I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters.
New Home
The halls of the station creaked and groaned. He winced as his torso throbbed. He didn't like this. It was creepy. Everything was dark, the hallways were deserted, and his entire body hurt under his bandages. He hated this place already, and he'd only been wandering the hallways for maybe ten minutes since waking up. He frowned as he tried to remember what had happened before. Nothing came to mind right away. He shook his head. There'd be time for that later. He had to find a way out before someone found him and tried to make him pay for the surgery he'd obviously been through.
He turned another corner, and spotted a row of containment cells, only one with its ray shield door active. He walked over to it, looking around at the other cells on the way. They didn't look too bad, actually. Each one as roughly the size of a modest motel room. They each had a small desk, a bed, a small bathroom area with a shower, sink and toilet. It looked cozy. A bit cramped, but not terrible for a detention area.
He stopped as he reached the cell with the active containment field. Inside, he could see a Togruta lying on the floor. She had on a tight, dark red, sleeveless dress with the back open from about halfway down her shoulder blades to the back of her waist and the dress only just barely reaching past her firm ass, or at least it would it is wasn't hiked up from the position she'd fallen in. Under the dress she wore black tights that hugged her body like a second skin, and which had diamond-shaped openings running down the outside of her thighs, though a few of the bits of cloth between them had ripped, leaving long stretches of her smooth-looking thighs exposed. The only other things she wore were a pair of dark red leather boots, dark red leather gauntlets, and four dark red leather straps per bicep. with the top two and then the bottom two having sections cut out of them to leave a pair of diamond-shapes in them, besides the gaps between the straps. The white pigmentation native to her species' skin had formed into a pair of lines from her gold headdress down to where any other species would have eyebrows. About the middle of it, the two lines were both bowed outward into yet another diamond shape with a small white diamond to either side of it. Then, in place of eyebrows, the white pigmentation had formed thick white lines curving along the contours of her skull's eye sockets, giving the appearance of eyebrows. Her cheeks were decorated by white pigmentation in the general shape of a pair of curved triangles, but with a slit on the outside at the top, leaving a gap in them that reached about three quarters of the way through and made them look something like wings.
He found himself standing there for a long while, admiring both the beauty of her face, and the attractiveness of her thin, fit body, which was made all the easier since when she had fallen, one leg had ended up with her knee pulled up beside her, lifting the skirt up to her waist and allowing him to see her firm ass perfectly, hidden only by her skin-tight leggings. After a few more moments of staring, he glanced down and saw a small bag beside the cell. He knelt, curiosity getting the better of him, and opened the bag.
"These are probably hers," he murmured to himself. "Hopefully she has something I can sell easily to make up for how much pain I'm in. Wonder who she..."
He froze, staring at the object in his hands. The rest of her bag's contents were some rations, damaged holovids, and personal hygiene stuff. However, at the bottom of the bag, he'd found a cylindrical metal object about six inches long, with a projector lense on one side, and an activation switch on one side of it, like a handle. He glanced from the obvious lightsaber hilt to the girl and back.
"Holy...shit," he breathed. "I've struck gold!" He looked to the girl again. "What the hell is a Jedi doing here? Not that I actually know where here is. Actually, what am I doing here?"
He stood, quickly hurrying away from the detention area. In his excitement about finding a lightsaber to sell, and seeing the Togruta, he had totally forgot he was supposed to be escaping. He wandered the halls quickly and as quietly as he could, though his footsteps echoed loudly in the seemingly abandoned hallways. Finally, he reached what looked like a bizarre cross between a hangar and a foundry devoted to assembling various machines. He noticed machines for building ships, weapons, and even droids, all of which he only recognized from jobs he'd done as a smuggler, thief, and occasional mercenary. But the important thing was, his ship was sitting in the hangar section of the area.
"Thank fuck," he sighed, hurrying toward his ship. "Finally found you, beautiful. Now I just have to...what?"
He stared at the ship. There was blaster scoring and explosion damage all over the outside, and the engines were smoking, one of them actually looking to have been hit by a direct shot from whoever did this to his ship.
"Oh baby!" He moaned. "Oh my beautiful ship! Who did this to you! It's alright! I'll fix you right up!" He grit his teeth, looking around. "When I find the bastards who did this, I'll wring their necks!"
He looked back at the ship and sighed. It clearly wasn't flying any time soon. If he was stuck on the station, he needed to find a place to hide while he scavenged parts and tools. Or maybe he could find another ship. He loved his, but escape was escape, and possibly with a better ship. Plus, maybe he could find some clothes. Walking around wearing nothing but bandages was only comfortable for so long, and the station was chilly, to put it nicely. He was starting to get cold.
He wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his hands into his armpits for warmth and left the hangar, beginning to explore again. The hallways continued to creak and groan around him as he walked, carrying nothing by the lightsaber hilt he'd stolen from the Jedi. He glanced at it. It was a plasma blade, right? Maybe it would throw off some heat. He pressed the button. Nothing. He frowned, trying it again, but still nothing. He shrugged. Maybe it was broken, or keyed in to the Togruta's DNA. Either way, he didn't care. he could still sell it for a fortune, and he really just wanted to get off the station. He looked around. Most of the hallways had been pretty beat up, and the open, empty rooms he'd passed through were equally battered. The station really did look deserted, besides him and the Togruta. After hours of searching, and not only finding nothing, but also being unable to find his way back, he finally opened a door and got slammed by a wall of frigid, icy air. He shivered hard as he stepped into the room.
"What the fuck?" he muttered. "Is this place's climate unit malfunctioning?"
He looked around the room. It looked like some sort of command deck, and in the middle of the room, he saw a bundle of clothes. He picked it up, unballing an old robe, only for a metal jaw to fall out of it and clatter loudly to the floor. He stared at it for several seconds before kicking it away.
"Ew," he said, then shook the robe to get the dust off, pulling it on.
He frowned. It wasn't nearly as warm as he'd hoped, and with just the robe and no actual clothes with it, he was still basically naked. He stared down at the robes, suddenly feeling miserable, even more so than usual. The bandages definitely weren't helping matters any. Suddenly, footsteps began to echo from behind him. He sighed, walking toward them. Whoever it was on the station, hopefully they could help him find his way back, even if he did end up having to pay for the surgery. He was starving, in pain, and lost. If he didn't find help, he'd probably die. As he rounded a corner, he stopped, staring at the small group of droids making repairs to the station. They were as battered and worn down as the rest of the ship with spots of rust, wear, and dust covering everything. They looked ancient. However, they weren't people, and they completely ignored him, so he was shit out of luck.
"Damn," he said. "I was hoping you guys could help, but I guess not. You all look close to a thousand years old."
"They are," a synthetic male voice behind him said.
He shrieked in surprise and fear, spinning toward the voice's owner and finding another droid, this one looking to be in much better condition with copper plating, pointed fingers, and a glowing red, horizontal bar optic array set into a head that looked like it could be a badass mercenary mask, if it was black. As a first reaction, he grabbed his blaster firing at the droid, only to miss by a mile. He grimaced. He wasn't exactly a great shot, which was probably why he only did occasional, mostly meaning rare, mercenary jobs.
"Pardon me, sir," the droid said. "It was not my intention to startle you. I am J4-S-0N. I am a protocol droid currently overseeing the repairs of this station. We did not expect you to be awake just yet."
"Oh...uh...you didn't...startle me," he cleared his throat, putting his blaster away and pretending he hadn't just made the most unbelievable lie in history. "Where...am I, exactly?"
"You are onboard a space station located in the Lehon System," the droid said. "We found your damaged ship drifting by and decided to take you in."
"The Lehon System?" he asked, frowning. "That system's quarantined. I don't remember coming here. Who's in charge of this station?"
"Our last owner died three-thousand-nine-hundred-thirty-four years ago," the droid said. "All that's left are the repair droids and myself."
"How old is this station!?" He gaped. "Am I the only living being onboard?"
"You and the Togruta girl, visitor," the droid said.
"The..." he frowned for a moment before remembering who he meant. "Oh, right, the sexy chick in the detention center. Why'd you lock her up?"
"The poor girl attached us when we brought you onboard," the droid said. "Something must have startled her. She had to be stunned and imprisoned for her own protection."
He was silent for a moment, watching the droid as the gears in his head turned. "So...nobody owns this station."
"Correct," the droid said.
"And it's located in unexplored space," he said. "Far away from...let's say...the authorities of the Republic an the Separatists."
"Correct," the droid said.
Again he was silent for a second. "Can I have it?"
"Can you have...it?" the droid asked.
"The station," he said.
The droid was silent for a moment before responding. "Although a bit unorthodox...I suppose every station must have a master."
"I'll take it!" he grinned.
Again the droid was silent. "Very well, master. Control of the station has been transferred over to you."
He grinned. That was almost too easy. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to m-"
An explosion echoed through the hallways of the station, the floor lurching, then vibrating for a moment before settling.
"Oookay…" he said. "What was that?"
"According to my sensors, a power unit in the next sector just exploded, master," the droid said. "This station was bombarded millennia ago. We have tried our best to repair it, but as you can see, it is still highly unstable."
"How unstable?" he asked.
"It has a ninety two percent chance of collapsing on itself," the droid said.
"Okay!" he said. "New plan. I'm getting out of here."
