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Morning dawned on the Jedi Temple with the soft glow of Coruscant's sun filtering through the towering windows. Peter Quill awoke with a start, the excitement for the day's challenge buzzing through his veins like electricity.
He rose swiftly, methodically packing his essentials—a change of clothes, some rations, his Walkman, and a few personal items that reminded him of home.
His fingers brushed against his lightsaber, the cool metal sending a shiver of anticipation up his spine. He clipped it to his belt with a definitive snap, then hefted Ronan's hammer from the corner, resting it on his shoulder.
…
The previous night had been a flurry of farewells and quiet conversations. He had sat down with Aayla, Gamora, and Nebula, explaining the importance of his upcoming mission. Their expressions had shifted from sadness, as he would be leaving again, to pride as he spoke of his potential knighthood.
Soon after he explained everything, Aayla firmly declared her intention to follow in his footsteps and become a Jedi Knight herself. "I won't be left behind for long!" She said with conviction.
Gamora and Nebula, though not yet Padawans, shared a look of mixed emotions—left behind as they joined the order far later than either Peter or Aayla.
His conversation with Revan had been particularly poignant. The Sith Master's spectral form had shimmered with pride as Peter recounted the council's decision.
"You're one step closer to your goal of leaving this Jedi hellhole for good," Revan had said, his voice echoing in the quiet of the temple's ancient underground. "Which means it's time that I start upping your training. Since I'm tied to this place, I'll have to teach you everything before you inevitably set off on your own..." He spoke somberly.
Peter's eyes widened as he heard this. Never before has he heard his Sith Master sound so… melancholy.
Then and there, Peter realized that Revan actually cared for him. He may not show it much, as he's a Sith Ghost who takes great pleasure in beating his training into him, but he cared in his own Sith-like way.
Before leaving for bed, as he had a mission in the morning, Peter promised himself that he'd find a way to bring Revan with him when he eventually left the Jedi, a task, he hoped, wouldn't be as daunting as his upcoming mission.
…
With everything in order, Peter strode from his quarters, his mind focused, his heart a mix of nerves and resolve. The halls of the temple were quiet, the usual hum of activity subdued by the early hour.
Soon enough, he reached the council room, the door sliding open with a silent hiss to reveal Master Windu and Yoda waiting for him. The chamber felt both imposing and familiar, especially since he'd spent so much time in it over the years.
"Peter," Master Windu began, his voice steady and commanding. "Today you embark on a test of your readiness to become a Jedi Knight. This mission you will undertake alone, without the guidance of your Master's. You must rely solely on your judgment and abilities."
Peter nodded, his expression set in determination. "I understand, Master. I'm ready."
Master Windu nodded as his hand hovered above the controls embedded in his chair, a serious expression marking his features.
"Observe closely," Windu said as he pressed a button, initiating a hologram, which sprung up in the center of the room. A medium-sized transport ship appeared, its two wings and rear adjustable thruster pillar distinctly visible as it soared into the cosmos and vanished into the distance.
Peter stepped aside, his gaze fixed on the image, a knot of curiosity forming in his stomach. The image shimmered and began to repeat, drawing Peter's attention back to his masters, waiting for them to explain.
Master Windu's voice filled the room, steady yet tinged with urgency. "This ship was the last known vessel to depart from the moon of Nerit in the Outer Rim. It's where the last of the endangered Neti species resided in peace."
"The tree species?" Peter asked, getting nods from both masters.
Yoda's eyes, wise and solemn, met Peter's. "Many times, to move the Neti to safety, we have tried. But, once roots they put down, hard it is to convince them to leave."
Peter, his curiosity now mixed with concern, asked, "So, what do you need me to do? Convince the Neti to relocate?"
Windu shook his head, his hand returning to the control panel. With another press, the holographic scene changed dramatically—what appeared to be footage from a droids camera now displayed the aftermath of a devastated Neti village.
Blaster marks scorched the ground, parts of the forest smoldered with fire, and the lifeless forms of the Neti, tree-like humanoids, were scattered tragically across the landscape.
Despite the grim scene, Peter's expression hardened; war had shown him far worse than this. "So, you need me to find those responsible and bring them to justice? That ship—is it our only lead?"
"Yes," Windu replied, his voice deep and commanding. "The planet's rather lax security systems managed to lock onto its transponder, capturing its identification code, visual identifiers, and even recorded the ship's next destination. All relevant information has been sent to your datapad." He said, leaving it to Peter to piece the rest together.
After all, this is a test for him.
Peter nodded, his mind already racing with plans. "Should I head out now?"
Yoda raised a hand, pausing him. "One more thing, there is. Likely it is not just malice that brought this destruction, but the rarity of the Neti. They are nearly extinct. Your mission, it is, to bring those involved to justice and find any survivors. The Neti must be preserved."
Resolute, Peter bowed. "It will be done, Masters. I won't fail them or you."
With a final nod from both Yoda and Windu, Peter turned and left the council room. The door hissed shut behind him, sealing off the solemn chamber. He walked briskly through the quiet halls of the temple, his resolve firming with each step.
Outside, the early Coruscant sun cast long shadows across the temple grounds. Peter paused, letting the light wash over him—a moment of peace before the storm. Then, with a deep breath, he headed towards the hangar.
There, waiting alongside his ship, a sleek Jedi vessel, stood Gamora, Nebula, and Aayla. And surprisingly, there seemed to me a rare moment of peace between Gamora and Nebula, who were usually at odds.
