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Chapter 85: Hushed Stars, Heavy Plans
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 11:24:21 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: Star Wars and all of it's Intellectual Properties is owned by George Lucas and Walt Disney, This fictional work and all of it's original characters are however mine.
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MULTI POV CHAPTER
Jake's P.O.V. :
We were out of the system before either of the Hutts caught wind of what went down. The navicomputer had us on a clean course back to the original rendezvous—same place we first linked up with the allied crews we pulled into this whole op.
Davik and Kado were working comms, patching through to our bounty hunter allies. Those same trigger-happy informants had helped map out Jabba’s pirate routes—now they’re inbound to collect the pirates we’ve got locked in the holding cells. They’ll handle the whole thing: cuff 'em, book 'em, and bag the credits. Hell, even the Mando team we’ve scrapped with before is part of that circle. No one from the allied crews raised a fuss when we explained that part of the plan. I think seeing how organized we are shut down most doubts.
Truth is, after today’s show, recruiting these crews full-time might be a lot easier. They’ve seen how we operate—tight coordination, heavy assets, real anti-slaver muscle. And not just any slavers. Ones backed by Hutt credits and cartel-grade weapons. The message was loud and clear: we can take that kind of firepower and shove it right back.
The fleet regrouped at the rendezvous, drifting in orbit like a metal storm just waiting to roll out. While Davik’s team coordinates the pirate handoff, we sent word to the crews to stand down, take a breather, and maybe get to know one another.
We’re not worried about desertions. Every new ship came with a little surprise baked into the systems—backdoors we can trigger if anyone gets cute. Plus, most of 'em are partially crewed with our fodder droids. Not that we don’t trust our new friends... but we’re not green enough to leave doors wide open.
The Stellar Envoy’s docked under the belly of the CR90 carrier, nice and snug. Before we hit the main meeting with the whole fleet, we’ve got a smaller one with just us core crew.
I handed off the last batch of droid instructions, then made my way to the ship. Walked into the common area and got the usual chorus of greetings—some loud, some half-distracted but warm all the same. I spotted everyone: Kado, Davik, Mira, Rina, Arlos, Tarek, Shmi... and little Anakin, sitting on the couch like he belonged there.
All present. All accounted for.
Kado didn’t waste time. He stepped forward, pulled up the holomap, and started in. Our meeting had officially begun.
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I cleared my throat and leaned forward slightly, hands braced on the edge of the table. "First off—cheers to everyone here. What we pulled off was slicker than a Hutt’s lie. We clipped Gardulla’s slaver ops and bagged a handful of Jabba’s pirate scum while we were at it. The ones who were smart enough to throw down their blasters, anyway. But the best part—nobody on our side got spaced or burned. We got every last slave out with zero losses. That’s a win in anyone’s holobook."
I paused, let it sink in. Pride buzzed in the air like a tuned repulsor.
"That said," I continued, "Davik’s made sure to work on cleaning-up on the battlefield, trying to make sure no data crumbs or blackbox pings get left behind—but we’d be fooling ourselves to think there’s no chance someone sniffs our trail. Still, if you weigh it all, this op was a net positive."
There were nods around the table—grins too, from a few. I kept the momentum going.
"Now for the next move. I’ve locked in a contact that’ll take in the liberated—we’re talking proper care, long-term options, not just dumping them at some mid-rim colony and wishing ‘em luck."
That’s when I said it. “We’re handing them off at Alderaan.”
I could practically hear the air being sucked out of the room.
Mira didn’t even flinch. Rina’s eyes were dinner-plate wide. Tarek was the first to find his voice—loud, naturally.
“Wait—Alderaan? You’ve got contacts with Alderaan big shots?”
I held up both hands, grinning. “Not me. It’s Mira. Her sister’s married to someone working in Alderaan’s government. They run quiet ops—humanitarian relief, especially for slaves. It’s why we’ve got an open door.”
Every head turned toward Mira like protocol droids in sync. She just shrugged like she wasn’t currently holding a ticket to one of the most respected worlds in the Core.
“...Nobody asked,” she said.
I could’ve sworn Rina muttered, “So cool, as expected.”
Mira pretended not to hear, but I caught the tiny grin she was trying to hide.
Snickering under my breath, I tapped the holotable to get us back on track. “So. Before the two Hutts call a ceasefire and decide to look under every durasteel plate in their territories for who pulled this off—we go dark. Lay low. Let the heat pass.”
"Aye," came the chorus of replies, almost in unison.
I nodded. “Now, real meat of the meeting: we gotta talk about our guests. The allied crews. Time to see who’s willing to join the cause full-time.”
I shot a glance at Jake, couldn’t resist the jab. “Savant over here will be handling the recruitment pitch. Rina’s idea. Seconded by Mira, Shmi, Tarek, and Arlos. Davik and I backed it too.”
Jake blinked, then did that ridiculous fish impression again, like he was stunned by the sudden responsibility.
