Where there's a will, there's a way.

Obi-Wan woke.

He felt terrible.

Worse than that time he and Quinlan had gotten drunk after a hard mission, worse than the time he'd been poisoned and woken up in the medbay on the Negotiator throwing up blood. Worse than the headache he'd gotten when Anakin had gotten it into his head that he was going to learn to play the hallikset.

He became aware of a general air of alarm and panic, and opened his eyes quickly and sat up, hitting his head on the upper ceiling of a sleeping berth on a ship.

"Oww," he said, partially about his new self-induced concussion and partially about the rest of his body, which ached down to his toes. Then he looked at, and was taken aback by, the group staring at him from the floor outside his bunk.

Qui-Gon looked like he had just woken up maybe a second before Obi-Wan had. The others— Xanatos, Quinlan, Master Tholme, and Aayla, were all gathered around, watching him with wide and anticipatory eyes.

"Um," Obi-Wan said. "Hello there."

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon said, looking relieved. "Do you know where you are?"

"Not… really?" Obi-Wan said. "A ship? How did I get here?"

His Master looked relieved.

"You got a faceful of spice," Quinlan said. "I never thought you'd be the drug addict in the family."

"That's really funny," Obi-Wan said, and kicked him.

"Is that any way to treat the guy who just saved your life?" Quinlan asked. "You're so ungrateful—"

"All right, all right," Shmi said, pushing her way to the front of the pack. "Give the boy some space." She shooed them away with a wave of her hand. "Drink some water," she said, handing him a cup. She also put a blanket around his shoulders, which confused him until he realized there was frost melting from his hair.

He looked at Qui-Gon, confused.

"She's right, back up," Qui-Gon said, and the various Force-sensitives dispersed around the ship, grumbling.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan told Shmi, about the water and the blanket.

She smiled at him. "Don't do that again," she said, and returned to the front of the ship, where Jango Fett was holding Anakin.

"You look pale," Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon, who laughed. Obi-Wan scooted over, wrapping himself in the blanket, and patted the bed next to him. Qui-Gon heaved himself in, and had to scrunch his legs up lest they stick out over the side.

"How do you feel?" Qui-Gon asked, pulling him into his side.

"Fine," Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon snorted. "Disoriented," Obi-Wan admitted. "We were at the Hutt base, then…" well, it had felt like Mustafar, but obviously it wasn't. He thought he remembered other things too; the Clone Wars, Melida/Daan, bad missions he'd survived as a padawan. "I don't know."

"You missed an exciting speeder chase," Qui-Gon said. "And a brief dive into your head."

Obi-Wan must have looked alarmed, because Qui-Gon chuckled.

"We'll have to talk about the unnecessary strength of your shields later," Qui-Gon said. "But you let me in in the end. I didn't see much— just flashes." Obi-Wan felt a little guilty at how relieved he was at that. "I managed to pull you out."

"Well, then, thanks," Obi-Wan said. At least Qui-Gon didn't look like he was about to have a mental breakdown. But then Bruck Chun hadn't gone evil; just Master Sey, soon to be Darth Inimic. Maybe it wasn't what they saw there but what they chose to do with it. That was a little comforting.

He still ached. Any remaining traces of the spice in his blood, he must have instinctively evaporated when he'd realized he needed to snap out of it. He was tired.

"I need, like, five minutes to meditate," Obi-Wan said. "Will you redo my braid?"

"I'd be honored," Qui-Gon said, and started unraveling the dishevelled padawan braid. He looked like he needed the familiar, relaxing activity just as much as Obi-Wan did.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and slipped into meditation.

Every Jedi had, at some point in their lives, fallen asleep during a meditation. Obi-Wan had not done so since he was actually, truly a teenager. He did now, but at least when he awoke Qui-Gon was sleeping on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes to see what had disturbed him and saw Jango standing there. His helmet was tucked under his arm. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry to wake you," Jango said. "But I thought you'd want to see this next part."

When a Mandalorian was too gleeful about something, you knew you had to see it.

