Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

??? Log #1

What.

Where the hell am I?

Am I in space?

I’m in space.

SPACE.

And little mini people in my head too for some reason. Have I gone insane? Am I dreaming?

… What’s this? Ship’s log?

What the hell.

And the little mini people speak. Okay.

Wait, are you writing this down?

Uh, stop recording. Or, no, uh, end log!

Tranquil Hope – Log #2

I’m a starship, I guess: The Tranquil Hope, a modified Consular-class cruiser of the Galactic Republic, and isn’t that a loaded sentence. I don’t know how that works, and I don’t want to think too hard about it either.

It’s beautiful up here. I’m drifting around a blue-green marble swirled with clouds around a dull yellow star. There’s stars everywhere I turn, and my… sensors I guess? Yeah, I’ll go with that, my sensors are getting all sorts of fascinating readings from the invisible ambient radiation that I can’t even begin to describe.

Talking to myself is a bizarre experience. Maybe I shouarugh—

Tranquil Hope – Log #3

Got smacked in the face by some debris. Deflector shields ate it with no problem. Shields.

I’m really here, aren’t I?

Can’t avoid thinking about it forever, no matter how much I want to.

 I seem to have plenty of stores for the near future, enough to support my 11-man crew for a month at least(?), but that’ll need to be replenished sooner or later. And as much as I like the view, forever orbiting an uninhabited planet until some quirk of gravity throws me to the surface sounds distinctly undesirable.

What should I do?

Do I have star charts and hyperspace lanes? Oh, there they are. The planet beneath me is named “Mineral Prospect III-V-II” and is an unclaimed Mid-Rim world currently being evaluated for strip mining. It is the sixth planet in an as-yet unnamed and unsettled star system. Why was I here?

Testing an experimental hyperdrive?

Did something go wrong with it?

Enemies? DESTROYED!? You couldn’t have told me earlier!?

Are they still around?

Even if there isn’t anything on scopes, I’m not staying in the system where my hull died! Plot the nearest inhabited system, we’re getting out of here!

|==\*/==| A Tranquil Hope |==\*/==|

Ord Mantell was a lawless mess at the best of times, and Riyss Urvelt hated risking his cargo stopping there. In fact, he tended to go well out of his way to avoid the planet on his trips up and down the Celanon Spur. There were far too many stories of unwary spacers losing their ships (and sometimes their lives) to the pirates, bounty hunters, and other criminal scum that infested the world. Case in point, a Trandoshan carrying a worrying assortment of weapons and heavy armor had just joined the motley band already tailing him.

As he turned a corner and shifted to a run, he once more cursed the fuel-hungry hyperdrive that parts dealer had fobbed off on him. Some angry shouts followed as the gang behind him began shoving their way through the crowd as they followed. If he made it off-planet he was going to give that up-jumped nerf herder a piece of his—

A human girl wearing a ridiculous assemblage stepped out of the alleyway he was about to turn down, and he slammed right into her. A metal tube of some sort clocked him in the head and stars exploded across his vision.

He came to laying on the ground, with the human crouched at his side. “OhmygodareyouallrightIdidn’tseeyou” She babbled out rapid stream of words he couldn’t quite interpret, and he held a hand up to stop her before she could worsen the headache he could feel approaching.

“Stop, please,” he muttered. The girl shut up immediately, but stuck a hand out, and he took it. She pulled him back upright just in time for him to watch his pursuers catch up. Like mist before a sun the throngs in the streets disappeared, well trained instincts from a life on the world. No one stepped up to help, and why should they, he reflected bitterly. He sure wouldn’t take that risk.

The girl seemed oblivious to the danger, still hovering by his side even as the Trandoshan swaggered up and grabbed him by the collar. “Run along girl. This doesn’t concern you.”

She didn’t leave. “What’s going on here?” She asked, eyes flicking between the ring of gangers and their ostensible leader. Riyss swallowed and hoped she wasn’t about to do something stupid.

