Michael sat within his hotel room, his mind rolling over the same question again and again. Should he go and meet Jabba, even in his human form, or escape to his ship, still under repair, and risk going straight into hyperspace without knowing who might try to stop him?
He leaned back slightly, staring at the ceiling as the answer refused to come easily.
After mulling over the danger of being shot and killed by Jabba's goons if he turned up in his human form, the problem became clearer. None of them had ever seen him as anything other than the XLR8 form. To them, that speed and that shape were who he was. Turning up as a normal man would only invite confusion, and confusion in Jabba's palace usually ended with blaster fire.
'That road was blocked.'
The idea sat poorly with him. Every one of Jabba's guards knew him as something fast, something alien. They had never seen his human face. Walking into the palace now would mean trusting that Bib Fortuna would recognise him and stop the guards before someone decided to shoot first.
That trust felt thin at best, and that sleazy Twi'lek did not look or act like the kind of man you could rely on when things went wrong.
The alternative, however, was no better.
His ship was still under repair at Mos Espa's star port. Leaving now meant risk. If Jabba decided Michael was abandoning a deal, or if word had spread faster than expected, he could be shot down before he even left the ground. Worse, he might never reach orbit.
Michael exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm.
The first option was closed. Turning up at Jabba's palace as a human was an invitation to be killed by mistake.
That left only one real path.
Run.
He stood, grabbed the small pack he had prepared earlier, and slung it over his shoulder. Credits, tools, a datapad. Enough to survive if things went wrong, though he suspected it would not be enough if things went truly bad.
As he stepped out of the hotel, the heat struck him immediately. The streets were busier now than they had been earlier. Speeders moved in steady lines, engines whining. Traders shouted over one another, arguing prices and insults in equal measure. Life continued as normal, uncaring and unaware.
Michael moved quickly but calmly toward the star port, keeping his head down.
Halfway there, something felt wrong.
The air shifted.
A warning screamed in his instincts just before a blaster bolt burned past his shoulder and exploded against the wall behind him.
Michael dove forward as another shot struck the ground where he had been standing moments before.
People screamed. Speeders swerved wildly. The street erupted into chaos as stalls were overturned and crowds scattered.
Michael rolled to his feet and ran.
A hover bike lay unattended nearby. He leapt onto it, fingers finding the controls without hesitation. The engine screamed as he accelerated, cutting through traffic with little regard for safety.
Behind him, something roared.
Michael glanced back.
A figure in dark armour stood atop another hover bike, moving with unnatural balance. The armour was heavy and angular, the helmet sealed and unreadable. A launcher mounted along one arm fired again.
A rocket streaked past Michael and slammed into a parked speeder, blowing it apart. The shockwave knocked nearby vehicles aside and sent debris flying through the air.
"Great," Michael yelled. "An assassin."
He pushed the bike harder.
Blaster fire chased him through the streets. Bolts struck walls, shattered stalls, and sent fragments flying. One blast clipped the corner of a building, causing part of it to collapse onto the road behind him in a cloud of dust.
Michael swerved, barely keeping control.
The star port loomed ahead.
Security gates were already closing as alarms began to wail. Michael leaned forward, urging the bike faster. Another rocket hit the ground beside him, flipping the hover bike onto its side.
Michael flew clear, hit the ground hard, and rolled.
The assassin landed moments later, weapon raised.
Michael did not stop.
He sprinted through the gates just as they slammed shut behind him, leaving the assassin on the other side. For a moment, it seemed like enough.
Then the gate exploded.
Metal twisted outward as the armoured figure burst through the wreckage and continued the pursuit on foot.
Michael ran straight for his ship.
The Z-95 Headhunter sat on its landing struts, repairs incomplete but functional. Mechanics scattered as Michael reached the ladder and climbed into the cockpit.
Blaster fire struck the hull as he sealed the canopy.
The engines roared to life.
Michael lifted off hard, clearing the bay as another shot glanced off the underside of the ship. He did not wait for clearance. He pushed upward, weaving between towers as anti-air fire began to rise from the starport defences.
As he broke the atmosphere, the ship shuddered violently.
Michael checked the rear visual and barely caught sight of another ship lifting off behind him. It was sleek and modern, far newer than the battered craft he was currently flying.
"Of course," he muttered.
The pursuit followed him into orbit. Laser fire flashed past as the Headhunter rolled and climbed. Michael pushed the engines to their limit, angling away from Tatooine's gravity well.
His hands moved quickly over the controls.
The moment the ship cleared a safe distance, he reached for the hyperdrive.
"Come on," he muttered.
The Category Four hyperdrive engaged.
Stars stretched into lines as hyperspace swallowed the ship whole.
The pursuing vessel vanished in a flash of light, left behind.
Michael sagged back into his seat, breath shaky as the hum of hyperspace filled the cockpit.
He was alive.
For now.
A familiar tone sounded in his mind.
[System Notification]- Congratulations on your first interstellar travel.
Michael frowned slightly.
"Now you talk."
[Reward Granted]- Location Unlocked: Maethrillian- Former capital of the Forerunners
Michael stared at the prompt as the ship suddenly lurched. It felt as if something massive had grabbed hold of him. The stars, once rushing past in streaks of colour, came to an abrupt halt as reality itself seemed to tear open ahead.
Michael shielded his eyes as light flooded the cockpit, bright enough to burn.
The hyperdrive died.
Space bent, and a wound opened before him as he slowly looked up at his reward.
Floating in front of his ship was Maethrillian.
Its size was impossible to understand at first glance. As the former capital of the Forerunners, it encapsulated a star and dwarfed any planet Michael had ever seen. It was larger than worlds, rivalling even some of the massive black holes near the centres of galaxies.
As Michael stared in awe, the ship shuddered again. The computer chimed rapidly, diagnostics scrolling across the display.
External force detected.Tractor beam detected.
Unable to resist, Michael sat frozen as the ship was pulled toward one of the massive circular platforms. The vessel seemed to guide itself, descending smoothly toward the central spire.
A platform appeared below his ship without warning, as if it had always been there.
As the landing gear extended with a hiss of hydraulics, Michael looked out across the endless stretch of metal. Structures rose like frozen waves, faces and forms carved into the city's surface. Beyond them, the edge of the planet-sized construct met open space.
There was no life. No movement.
Only distant red and white lights blinking at steady intervals.
And something inside Michael quietly broke at the scale of it all.