic were in action. The larger Nebulon-B frigate boxed propulsion module connected to the blade-like body by a thin, cylindrical hull section. Its partnering CR90 corvette with its cylindrical body with the hammerhead bow at the front was ready to run past the attacking cruiser and Tie Fighters.
Onboard the Star Destroyer, the command bridge was all too active. Orders and notifications were yelled around as flight crew operated at their posts. Some did their jobs at the lower sections, others did their tasks at the top.
The bearded man in charge stood at the front end of the deck. Clad in a teal officer’s military uniform, the man stood on the steel ground in his black boots. He kept his blue eyes set on the view outside, observing the battle that he led.
“Colonal,” One officer called out from her position. “We are almost through the frigate. It can’t take much more.”
“Good. Send enough Tie Fighters to take out the corvette. Concentrate all firepower on that frigate and blow it to dust.” The commanding officer with greased black hair calmly ordered.
His subordinates did as they commanded and the ones operating the cannons adjusted the controls. Full power unleashed green bolts that struck the surface of his rival’s vessel. Anyone who looked at the colonel’s eyes would see the flashes of the attack reflected in how he saw everything.
Soon enough, the power of the battlecruiser was too much for the frigate to handle. All batteries were focused on the hull that connected both ends of the ship, forcing them into two once the metals snapped like a twig at the intense pressure.
While close to the Star Destroyer, the corvette was speeding along. As well as the crew aboard could make it, anyway. The engines were being shot at, only two had been blown out so far. No thanks to the Tie Fighters that tailed and blasted the blockade runner.
The colonel could just imagine the one in charge pleading for mercy, begging for her crew to be spared. He would, only for them to be under his boot. With the one he sought onboard, he would have her knees against the steel black floor with red markings.
That opportunity would not come as the corvette, despite its damage, had primed itself and made the jump. Stretching its shape before blasting off into hyperspace.
Dismayed, the colonel turned to the sergeant on deck. “They got away.” He stroked his beard, a coping mechanism.
“Not to worry, we will send our scouts to locate and apprehend the target.” Sergeant Colbet was delivering his affirmation, even as sweat went down from his brunette hair.
“Colonel Brig,” Another high ranking officer in black entered the command deck, marching forward in her black boots.
Despite the situation, the commanding colonel cooled at the sight of his second-in-command. “What is it, Major Pallea?”
“I’ve just received word from high command. It is done, sir, Starkiller Base has struck the Hosnian System.” Major Pallea delivered the news that everyone on the capital ship had desired to hear.
Brig was in disbelief. “The Republic?”
“All destroyed with their fleet.” Pallea answered her fellow superior. Despite her professionalism, she let slip a small grin.
The colonel had dreamt of this day for a large part of his life. Since he was sworn in by the Empire and became part of the First Order, he had worked for this moment, to see it to fruition. To bring order to the red planet whose fate hung in the balance of this fight.
It all worked out. He could see that. Everyone from the command deck to the mess halls could see it.
He had been planning for so long. His quest for justice against those who took everything from him. A chance to make everything better. A chance that he had by the throat.
Brig knew he had to lead them to the end. “Tell our forces on the surface to seize the capital. Bring the governor to me.” He steeled himself for what he was about to tell. “Lo’Romoria will be ours, my friends! We shall show the good citizens below our strength and the willpower we have to save them all.”
He got what he wanted as roars and cheers came from the assembly of officers and pilots. They believed in their cause, they believed in their leaders, and they believed in the grand work of Colonel Loomis Brig and Major Camcri Pallea. Both leaders stood side by side, ready to start a new chapter. For the home to one of them and the whole Galaxy.
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Nar Shaddaa
One Week Later
So much had changed in so little time. One minute, the Republic held dominion over the Galaxy. The next minute, democracy was completely wiped out by a tyrannical power.
It was all over the holonet. The then-current capital system of the rotating Republic, the Hosnian system, was annihilated by a sudden attack which blew all celestial bodies to ash. Nobody knew where the energy weapon came from. It was not a bunch of battlecruisers performing an orbital bombardment, that much was clear. No Death Star of the past had the power to destroy multiple planets at once.
At least, that was before the First Order began their broadcast.
"Today is the end of the Republic! The end of a regime that acquiesces to disorder! At this very moment, in a system far from here the New Republic lies to the galaxy while secretly supporting the treachery of the loathsome Resistance. This fierce machine which you have built, upon which we stand, will bring an end to the Senate! To their cherished fleet! All remaining systems will bow to the First Order! And will remember this… as the last day of the Republic!"