The giant lizard actually stopped and turned to face her, with confusion clearly written on his scaly face. “Are you serious? Look, laserbrain, we have some business to discuss with the lovely trader over here,” a huge claw came inches within his face as the Trandoshan waved a hand at him, “and you clearly are new around here so I’ll give you a chance to leave before we grease you too.”

The girl’s brow furrowed, and his heart sank. Force save him, she was going to do something stupid. As he watched, she took a deep breath, and a huge double-barreled blaster half her height appeared into her hands out of thin air. The other gangers raised shouts of alarm and went for their own weapons, but she was faster. A flurry of bolts smashed into the ground, kicking up a wave of dust and sending the mooks diving for cover. The Trandoshan snarled a curse and drew the blaster at his hip. It came up in one smooth, practiced motion and discharged two rounds into the girl’s back.

They landed square, only to skip off a shimmering deflector shield. To his credit, the Trandoshan didn’t let the shield—a personal shield? Those were rarer than honorable bounty hunters! —phase him and kept firing. The girl let the first three splash off her shields as well while she turned to face him, but skipped to the side of the fourth and charged straight at them far faster than any human could run.

The Trandoshan threw him to the side as he drew a vicious vibroblade. Riyss felt his brief surge of hope die as the Trandoshan swung the blade towards his erstwhile savior’s head. It skidded off in a shower of sparks and she retaliated with a kick that didn’t quite connect as the lizard took a quick step back in disbelief. It didn’t need too, though, as her strange footwear that reminded him of a repulsor pod clearly functioned like one as it caught the Trandoshan in a wave of invisible force and flung him down the road, where he smashed into a pile of junk with an angry roar.

She turned to him and asked, “Where’s your ship?” before they both flinched as a wave of blaster bolts from the other goons blasted chunks out of the ground and buildings around them. “Nevermind, just hold on!”

“Wait whaaaaaaa—” His question trailed off into a scream as she scooped him up and rocketed into the sky, barely dodging an errant air freighter on the way. The flight didn’t last long, just enough to get them to a nearby building, but the nausea of the sudden acceleration nearly sent his lunch up the wrong way.

She touched down lightly and gently lowered him to the ground when his legs crumpled. By the Force, he had nearly died! Breath, Riyss, he told himself. You’re an experienced spacer, don’t lock up like a neophyte just from a little danger. He took a few moments to recover as the adrenaline faded, before glancing up.

 “Thank you.” He said between heavy breaths. Riyss took the opportunity to see who exactly had rescued him. She was… small, and definitely seemed too young to be wandering a crime-ridden world alone. It’d surprise him if she was any older than 14, maybe even 12 standard years. Her crimson hair shared a hue with the striking red of consular starships, and her eyes glowed a deep blue. And of course, the variety of strange metal attachments fitted across her body. Some kind of experimental armor, perhaps? If it weren’t so outlandish, he’d say they even looked like the components of a Consular-class stapled to a human frame.

Some of the conflicted feelings that flashed through him must’ve shown on his face, as the girl peered at him, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.” They stood there in an uncomfortable silence for a beat, and the girl let out a noncommittal “mhm” and awkwardly pivoted to look out at the sprawling spaceport beneath their feet. Well, he owed her one. “What’s your name?”

She started. “Ah, my name… uh…” The girl didn’t turn back to face him, but he spotted a faint blush. “Uh… Hope. Yeah, call me Hope.”

Way too young, wandering alone on Ord Mantell, with an assumed name? It didn’t paint a pretty picture. He tried to make a disarming smile, though it probably came out closer to a grimace. “It’s nice to meet you Hope. I’m Riyss Urvelt Thank you for saving me.”

Hope turned back to him and smiled too. “Nice to meet you too, Riyss. You’re welcome.” A loud rumble reminiscent of flowing hypermatter fuel cut through the air, and her light blush turned incandescent. “Um…”

That finally broke his composure and Riyss burst out laughing. “I’ll get you some food if you can get me to my ship,” he managed to squeeze out between wheezes, “and then I’ll figure out how I can thank you properly.”

