> Disclaimer: Star Wars and all of it's Intellectual Properties is owned by George Lucas and Walt Disney, This fictional work and all of it's original characters are however mine.
----------------------------------------
The dark, shadowy expanse of the underground market seemed to stretch endlessly, its narrow pathways teeming with traders, mercenaries, and beings of every kind. The air carried a mix of stale sweat, engine grease, and the faint scent of something burning. Jake's helmet filtered most of it out, but it didn’t stop the knot tightening in his chest as he stared at the huddled group of slaves.
The woman holding the boy—her features, her posture—it all triggered a sense of recognition so deep and visceral that it sent his mind spinning. That’s Shmi Skywalker... and Anakin. He didn’t know how he knew, but the realization hit him with undeniable certainty, like a thunderbolt cracking through the haze of the market.
“Jake!” Mira’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. She had placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Talk to us.”
He glanced at her, then back at the group. His voice was low and urgent. “We need to get them. All of them.”
Davik’s brows furrowed beneath his helmet. “What? Jake, we don’t have time to—”
“Please,” Jake interrupted, his tone bordering on desperation. “Just trust me on this. Help me figure out how to get those five slaves.”
Mira crossed her arms, her posture exuding skepticism. “I’m all for freeing slaves—scum like these slavers deserve nothing but a blaster bolt—but why now? And why them?”
Jake hesitated. His mind raced for a plausible answer that wouldn’t drag them into a tangled web of impossible truths. “I... I can’t explain it right now,” he said finally, his voice tight. “It’s just something I have to do.”
The trio exchanged glances. Rina was the first to relent, letting out a sigh. “We’re already in this line of work. Freeing a few slaves is hardly the worst risk we’ve taken.”
Davik shrugged. “Fine, but I still want to know why later.”
Mira shot Jake a sharp look. “You better be ready to owe us for this. Let’s move.”
They approached the slaver, a portly, sweat-drenched Devaronian who was in the middle of bragging to a potential buyer. His coarse laughter rang out as he gestured at the huddled slaves, flaunting them like trophies. His voice, loud and grating, carried across the bustling crowd.
“These here are the finest stock in the sector! Fit for work, entertainment—whatever you need,” he crowed, his jagged teeth gleaming in the dim light.
Jake’s fists clenched under his gloves, but he forced himself to stay composed. This wasn’t the time for emotion. Mira stepped forward, taking the lead as their negotiator. Her voice dripped with an air of professional disinterest, her helmet tilted slightly as if unimpressed.
“These are the finest?” she said, her tone skeptical. “Looks like scraps to me.”
The slaver’s smile faltered, and his eyes narrowed. “Scraps? Lady, you clearly don’t know quality when you see it. Each one of these is worth triple the usual rate.”
“Triple?” Mira scoffed. “For that?” She gestured dismissively at the group. “I’ve seen stronger workers in the wastelands.”
The slaver bristled, puffing up his chest. “You dare insult my merchandise? These are prime! Look at the woman—strong build, obedient demeanor. The kid—perfect for small spaces, quick jobs. The others, they’re—”
“Forget the sales pitch,” Rina cut in, her voice cool. “We’re interested, but not at your bloated price.”
The slaver narrowed his eyes, his suspicion evident. “And who are you, exactly? You don’t look like locals.”
Jake’s heart skipped a beat, but Mira didn’t miss a beat. “We’re bounty hunters,” she said smoothly. “Independent contractors. And if you don’t want to lose a sale, you’ll keep your questions to yourself.”
The slaver hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, he spread his hands in a mock gesture of magnanimity. “Fine. Let’s talk numbers.”
What followed was an exhausting back-and-forth of haggling and posturing. Mira leaned into her role, dismissing the slaver’s attempts to upsell with brutal efficiency. “You’re overestimating their value,” she said at one point, her tone cutting. “Do you think we’re idiots? This isn’t our first deal.”
Jake, meanwhile, stood silent, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. Is this the right thing to do? The memory of Gardulla’s victims flashed in his mind. The bodies. The chaos. Am I already breaking my promise to think things through?
He tried to convince himself. This is different. No one’s going to die because of this. Right?
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
And yet, another voice in his head whispered back: Are you sure?
His gaze flicked to the boy—Anakin. A chill ran down his spine. Good thing there’s no such thing as a canon event, right? RIGHT?
The internal conflict threatened to consume him, but before he could spiral further, Mira’s voice cut through. “Deal.”
The slaver beamed triumphantly, unaware of Mira’s subtle victory in driving the price far lower than he’d wanted. “Excellent choice, my friends! A pleasure doing business with professionals.”
The transaction concluded, the five slaves—including Shmi and Anakin—were handed over. Jake’s stomach churned as he watched the woman clutch her son protectively, her wary eyes darting between the slaver and their new captors.
As they led the group away, Mira muttered, “Well, that was unpleasant. Let’s get them to the ship and figure out our next move.”
Jake stayed silent, his thoughts a chaotic jumble of relief, guilt, and uncertainty. What now? What happens to them? To us? He glanced back at Anakin, who stared at him with a mix of curiosity and fear. The boy had no idea who Jake was—or who Jake thought he was.