Rina threw her hands up. “This has nothing to do with you lounging like a HoloNet host in the captain’s chair during the op!”
“Yeah,” I added with a smirk. “That’s definitely not the reason. Not at all.”
Laughter broke the tension, even Shmi cracked a smile.
Once things settled, Davik stepped in, voice grounded as always. “I wanna bring up ground tactics. Sentinel droids—groups of ten with one commander was too bulky. They got in each other’s way more than once, even with that nice network-link trick you gave them, Jake.”
He looked at Jake, then the rest of us. “Recommend breaking them into groups of five. Gives more flexibility, and a smaller unit can sneak in or support faster. Saw too many moments where less would’ve been more.”
Jake stopped messing around and leaned forward, all ears. Mira, who’d coordinated the sniper nests, nodded along. “Yeah—I had a few angles covered, but ten droids cluttering the terrain made overwatch trickier than it needed to be. Five’s better.”
Jake nodded, already deep in thought. “Alright. I’ll adjust the programming. And while I’m at it, I’ll start designing proper support vehicles for them—maybe even light-class starfighters tied to their command network.”
There were some impressed looks around the table. Plans were already forming in everyone’s heads.
After that, the meeting wrapped. No grand speeches, no overdone farewells. We all just stood and scattered to our own corners of the ship, doing what we do best—prepping for whatever’s next, even if that next step’s a little quieter.
For now, anyway.
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Gathered in the Stellar Envoy’s common area, we watched as Jake took the floor of the holoconference. The holofeed projected flickering blue visages of the other captains and crews we’d worked with—most of them still processing what we’d just pulled off. Smugglers, traders, fence-runners, old freighter captains with grease under their nails and dust in their lungs. Not heroes. Not soldiers. Just people who’d had enough of looking the other way.
Jake started with that cocky little half-grin of his, posture loose, voice smooth.
“Name’s Savant,” he said, his arms crossed like he was at a market stall on Nar Shaddaa, not the center of attention for a half-dozen ships. “That’s the name I go by when I’m selling toys and tech. You’ve probably seen it stamped on some parts I sold you—or blown off someone else’s ship.”
A few chuckles rolled through the comms. But Jake’s expression shifted, softer.
“But that’s not the name that matters today. I’m Jake. Just Jake. And today... we helped do something big.”
He let the moment breathe.
“We hit Gardulla where it hurt. We freed people. Slaves. I don’t need to tell most of you what that means—some of you were born into it, like some of my friends were. Some of you bought your freedom. Some of you fought for it. And today, together, we gave that chance to others.”
Quiet across the feeds. Even the background ship noise on our end felt like it dimmed. He had their full attention now.
He glanced toward the holocam and nodded. “So yeah... ‘Liberators.’ That’s what some folks are calling us now. Not just my crew. All of us. I say we don’t just wear that name for this one job and move on. I say we make it mean something.”
Jake leaned forward, voice gaining weight—not louder, but steadier.
“Look, we’re not a syndicate. We’re not a cartel. We’re not out to start wars or take over sectors. We’re just a bunch of spacers who decided to stop pretending we’re powerless. We’re the ones with the ships. The ones with the skills. The ones who can make change if we fly together.”
He spread his hands as if he was laying a blueprint in front of them.
“Call it what you want. A coalition. A crew of crews. A movement. But if you’re in—if you want to keep making that kind of difference—then we can make it real. Make it lasting. Make it shine bright.”
He paused again—and then dropped the word like a thermal charge.
“A league.”
He let it settle. Just one word. But it hung there with weight. Like it was already carving a place into the holorecord.
Around the feeds, heads nodded. One human woman with a rebreather collar muttered something like “It’s about time.” A grizzled Dug scratched his chin thoughtfully. No one looked like they were pulling out. The few questions that followed weren’t pushback—they were practical. What would happen if one ship got cornered and needed backup? Would there be support for food, fuel, repairs? Were they committing to something too big?
Jake answered with that same easy charm—but when it came to hard logistics, he simply gestured to the side.
“For the nuts and bolts... well, that’s Kado’s expertise. He’s the real mastermind when it comes to coordination. You’ll like him. He’s got plans for days.”
I smiled where I stood near the galley entrance, watching. Jake didn’t realize it yet—but he’d just dodged those questions like a seasoned senator. Which told me one thing: Kado’s been teaching him without either of them realizing. He was learning what leadership looked like—and he was doing it his way.
It made me want to cook for both of them.
Something warm. Something that reminded them we were more than just a crew—we were people. A family, maybe, at least in the way that mattered when you lived this far from the Core.
Meiloorun-spiced noodles for Jake, of course. Kado’d probably want something with nerf stew or dried chyntuck, if I could whip it up. I’d make do.
Because if this “league” of theirs really was the start of something new... they were going to need more than just strategy.
They were going to need strength. Patience. Heart.
And a full belly never hurt either.