The speech was given with utter conviction by a redheaded man in an officer’s uniform. The red flag with the sigil of the First Order flowing behind him had let the Galaxy know who was responsible and who was in charge. His green eyes pierced the veil of distance, reaching into the souls of everyone who watched.
Including Noah Cryler, who stood with everyone else when the news came on the overhead projections, suspended on the sides of buildings. He was mortified by the information sent into him. Physically and spiritually, he felt it to his very core.
A feeling that he himself experienced. He felt the agony of those who had been wiped off the face of the planets that followed. Every man, woman, child, and creature, it all overwhelmed him. Out of everyone on Nar Shaddaa, he was the only one who knew it.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” One of the many observers said to whoever was listening. “The Republic… gone. Just like that.”
Noah let out his word. “It’s bad. Probably worse than the Empire.”
With the palette of black and red behind it, another projection came into view on the rotating reel. It was clearly urgent, given the size of the white letters that spelled out information. An image of a man in his early thirties was on display. Blonde hair crowned the top of his head, a spit curl dangling over the right of his blue eyes. A goatee grown on his face showed freedom and experience.
“RESISTANCE PILOT ON THE PLANET”
“WANTED ALIVE”
“REWARD: 50,000”
One helmeted rifleman held his blaster in interest. “At least the pay is good.”
A few in the crowd whistled in agreement and the monetary reward.
Noah’s brow furrowed. Something about the look in the eyes of the pilot felt familiar. He had seen them before. Perhaps this man had answers, ones that were not being transmitted by the new power.
Taking himself to an empty alleyway, secluded from the view of others, Noah lowered to sit on his knees. He put his hands on her knees, the palms touching the soft material of his pants. He cleared his mind by emptying it of the noise from the crowded urban cityscape.
He reached out. Not with his hands, but with his mind. It was not something that he did often. Not for a long time. The young man was afraid to open himself up in such a way. It meant letting something into him.
There were moments that his defenses leveled down. He heard and saw in ways that most people did not. An energy between all living things, a tension, and a song that binded the universe together. It was like breathing for him. He saw the planet he stood on, teeming with life of the people and creatures that came and went. The warmth that the sun provided the upper levels with. The cold that those in the lower levels felt, lighting small fires to stave off the bitter chills.
Peace of those who thrived. Violence of those who struggled. It was all equilateral. One was not stronger than the other. It was the Force inside of everyone, but shined brightest in him. At this and every moment, it has guided him through many challenges.
It showed him images that were not right in front of him. Stacks of crates, an A-wing, a circular transmitter table, and the windows where neon lights shined through. A view from outside came through, showing massive doors that were rusted, orange coating had been scraped off.
The smuggler saw more. A black sterile corridor that belonged to a cruiser, filled by soldiers in white armor. A forest on fire as rocks tumbled behind the eyes of the one seeing it. The crackling activation of some weapon that was filled with the anger of the one who used it. Multiple men and women holding up blasters, ready to battle.
“Noah!” The voice of a woman screamed inside his head.
“Your first steps, these are.” An old voice, one that was wise, called out to him.
Having seen enough, Noah opened his eyes and found himself in the alleyway again. He could hear people going about their business, life still went as the Galaxy changed, possibly for the worse. It was understandable, they could not understand things in the way that he did.
With what he saw, Noah knew what he had to do.
He pressed the communicator on his arm. “R4, keep the ship active. We might be leaving soon.”
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As soon as Noah saw the place in his vision, he had an idea of where he needed to go. He was lucky that it was not far either. Near the docks where he parked his ship, the journeying scoundrel had made his way over to the warehouse district that was almost always full of activity.
In some ways, the warehouses were legitimate in housing goods for those who needed the space. Many others liked to use them for more illegal purposes. Not that the planet was a safe one, anyway. Though that was probably about to change with the new overlords.
It took a lot of marching through the pathways between buildings. A maze of storage buildings that one would need a view from above to navigate. It was not as if one could just ask for a map. That was unless they had a lease on such a building.
Seeing as Noah did not have such a lease, he had to use what he saw. He eyed the buildings of businesses as he hoped to find the one with a neon sign. One-by-one, the buildings he saw were not the ones he sought.
“It has to be here.” Noah said to himself.
Then as he turned to the left, it stared him in the face. He could see the pink and green lights shining on a four-panned window set on a two story warehouse. What was more peculiar was the four-seated airspeeder, an old yellow one that looked decades old. Might as well be a rental.
