I’m Star-Lord (SW Xover)

C49 Holocron?!

Check out early access chapters on my Patréon, currently 13 chapters ahead! 

——————

After a long flight to the Outer Rim of the Galaxy, Peter's ship exited hyperspace with a jolt, the stars realigning into distinct points as the dark void of space stretched endlessly before him. 

He had expected a planet, a hidden base, or a stealth ship, but instead, he was greeted by vast, unoccupied space. The coordinates he had been given led to nothing but the quiet emptiness of the galaxy.

"This can't be right," Peter muttered to himself, scanning the area with growing frustration. The ship he was tracking, the last link to the attackers of the Neti, was nowhere to be found. 

A thought nagged at him, growing louder with each passing second. "Could the information they left behind have been a decoy?" he wondered aloud, his suspicion mounting. The mission had only just begun, yet it already felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

With his fingers drumming against the console, Peter considered his options. The emptiness of space before him seemed to mock his efforts, telling him to head back home.

Just as he was about to reluctantly set a course back to Coruscant, as he had nothing to go by if the information was fake, suddenly, a spark of inspiration struck him. 

"Hold on a second," Peter muttered once again, pulling out his datapad and setting it on his lap. He closed his eyes, letting the Force flow through him, and reached out with his mind to touch the circuits within the device. 'Hopefully this works…'

Using his novice skills in Mechu-Deru, a grey technique that allowed interaction with machines through the Force, Peter delved into the false ship data stored on the datapad. Each line of encrypted code whispered secrets, slowly unraveling under his focused attention.

After what felt like an eternity compressed into half an hour, Peter's eyes snapped open, a triumphant smile playing across his face. "Gotcha," he whispered, as the real Identification code and navigation coordinates blinked into existence on the screen.

Without wasting a moment, Peter punched the new coordinates into the navigation computer. The ship hummed to life as it prepared to jump into hyperspace once again. "Let's see where you really went," he said to himself, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

The stars turned to streaks as Peter's ship shot through hyperspace, racing towards the true location of the mysterious ship, which thankfully, wasn't very far away either. 

With the ship underway, Peter put his headphones back on and pressed play, smiling at how truly fitting the next song was.

Play Rocket Man by Elton John

She packed my bags last night, pre-flight

Zero hour, 9 a.m.

And I'm gonna be high as a kite by then

I miss the Earth so much, I miss my wife

It's lonely out in space

On such a timeless flight

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time

'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find

I'm not the man they think I am at home

Oh, no, no, no

I'm a rocket man

Rocket man

Burning out his fuse up here alone

…

..

.

After another hour of travel, the dull roar of the hyperspace engines tapered off into an eerie silence as Peter's ship emerged into the normal expanse of space yet again. But this time he wasn't greeted by emptiness. 

Before him lay a dead planet, half-excavated, orbited by a massive space station that clawed at the planet's resources with relentless mechanical efficiency. Peter watched in awe and sadness—the force pulsing a somber reminder of the planet's long demise, its carcass still plundered in death.

"The Sith would like it here," Peter muttered, feeling a cold resonance with the desolate scene.

Shaking off his melancholy, Peter guided his ship towards the space station, lining up to land on one of the designated pads. 

As he disembarked, his lightsaber at his hip and his hammer resting on his shoulder, Peter locked up behind him just in time for two rough-looking aliens to approach. One brandished a blaster, waving it menacingly at Peter's ship.

"You gotta pay a fee for landing here," the armed alien grunted, his eyes darting around, checking for any signs of trouble.

Peter raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Are you guys guards? Police?" he asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.

"Are you gonna pay up or what? I ain't got all day," the alien retorted, taking a step forward and pressing his blaster against Peter's chin.

Peter surveyed the gathering crowd, sensing their anticipation of a spectacle. With a subtle wave of his hand, he spoke in a low voice so they couldn't hear him. "I've already paid you," he suggested calmly.

The two aliens repeated his words back, their expressions turning dull and subdued. The blaster lowered.

"Now, run along," Peter directed, his voice still calm and authoritative.

As they turned to leave, as if recalling something, he called out, "Wait." They stopped, still under the influence of the mind trick. Peter closed the distance, whispering so only they could hear. "Why don't you two find a nice secluded alleyway and think about your lives? If you objectively think that you deserve it, then go ahead and blow your brains out, okay?"

Nodding dumbly, the pair shuffled off towards an alley, leaving behind a disappointed crowd murmuring about the anticlimactic resolution.

Walking off, Peter started checking all of the landing pads one by one, searching for the ship detailed in his briefing. 

As he distanced himself from the scene, suddenly, two blaster shots echoed faintly near his landing pad, followed quickly by a rush of footsteps and then screams as the bodies were discovered.

'Hmm, I guess they judged themselves guilty…' Ignoring the commotion, Peter focused on the mission at hand.

…

It didn't take long for Peter to find the ship he was looking for, the Justifier, "Found you…" he muttered. 

With a deep breath, Peter reached out with his senses, a technique Master Yoda had honed with him over many sessions. He felt for the residue of life, for any lingering signatures that might guide him, but the force was strangely silent around the ship. 

'No one's home?' He thought, as he could sense that the vessel was empty, void of life except for a single maintenance droid sweeping the cargo bay. The lack of a living presence was a minor setback, but not a deterrent.

Opening his eyes, Peter activated one of his newer abilities, force tracking, which Master Windu had insisted would be crucial for his missions. 

Almost immediately, glowing footprints appeared on the metallic floor, starting from the ship's loading bay and weaving through the station's throng of residents. At first, there were two distinct sets of prints—one markedly less humanoid than the other, suggesting the presence of something—or someone—unusual.

'Possibly a Neti?' Peter wondered. 

