dryskies_btb
patreon
A Book Full of Magic Ch.3
🕑 Added 2023-01-21 02:41:47 +0000 UTCDropping out of hyperspace was a hell of an experience for Han. The ship’s inertial dampeners meant that, even though they were dropping from FTL speeds into regular space, Han wasn’t even thrown back in his chair. The stars became visible again, and Han was treated to his first view of space that wasn’t hidden behind an atmosphere.
Fay piloted the ship into orbit of Tatooine with practiced ease. The desert world was nothing special to look at, but even it was a whole new experience for the grimoire user.
“Cast your senses into the Force. Tell me where I should land.” Master Fay advised.
Han got busy doing just that. The light from his vision was just barely visible in the Force. Now that they were relatively close to it, Han was able to pinpoint Aayla’s location. He felt her dim Force presence vaguely reach out to him when she felt his touch.
“That city there,” Han pointed at a small city on a rocky plateau.
“Mos Shuuta,” Fay said. “A hive of villainy. Cities of its type are all too common in the Outer Rim.”
Fay brought the ship down at the small spaceport that serviced Mos Shuuta. The pair disembarked, and Han got his first look at the starship he had been traveling in. Grim informed him it was a B-7 light freighter. The ship looked like it had an overbite. The cockpit was nestled under the overhanging armored prow. It was an unassuming ship that seemed to fit Master Fay’s personality perfectly.
Han tried not to stare too much as they made their way out of the spaceport. It was a task made harder by the multiple examples of spaceships and aliens in the immediate vicinity. All kinds of people went about their business in the spaceport. Some huddled in the shadows doing shady deals, while others walked in the open.
Immediately upon exiting the spaceport, Han was struck by a wave of dry heat. Sand colored buildings shimmered in a constant mirage created by the light of Tatooine’s two suns. Fay walked swiftly in a direction, and Han had no choice but to follow. People turned their gaze away whenever their eyes fell on the two Force-sensitives, and unconsciously got out of their path. Han could feel Fay manipulating the Force into a sort of notice-me-not effect around them.
Their destination was the palace of Teemo the Hutt. It was a surprisingly elegant building for a slug. Shaped like a seashell on its side, the palace was located on the tallest bluff in Mos Shuuta.
“So… What’s the plan here?” Han asked Fay.
“Diplomacy. I am sure this Hutt can be reasoned with. Maybe he has a job he needs done in exchange for securing your Jedi’s freedom.”
“And if diplomacy doesn’t work?”
“Then we will just have to employ other means to complete your mission.” Fay said, obviously adverse to the idea of using violence to accomplish their objective.
Fay used a subtle mind trick on the guards at the palace’s gates. The Gamorreans were easily convinced to let the pair through in a scene that was reminiscent of Luke’s entrance to Jabba’s palace. Another pair of the pig-like aliens escorted Han and Fay into Teemo’s throne room.
The throne room was a circular cantina-esque space. It obviously took up most of the area of the palace. Tables full of disreputable individuals drank and conversed. Dancers that looked more like strippers moved to the beat of a live band. The fact that almost everyone was visibly armed did nothing to encourage Han, but Fay was unfazed.
The same smoke from Han’s vision clouded the room. The majority of it seemed to be coming from a large mass of fat that was sitting on a throne concealed by shadows against one of the walls. Glowing red eyes peered out from the shadows, and another massive cloud of smoke was exhaled by, what could only be, Teemo.
The eyes tracked Han and Fay’s entrance into the throne room. The deceptive intelligence Han could see in those eyes was worrying. A protocol droid stood at Teemo’s side. In front of the slug’s throne was a pedestal. A Rutian Twi’lek knelt atop it, clad only in two pieces of string that could generously be called clothing. Aayla’s eyes were glazed over, and she made no movements to object to her being put on display like this.
Han winced. This close to her, he could feel Aayla’s presence in the Force reach out to him. It felt like her soul was crying. And more concerningly, through Aayla’s presence, Han felt another Jedi. ‘Grim, you feel that?’