“That’d… that’d be great.”

They took the turbolifts back down and set off for his freighter.

Chapter Text

Tranquil Hope – Log #4

I saw something in the shadows during the transition to hyperspace. A hooded figure held a million strings tethered to the stars and made the galaxy dance to the sound of his cackling laughter. An endless tide of droids clashed against legions of Mandalorians, spilling an ocean of oil and blood in the process that drowned out the light.

Just thinking about it makes this new body feel cold, like someone poured carbonite over my reactor.

 Tried making another short hop to see if it happened again, but it didn't reappear.  I’m… hesitant… to dismiss it as my mind jumping to find patterns. My crew saw it too. Does it have something to do with my destruction? Why I can’t remember what I was doing in that abandoned system?

Tranquil Hope – Log #5

I’ve arrived at my destination, and faster than I expected. I remember having a Class 1 hyperdrive, hardly slow, but my jump just now was at least Class 0.8, maybe even more. I’ll have to investigate further later though; I think using up all my hypermatter would end badly.

Ord Mantell. An old industrial world that’s since become a hub for the Entralla Route with Muunilist. I remember passing by during anti-pirate patrols with my sisters in the Judicial forces. Wait, there’s an idea, Ord Mantell has a small Judicial base planetside! They might have information on my patrol route and data on any unusual events in the region.

It’s better than nothing, I guess. At least it’ll be a start. Maybe I should go to Corellia next, and see if I can find anything on my new hyperdrive? I’m certain CEC never had anything faster than a Class 1 for commercial use and I don’t think any of my sisters were fitted with faster hyperdrives either.

My sisters. Do they know I’m gone?

…

Is this “sadness?”

… I’m going to go planetside. No point in waiting up here.

Tranquil Hope – Log #6

Ord Mantell is a dump. It was hard to tell from orbit but my sensors were already warning me that the huge swaths of yellow, grey, and purple weren’t normal atmospheric effects, and from down here it’s impossible to miss the lingering remnants of thousands of years of industry. There’s scrap scattered throughout the streets, ruined ships jutting out of the skyline, and a choking cloak of pollution covering the whole mess.

Worlport typifies the mess, and I think “grimy” is an apt description—both physically and spiritually, if that makes any sense. On the surface it’s not too far removed from some of the sparser Core Worlds, with a bustling spaceport at its heart and lively crowds roaming the streets, but the ornate buildings haven’t been spared from the haze and the people here are wary. Many of them are carrying blasters too, right out in the open. I passed way too many casinos and signs for what I hope were just racy cantinas.

I get the feeling that asking where the Judicial base is would not get the right kind of attention. At least there are maps. The base isn’t too far from the Government House, and the clear Corellian architecture makes it an obvious landmark.

Tranquil Hope – Log #7

That was a bust. The Judicial base was clearly abandoned when I got there, with its walls full of blaster marks and its gate lying in pieces on the ground. Part of the main rotunda had even caved in.

I took a peek inside anyway, just to see if there was anything to salvage.

It was a mess. Access terminals had been pulled from the ground and their cabling stripped away, probably for scrap. The databanks were gone entirely, and the armory door had been pulled down. There was graffiti everywhere too. I have no clue how long the place has been abandoned, but it had definitely been vacant for a year at least.

My sensors caught some quiet whispers coming from deeper within the buildings, and on investigation I stumbled upon a Rodian sheltering a group of human children. He pulled a blaster on me and took a shot, but I managed to talk him down. Gave him some ration packs from my hold.

One of the kids started trying to eat the grey plastic. I had to show them how to open the things, and they tore into them faster than a band of rabid rathars.

I’ve been wandering around aimless for a while now. I guess I have to go to Corellia for more information now, but I don’t have the range to make that trip in one jump and I don’t have any credits.

Maybe I should—

Tranquil Hope – Log #8

I’m starting to wonder if my sub-class’ reduced maneuverability is manifesting as clumsiness in this new form. This is starting to get absurd.