Curious, Peter was about to follow the glowing trail, but before proceeding, he glanced back at the Justifier, a contemplative frown etching his face. 

Extending his hand, Peter focused his energy, and with a forceful gesture, unleashed a powerful burst of telekinesis directed at the ship's engines. 

The air crackled with energy as invisible forces tore into the machinery, rendering the engines inoperable with a series of sparks and smoky hisses. 

Satisfied that his foes wouldn't easily escape, Peter turned his attention back to the task at hand, his eyes narrowing as he navigated through the dense crowd. 

The less humanoid prints veered off abruptly, stopping short as if the creature had been picked up and carried. After that, the remaining set of footprints continued alone, growing fainter as they approached the heart of the station.

The trail led Peter all the way from the outer reaches of the city to its very center, and along the way, Peter got a good feel for the space station as a whole. 

On one hand, there were areas of advanced technology and relative opulence, and on the other, zones that teemed with poverty and desperation. It was a place of survival, where the daily grind left little room for compassion or justice.

'Ugh… I don't like this place…' He frowned as he passed yet another group of homeless people, their bodies nothing but skin and bones. 

Finally, after a few minutes of tracking, the footprints led Peter to a grand structure in the center of the station—the palace. It stood out like a sore thumb among the surrounding decay, its elaborate architecture and ornate decorations a clear display of wealth and power in a place that knew too much poverty.

Standing before the palace's massive gates, Peter paused, taking in the opulent sight with a mix of awe and disgust. 'Should I just knock?' He wondered, but quickly decided against it. 

Avoiding the grand front entrance, which would be heavily guarded and locked, Peter circled around the palace, where he found a less conspicuous service entrance. It was subtly tucked away behind the shadow of a towering statue, used primarily by palace staff for quiet deliveries and discreet exits.

The door was secured with a digital keypad, a challenge Peter was prepared to meet. Placing his hand near the keypad, he felt the internal circuits as if they were extensions of his own nerves. 

He whispered softly under his breath, coaxing the circuits to rewire themselves, to bypass the security protocol that barred his entry. A moment passed in silent communion with the machine; then, with a satisfying click, the lock disengaged.

Peter opened the door just enough to slip through and found himself in a dimly lit corridor. Using the darkness as his ally, he moved with quiet determination, melding into the shadows as he navigated the lesser-known pathways of the palace.

The place was like a labyrinth of strange opulence. Luxurious tapestries, paintings, and other expensive-looking decorations hung beside cages that imprisoned rare species of animals. 

Peter moved cautiously, using the shadows to his advantage, his steps silent on the plush carpet. 'Why does this place seem oddly familiar…?'

As he crept deeper into the palace, the muted sounds of a transaction in progress reached his ears. Ducking behind a towering statue of some ancient alien being, Peter peered into the main gallery where the Collector and Cad Bane were concluding their dealings. 

Instantly, a wave of recognition hit him as he spotted the two figures.

The Collector, a figure Peter knew well from the Marvel movies of his past life, was as eerie and meticulously groomed as ever. His presence was marked by an unsettling calm, his every movement precise and calculated. 

Beside him, Cad Bane stood out with his distinctive blue skin and red eyes, a notorious bounty hunter whose reputation extended even to the Jedi back on Coruscant.

Peter watched, hidden in the shadows, as the Collector handed over a case filled with golden credits to Cad Bane. "Two hundred thousand, as agreed," the Collector's smooth voice floated across the room, laden with a menacing undercurrent.

Cad Bane nodded, his face expressionless. "Pleasure doing business with you, as always," he said, his voice gruff.

"The pleasure is all mine," The Collector said, smiling as he gestured toward the door. "Let me show you out." But before doing so, he turned to the side and ordered, "Carina, take my newest showpiece to its display case. I'll join you in just a moment…"

Carina nodded, her voice soft yet clear, "Yes, Master."

Following her voice, Peter's eyes drifted to a sight that tightened his chest with a mix of shock and recognition: Groot. The tree-like creature was restrained and being wheeled away by Carina, the Collector's pink-skinned slave girl. 

[Insert picture of Carina here]

'Didn't she try to steal the Power Stone to escape the Collector, but accidentally kill herself in the process?' Peter recalled her movie counterparts fate. 

As the two men exited, Peter seized the moment, his decision made. He would not only attempt to rescue Groot but perhaps Carina as well, if fate allowed. He darted quietly from his hiding spot and followed Carina's path, blending into the shadows like a ghost.

As Peter hurried after them, suddenly, a glint from one of the many shelves lining the room caught his eye—an object distinctly out of place among the bizarre and exotic collections. A Gray colored Holocron, its angular, illuminated design unmistakably calling to him. 

'It's actually a Holocron!' Peter was shocked, as he'd only heard about them in legends. Despite the urgency of the situation, the sight of it made him pause. 

Glancing briefly at Carina and Groot moving further out of the room, Peter made a swift decision. He reached out, grabbed the Holocron, and rushed to catch up to them, his actions smooth and practiced. But as he stepped out of the room, an alarm abruptly pierced the silence.

Immediately, the room was sealed shut with a heavy thud of thick metal doors locking automatically. Peter froze in place, the Holocron now a burning weight in his hand. 

Soon enough, he found himself face to face with Carina and Groot, who had stopped at the sound of the alarm and were now staring back at him in confusion and fear.

Carina's eyes widened as she took in Peter, standing awkwardly with the stolen Holocron in hand. "?!"

Groot, who could only express himself so much, muttered a hopeful, "I am Groot?"

Peter, caught in the act, managed a sheepish grin. "Oops?" he offered, his voice a mix of embarrassment and resignation.

A/N: 2287 words :)

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM