Chapter Text
430 BBY, On a Republican Ship headed for the Unknown Regions
The captain of the ship, a human man, looking to be in his early twenties and with striking green eyes along with blonde hair to match, scratched his hair in confusion, as he talked to his gunner-cum-engineer, a Twi’lek with green skin and an excessive amount of tattoos, even for a Twi’lek.
“Ya know ‘Kil, what in the heck did you do to win so much from that casino of all places? Did you cheat? How? If not, can I steal some of that luck of yours? I mean, seriously. How in Kashyyyk’s questionable definition of drinkable water did you manage to do that?”
The poor man, steadily losing his already tenuous grip on sanity, was pointing at the cargo hold of the ship, which he had been assured could carry ‘more than enough resources to last a standard crew of four for a standard year, even if you assume that all of the crew ate like Wookies.’ packed wall to wall in various knicks and knacks and bells and whistles, with barely any room to even squeeze in to run an inventory check.
Meanwhile, the Twi’lek, whose face might as well have been carved from stone, spoke in a stoic voice, with a deep reverberation, “Winnings are a must-haves for all adventurers.”
Like that was common sense. Of course. Any winnings made in the casino must be taken in the exact form of the winning it was won as. That was not at all untrue or inconvenient.
“How in the name of the Force itself did you manage to hide all that without me noticing? Hell, how did you manage to mess with our various sensors without me seeing you? Seriously, did you add some extra thrusters or something? How did we even break through the atmosphere with so much cargo, and without going slow enough to make me think we had a stowaway?”
The man paused, breathing in to refill his lungs that had been emptied by his tirade, and continued his rant, “That all can wait for now till we make landfall next, but our first order of business should be you. Do you feel any discomfort? Do you feel any sudden need for murder? I heard there is a bug going around that does that. Who is that on top of your head? What is he doing there? Where did you even pick him up from? Is that even a he? Is it dangerous? Is it a parasite? Should I shoot it off ya? Blink your right eye once for yes.”
The Twi’lek remained stoic. Meanwhile, the ‘thing’ on top of his head started shuffling around, in a pattern shockingly similar to an Ewok’s wakeup routine. Before the human could react, the ‘thing’ had disappeared from the top of ‘Kil’s head.
Before he could react, his blaster pistol was knocked out of his hand by a… tiny green hand? The owner of the green hand stepped forward, moving into his line of sight. “Angry, don’t be. Bet lost, he did. On for a ride, I am.”
“What? You’re telling me he got all this for losing?
For his very shocked reaction regarding this extremely odd situation, he got hit over the top of his head by a very hard, very wooden stick.
“You are shocked by my luggage?” The little green man with much more snark than mass spoke, entirely ignoring the fact that Mark had a blaster gun within arm’s reach in his waist holster while being entirely defenceless.
“As a matter of fact, yes! Yes, I am shocked by the ‘luggage’ you got with you! I have so many questions for you I have run out of words!” Mark huffed, a bit out of breath from his small tirade.
More than that, he and his partner had been flying past dangerous territory after dangerous territory for over a week without a single break.
“I give up! Old man! Can I and ‘Kil over there trust you to not murder us in our sleep?”
“Trust me, you can. But sleep, can you, in my presence?” The green dwarf cheekily laughed at the captain for his need to bend to his biological impulses. It was almost enough for him to transcend his tiredness after piloting his beloved ship with his partner for over a week without any meaningful rest.
Almost.
“Mister, I don’t really give a shab for anything anymore. There is a druk-load of stuff for me to sort through, but you are not anywhere near the top of that list. If ‘Kil trusts ya, I will too. Just don’t crash the ship when we are out, alright? The route is already mapped out on the holo-computer, just follow the path. I don’t think either of us can be of help for at least a full standard day.”
Without acknowledging any response that the little green man might have given, the fatigued captain and his stoic first mate passed out right where they stood, causing an amused sigh to break out from the sole conscious man left on the ship.
To place both of the men in their respective bunks took the mischievous old man but a few minutes. Each had quite the lovely surprise waiting for them when they woke up.
And thus it came to be that one of the most Force-sensitive beings in the whole galaxy piloted the Proud Garuda , one of the sturdiest ships in the galaxy on the very border of the Unknown Regions, at just the right place to notice a very feeble cry for help.
When the man woke up from his slumber, he found himself a bit tied up, quite literally, by his own mattress.
How is this even possible? How did the old man manage to tie a quick and dirty friction knot under my arms? Is he one of those races that are stronger than they appear? Was there a bot in all of that luggage that I didn’t know about? I should really shake down ‘Kil one of these days…
Whatever, I like him too much for my own good. Now, how do I get out of these bloody knots?
It took Mark the adventurer precisely three minutes to figure out exactly how he was to break out of his unwitting bonds. It took him three seconds to realise that the real prank had not been tying him up, but him untying himself.
His bunk was not where he remembered. It was way higher than the last time he had slept in said bunk. It was almost enough to make him dizzy.
How the frizz did one feeble old man manage to do that? The only feasible way that Mark could think of doing what the old man did was to somehow levitate him and his bunk, and carefully tie the knots without nudging Mark in the slightest.
An hour, lots of panicking, nervous fidgeting, and very sore fingers later, Mark and ‘Kil broke out of their bindings and searched their ship for their stowaway.
They found the little green man with brown hair in the cockpit, of all places. The Garuda may be, as Mark’s ego would remind anyone who would care to listen, one of the best ships for adventurer work in the Galaxy, she was not a ship whose fame was made on her ease of piloting.
And to make matters worse, the old man was piloting the ship without opening his eyes! He flew around from knob to button to the wheel, operating the ship on a level that had taken Mark years upon years to learn.