::Statement: Yes, Master. The other Jedi’s Force signature matches the Force signature of Aayla’s Master, Quinlan Vos. Judging by the direction and distance of the connection, he is most likely being held in the gladiator cells and being made to fight.::
Fay stopped in front of Teemo’s throne. Aayla was only feet away from them, and Han had to do his best to ignore her obvious suffering and focus on rescuing her.
“Lord Teemo, I am Fay, and my companion is Han Silver. We come before you with a business proposition.” Fay said.
Teemo exhaled more smoke, and grumbled something in Huttese.
“What is your proposition, Jedi?” the protocol droid at Teemo’s side translated. Han had to fight his flinch at the revelation that Teemo knew they were Jedi. Even if he wasn’t technically a Jedi, he was accompanying one, and trying to rescue another.
“We seek custody of certain Jedi that you have in your possession. We are willing to pay or exchange services for their release.”
More grumbling, which the protocol droid translated, “No deal, Master Teemo says. He is rather fond of his collection, and the Jedi in the gladiator pits has won him a lot of money.”
Fay nodded, “I see. And you are sure there is nothing that you desire from us that could be equivalent compensation.”
Han felt a warning in the Force. He channeled the Force through his body, and moved just in time to interpose his now lit lightsaber in the path of the blaster bolt that was aimed at Fay. The bolt was deflected into the ceiling, and Han quickly searched the room for the shooter. He found him moments later, a Rodian with a blaster subtly aimed at them. A single flex of the Force was enough to crush the Rodian’s neck and windpipe.
The Rodian fell over dead, but the exchange was enough to put the rest of the room’s inhabitants on alert. Multiple blasters were trained on Han and Fay.
“That wasn’t very good manners, Teemo. I’m a little hurt that you won’t at least hear us out,” Han said, still holding his lightsaber at the ready. The humming blade seemed to be enough to discourage any itchy trigger fingers, for the moment.
‘Grim, recommended course of action?’
::Calculating. Suggestion: The grimoire has a pocket space that is able to hold people as well as objects. It will be more than enough to keep Fay and Aayla safe while you fight your way out of here. Caution: Odds of making it out of this situation alive: 52%::
‘Shit,’ Han grimaced at Grim’s warning, ‘And this is still my best option?’
::Sad Affirmative::
Teemo spoke again. The protocol droid didn’t get the chance to translate, because Han blurred into motion. The Force flowed through him, enhancing the speed his body could move to superhuman levels. He tapped Fay, and then Aayla with the grimoire hanging from his wrist, and let Grim take care of storing them inside the grimoire’s pocket dimension.
Teemo’s words, and Han’s sudden movement, were the signal that the rest of the room’s residents were waiting for. A hail of blaster fire rained down on Han’s previous position. Han had already moved on, dashing in and cutting the protocol droid at Teemo’s side to pieces.
He turned to take a swing at the Hutt, but Teemo beat him to the motion. His massive tail moved faster than anything that size should be able to move, and swatted Han across the room. Han landed on one of the stages that the dancers were using. Luckily, the dancers had made themselves scarce when the shooting started. He had just enough time to cushion his fall with the Force before the gunmen in the bar realized his new position.
Crimson bolts of particle energy vaporized the air in their flight to kill Han. His arms moved almost unconsciously, deflecting blaster bolts. His other hand formed a Force shield that he used to bat away any bolts that got through his guard.
The skills he had received from Grim were good, but there were easily 60 plus people in the throne room. The majority of that population was shooting at him. He had managed to take down one or two of the shooters with reflected bolts, but the rest had gotten smart and flipped the tables to use as cover.
Han was pinned down in a position with no cover, and things got much worse with the arrival of Teemo’s Gamorrean guards. The pigs charged Han’s position, unheeding of the sheer volume of fire that was concentrated on him. The lead guard let out a guttural battlecry and raised his ax to take off Han’s head.
Han gave himself completely to the Force, weaving away from shots before the shooters could aim, and focused on the threat that was doing its best to get in his face. The lead guard quickly lost a hand, and while the pig was staring at the removed appendage, lost its head. The next didn’t fare much better, getting shot in the back by friendly fire.
The next three after that actually used what little brains their species had, and surrounded Han. Blaster fire was still occasionally getting through Han’s guard, and, soon enough, he took a blaster bolt to the side that made him grunt.