"Hey, you three," Peter greeted them with a warm smile. "Didn't expect a send-off party."
Aayla stepped forward, her expression serious yet soft. "We couldn't let you go without saying goodbye," she said, pulling him into a brief, tight hug.
As they stepped apart, Peter turned to Gamora and Nebula, noting the slight awkwardness as they hesitated. "Come here, you two," he said, opening his arms.
The sisters exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them before they both stepped forward, joining in a somewhat clumsy but heartfelt group hug.
"We'll be here when you get back, Peter," Nebula said, her voice carrying a rare tone of affection and sincerity. "So don't go and get yourself killed… or else." She warned, her sister nodding beside her.
Peter laughed, stepping back and adjusting Ronan's hammer on his shoulder. "I'll do my best. After all, who else is going to make sure you two don't murder each other," he teased, winking at them.
With a final nod to each of them, Peter turned and walked towards his ship, eager to launch into the stars. He paused at the ramp, turning back to wave at his friends who stood side by side, watching him.
"See you soon!" he called out before disappearing into the ship.
Inside, Peter moved with practiced ease, prepping the ship for departure. As he initiated the launch sequence, his mind replayed the council's briefing.
After a silent moment, he pulled out his datapad and used the information given to plot his course, setting the coordinates with practiced ease.
The engines hummed to life, a comforting sound that filled the cockpit. Peter settled into the pilot's seat, strapping himself in as the hangar doors began to open, revealing the sprawling cityscape of Coruscant below. He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar thrill of adventure mingled with a bit of anxiety.
As the ship shot out of the hangar, Peter navigated over the towering buildings of Coruscant before ascending toward the stars, his hands beginning to shake with exhilaration.
'I'm finally on my own…'
————
Knowhere Space Station, at the far Edge of the Outer Rim…
Orbiting a crumbling, devastated planet, a monstrous space station thrums with the constant buzz of activity, its sprawling structures illuminated by both the stars and the flickering lights of its many mining facilities.
It was a floating city, a kingdom unto itself, ruled by Taneleer Tivan—the Collector. Here, in the far corner of the Galaxy, he reigned supreme, his palace at the heart of the station serving as both his residence and the grand gallery where he safeguarded an array of cosmic rarities and artifacts.
Cad Bane's ship, the Justifier, touched down on one of the many landing pads scattered around the station. The notorious blue-skinned bounty hunter had just secured his latest acquisition—a young Neti named Groot, whose tragic capture had not come without resistance.
Inside the hold, Cad Bane regarded his captive with a mix of satisfaction and annoyance. Groot, still dazed from the many stun blasts he's endured along the way, was barely moving, his wooden features expressing silent defiance. Cad adjusted his hat and smirked as he approached the holding cell.
"You got spunk, kid," Cad began, his voice gruff. "But you're playing in the big leagues now. The Collector's not one to be trifled with. Behave, and maybe he'll treat you like a prized flower rather than a bothersome weed."
The doors of the ship opened with a hiss, revealing the bustling interior of the space station. As they stepped out, Groot seized the moment of distraction and bolted. His roots pounded the metal flooring as he made a desperate dash for freedom.
Cad Bane was quick to react, pulling out his blaster and firing a stunning shot that sent volts of electricity coursing through Groot's body. The young Neti crumpled to the ground, his efforts to escape thwarted within seconds.
"For a minute there, you thought you were clever, huh?" Cad drawled, holstering his weapon as he looked down at Groot, whose twitches were slowly subsiding. "Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be."
He hoisted the stunned Groot over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over the station. The Collector's palace was visible in the distance, its ornate architecture a stark contrast to the makeshift, poverty-ridden structures that dominated the rest of the station.
The path there was lined with workers and lowlifes, each one too absorbed in their own survival to pay much heed to another one of the Collector's acquisitions.
The station itself was a mix of advanced technology and crumbling decay. Advanced mining facilities reached like tentacles towards the planet below, extracting coaxium—a highly volatile hyper fuel that powered the station and filled the Collector's coffers.
Known for its energy-rich properties, coaxium is essential for fueling hyperdrives and other advanced machinery.
Most of the station's populace consisted of poor workers, bound to their labor as if shackled by invisible chains. Others were criminals and outcasts, seeking refuge in the shadows of the Collector's power.
It was a place of stark contrasts: wealth and poverty, freedom and oppression, all orbiting a dead planet that fed the Collector's ever-growing ambition.
As Cad Bane trudged toward the palace, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the young Neti over his shoulder. "Any final words, Kid?"
Groot silently hung over his shoulder, either unwilling or unable to speak to his captor. "…"
"…" The bounty hunter shrugged, approaching the grand entrance of the palace, the imposing doors stood as a barrier between the known and the vast unknown of Tivan's collection.
The thought of what lay beyond those doors—enslaved creatures and curiosities from across the galaxy—sent a chill even down Cad Bane's spine. Shaking it off, he adjusted his grip on Groot, preparing to deliver him into a life of captivity.
Soon enough, the doors opened slowly, their creak echoing ominously as they revealed the bright interior of the palace. There, awaiting them, stood the Collector. A tall, slender figure with pale skin stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, the Collector's presence was both imposing and unnerving. His eyes, a striking shade of icy blue, surveyed his new acquisition with a discerning gaze.
[Insert picture of the Collector here]
With a thin smile playing on his lips, the Collector extended a hand in greeting, his voice smooth and deep as he spoke. "Welcome back. I trust the journey was not too… troublesome?"
A/N: 2176 words :)
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