Obi-Wan awoke his Master, who only got up after a little while of grumbling and complaining. Obi-Wan himself felt much better for the meditation and the rest, only a lingering headache and sore neck to show for his recent misadventures. When they stumbled to the front of the ship, everyone else was gathered in the cockpit too, looking out the viewport. Quinlan held Aayla up so she could see out.

Obi-Wan looked out too. "The Hutt base?" he asked.

"They're regathering to escape," Jango said, sliding into the copilot's seat; Shmi was already at the controls.

"That's not good," Obi-Wan said, leaning forward further to see the ground below. The ship bay they had sabotaged was not open-air— hidden instead within the building with a large hangar door that would let them fly outside. The door was open now, and judging by the steam, created when exhaust pushed the warmer artificial air into the real, cold atmosphere beyond, the ships were getting ready to take off inside.

"Those slavers are not escaping on my watch," Shmi said. She took the ship up high, and set off— a flare?

Not just any flare, Obi-Wan realized, starting to grin. A Mandalorian hunting flare.

Very few non-Mandalorians had seen that flare and lived.

"What—?" Qui-Gon asked, which is when their backup swooped out of the sky.

Mandalorian ships; at least six or seven of them.

Jango grinned. "We called them to pick up the original hostages; meant they were able to get here much faster than the Republic, who have to come from the Core."

The comm crackled on.

A woman's voice came through, Mandalorian-accented. "Reporting for duty, 'alor," she said. "Ready to kick some butt or take some names. Either one."

"Slugs will be slithering out of that base in a hurry any second now," Jango said cheerfully. "Make sure they don't."

"You got it," said the captain. "I'll pass it down the line." Jango ended the connection.

"Wait," Qui-Gon said, "How do you know that they're in a hurry?"

And, relevantly, where was Artoo? Obi-Wan was starting to get an idea of where he could be.

Xanatos grinned. Below, smoke started trailing out of the compound. It was impossible to hear from up here, but Obi-Wan got the general sense of chaos and destruction.

Two things happened at once; ships started pouring out of the hangar like the fires of the hells were at their heels, and some unlucky saps tried to escape though the front entrance on more speeder bikes.

They were followed, with impressive determination, by a squad of droids with R2D2 at the head. It was all the ones from the sail barge, and a couple that looked like cleaners. Whatever they were doing, they certainly had the ones on hoverspeeders on the run.

It looked like for the most part the Hutts had abandoned their security forces, leaving them to fend for themselves on the planet— probably because the number of ships was now limited. Always count on the Hutts to make the selfish choice.

The droids were chasing them away, with malicious intent if Obi-Wan had to guess. They had a lot to get revenge for. They had probably caused the smoke and the quick exit of the Hutts too.

The Hutt ships shot out into the sky, only to run into the Mandalorian vessels. Most of them veered off quickly, trying to maneuver out of their way and get to open space, where they could go into hyperspace and escape.

Some actually tried to blast their way through; this was, very clearly, a mistake. The Mandalorian ships were well-trained and more than eager to blast a few Hutts out of the skies. Ship-to-ship cannon fire filled the air from both sets of ships.

"Ooh, can I shoot our guns?" Quinlan asked.

"No," Tholme said.

"Aww," Quinlan said.

"None of this matters if we don't get the elders," Shmi said. "They can keep control of all the Hutt systems all on their own."

"Which one are they in?" Jango asked.

"That one," Obi-Wan said, pointing out the viewscreen. Hutts were notoriously hard to sense through the Force, but he had met the Hutt that called herself Mama on Nal Hutta when he and— future— Quinlan were chasing after Ziro. He had a pretty good sense of her Force signature, and he could feel her now. He could also get a sense of several other similar presences around her, dark and thinking only of themselves.

Jango pressed the comm again. "Leave be the Merchandiser's Jewel," he said. "That one's ours."

There was a chorus of leks over the comm. Shmi turned the ship on an expert dime and dove towards the Jewel, where the Hutt elders were trying to make their escape. Whoever was piloting was not very good; Shmi managed to get in front of them and physically ram their shield generators, shorting them out.

Xanatos slipped down to the gunner's seat once more.

Jango activated ship-to-ship communications. "Do you want to take the lead?" he asked Shmi, and she grinned.