Moving through the pain of his burned side, Han dashed at the nearest Gamorrean. The guard crossblade of his lightsaber was stabbed through the pig’s ear, and Han was free of their encirclement a second later. Han carved a way through the room’s inhabitants like a force of nature. The Force sang through his veins, and he felt constantly one step ahead.
He got cocky, or he just didn’t pay enough attention to his surroundings. Without Han noticing, Teemo had armed himself. A monster of a disruptor rifle had found its way into the slug’s hands. The only warning Han got of danger came an instant too late. He moved his blade to be in the way of what he thought was another blaster bolt.
Instead of the red beam he had become accustomed to in the past couple of minutes, Han saw a constant stream of sickly green energy as it crossed the space between him and Teemo. Time seemed to slow down as the Force’s warning got louder and more urgent. Han didn’t get the chance to dodge, the disruptor beam passed through and around his lightsaber blade. Han looked at the damage in shock. His entire right arm was gone. Everything below his shoulder socket had been disintegrated, torn apart on a molecular level.
::Host damage detected. Administering first aid.::
Grim’s voice in his head was enough to get Han moving again. He summoned his lightsaber into his only remaining hand and made a beeline for the wall. A surge of Force destruction left his hand, channeled through the lightsaber to enhance its power. The wall disappeared, disintegrated in much the same way as Han’s arm.
He had purposefully chosen the wall that he felt Quinlan Vos’ Force presence coming from. He emerged into Vos’ cell to see a dirty and halfway emancipated Jedi Knight. Vos was conscious enough to have prepared when he heard the telltale sounds of fighting coming from the other room. What he wasn’t prepared for was another one of the sickly green disruptor beams to come screaming into his cell after a young man wielding a lightsaber.
Still, Vos reacted. He shoved the young man out of the beam’s way, getting everything below his belly button erased in the process.
“Shit! Shit, shit shit! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go!” Han exclaimed, kneeling over the barely alive half of Quinlan Vos that was still there.
“Go,” Quinlan managed to cough out, “Save my Padawan. Save Aayla.”
Witnessing the man’s last moments, Han couldn’t help but be struck speechless. Even looking death in the face, this man cared more about his apprentice than the pain he was surely feeling. More blaster bolts came through the hole in the cell wall, and Han was forced to move. He stored Vos’ corpse in the grimoire and quickly went to work cutting his way out of the cell.
From there, Han engaged in a desperate escape from Teemo’s palace. Gamorreans and mercenaries of all species hounded his attempt to bust free. The slug himself could be heard firing that damned disruptor at the walls in anger. Soon enough the structural stability of the palace was compromised. Rumbles echoed through the walls that Han ran past, and dust fell from the sandstone ceiling.
Han followed the Force, desperate for a way out like a man in the desert needed water. He eventually found his way to the palace’s landing pad. There was a ship there, but Han didn’t know how to fly. Cursing himself for not learning that skill from Grim earlier, Han realized he was out of options.
Below him, the city of Mos Shuuta sprawled out. He could see the spaceport in the distance. A suicidal plan wormed its way into his head. Taking a deep breath, and fortifying himself with the Force, Han jumped.
He fell hundreds of feet down the sheer cliff face that the landing pad was perched atop. About halfway through his freefall, blaster bolts started raining down around him. This had to be what Grim meant when she said not to tempt Murphy, Han absently thought. He felt strangely at peace with the situation.
Wrapping himself in every scrap of the Force he could handle, Han actually made it to the ground. The impact rattled his bones and caused phantom pain to shoot down the ghost of his arm. Pushing through the pain, Han dashed away from the cliff he just jumped off of. Winding his way through narrow streets and narrower alleys, Han slowly, but steadily, made his way back to Fay’s ship.
The sight of the closed up ship was the only thing that kept him from immediately collapsing. Han interfaced with Grim and clumsily extracted Fay from the grimoire’s pocket space. Fay looked around baffled when she appeared back into the real world. Her eyes eventually landed on Han’s battered form, and widened.
“Ship…” was all Han was able to say. Fay comprehended what he said, and wrapped his good arm over her shoulder. She helped him walk, basically dragging the exhausted cripple, into the ship. Han's consciousness left him as his body realized he was out of immediate danger.
