SithLore

The cockpit of the Plutus was a symphony of muted neon lights, casting the cramped space in a cold, artificial glow. The control panels, an amalgamation of both modern and salvaged components, blinked and pulsed in rhythmic patterns, a steady heartbeat that kept the ship alive. Each button and switch was well-worn, the labels faded from years of use, yet everything was meticulously maintained—a testament to Reana's compulsive need for order in the chaos in this operation.

The viewport was a wide, curving expanse of transparent steel, offering a panoramic view of the blackness beyond. Stars twinkled distantly, pinpricks of light in the vast void of space, their pale glimmers swallowed by the darkness that surrounded the freighter. The only illumination came from the control panels and the occasional flicker of a distant star or debris caught in the ship’s floodlights.

The cockpit smelled faintly of recycled air and the sharp tang of gear lubricants, a scent that had become so ingrained in the ship’s systems that it was almost comforting to Fett. The seat beneath him was well-padded, designed for long hours of solitary travel, with straps that could secure him in place during turbulent maneuvers. Fett sat hunched over the console, his fingers dancing over the controls with a practiced ease, the slight hum of the engines beneath his feet a constant reminder of the power at his disposal.

This was a supply run, one of many he had undertaken over the years, ferrying goods from his jungle planet home to the icy wastes of Rhen Var. The cargo hold was packed with crates, all meticulously cataloged and secured for the journey. It was a routine mission, one that should have been uneventful—a simple run through hyperspace to a distant outpost in need of resupply.

His other transport, the Midas, mirrored the Plutus in design but had seen better days. The ship was piloted by 0-N0, a droid with a broken voice modulator that stuttered and shifted pitches unpredictably. Despite the droid's malfunctioning speech, it was reliable—most of the time. The two ships had set out and broke atmosphere together, the Plutus leading the way with the Midas following in close formation, their courses set for the frozen planet on the far side of the galaxy.

"We're a go on my end," the Dark Lord confidently opened comms to the entire convoy.

With a few calculated keystrokes, Fett initiated the jump to hyperspace. The stars outside the viewport stretched into long, white lines, and the ship surged forward, plunging into the swirling blue vortex of hyperspace. The familiar sensation of acceleration tugged at his gut, a feeling that had become second nature to him after countless jumps. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes scanning the readouts on the control panel to ensure the transition was smooth.

Everything seemed routine, until a sudden alert flashed across the screen. Fett’s eyes narrowed as he read the warning—hyperdrive leak detected on the Midas. His hand moved instinctively to the comms panel, opening a channel to the other ship. “Midas, report status,” he barked.

There was a brief crackle of static before 0-N0’s voice sputtered through the speakers, the pitch jumping erratically. “M-M-Mid-asss–hyp-hyper–leak. P-pro-ceed-in–to–contain.”

"Dank pyraxis," Fett cursed under his breath, his fingers flying over the controls as he tried to get a better read on the situation. The Midas was falling behind, the ship’s trajectory beginning to waver as the hyperdrive struggled to maintain stability. Within moments, the Plutus was alone in hyperspace, the other freighter left behind in the void, its fate uncertain.

He attempted to re-establish contact, but there was only silence. The Midas had dropped out of hyperspace, and Fett’s sensors couldn’t reach it. His gut twisted with unease, the cold void outside the cockpit suddenly more sublimely oppressive.

Fett’s instincts flared with unease as he pushed the Plutus further into hyperspace. He could feel it—a subtle, insistent pull in the back of his mind, warning him that something was terribly wrong. But he was too far now, and the only thing left to do was press forward and hope that 0-N0 could handle the situation on the Midas.

Meanwhile, back on the Midas, 0-N0’s photoreceptors blinked erratically as it scrambled to address the hyperdrive leak. The ship’s interior was dim, the emergency lights flickering as power was rerouted to the failing systems. The droid’s mechanical arms moved with precise, yet frantic motions, its servos whirring loudly in the silence of the empty ship. The hyperdrive’s warning lights flashed angrily, and 0-N0 accessed the ship’s internal systems, bypassing the damaged circuits and rerouting power to secondary systems. It calculated the odds of success with cold, mechanical logic, but the erratic shifts in its voice modulator betrayed the growing tension within its circuits. “St-st-stabilizing…p-power flow…c-c-ontain leak…bypass…m-manual override.”

The droid’s metallic fingers clanked against the control panel as it worked, rerouting power from the life support and secondary thrusters to maintain the hyperdrive’s integrity. The Midas shuddered as the systems were stretched to their limits, the lights dimming further as the ship’s core struggled to compensate. With the final adjustments in place, 0-N0 initiated the containment protocol, the ship groaning in protest as the droid forced the hyperdrive back online. The droid’s photoreceptors flickered once more, its systems stabilizing as the Midas prepared to re-enter hyperspace. But the damage was done, and 0-N0 knew that the ship was barely holding together, its fate now in the hands of the void.

The Plutus emerged from hyperspace above the icy atmosphere of Rhen Var, the transition smooth and seamless. Fett’s hands were already moving to the comms panel, his fingers deftly inputting the frequency for the Midas. Static filled the cockpit, followed by a long, empty silence. Fett’s jaw clenched, his mind racing as he considered his options.

He could go back, trace the Midas’ path through hyperspace and attempt a rescue—but the thought of losing his cargo and compromising the mission annoyed him. 0-N0 wasn't a particularly valuable asset, but the thought of abandoning it to the void left a sour taste in his mouth.

His fingers hovered over the controls, torn between stubbornness and pragmatism. But before he could make a decision, the sensors in the Plutus flared to life, warning of an incoming object. Fett’s eyes snapped to the viewport just as the Midas burst out of hyperspace directly in front of him, its hull scorched and battered. The Plutus lurched as Fett yanked the controls, narrowly avoiding a collision as the Midas careened past, its thrusters sputtering and its systems on the verge of failure.

A flurry of undignified sounds and nervous pitches erupted over the comm.

“Huh.” Fett nonchalantly adjusted his controls to begin docking.