If there were Resistance agents behind the twin doors, there was no way that Noah could walk in without being shot at. He had to approach them as a friend.
His idea came into effect as he leapt onto a pole hanging from the left of the building. Swung forward, spinning in the air until he grabbed a ledge, and pulled himself up to the rooftop. He had controlled his movements and landing, hoping that nobody heard him. Seeing as many of these warehouses were abandoned and left in disrepair, he was lucky to find a broken window lying down.
It took a controlled jump, but Noah made his way to scaffolding from the skylight. What he found inside was what he saw in his vision, stacks of crates, empty ones if he had to guess. He also saw the remains of an A-wing starfighter, one that had seen better days. It was less than impressive.
Two people were inside as well. One was the same human male seen in the wanted profile. He looked to be in his early thirties, outfitting himself in a zipped blue jacket, brown worker’s pants, matching boots, and a holster attached to his belt.
His partner was a Twi’Lek woman with beige tones on her skin. She had herself clad in a light orange jumpsuit covered by a utility belt, pouches strapped on for whatever the use. She paced around in her brown work boots, scratches showing that she had worked them through thick and thin. Around her torso, the brown vest that was common among the Scrapper's Guild. A darkened green headdress adorned the twin lekku hanging from her head.
“It’s no longer safe here, we have to move.” The Twi’Lek, with a voice that was as soft as a cat's, spoke to the man next to her.
The pilot held his communication disc. “We can’t go back to the others. The general told us to spread out, find allies if we can.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we are on a planet full of thieves and bounty hunters who would give us away for credits.” The woman dressed in the clothes of a mechanic pointed out. “You said we had a destination. So let’s find a ship and get out of here.”
Never has an opportunity presented itself to Noah like this. “I can help. Just don’t shoot.” He called out from above.
As expected, a blaster was aimed at the smuggler, one held by the pilot. In the hand of the technician, a taser was in her grasp. Noah gulped and jumped onto the floor, getting to an even level with the Resistance fighters. Well, he assumed one of them was used to fighting.
“Come to collect us for the reward?” The inquisitive pilot aimed his pistol at the intruder. “Little flattered that we are worth that much.”
Before even being asked, Noah had pulled out his small dagger and dropped it to the floor, followed by his own pistol on the left holster. Both weapons were off his person.
The dotted face of the Twi’Lek almost let out a snort. “An IB-94? You really must be desperate for the credits if that’s your blaster.” She did not take her eyes off Noah, but she hoped that her friend got a laugh.
“Look, I’m not a bounty hunter. My name is Noah Cryler, I’m here to help get you out of here.” He had thought about what to say while coming here. He had walked into meetings like these on many jobs. “I got a ship to fit all of us.”
The two fighters looked at him and each other. Until finally, they sheathed their weapons and tools. The greased mechanic walked over and picked up Noah’s instruments, holding them out to him.
“I’m Luzta Fass,” She had on her left hand on her chest, then took it off. “This is Davin Dasdav.”
Davin still held his right hand on the holstered pistol but his posture softened. “How did you find us?”
“I can feel and see things in a way that no one else can.” Noah began to explain, also taking his weapons back from Luzta. He had to gain their trust. “I felt the Hosnian System being destroyed all the way from here.”
Luzta’s eyes widened, she must have heard the stories. “You’re a Jedi?”
Noah frowned at the sound. “Strong in the Force. Just not a Jedi.”
He had to prove it. He saw a crate next to Davin in a hurrying search. He focused on the crate, holding out his right hand. Despite it being something he had not done in a while, the crate moved inches to the right as if an unseen hand pushed it.
The two were amazed, mouths agape. Told tales as children, probably of the fabled Luke Skywalker. A feat from those stories came to life right in front of them.
“I don’t believe it.” Davin had his hand off his blaster and looked to the newcomer. “A while ago, General Organa had set out to find Skywalker, and we got a lead on Jakku. One pilot was sent to retrieve it, but the First Order got there and captured him after he sent the map away.”
Luzta placed her taser back into her pocket. “Last thing we heard before heading here, the map made it back to base. What happened with the Republic was some superweapon called Starkiller Base. They turned a planet into a cannon.”
“The general had sent out a bunch of us to destroy it. I wanted to help, but she told me to gather allies before heading to our next stop.” Davin continued to explain. The nervous expressions on his face read that it was a lot for him too. “For all we know, the Resistance is scattered across the Galaxy.”