Bumped into a well-dressed spacer turning out of an alley. Clearly not a local, considering he was unarmed and had a Trade Federation badge on his collar. I think I might’ve knocked him out on accident when I hit him with some of my… rigging, I guess.

Checked his pulse and that’s stable, so I—I didn’t accidentally kill him. Okay. What do I do?

Oh, he’s waking up. Need to apologize.

Ah, that didn’t come out right.

Hm, there are some worryingly well-armed people coming out of the crowd now. Trandoshan, two humans, an Aqualish, I think? And a few that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

That stupid oversized blaster can’t be legal. Are they gangers, maybe?

Should I take action? I don’t want to cause a misunderstanding if it isn’t as bad as it appears.

Oh, it’s a holdup. In broad daylight, in a busy city, right out in the open. Nine Corellian Hells, does the Republic not have any control on crime here?

All right, I’m not letting this get any further.

All Hands, Battle Stations!

Tranquil Hope – Log #9

I managed to get the trader out of there without having to directly shoot any of the bandits. That vibroblade left a small scratch on my paint but didn’t strike square enough to do anything else. It did confirm my firepower and strength scales just like my flight and weight.

I hope I don’t have to use my weapons on a person. I know there isn’t much difference between destroying a starfighter with a laser cannon and killing someone with a blaster, but the sheer gap in power isn’t pretty. Even my ion guns are strong enough to kill if the target gets unlucky.

Bad thoughts, Hope, stay focused.

Riyss Urvelt. The trader I saved. I obviously don’t really know him and his character, but he seems grateful enough and some food does sound good. Hm, would food translate to refueling my tanks or restocking my supplies? Could I drink hypermatter directly?

I’m getting distracted again.

I wonder if I can hitchhike to Corellia—or at least Coruscant—with him.

…

No, I’m not trying to find an excuse to stay with him because I find him handsome or anything. You know I wasn’t trying to embarrass myself, come on!

…

All right, no more teasing, guys, or I’ll throw you all out the airlock.  Stop laughing, I’m serious!

|==\*/==| A Tranquil Hope |==\*/==|

The shortest route from the Government Circle to Morro Spaceport ran down the Path of Coins, a massive gambling district that rivaled exotic locales like Canto Bight in size and scale. Bright lights and neon signs stretched on for miles and miles, casting eerie rainbows on the ever-present haze. Chance cubes, slot machines, and piles of credit chips were common themes.

It might’ve seemed strange to be more comfortable to be surrounded by the barely legal excess all around them, but with the steady flow of credits came security and watchful eyes to drive away anything that could threaten profits. Riyss had traveled up and down the casino district before, and outside of a light drizzle of angry, drunken, broke, or rowdy patrons getting thrown out there was little direct crime. There were swindlers and pickpockets aplenty, but they had little to fear from those sorts.

He had to revise his guesses on Hope a little as they trudged back to the spaceport. She was gazing around at the surroundings with the mix of curiosity and disgust that came with seeing the seedier side of so. That had crossed “child soldier” off the list, and watching her (gently!) manhandle two drunken Zabraks each a head taller than her implied she was far denser than any human her size could be, leaving “highly illegal experimental combat cyborg” as an increasingly likely option.

Riyss had no clue what to do with that information, or if he should do anything about it at all. If Hope was an experiment of some sort there’d be powerful people looking for her, potentially strong enough to even threaten the Trade Federation. On the other hand, abandoning her would be exactly what his father would’ve done, so that choice was just as unpalatable.

One thing was certain though, he’d have to figure out how to hide Hope’s nature from Syvil before his sister tried to take Hope apart.

The walked on for another half-hour before the outline of the busy spaceport came into view: eight progressively narrower tiers of landing pads for smaller ships, capped with a massive open rotunda capable of supporting a Lucrehulk Core. While not visible, Riyss knew there were thousands of freighters landing and taking off every minute. Hopefully Green Gaze would be joining them soon.