"Calm yourself, master," the droid said. "The sector you are in now is...mostly safe. The repair droids will be able to restore the station to its former glory, if you bring us the proper resources."
"And it probably won't kill me?" he asked.
The droid was silent for a long while. "Probably."
He groaned, resting his face in his hand. He was going to regret this decision, he just knew it. But, on the other hand, if he could save the station, it would be absolutely perfect. "Alright." He sighed heavily. "I'm still not convinced, but I can't give up on the opportunity. What resources do you need to help fix this place up?"
"It used to run on the power of a nearby sun," the droid said. "However, those functions have been long-since destroyed. The only other alternative would be hypermatter."
"Hypermatter?" He asked. "Like...Hyperspace fuel? Like Coaxium?"
"Coaxium would be the most suitable form, but any form of hypermatter would suffice," the droid said.
"That stuff's being rationed by both the Republic and the Separatists for their war effort," he said. "Do you have ay idea how much that shirt costs?"
"You don't know of anyone who could help us acquire it?" the droid asked.
"Well..." he frowned, a list of names he didn't really want to talk to filling his head. "I still have a few of my old smug-I mean, trading contacts." he sighed heavily. "I'll try to get into contact with them and see if we can come to an arrangement."
"Perhaps the Togruta girl can help you in this endeavor," the droid suggested.
"Somehow, I doubt she'll be willing to help," he sighed. "She's a Jedi and there's a warrant out for my arrest in the Republic." He hurriedly tried to cover for himself. "A misunderstanding, of course! I would never purposefully break the law!"
The droid watched him silently. "Of course not, master. We do not know what possessed her to attack, but we have taken measures to ensure she can not use her powers in the future."
"Where did she come from anyway?" he asked.
"We found her onboard your ship," the droid said. "Do you not remember her?"
"Not really," he frowned. "I can't really remember much at all, actually."
"Getting stranded in space can be a traumatic experience, master," the droid said. "You may be suffering from amnesia. Perhaps the Togruta girl remembers more. Shall I escort you to her now?"
"Uh...do you happen to know if there are any spare clothes I can borrow on the station?" he asked. "I'm a bit...well...cold."
"Of course, master," the droid said. "Your room will have spare clothes in it."
"My room?" he asked.
"Of course," the droid said. "The station commander's quarters."
"Awesome, there first," he said.
The droid nodded, turning and walking away. He followed, asking a question that was bugging him slightly. What kind of measures could the droids have taken to ensure the Togruta couldn't use her powers? They hadn't hurt her, right? She hadn't looked hurt, but he supposed internal damage wouldn't be visible. Plus she was lying on her stomach, so anything on her front side would have been hidden as well. The droid assured him that the Togruta was in perfect health, aside from a possible headache from being stunned. The droid explained that the station was equipped with "Force Suppressors," devices that would prevent someone from using any Force Powers within the station. Whenever they tried, it would emit a high-frequency sound that would disrupt their concentration, rendering them unable to focus enough to channel the Force.
"So, what can I do with this station?" he asked.
"Right now, it is mostly in ruins master," the droid said. "We've done some work to the control center and corridors, but the rest remains in ruins. It is, however, a military station, equipped with armories, barracks, shooting ranges-"
"What about a minibar?" he asked, deciding that would be the most important feature of his station, and also the one where he would be spending most of his time.
"A...minibar?" the droid asked. "I guess is wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities, but-"
"And a casino?" he asked, figuring a rigged casino would be an easy source of money, and a fun pastime, though, other ideas for his future smuggler's paradise began to flood his head instantly, a wide, excited grin lighting up his face. "And a strip club, and a storage area for all of my 'legally' obtained goods, and-"
"Master, we can build whatever you desire," the droid interrupted him. "You will have to donate hypermatter towards the rebuilding of the station, however. This station has the ability to synthesize materials for both its own construction, and that of droids or other necessities by expending hypermatter. Once you have donated enough hypermatter, we can restore a sector. However, for special requests, you will have to find the blueprints first." the droid stopped outside a door. "These will be your quarters. I will wait here for you to inspect them and get dressed."
He walked inside, leaving the droid behind, and looked around. The room was enormous. The bed was big enough for at least five people, hopefully four of which would be female with him being the fifth, and besides that, there was a desk, a dresser, a walk-in closet, and a massive computer. He walked over to the dresser and went through the drawers. There wasn't much to choose from, but he managed to find a dark grey shirt with strips of fabric forming a "V" on the front and back, a brown leather belt, white pants, thermal socks, and dark grey leather boots. He kind of liked it, although it made him look like a monochromatic Jedi. He was warm now, at least, though something about the cloak still made him feel dejected. He shrugged, pulling the hood up to try and warm his ears a bit and stepped outside, following the droid back toward the detention area and, hopefully, his very profitable future.
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