One thing was clear: this was just the beginning of a much larger problem.
----------------------------------------
The group moved cautiously through the labyrinthine alleys of the black market, their disguises blending seamlessly with the ebb and flow of shady figures conducting equally dubious business. The newly freed slaves trailed behind them, casting nervous glances at every shadow and sound. Jake’s grip on the controller for the slave chips was tight, his mind replaying the encounter with the slaver on a loop.
Mira led them with calculated precision, deliberately taking detours, doubling back, and leading the group through circuitous routes to avoid any pursuers. At one point, Davik stopped, motioning for silence as he scanned their surroundings. Only after several tense moments of listening did he nod, allowing them to move again.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived at one of Mira’s pre-arranged supply drop locations—a nondescript building disguised as an abandoned home. Its exterior was worn and unremarkable, but once inside, it revealed a spacious warehouse stocked with crates of supplies. The walls were reinforced, and a sturdy metal door secured their entrance.
The group spread out inside, instinctively checking corners and securing windows. Davik and Rina worked on fortifying the door while Mira motioned for the former slaves to sit near a pile of cushions in one corner. The freed individuals were visibly tense—eyes darting, hands trembling, and shoulders hunched.
Jake lingered near the center of the room, acutely aware of the weight of everyone’s attention. Davik, Mira, and Rina stood a few feet away, their expressions calm but expectant. Jake could feel the unspoken question hanging in the air: What now, Jake?
He took a deep breath, his thoughts coalescing into something he could articulate. “I know you’re all wondering why I insisted on this,” he began, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of emotion. “And to be honest, I didn’t fully understand it myself until just now.”
The three exchanged glances but remained silent, letting Jake continue.
“When I saw them—the slaves—I saw more than just people who needed help. I saw... myself.” He hesitated, the words thick in his throat. “Not in the literal sense, but in what they represent. Trapped. Helpless. Waiting for someone to decide their fate.”
Jake paused, glancing at the freed individuals. The boy clung tightly to his mother, and the others watched him with cautious curiosity. Jake’s gaze softened. “I’ve been reflecting on everything. The consequences of my actions—the good and the bad. And I realized something: It’s not enough to just fix the mistakes I’ve made. I need to make sure they don’t happen again. And more than that—I need to do something meaningful.”
He straightened, his voice gaining strength. “I want to build something. A group, a mission—whatever you want to call it. A team that doesn’t just survive in this galaxy but makes it better. A team that protects those who can’t protect themselves. That hunts those who prey on the weak for their own selfish gain.”
He looked at each of his crewmates in turn. “I want us to be a nova—a light so bright it cuts through the darkest parts of this galaxy. I realized it when I saw those slaves. That’s my purpose, and I need your help to make it real.”
Davik, Mira, and Rina exchanged another look, something unspoken passing between them. A smirk tugged at the corner of Mira’s mouth. “You’ve got quite the flair for dramatics, Jake,” she said with a chuckle. “But... I can get behind that.”
Davik folded his arms, his expression serious but his tone light. “Yeah, you’re not bad at the whole inspirational speech thing. Could use some work, but it’s a start.”
Rina grinned. “We figured you were up to something like this when we saw the look on your face back there. You were like a kid seeing a Hutt eat vegetables—completely bewildered.”
Jake couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Thanks for humoring me.”
“Humoring?” Mira said, arching a brow. “We’re not humoring you, Jake. We’re agreeing with you. But you’d better make this ‘nova’ idea worth the trouble.”
Jake nodded, his resolve solidifying. He turned to the freed slaves. “We’re going to disable those chips now. After that, we need to talk.”
The tension in the room shifted as Jake and Mira worked together to disable the slave chips, using the controller to neutralize each one. As the telltale blinking lights on their neck implants died, the former slaves visibly relaxed. Relief washed over them, and for the first time, a few even managed tentative smiles.
“Thank you,” one of the men said, his voice cracking. “You’ve given us more than we thought possible.”
Jake nodded. “You’re free now. But... do you have somewhere to go? A way to start fresh?”
Two of the men, both burly and in their late thirties, exchanged glances. “We were bodyguards before we got caught,” one said. “We might be able to reach out to old contacts—repay this kindness.”
Jake smiled faintly. “Do what you need to do.”
The remaining three—a woman, a man, and the child—looked hesitant. The man spoke first, his voice quiet. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he admitted. The woman, Shmi, nodded, cradling the boy protectively. “Neither do we.”
Jake hesitated, then took a step closer. “If you’re willing, I’d like to offer you a place. With me. With us. I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but I can promise you won’t have to go through it alone.”
The three exchanged glances, hope flickering in their eyes. Finally, Shmi spoke, her voice steady. “We’ve been alone for too long. If you’ll have us... we’ll follow.”
Jake’s heart swelled with relief. “Then it’s settled. Welcome to the start of something new.”
----------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
61 Chapters are available on my patreon
you can support me and become a patron
P A T R E O N . C O M / TofferPlays
(but only if you want to, okay?)
This fanfic is also on:
SpaceBattles
SufficientVelocity
RoyalRoad
ArchiveOfOurOwn