It made sense to Noah, who had to absorb carefully all that he learned. “That’s why you are here.” He backtracked to earlier in the conversation, muttering under his breath. “Skywalker is alive.” He looked to the faces of the others. “Let’s get to my ship and fly out of–”
His senses reacted all at once. He docked out of the way of a blaster bolt that struck the ground. The three looked up to see a gang of three beings who were armed to the teeth. Rifles and pistols were firing their blasts into the interior from the same skylight that Noah went through. A Trandoshan in hunting gear was accompanied by two modified security droids, both had their visage changed to look menacing.
“Take cover!” Davin shouted to the others, all of them taking cover behind the shipping crates.
The lizard-like hunter aimed his rifle, trying to get a good shot. “Sssstun them if you can!
Noah hid behind two crates with Luzta, trying to think of ways to escape. “Is that your speeder bike outside?”
“It’s a rental, but yes!” Luzta shouted her response. She peeked out to get a view of the door. Then slid back to cover. “Really wish I had a blaster!”
Seeing that they had to get out of the warehouse, Noah took courage in his heart and jumped to the side. With a quick shot, he fired his blaster, sending a blast that flew into the head of the droid on the left. The automaton shorted out and fell through the window, causing a loud noise as it crashed on the scaffolding and onto the ground.
“Run!” Noah yelled while evading fire and running to the door.
The others followed him, avoiding the shots that came their way. They had to be quick and precise in their movements or else it was all over. The dream would die, what they hoped to accomplish would die. The spark needed to burn bright.
All three made it out despite the odds and jumped into the ride that was parked outside. Without even thinking about it, Davin jumped into the driving seat, and once the others were in the airspeeder, he activated the getaway vehicle. It zoomed off the metal ground and took to the air, merging into the traffic.
Sitting in a front passenger's seat, Noah still had his ranged weapon at the ready. He looked over to see if they were followed. Nobody shot at them, the coast seemed to be clear.
“Where we heading?” Davin had to air over the roaring wind from their traveling.
Noah did not take his eyes off their backside. “Sector Four! East Pad! Look for the G9 Rigger!” He yelled out directions.
It took a lot of evasive maneuvers, but they found what they needed. After a speeding flight through the speeder lanes, avoiding crashing into other modes of air transportation, and making sure that they were not followed. The three made it over to the docking bay where the ships that belonged to smugglers had parked. Noah pointed out the one that was his.
Davin’s piloting skills were solidified with how he expertly landed their first means of escape. Without hitting anyone on the way down, he parked to a complete halt in front of the old freighter.
Noah was the first to jump out of the airspeeder. “Get on board!”
He ran, the others followed him. They were not without challenges as a dozen armed hired guns arrived and opened fire. Noah turned around and shot with his precision that landed three hits on one goon and two on another. He made sure that the others raced up the ramp before he did, a waste if he lost if he lost the ones he was trying to save.
“R4, fire up the engines!” Noah yelled as he entered the cargo hold and sped to the ladder up to the cockpit.
He made his way to the piloting seat, activating the functions of his trusted ship. Buttons were pressed, switches were flipped, and modules were flipped. Having been in so many getaways, this was a routine habit for him. Each telltale that lit up had lit him up.
It was a startling surprise that Davin sat on the seat next to his, one that was normally empty.
“Thought you could use some help.” Davin spoke, though not in Noah’s direction.
Noah had his hands on the steering function. “Appreciate it.”
With every instrumentation active, Noah lifted and moved the box with wings and engines off the landing dock. The Greying Meteor zoomed up into the sky while avoiding anything that came into sight. Clouds laid in front of the viewport until they were broken through and stars against a black backdrop became visible.
When laserfire went past them, copilots could not believe what they saw. A First Order Star Destroyer was coming for them. In all the years that he had been a smuggler, Noah was glad that he never came across one, given the stories he heard. He did not want to be brought aboard any time soon.
When Luzta joined the room, she quickly got to work herself. She grabbed up and pulled down a scope from the ceiling. Its green hud display let her know what was in sight. The young woman, Noah had to guess she was close to his age, held her fire.
Beeping and blooping as he entered, R4 went over to a scomp socket on the wall next to the door between the cargo hold and the cockpit. He turned his head to his back and spoke in binary.
“Anywhere safe!” Noah called out as he flew his small freighter away from the massive capital ship. “Get ready for hyperspace!”
He pulled back on a lever and suddenly, the stars were stretched into blue streaks that went on and on. The grey box ripped through space as it passed from one end of the Galaxy to another. The First Order personnel aboard the Star Destroyer shook their fists at having lost their target.
For now, the three people and single droid that made up the Greying Meteor’s manifest were safe.