The door hissed open and a small fist slammed into my stomach.
"Ow! Ow ow ow!"
The girl stumbled backward, shaking her hand and glaring at me with the kind of righteous fury that only children and politicians could muster. Her knuckles had connected with my chestplate, which was roughly as effective as punching a duracrete wall.
"Those aren't good greeting manners, Princess," I said, stepping into the cell. "Didn't your tutors teach you to wait until you've identified a target before committing to physical violence?"
"I don't need to identify Imperial thugs," she snapped, backing up against the far wall. Her chin was raised, her shoulders squared, every inch of her radiating defiance despite the fact that she barely came up to my chest. "And don't call me Princess. Only my family calls me that."
I paused, getting a proper look at her face for the first time.
Something was off.
The girl in front of me had Leia Organa's bearing, certainly. That stubborn set to her jaw, the intelligence burning behind her eyes, the way she held herself like she owned the room despite being a prisoner in a spice den. But her facial structure was different than I remembered. Sharper. And she looked older, closer to eleven or twelve than the child actress who'd portrayed her.
Then again, that actress had been obviously too young for the character's stated age. Casting decisions made by Disney executives in another universe didn't exactly translate to biological reality.
I'd swept this entire facility on my way in. There were no other prisoners, no other children, no other girls matching any description. Unless the plot itself had changed beyond my wildest expectations, this was Leia Organa.
Still, no harm in verifying.
I suppressed the nausea and constricting pressure, focusing my Hyper Perception on the girl in front of me.
Her presence in the Force blazed like a star compressed into a child's body, burning with potential that hadn't yet learned to hide itself.
Space Jesus genes confirmed.
The light was so bright, so much wasted potential just sitting there unguarded, and it would be easy to reach out and—
L̴i̵v̷i̷n̷g̶ ̵F̴o̶r̴c̷e̵.̸ ̸D̸e̵v̷o̶u̷r̶.̷ ̶S̵o̶ ̸N̸e̵a̸r̶.̶ ̸S̶o̸ ̴P̶o̵w̶e̷r̸f̷u̴l̷
I blinked.
My hand was extended toward her face, fingers half-curled, hovering inches from her cheek.
What was that?
I lowered my hand quickly, shaking off the odd moment. Probably just the strain of using Hyper Perception with my current condition.
"What are you doing?" Leia demanded, her voice pitching higher. "Why were you reaching for my face? Who even are you? Are you one of them? You don't look like the others but that doesn't mean anything because—"
"I was confirming something," I said. "And your father sent me."
"My father?" Her eyes went wide, then immediately suspicious in that whiplash way only kids could manage. "Anyone could say that. You could be lying. How do I know you're not lying? Prove it."
"Certainly. Would you prefer I start with the time you tried to teach yourself to fly a speeder at age six and crashed it into the memorial fountain in the palace courtyard, or should I skip ahead to the incident where you convinced your handmaiden that the kitchen staff were secretly assassins?"
"Stop!" Her face went bright red.
"And you spent three hours hiding in a laundry chute while half the palace guard searched for you, only to be discovered when you sneezed and tumbled out directly in front of your mother during a diplomatic reception—"
"I said stop!" Leia's hands flew to her face, her voice muffled behind her palms. "Okay okay okay I believe you! Don't say any more! Papa promised he wouldn't tell anyone about those things!"
"Your father was very thorough in his briefing."
"I'm going to yell at him so much when I get home," she muttered, still covering her face. "So, so much. He's going to be so sorry."
"You can do that once we're off this rock. We need to move." I gestured toward the open door. "The distraction I created won't last forever."
Leia dropped her hands, squaring her shoulders like she was about to walk into a formal dinner rather than escape from a criminal den. She strode past me with her chin up, trying very hard to look dignified despite the dirt on her clothes and the way her hair had escaped whatever fancy braiding had been done to it.
"Fine. But we're never ever ever talking about those things again."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Princess."
We stepped into the corridor outside her cell. The smoke-tinged air carried the acrid scent of burnt chemicals and something metallic underneath.
Leia's steps slowed as we passed the first body.
The guard was slumped against the wall, his neck bent at an angle that anatomy definitely didn't recommend. His blaster lay several feet away, as if it had been thrown.
"Why is that man sleeping like that?" Leia asked.
"He's tired."
"But his neck looks weird."
"He has bad posture. Terrible for the spine."