The form of a Hutt, blue and holographic, popped up over the array. They were very large and corpulent— definitely one of the elders.

"This is Lady Skywalker," Shmi said pleasantly. "I am calling the Hutt cartel to stand down or you will be made to stand down. You are under arrest. Thank you."

There was a moment of incredulous silence from the other end. "I don't know who you think you are or why you think you can escape the wrath of the families," the Hutt said in Basic, "But you are making a mistake which will haunt you for the rest of your days, which I can assure you will be very short."

"All right," Shmi said. "So you don't intend to surrender?"

The Hutt laughed. "Our empire is stronger than you will ever be, humanlett. I recognize that accent. It is a slave accent."

"It is," Shmi said calmly.

The planet's atmosphere was becoming increasingly choked with fighting. Obi-Wan noted with some surprise that the Mandos seemed to be forcing the ships down, nonlethally if they could. Orders from Shmi, then.

"You have no authority over us," said the Hutt. "What crime have we committed?"

"The very worst," Shmi said. "And if I have no authority here I will make it. Have a nice day." She hung up.

The Jewel, plainly irritated, opened fire. Shmi swerved the ship out of the way and backed it up so Xanatos had a clear shot at them. Xanatos fired just as the Hutt ship shot forward, trying to make an escape not up through the sky, but along the terrain.

The shot impacted with the engines and sent the aft side reeling. It was a bigger ship than their own, but Obi-Wan had taken down much bigger cruisers in nothing more than a starfighter or two.

"Maybe you oughta strap in," Jango said, as the ship rocked under their feet— the Hutts were laying down a volley of fire.

"They're not trying to hit us," Obi-Wan said, squinting in thought out at the Jewel, ignoring Jango's suggestion. What were they trying to do?

He found out a moment later when the bay doors on the Jewel opened and spat out a ragtag group of mercenaries. They clomped out like ants, right over the hull of the ship— magnetized boots. They were still in Nar Hekka's atmosphere, so they could breathe without masks or helmets.

It wasn't all the same group of Trandoshans who they'd tangled with in the base— most of them, Obi-Wan gathered, had not made it out alive. Instead it was a collection of what must have been the best bodyguards, all different species, that the Hutts could gather on such short notice. The elite of the elite.

The mercenaries, locked confidently onto the exterior of the ship, began shooting; not blasters but some kind of specialized cannons. One of the Mando'a ships came too close, and a blast hit it.

The cannons were not very long-range, but what they were was incredibly powerful and efficient. The ship it hit immediately sparked and started losing atmosphere. The pilot was obviously skilled, and managed to half-land, half-crash without too much further incident. But it showed what these weapons could do.

"Any ship that gets too close is going to be in danger," Tholme said. "We can't keep them here forever if we have to keep our distance."

"The ship has to keep a distance," Qui-Gon said, with that famously crazy look in his eye.

Unfortunately, crazy was catching. "That sounds like a lot of fun," Obi-Wan said.

"What does?" Quinlan asked warily. The caution was, probably, wise.

Jango and Shmi, becing Mandalorian, had a couple extra pairs of mag-lock boots, and, as it occurred, a jetpack.

"Are you sure you know how to use that thing?" Qui-Gon asked nervously as Obi-Wan strapped it on.

"Of course," Obi-Wan said. "What do I look like?"

Qui-Gon gave him a dry look.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "I know how to use a jetpack."

They did, to be fair, take quite some time to learn how to use safely, without burning one's legs, clothes, or other important body parts. It was just that Obi-Wan had a lot of practice.

Jango, of course, had suited up in his full beskar'gam and jetpack, and Shmi had added one to her minimal chest armor, plus a buy'ce— helmet. Obi-Wan hadn't been expecting that for some reason and he took a moment to observe it. Her helmet was a little narrower than Jango's, and the eyepiece was more rounded. It was painted a gold-ish orangy color, and had script circling around the crown of the helmet. It wasn't in Huttese or Mando'a; instead, it was one of the very old slave languages, the kind only the lower classes spoke on Tatooine and wasn't used for saying anything that wasn't important.

