"'m stressing about delivering the slaves to Korriban," muttered one soldier, his voice carrying a hint of anxiety beneath the helmet's tinny, robotic filter.
"I agree, Korriban gives me the creeps," his companion replied, a visible shiver running down his white-armoured form as they walked down the long, dimly-lit corridor of the starship.
"Especially those disciples... They scare me more than any battlefield."
The two soldiers, clad in sleek, pristine white armour from helmet to boots, clutched their blasters tightly as they moved. The corridor was a cold expanse of metallic grey, the walls lined with cold, flashing panels and faintly humming lights.
Each step they took echoed with a hollow sound, swallowed up by the heavy silence of the ship. They moved like shadows, keeping to the centre of the corridor, their footsteps a sharp contrast against the unnatural quiet of the vessel.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic clanging broke the silence, followed by a frantic, hoarse yell.
"Let me out!" a man's voice cried from a room at the far end of the hall. The two soldiers jolted to attention, immediately raising their blasters in synchronised precision, alert for any threat.
They hurried toward the source of the noise, their boots clacking rapidly against the floor, until they reached the door. In a swift movement, one of them tapped the control panel beside it, and the heavy door slid open with a low hiss.
Inside, they found a wide, dimly lit cargo room filled with multiple cages stacked against the walls, each containing a human or alien figure, all looking back at them with a mixture of fear and resignation. Some clutched the bars, while others sat silently, eyes darting nervously toward the new arrivals.
But it wasn't the sight of the common slaves that caught the soldiers' attention. It was the four cages at the back of the room, each one draped with a heavy cloth, obscuring the figures within.
The soldiers exchanged an uneasy glance before stepping forward, their blasters levelled toward the hidden figures.
"Hey, you check it," the older soldier said, his voice betraying a hint of nerves.
"What? No way! You do it," the younger soldier shot back.
"Oh, come on—it's just slaves in here. They're harmless. Besides, if you don't, I'll report you for insubordination..." The older soldier's voice dripped with forced bravado, though he gave his companion a little shove for good measure.
The younger soldier huffed in annoyance but complied, slowly approaching the first covered cage. Taking a breath, he reached out with the barrel of his blaster and cautiously slid the cloth aside.
The instant the cloth fell, the sound of gunfire exploded in the confined space.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
Gunshots echoed furiously off the metal walls, startling the other slaves and sending some scurrying back, cowering in their cages.
Bullets bounced harmlessly off the soldiers' white armour, their rounds ricocheting with sharp metallic clangs but causing no damage to the troopers themselves. The older soldier exhaled a small sigh of relief, seeing that they remained unscathed.
The shooter-a middle-aged man clutching an old-fashioned pistol-stared at them, his mouth slightly agape, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
The younger soldier merely tilted his head slightly, his blank visor pointed straight at the man's stunned face. Without a word, he raised his blaster, the weapon humming to life, and fired a single, precise shot.
A sizzling red bolt of plasma struck the man's chest, burning through him and leaving a smoking hole as he collapsed, lifeless, to the floor of his cage.
Minutes earlier...
Ali's eyes snapped open. The dim, stifling darkness greeted him, thick and disorienting, as he realised he was confined within a small, cramped cage.
The air was stale, tinged with the faint metallic scent of cold iron. He couldn't see anything around him, as a thick cloth had been draped over his cage, blocking out all light and muffling sound.
'Where the hell am I this time?' he thought with a bitter edge. His memory flickered back to his previous mission-being dropped unceremoniously in the middle of a public restroom, surrounded by a horde of zombies.
And now, it seemed his next arrival had somehow managed to be even less dignified.
'First a bathroom, and now a cage? What happened to getting dropped on a rooftop or in a forest? Do we not do that anymore?' Ali's inner voice practically dripped with sarcasm, though his sharp instincts were already working to take stock of his surroundings.
He shifted carefully, reaching back toward the handle of his quinque, but his movement stilled as the metallic sound of banging from a nearby cage cut through the silence. A man nearby began yelling, his voice a desperate, panicked cry that reverberated through the small room.
Then, Ali heard it-the distinctive, heavy clomp of approaching footsteps echoing from somewhere down the corridor. They were uniform, deliberate, each step growing closer until he could hear the low hiss of the door sliding open and the muffled clatter of boots stepping inside.
A moment later, two voices filtered through the cloth, their tones distant and metallic. Ali strained to listen, catching snatches of words, which had an almost robotic quality to them.
As he listened to their conversation, the pieces slowly fell into place. The mention of "slaves" sparked a flicker of understanding, only for that theory to be shattered by the next sounds he heard-the unmistakable crack of gunfire, followed by an even stranger, high-pitched hum.
It was a sound he'd never encountered before in all his worlds.
'What... what was that? It sounded like a laser or something, but that can't be right. And the bullets... did they bounce off them? Just what kind of armour are these guys wearing?' Ali's mind raced, analysing every clue.
With a silent but grim determination, Ali steadied himself and took a deep breath.
He reached down and gripped his left wrist with his right hand. Then, with a swift movement, he ripped away the top layer of skin from his wrist, creating a blood-red mark that ringed his skin.