She frowned, clearly dissatisfied with that answer, but kept walking. Then she spotted the second guard further down the hall, hanging from an overhead pipe by his own belt.
"Why is he up there?"
"He wanted a better view."
"Of what?"
"The ceiling. Very interesting ceiling in this facility. Lots of pipes."
Leia stopped walking and put her hands on her hips in a gesture that was probably copied directly from her mother. "You're being weird. You're giving me weird answers. What's actually happening?"
"We're leaving. That's what's happening. If you want to stay here and do research until they throw you back into the cell, you are welcome to do so. Otherwise keep walking, Princess."
She huffed but started moving again, though she kept shooting me suspicious glances every few steps.
We reached the door to the spice lab. I could hear chaos on the other side, shouting and coughing and the hiss of fire suppressants failing to contain whatever Arachnae had ignited. I pulled a spare face mask from my tactical pack.
"Put this on."
Leia took the mask, turning it over in her hands. "Why? What's wrong with the air?"
"It's spicy."
"What? Air can't be spicy."
"This air can. I don't want your father blaming me for bringing back a spiced princess."
"That doesn't make sense. You're not making sense. Why would I be—"
"Princess." I bent down to her eye level, keeping my voice firm. "Mask. On. Face. Now."
She made a frustrated noise that sounded like an angry baby bantha, but she fitted the mask over her face. I swiped Vekt's access card through the reader. The door slid open, releasing a wall of acrid yellow smoke.
I took Leia's hand and pulled her into the chaos.
We emerged into the main gambling floor. The neon lights flickered overhead, casting everything in sickly strobing colors. Most of the patrons had already fled, but a few remained, too drunk or too greedy to abandon their credits.
The bartender was slumped behind the bar, hands zip-tied to a support beam, a strip of duct tape across his mouth. His eyes tracked us as we passed, wide and terrified.
Leia tugged on my hand. "That man has tape on his mouth."
"He talks too much. Personal problem."
"Did you put tape on him?"
"Maybe."
"Why?"
"He was being loud."
"You can't just tape people's mouths!"
"I can and I did. We're leaving now."
We reached the back exit. I pushed through into the alley, the cool night air washing over us like a blessing. Leia ripped off her mask, gasping dramatically.
"That was horrible! That was the worst thing ever! My tutors never told me places like that existed!"
"Your tutors probably didn't want to traumatize you."
"Well I'm traumatized now! There was fire and smoke and that man with the tape and those other men who were sleeping wrong and—" She paused, looking up at me. Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. How tall are you?"
"Tall enough."
"You're not that much taller than me. Are you a kid too?"
"I'm wearing armor. Armor adds height."
"But without the armor you'd be what, this tall?" She held her hand up to approximately shoulder height on herself. "That's not very tall. My father is way taller than you. All the adults I know are taller than you. Are you actually a grown-up or are you pretending?"
"I'm old enough to rescue princesses from spice dens. That's what matters."
"That's not an answer! You keep doing that! You keep not answering things!"
Were all ten-year-olds this exhausting? This many questions should be illegal. She was like a small, fancy-dressed interrogation droid with unlimited battery life.
Then I remembered I was technically ten years old too, physically speaking, which made this entire situation even more ridiculous.
We stepped out of the alley onto the main street. The neon glow of the city stretched in every direction, garish advertisements competing for attention above the flow of late-night traffic.
L
Arachnae skittered out from behind a dumpster, her optical sensors swiveling to scan for threats before she scuttled up my leg to perch on my shoulder.
Leia screamed like a broken teakettle and jumped behind me.
"What is—WHOA NO. Nope. That's a bug. A WALKING. SPIDER. OH MY STARS!!"
"She's a droid."
"She has legs!"
"You have legs! Would you like to be judged for your appendages?"
"She has too many! Why is she on your shoulder!? Is that normal?! You're—You're friends with that thing?!"
"She has feelings, thank you."
Arachnae beeped indignantly. Leia squinted.
"Did she just... wave at me?"
"She's polite. You should say hi back."
Leia peeked out from behind me warily. "...Hi?"
Arachnae wagged a pincer in what could only be described as an enthusiastic greeting.
"She's kind of cute when she's not directly facing me," Leia mumbled.
"That's what they said about Darth Maul."
"Who's Darth Maul?"
"Ancient history. Literally. Before your time."