Obi-Wan could read it. It said, in shimmering gold script; I am as free as the stars. I am as shifting as the sand. I have broken my chains and they will not be reforged. I am liberated. Obi-Wan politely looked away.

Jango had a mischievous look on his face.

"Oh no—" Obi-Wan said, just as Jango shoved a helmet over his head. "I don't need a buy'ce," Obi-Wan said, modulated but sure he was getting his disdain through. His padawan braid trailed a little down the bottom of the helmet.

"Twenty minutes ago you were watching pink banthas dance around the room," Jango said. "Forgive me if I get the feeling you're accident prone."

Obi-Wan swiveled his head to give his Master an indignant look through the helmet, and was betrayed by Qui-Gon's laugh.

"It would reduce a lot of my stress if there was something protecting that hard head of yours," Qui-Gon said, and knocked on the helmet with his knuckles.

"Very funny," Obi-Wan said. Somewhere out there in the Force, Cody was laughing.

"Done?" Shmi asked, but her body language read amused. "Good."

She turned and tucked Anakin into Aayla's arms; then gave them both a kiss on the forehead and tucked Aayla into the sleeping berth where they'd be safe. Quinlan and Tholme would be co-piloting the ship, Xanatos on guns.

Shmi smacked the button that would open the cargo bay door, and the air started to whip around them loudly.

"May the Force be with you," Jango said, with an ironic salute.

"Oya," Obi-Wan said. Jango laughed. Obi-Wan dropped backwards out of the ship, catching the wind and igniting his jetpack. He stabilized just as Shmi and Jango dropped out; Jango carrying Qui-Gon since there was no way either of the others would have been able to take his weight.

Midair, Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber just in time to catch one of the missiles on the blade. It was a much harder impact than a usual blaster bolt, making his hands tingle, but it reflected just the same.

The unfortunate mercenary who had fired it at him caught a faceful of the blast and fell off the side of the ship.

Obi-Wan landed safely on the hull and felt his compatriots do the same not a moment later. Obi-Wan's boots magnetized to the metal.

Mag-lock boots were really not ideal for close combat fighting. They were usually for crew members who had to do outer-hull repairs mid-space, paired with a suit. They stuck you to whatever you wanted stuck to, but the whole point was that they didn't detach easily. Such as might be useful in a fistfight.

They were also too close for the mercenaries to use the launchers at them— not without risk of blowing themselves, their friends, or the ship they were standing on up.

The Jewel was still in the atmosphere, perfectly breathable, if a little hard on the lungs without the help of a helmet with a rebreather in it. It was still attempting to skim along, but with its engine so damaged, at the moment all it was doing was hovering, and occasionally shooting forward a few feet before stuttering again.

It made for unsteady footing, and combined with the wind whipping past, it was almost impossible to keep your feet under you if you weren't locked in.

A Rodian mercenary noticed Obi-Wan and snarled, sheathing the big cannon on her back and pulling out a smaller handheld blaster instead. She shot and stepped forward at the same time— one boot demagnetized, then put back down on the floor, then the other. A tedious process.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, detached both boots at the same time and used the jetpack to rocket forward in time to kick the gun out of her hand. He landed on his feet, re-magnetized, and ducked the Rodian's punch.

He detached the boots, didn't bother to turn the jetpack back on, and jumped; he did a midair cartwheel and used his saber to cut the soles off her boots on the downswing. She stumbled and fell over the edge. Obi-Wan reached out a hand and caught her, lowering her most of the way to the ground before dropping her in a snowbank.

He turned his boots back on just as his feet hit the ship once more. He landed next to Qui-Gon.

"Show off," he said. Obi-Wan gave him an innocent look.

Jango and Shmi were using their own jetpacks with similar efficiency, occasionally picking up the mercenaries to drop them to the ground like giant prey birds. Qui-Gon, like Obi-Wan, often deactivated the magnet boots, but instead of using the jetpack to control his flight he more or less hurtled himself at the various enemies. As a very large man, this was pretty effective.

Around them, the battle continued in the air. With the mercenaries sufficiently distracted, the other ships didn't have to worry about getting too close. They could— and did— shoot the remaining Hutts out of the sky. One by one, the other ships started to fall.