“Oye! Old man! What in tarnation are ya doing here? Where are ya takin’ my ship?” Upon seeing that the old man in question had in no way acted like he even existed, Mark reached towards him to grab his attention, only to have his own hand grabbed by his partner.
“What, ‘Kil? It ain’t like we need his expert piloting skills right now to steer us through an asteroid field or some-”
Mark, distracted by what his Twi’lek friend had to say, glanced over to the transparisteel piloting window and forgot everything he was about to say.
At that moment in time, the Proud Garuda was flying through an asteroid field like nothing Mark had ever seen before.
And somehow, the old man was managing to fly the ship filled with cargo without hitting a single rock without even utilising the gravity simulators to full effect. Mark was struck so dumb by the sheer athletic performance before him, he did not manage to speak another word till the starship got out of the asteroid field.
But Mark still couldn’t speak, for his dropped jaw refused to reattach to his face. His partner repeatedly smacked his shoulder while pointing excitedly at the object that had Mark so gobsmacked.
‘Kil, though a Twi’lek of few words and a needlessly huge and well-built body, was a child at heart. He entirely forgot his age and other useless things, like say, his pride as a grown man, and was entirely engrossed in the rapidly enlarging object in their vision.
It wasn’t like Mark, who had long lost his jaw along with his train of thought, was any better, blankly staring at the… facility isolated at the very centre of an asteroid field in the middle of nowhere in the Unknown Regions.
The old man, however, was entirely unperturbed by the strange situation and continued to expertly pilot the Garuda , flying it straight into the landing bay inside the strange abandoned station.
“Fully functional, this station looks. Broken, nothing of note, seems to be. Something important here, there is. To find it, I shall go. Wait for me, I ask of you.” So saying, the little green man opened the seals and walked out, cane in hand.
It was right this instant that Mark’s brain finally rebooted properly, after seeing too many absurd things before his morning caf. “Hey! We don’t even know your name, old man! Where are we? How did you know this would be here? What even is ‘here’? Didn’t you speak normally before? What is so important here for you to find? Can we come with you?”
Somewhere in the incessant barrage of questions, the old man had stopped in his brisk walk and had turned around. Mark may not have the keenest of eyes, but he could still see the clear childish twinkle in the little green man’s eyes when he turned back.
The long-eared little man coughed lightly into his fist before speaking, “My name is Yoda, and you can call me as such. As you can see, we are in some old abandoned medical station that has been operating on its own for, by my reckoning, around four thousand years old at least. I didn’t know this would be here, funnily enough. We are still in the Unknown Regions if that is what you are asking. As for why I change how I talk, it is something I am trying out, to help make sure that people actually think when they listen to me. After all, what is more fun than being an old man who speaks in riddles when speaking is his only job?”
His tone changed to one that sent chills down Mark’s back as he answered the second-last of his questions, “I don’t know what, or more likely, who is here for me to find. All I know is that they are in need of help, and that I can provide the help no matter what comes in my path.”
The scary thing to Mark was that Yoda talked about tearing down the obstacles on his path as easily as if he were talking about the fixtures on a particular toy he liked. Like it would make no difference to him at all, no matter what ancient traps or horrors might lie within the station, he could reach his destination.
Before Mark could really think about the implications of his thoughts, something hit his head. Hard.
“On this expedition, join me, you can. Your friend too, if he wants.” Mark turned to glare at his annoying new companion, who had somehow covered the distance between them in the short span of time he had been lost in thoughts and had plopped himself down on Mark’s shoulders. And only got whacked for his troubles. “Turn around, a trusting friend does not. Leave your back to me, you can.”
“What does that even mean ?” Mark grumbled but complied. “Hey ‘Kil! Can ya get me my blasters? Me and the old man are gonna go explore for a bit!”
It took over a quarter-hour for the big Twi’lek to come out. When he did, he was armed to the teeth in various arms and ammunition, much to Mark’s bemusement as ‘Kil handed his gear to him, along with a couple, and in his opinion, entirely unnecessary, grenades. A standard blaster was offered to Yoda too, but he declined.
While he and ‘Kil were going through their failed attempt at a transaction, with ‘Kil insistently offering the green menace the blaster and said menace stubbornly refusing, Mark asked his best friend and first mate a very pertinent question, “Hey, why did you get so much gear? We were only going for a walk!”
At which, for some reason, both the Twi’lek and the little green menace snickered. After being done with his little bout of laughter, ‘Kil solemnly pointed at one particular dent on the Garuda .
When Mark opened his mouth to protest that that had been a one-time thing, ‘Kil pulled out a section of his armour, revealing a blaster scar, which was also a one-time thing, upon which ‘Kil simply stared at Mark’s right leg.
“Alright, alright! I get it dude! Chill! Why the anger? I only said we were going to go explo-”
Both the old man and the Twi’lek first mate slammed their hands over his mouth, shutting him up instantly. When Mark looked to ‘Kil in askance, he simply held a finger over his lips before pointing to his ears and then to his ears, the universal sign of ‘ Shut up and listen in that direction’.
And so Mark turned his attention to the supposed danger and immediately found the reason why ‘Kil was so spooked. The sound may only be coming from in front of them all, but that did not mean that there was only a single danger.
Mark could hear at least three different things, very heavy, very slow things, approaching him.
The old man jumped off of his shoulders and disappeared into the dark. It could have been an illusion, but Mark could swear that before the old man had run off, he had reached for a short metal staff-thing from within his cloak.
When he and ‘Kil ran to follow the crazy old man rushing towards his somewhat-early death, all he found was wreckage of battle droid after wreckage of battle droid.