We'd made it maybe fifteen meters down the street when I caught the distinctive white gleam of stormtrooper armor in my peripheral vision. Two of them, emerging from a side street about twenty meters ahead, their helmets turning toward the column of smoke rising from The Den behind us.
Perfect timing. Absolutely perfect.
They spotted us immediately and changed course, their postures shifting from casual patrol to active interest.
My suit, which was totally not civilian gear, may or may not have been the reason.
The taller one raised a hand, his amplified voice cutting through the ambient noise of the street.
"You there shorty! Stop where you are!"
God damned heightist bastards.
I stopped, keeping Leia slightly behind me. Around us, the street traffic began to thin as civilians developed that sixth sense for Imperial trouble and found reasons to be elsewhere.
The stormtroopers approached with the swagger that came standard with the armor. The taller one, who seemed to be the senior of the pair based on the way he walked slightly ahead, gestured toward The Den with his blaster rifle.
"That establishment behind you just had some kind of incident. Explosion, fire, the whole deal. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"Explosion?" I tilted my helmet toward The Den, as if noticing the smoke for the first time. "Huh. Would you look at that. Must have been the stove."
"The stove," the shorter trooper repeated, his voice flat with disbelief.
"Yeah, you know how it is. Kitchens. Very dangerous places. Lots of flammable things. Probably should have better regulations about grease trap maintenance."
The taller trooper stepped closer, his rifle held in a ready position that tried to look casual and failed. "That's real interesting commentary on fire safety. Now how about you explain what you're doing coming out of that building with a kid in tow?"
"We were inside having dinner when the fire started. I'm her bodyguard. Got her out before things got exciting."
"Bodyguard." The shorter one had circled slightly to my left, trying to flank. Standard Imperial intimidation tactics. "What kind of bodyguard wears that kind of custom armor? You some kind of bounty hunter?"
"Private security contractor. Different business model, similar fashion sense."
The taller one wasn't buying it. His helmet tilted down, taking in my height. Even with the armor's added bulk, I barely cleared five feet. The pause stretched just long enough to be insulting.
"You're awfully short for a bodyguard," he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "What, they run out of actual professionals and hire children to do the job now?"
The shorter trooper laughed, a harsh electronic bark. "Maybe he's standing on a box under that armor. Hey kid, you need a step-stool to reach your blaster?"
Leia's hand tightened on the back of my jacket. I could feel her getting ready to say something, probably something along the lines of "how dare you speak to my rescuer that way," which would be adorable and also completely catastrophic for our cover.
I squeezed her hand once. A silent request for patience.
"Height's just a number," I said, keeping my voice light. "What matters is results. And results don't care about your inseam measurement."
"Sure, sure." The taller trooper had shifted his grip on his rifle. "So let's talk about those results. You got identification? Permit for that armor? License for operating as private security on Daiyu?"
"All in order. I can get them for you, just need to access my pack—"
"Keep your hands where I can see them." The rifle came up slightly. "Actually, on second thought, why don't you and the girl come with us? We're going to want to ask you some questions about that fire. Standard procedure. You understand."
I understood perfectly. Standard procedure meant dragging us to an Imperial checkpoint, running my nonexistent credentials through their system, and discovering that I was about as legitimate as a Hutt's promise.
Not to mention, even if I had those, the intuition was telling me that what they wasn't documents. An well armored bastard must have those aplenty right? I could practically feel the greed rolling off their body.
The crowd around us had by now thinned to almost nothing. The few civilians who remained were giving us a wide berth, eyes carefully averted in that universal gesture of "I don't see nothing, officer."
I ran the numbers. Two stormtroopers, both armed with E-11 blaster rifles, full armor, positioned to create a crossfire if things went loud. Well, I can handle that.
"Sure thing, officer," I said, taking a step forward. "Happy to cooperate. Just let me get my identification and—"
I moved, my body pushed to speed unexpected by either of us.
The taller trooper was closer, which made him the priority target. I closed the distance in two quick strides that nearly left me stumbling before I balanced myself, with my armor's servos whining as I ducked under his rifle and drove my shoulder into his unarmored midsection. The impact drove the air from his lungs with a satisfying wheeze.
He stumbled backward, trying to bring his rifle to bear in close quarters, which was exactly the wrong move. I grabbed the barrel and yanked it sideways, using his own grip as leverage to spin him off-balance. My boot hooked behind his ankle and I pulled, sending him crashing to the pavement.