Obi-Wan used the Force again to pull up the panelling under a human mercenary's feet, and the wind immediately started to pull him backwards. But the mercenary managed to catch the hull plating with one hand, and, kind of impressively, shoot a blaster at Obi-Wan with the other. It singed by Obi-Wan's head.

He had to turn to look at where it was going— blasted helmet— to see if the shot was going to hit any of his allies. It came near Shmi, but she lifted up an arm and deflected it with a gauntlet when Obi-Wan shouted a warning.

This was why Obi-Wan hated wearing full armor, and not for any of the reasons certain people liked to tease him about— the main theory being just plain contrariness. It was hard to feel connected to the Force when your face was hidden behind layers of artificial metal or plastisteel. It was why Jedi preferred to wear robes made of soft, natural cotton, and other accessories made of leather.

Obi-Wan's distraction caught up to him. Jango, engaged elsewhere, expertly shot the man's hand away from the ship and he fell off, but there was already someone else who had their eyes on Obi-Wan. A Besalisk, i.e.; four arms, hand as large as Obi-Wan's head, about twice his width.

"This is going to hurt," Obi-Wan said. The Besalisk barreled forward, grabbed him by the shoulders, and tried to crush his ribcage. It hurt. "Now there," Obi-Wan wheezed, "If you wanted to cuddle, you should have just said so."

The Besalisk squeezed harder, and detached one of his hands from Obi-Wan to grab at a vibroknife. It let him wriggle out of his grasp. Obi-Wan demagnetized his boots from the ground and, with wild hope, kicked at the knife. It stuck to the bottom of the boot.

That was, admittedly, kind of cool.

Obi-Wan's next move was to try to demagnetize the boot again and fling the knife off the ship, but the Besalisk grabbed the boot in an attempt to get his blade back. Obi-Wan kicked him in the face. The Besalisk yanked.

The boot came off.

"This is just embarrassing now," Obi-Wan said, and did a spin kick, knocking both boot and knife out of the Besalisk's hand, and both flew over the edge. The Besalisk stumbled back a little, but he still had both his shoes, and they worked to his advantage this time; he was planted to the ground like a tree.

He reached for Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan was not in the mood to have his ribs broken today, and he brought his head forward desperately, helmet meeting forehead. A keldabe kiss, which was accompanied by a loud crack as Obi-Wan's helmet definitely broke something in his opponent's face.

Obi-Wan deactivated his remaining boot and let the wind blow him backwards; he did a backflip midair and landed neatly a few feet away. Qui-Gon was fighting, saber-to-staff, a few feet away. Jango was apparently having a fun time sniping mercenaries from a spot he'd staked out, and Shmi was flying quickly, darting in between her opponents so quickly they almost didn't have time to register her.

The Besalisk, enraged now, started running forward. Obi-Wan took off his helmet and hurled it at him. It connected, and the Besalisk fell backwards in mid-stride with his boots still deactivated. Obi-Wan pressed the gap and shot forward on his jetpack, connecting with the Besalisk's middle and sending them both reeling backwards. They impacted, hard on the hull.

This portion of the ship was inside the artificial atmosphere of the dome. That meant that just as Obi-Wan started to feel the cold, he was thrust back into the heat. Their clothes steamed faintly, and the decking was hot beneath his back. Obi-Wan twisted, rolled, and kicked the Besalisk towards the edge.

The Besalisk used three arms to hold onto the hull and used the fourth to punch Obi-Wan in the stomach. Obi-Wan released his air in a whoomph, and pulled his lightsaber off his belt.

There was a loud crash, and the ship lurched to the side. The fight above was getting more vicious— a stray shot had hit the Jewel. In the sky above, Obi-Wan saw Xanatos shoot the ship who'd done it away, but it was too late; the Jewel was going down.

The engines stuttered again and the ship moved, bringing them back out of the artificial atmo into the real, freezing one. This was getting ridiculous. Obi-Wan ignited his saber and sliced the Besalisk's hand off. When he grabbed the stump in agony, Obi-Wan kicked his knee out from under him and finally sent him off the edge of the ship. Obi-Wan repeated the same trick with the soft landing, though he felt a little uncharitable about it considering how bruised his body was now.