Pain seared up his arm, but he remained silent. He quickly repeated the motion on his other wrist, the marks creating a jagged, raw reminder of his 'capture'. He couldn't afford any signs that would give him away.
Ali slipped his belt behind him, securing his bag of rations there. His weapons remained hidden beneath the loose, baggy fabric of his grey sweatshirt, concealed well enough to avoid attracting attention.
He assumed the posture of a caged slave, sinking down with his head hanging low, his hands clasped on top of his head. The red marks around his wrists gave the convincing impression of heavy chains.
A moment later, the soldiers slid the cloth off Ali's cage, their blasters raised but their stances relaxed as they took in the sight before them. Ali didn't move, keeping his head between his knees, his expression concealed as he played the part of a cowed, exhausted captive.
To the soldiers, he appeared like any other helpless prisoner, beaten down and docile.
"Maybe someone covered them by accident?" the younger soldier muttered.
"Explain to me how you 'accidentally' cover slaves and then somehow manage to leave one of them with a weapon, genius?" The older soldier's voice was tinged with disbelief, as though he couldn't fathom such carelessness.
"I don't know, maybe they were at the end of their patrol," the younger soldier suggested. "You know how things get foggy in the last hour.."
SMACK.
The older soldier delivered a hard slap to the back of his partner's helmet, making him jolt forward with a grunt. "Don't let the lieutenant hear you say that, or he'll toss you off the ship."
With a huff of annoyance, they moved to the other cages, pulling off the remaining cloths. The first revealed a man huddled in the corner, shivering as he clutched his knees, while the next revealed a woman pressed against the back wall, her wide, fearful eyes watching their every move.
"What do we do? Do we report these extra slaves?" the younger soldier asked, glancing around uncertainly.
"Do you want to spend another hour explaining this to the superiors?" the older soldier replied with a scoff.
"Let's just get rid of the dead one, leave the rest uncovered, and pretend we didn't see anything. This stays between us." Without further debate, they opened the dead man's cage, dragging his corpse and ancient firearm out of the room, leaving only silence and the quiet, terrified whispers of the other prisoners.
Ali watched them retreat, his dark eyes narrowed as he took in the details of their stark white armour and advanced blasters. The futuristic weaponry, the seamless armour, the helmets obscuring their identities...
'Fuuuuuuuuuuuck', Ali thought, feeling a knot of unease twist in his stomach.
'It's STAR WARS. This is so bad. The Slums were supposed to be a "weaker world" level... Star Wars is anything but weak, and with the kind of missions l've had so far…'. He let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the cold metal of the cage.
'I swear, if I have to kill a Jedi..' he thought with another sigh, dread weighing heavily on his thoughts.
Next to him, Ali could hear the faint, cautious movements of the other players shifting inside their cages, their low, nervous whispers carrying through the stillness. The hushed murmurs easily reached Ali's ears, a scattered stream of questions and uneasy speculation.
He lifted his head, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. The room was filled with a variety of slaves—some humans like him, others distinctly alien, with unusual features and colours, their faces and expressions unfamiliar.
Yet one thing was clear; every pair of eyes that looked back at him and the other two players held a mix of caution and fear.
Even through their differences, Ali could tell these aliens weren't warriors. They were civilians, maybe labourers, some possibly from distant planets where the art of combat was as foreign to them as this cage was to him.
'These aren't fighters', he mused, scanning their hunched shoulders and wary stares. 'Not a hint of training or defiance in any of them. They don't have the air of survivors either... just people taken and thrown in with us!'. He settled back with a heavy sigh.
'So what's the plan? Are we all being shipped off to some kind of slave factory, or something else?'
'Alright, what do I actually know about Star Wars?' he thought, letting out a long, resigned breath.
He might not have watched the movies, but the basics of the galaxy's lore had trickled down even to him. 'Two factions with these supernatural powers, the Jedi and the Sith, always fighting for control. And somewhere in between, colossal armies with fleets capable of destroying whole planets... and here I am, just thrown into an empire slave ship'
Paradise had dropped him into the heart of one of the most powerful universes known, with dangers that would leave most of the Slums' previous worlds in the dust. The sheer audacity of it made him almost laugh-almost.
Steeling himself, Ali took a deep breath, pulling himself upright and shifting his posture until he was seated cross-legged. He reached into his bag and took out a few ration bars, unwrapping them and biting down with a focus born of experience.
He chewed quickly, swallowing the dense calories and energy without wasting time. Every bit of energy would count here.
'At least there's power to be taken here. Call it magic, the Force, whatever you want. No matter what I'm not leaving this world until I've taken something magical with me', he thought, his gaze hardening with determination.
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Author here, u guys like my choice for the new world? Before I start this off I need to say this, the FORCE will be more based on lore than the movies, it is much more powerful and it has numerous abilities, also as usual I will be creating characters from my own imagination while taking as much care as possible to stay true to the values of Star Wars. Also I am not an expert on Star Wars so if you see anything wrong please comment and tell me. Thx👍
Please donate some of your power stones, it would help my ff massively.
Five chapters ahead of webnovel on patreon.com/Rondo312