The shorter trooper was already firing, but the shots went wide as he tried to avoid hitting his partner. Red bolts scorched the duracrete near my feet.
I kept the taller trooper between us, using his body as mobile cover while I stripped the rifle from his hands. He threw a punch that connected with my helmet, but stormtrooper gloves against my faceplate was about as effective as slapping a wall.
I reversed my grip on the rifle and swung it like a club, the stock connecting with the side of his helmet hard enough to crack the polymer. He went limp.
The shorter trooper had adjusted his angle, trying to get a clear shot. I threw the rifle at his head.
He ducked, which was exactly what I wanted. I closed the distance while he was flinching, my hand snapping out to grab his rifle barrel and shove it toward the sky. He squeezed the trigger on reflex, sending a stream of bolts harmlessly into the air.
I drove my knee into his gut, right where the armor plates met. The flexible bodysuit beneath offered minimal protection. He doubled over with a grunt.
I didn't give him time to recover. My elbow came down on the back of his helmet, slamming his face into the pavement. He tried to push himself up, so I kicked his supporting arm out from under him.
Then I grabbed a fistful of the cable work at the back of his neck where the helmet met the chest plate and slammed his face into the duracrete again for good measure.
He went still.
The whole fight had taken maybe fifteen seconds.
I looked up to find Leia staring at me, her mouth hanging open. Around us, a small crowd had begun to gather at a safe distance, kept back by the presence of two downed stormtroopers but close enough to gawk.
Fainted stormtroopers in middle of market, with cracked armor and bruised egos would certainly bring a investigation.
But a investigation took time to organize, and we'd be off-world before they could coordinate a proper response.
I grabbed Leia's hand. "We need to move. Now."
"You just beat up stormtroopers!" Her voice pitched into a register that probably only dogs and very nervous parents could hear properly. "You can't just beat up stormtroopers! That's illegal! That's so illegal! My father always says you should respect Imperial authority even when you disagree with their methods and you just kicked one in the face!"
"Your father also hired me to extract you from a criminal spice den using any means necessary. I'm pretty sure violence against Imperial personnel was implied in the job description."
"But—but—you're so short! How did you even do that? They're trained soldiers! You're barely taller than me!"
"Height's got nothing to do with it when you fight dirty and the other guy's wearing a helmet that limits his peripheral vision."
I pulled her toward a side street, Arachnae chittering nervously on my shoulder. Behind us, one of the stormtroopers was groaning and trying to roll over. We had maybe thirty seconds before he got his helmet comms working and called for backup.
"That was so cool!" Leia burst out, stumbling to keep up with my pace. "I mean it was illegal and wrong and I'm definitely going to tell Papa about this, but it was also really cool! You went bam and then whoosh and then crack and they just fell down! How did you do that? Can you teach me? I want to learn how to do that! My combat instructor says I'm too young but you're obviously not that much older than me and you just—"
"Princess," I said, scanning the street ahead for our next obstacle. "Please. I'm begging you. Save some of these questions for later."
I tapped the comm bead in my ear, switching to the encrypted channel. "F1 to ship, target has been rescued, currently en route to evac site. What's your status?"
There was a brief crackle of static, then Obi-Wan's filtered voice came through, calm and professional despite whatever chaos he'd probably been monitoring from orbit.
"Excellent work, F1. Ship is in stealth mode, currently in low orbit, moving to evac site. Estimated time twenty minutes."
"Affirmative. See you at evac."
I cut the comm and allowed myself a small moment of satisfaction. We were nearly done. Grab the princess, avoid the Inquisitors, get off this neon nightmare of a planet before the Grand Inquisitor showed up with his spinning lightsaber of theatrical nonsense.
Simple. Clean. Professional.
I should have known better than to tempt fate like that.
[Image, Ezra Armor]
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A/N: How was the chapter? Hope you liked it. Leia was an pain in ass to get right.
And new week, new rankings. vote with your stones, lets climb high this week. And next few chapters are going to be very intense, as well as finally something much awaited (from start of the novel) would arrive.
And regarding bonus chapter, as I am writing a bit slow these days, to gimme a bit of time to write it, lets set the goal for 500 stones in next 3 days.
Next chapter is nearly done and would go up on Patreon in a hour or so, after I get dinner(had been fasting for 24 hours).
Support the cause and read advanced chapters on Patreon: www.patreon.com/AbstractoX
Thanks for your support guys!