The ship spun into the heat again, then back out. Obi-Wan got to his feet gingerly, sticking his one remaining boot to the plating of the hull, and holding the bare one somewhat gingerly off the icy cold ground.

Obi-Wan deflected a blaster bolt without thinking about it and looked to see who they were aiming at— Shmi, who flew over to him on her jetpack just as the reflected bolt hit its mark and another mercenary went down.

"Thanks," Shmi said.

"Don't mention it," Obi-Wan said tiredly. The engines of the ship made a concerning grinding noise.

"That's not good," Shmi said. "This ship is going down."

"Then I suppose we'd better get off it," Obi-Wan said.

Shmi shook her head. "The Hutt elders must survive to stand trial. This must be legitimate in every way we can make it."

Obi-Wan looked down at the hull, which was starting to lose plating as the ship vibrated and started to tear itself apart. It wasn't quite the Invisible Hand, but…

"Yeah, we can manage," Obi-Wan said, and knelt down to start carving a hole they could drop through. The sounds of the mercenaries dropped off into nothing. Obi-Wan could still feel his Master and Jango, alive and well. "Can you tell the others to get over here?"

"Where's your buy'ce?" Shmi asked, but relayed the message over her own internal comms anyway.

"Lost it somehow," Obi-Wan said, and tossed the circular sheet of metal carelessly off to the side with the Force. Without the helmet, he was a little sweaty and flushed from the rapid changes in temperature. His braid stuck to his face, and he brushed it back.

He helped Shmi inside the hole in the ship then deftly jumped down himself. Only a moment later, Qui-Gon and Jango joined them.

"Thanks for waiting," Jango said. "Can't leave all the fun to you two."

"What happened to your shoe?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I think this fashion will be all the rage in Coruscant next year," Obi-Wan said.

The ship creaked and tilted, the hallway becoming a slight slope. They caught their feet.

"Not much time," Shmi said, and led the way.

Things were definitely falling apart in here, sparking on occasion and making unsettling creaking noises. The Hutts must have sent all their bodyguard forces out to their defence, because no one stopped them now. The corridors were an odd temperature, a mixture of the hot artificial Hutt atmosphere and the naturally snowy one of the planet. Mist had started to pool around the corners.

When they reached the control room, the Jedi stepped back. This was not their fight now— just theirs to support.

Their entrance was a little anticlimactic, because when they walked in, all the Hutts were too busy panicking about the crashing ship to notice their arrival at first. It was the control room but no one really seemed to be piloting or trying to vent systems or anything they should have done to try to salvage the ship. It seemed they'd sent their pilots out to fight too. They were shouting at each other in a cacophony of voices.

Jango solved that problem by shooting into the air.

The shot burned a hole in the top plating but didn't go all the way through; it also succeeded at scaring every Hutt in the room witless. They cowered up against each other, each pushing to be the one furthest away from the line of fire.

"Thank you for giving me your attention," Jango said. "Shmi?"

"Hello," Shmi said. "I'm Lady Skywalker. I suppose you would like to surrender now?"

That earned her some nervous muttering.

"The ship is going down anyway," one brave Hutt said, folding his arms and drawing himself up. He failed to look intimidating. "We are all going to die. Why should we listen to you?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but we've got a couple Jedi with us," Jango said.

Obi-Wan waggled his fingers at them.

"I've heard tell the Jedi can do miracles," Jango said. "I suppose they could probably fix your ship for you."

"If," Shmi said, "You submit to us and agree to go quietly to the custody of the Republic."

That one looked like it was going to incite more arguing, but another part of the ship blew; the ship rocked and then abruptly dropped a few feet. Not enough to even get them close to the ground, or for a significant drop in pressure, but it was enough to scare the Hutts again.

They really were going to crash at this rate. Subtly, Obi-Wan flicked his fingers and started messing with the navigation equipment. None of the Hutts were looking at the console but judging by the surge of amusement from his companions, the humans in the room could see the dials and switches moving on their own.

"You can't do this!" the Hutt said. "Do you want money? We'll pay. We have a lot of money between us."