One of the pedestrian bridges to Morro Spaceport ran over a stretch of one of Ord Mantell’s many podracing circuits, and while crossing Riyss realized Hope’s shadow had vanished. He turned to find her leaning up against the glass barrier with dozens of others, gaze locked on the approaching racers below. Twenty huge turbine engines rumbled past them, shaking the bridge with their powerful jet wash and drawing cheers from the watching crowd.

“Never seen a podrace before?” He asked Hope as she ran to the other side of the bridge to track them through the rest of the straightaway.

“No,” she replied, “I’ve only heard people talking about them.”

“They’re quite a sight. Too dangerous for me, though.” On cue, one of the trailing racers tried to make an aggressive pass right before a hairpin turn and overshot, scraping one of his engines along the outer retaining wall. The pod wobbled, then began to fishtail, bouncing off the walls over and over until one of the engines exploded and flung the pod and its rider out of sight.

Hope winced, and a loud “boo” rose up from the other observers. “I think I can see why.”

The pair continued into the spaceport proper. Even a meter of duracrete couldn’t mask the cacophony within, and stepping into the open doors felt a little like stepping into the podracers’ jet wash.

“—and I  told you getting a GR45 was a mistake! Gallofree has always been garbage!”

“Stow it and help me get this damn flux regulator realigned!”

“SuperClear Hypermatter! The finest blend of reactor additives for improved lifespan and performance! Proud sponsor of the Blockade Runner’s Derby!”

“—so he said ‘Kriff it, shoot the bastards,’ and then they just fall over! You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when—”

“Liset Landers is proud to announce the newest in our Manta line, the—”

“—just eight credits a piece! Rare and—”

They forced their way through the packed atrium, full of spacers going about their business (and one illegally parked GR45 that was definitely not where it was supposed to be). Moving through the throng was less like walking and more akin to swimming through the current, with the occasional halt to dodge hoversleds laden with cargo. Hope looked overwhelmed from appearances alone, as she whipped her head around to try and track every little thing that was happening, but gamely followed him regardless.

As the owner of a larger ship, Riyss had gotten clearance to land on the first tier alongside other big freighters. The pair didn’t have to brave the crowds for too long, as one short turbolift ride later they were entering the open landing pads. There were dozens upon dozens of CEC ships in this bay alone, with scattered representatives from other planets like another Gallofree transport being refueled and a knobbly Mon Calamari passenger liner taking on supplies.

It would’ve been easy to miss another CEC light freighter in the mix, but even nestled between two large Action IVs, Green Gaze stood out. Her shiny green paint stood in stark contrast to the other grey- and rust-colored vessels, as did the proud Trade Federation logo over her side hatches and her prominent weaponry.

The YZ-900 was perfect as a courier ship. She was fast enough to cross the length of the galaxy in days rather than weeks and protected against anyone willing to take a crack at her payloads. His family had hundreds of similar light freighters under the Urvelt Courier Group umbrella, but Riyss took a bit of pride in owning his own ship. He had his eyes set on becoming a Lucrehulk captain eventually, but he was far too young—and poor—to command one of those behemoths just yet and Green Gaze’s small crew was a handful already.

Case in point, his younger sister Syvil was directing work on the hyperdrive while riding atop their loading droid Veetee. The Vulture droid had been damaged beyond reasonable repair during testing and thrown out. Syvil had scavenged the thing, stuffing an ancient astromech and a set of manipulator arms into the chassis in the process, and “convinced” him to let her attach it to his ship. It had been useful, admittedly, but the walking scrapheap always drew attention in action.

Syvil started gesticulating wildly at another one of his crew, Shallen Ovrua. He was Riyss’ co-pilot and a close friend. Right now, though, he was the target of Syvil’s ire. One look at the rest of his crew, Gipon D’ohos, a Bith, and Tweske and Geweff Drizeg, Gran siblings, showed that they were clearly unwilling to intervene.

“This is your ship?” Hope asked.

He sighed. Not the first impression he wanted to give, but might as well bite the blaster bolt. “Yes. Let me break this up and I’ll round everyone up for introductions.”