"You'll pay for your crimes," Shmi said, untempted. "Don't worry about that."

Another Hutt blustered, narrowing her eyes at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. "You wouldn't leave us here to die," she said.

"I don't think anyone could blame us for leaving the ship as it is now," Obi-Wan said, quite truthfully. After all, they were not, at the moment, currently crashing.

"Wh— you can't!" said the Hutt. Obi-Wan gave her his Negotiator smile, the one that brought dread into the heart of even politicians.

That alarmed the Hutts, who went into hushed conference, this time with a lot more swearing in Huttese. They waited patiently for the crime lords to finish. Cinematically, the ship rocked again.

"Okay, fine!" yelped the Hutt who had so rudely taken Shmi's call earlier. "Fine! We surrender! Save us!"

"After you," Jango said, gesturing them to go to the console while he watched their backs, blaster at the ready.

"You can fix this ship, right?" Qui-Gon asked Obi-Wan lowly as they approached the controls.

"Sure, probably," Obi-Wan said.

For some reason, this didn't seem to reassure him very much.

The ship's systems were built for humanoid pilots; Hutts rarely did anything themselves that they could hire someone to do, or, even better, get a slave to do for them. Obi-Wan slid right into the pilot's seat, Shmi into the co-pilot's.

"No one even vented the engines," Shmi grumbled, pressing buttons fervently. Obi-Wan checked the displays; like he thought, they were going down. It was just a matter of how they did it.

"This may get a little bumpy," he said. "You may want to hold onto something."

Shmi had her son's natural flying aptitude— or, he supposed, he had hers. Her brows furrowed, concentrated and a little worried, but she kept her cool and her hands were steady. "Altitude is decreasing," Obi-Wan said. "Master, can you read off our speed?"

Qui-Gon positioned himself behind the readout. It wasn't too bad. Certainly not as bad as the time he and Anakin had caused several million credits worth of damage to a Coruscant landing pad. Obi-Wan looked over and thought he caught a hint of Anakin's mischievous smile in the smirk Shmi sent his way.

It took a little fancy flying— he and Shmi detached the back airlock, pulled some definitively unrecommended maneuvers with their fuel consumption. But they found a clear stretch of empty snow. Qui-Gon read off their speed. A little too fast.

Obi-Wan bit his lip. Well, he'd done it before, if on a smaller scale.

"Ah, not to worry you, Obi-Wan…" Qui-Gon said.

"I'm not," Obi-Wan said. He closed his eyes, which as a rule he didn't usually do when he was responsible for flying a multi-ton hunk of metal. But he needed a lot of concentration to do this. Luckily, he was used to tuning out much more stressful things than this, such as warzones, dogfights, and his apprentice trying to make dinner in the other room.

He let the world fall away, and let the Force infuse him. Obi-Wan never knew it, but he was loved by the Force. It came to him now, when he called it gently. Anakin, shining like a beacon up above. His Master, quietly supportive and strong. His allies. He stretched out his senses, felt each and every corner and crack and bolt of the ship.

He shut the engines off.

Then, when everyone was panicking— besides Shmi, who had an interested look on her face— Obi-Wan grasped the ship with the Force and took control of it. He manipulated each part, filling it with the Force and letting it speak to him. It was heavy, but the Force was with him, and it gave the ship a nudge when Obi-Wan's strength started to falter. He helped it glide down to the ground with only a slight jolt and a harder-than-usual thump.

They landed in the snowy field.

There was already a team waiting there to arrest the Hutts; not Mandalorians as Obi-Wan had expected but the first group of captives they'd rescued from the Controllers. They had been armed and they looked very ready to take the Hutts into custody.

Everyone stared at Obi-Wan.

"Another happy landing," Obi-Wan said, and ran a hand through his hair. "Ow, Force," he said, "I think I pulled a muscle."

Chapter heading from TCW - 3X03 Supply Lines

Mando'a translations:
Lek - yes
Beskar'gam - armor, metal skin
Buy'ce - helmet
Oya - let's hunt

Some inspiration from Obi-Wan being cool and showing off in the "Wild Space" novel.

Just one more chapter after this!