Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

A New Hope

Spooktober 14: Galaxies

a/n: you're laughing. i just spent four hours writing an unedited star wars au and you're laughing. 

(for any star wars nerds wondering, this takes place directly after order-66. but you'll probably figure that out fast.)

The VCX-100 is a lot smaller than the heavy cruiser Peter had gotten used to in the past few years he'd been training. It probably didn't help his claustrophobia that he was hidden in a cargo compartment.

It's been a long twenty-four hours.

He still felt shell-shocked by it all. He couldn't quite tell if his trembling was from the ship taking off or if its just him, his uneasy heart, his tired body struggling to stay awake-- it felt like just yesterday he was bouncing jokes back and forth with men he had called friends, drinking shitty caf, losing at sabacc and laughing about it. He misses all of it. He misses...

Peter swallowed.

"Alright," a man calls out. "Great job, Dum-E. We're in hyperspace and we're not on fire. I'd consider that a win, huh?"

A response of beeps in binary, which Peter only sort-of knows, but this man clearly was fluent-- because he lets out a boisterous laugh. 

"Sure, I'm proud of you." (A pleased whistle follows.) "Go find something to do while I fix your brother. Go, get out of here. Don't blow anything up."

Wheels go whirring off in another direction. Peter remains quiet and still.

One may wonder what the reason was for Peter's decision to be a stowaway, particularly on a ship he wasn't familiar with, even more so with a stranger-- and, well, the reason is that he's screwed either way.

There's a scar forming over the bridge of his nose from a blaster shot that seared across his skin yesterday. His hair was uneven, singed and burnt from the impromptu haircut, the lack of braid against his neck making him shiver. In his pocket, a heavy weight crodium hilt, humming, waiting anxiously for the next fight.

He still doesn't know why. There had been war, and just went it seemed like it was all on the precipice, just when it seemed it was push-to-shove, suddenly--

"This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in The Force. Do not return to the Temple... that time has past."

... So he's heading to...

...

He doesn't know where he's going. Only that he needs to get there faster than they can find him, they being everyone. All of the clones. All of the Empire. When his emergency shuttle crashed on Corellia, he was just wired enough to find the closest ship to sneak on, and that brought us here.

He thinks it's a bounty hunter's ship, which obviously doesn't bode well for him. The Empire already has signage everywhere demanding the retrieval and subsequent death of any Jedi survivors, so Peter has to make sure he's quiet, very very quiet--

A droid crashes directly into his knee. Peter stares at it, his eyes wide. Fear strikes through him as he puts his finger to his lips in a silent plea. 

A questioning beep.

"What was that?" The man called out from across the ship.

Peter quickly shakes his head, and he's shaking again now. "Please, no," he whispers.

The droid is silent. It rolls back and forth for a moment. It swivels around and leaves, and Peter sinks back against the wall with relief. He's too tired to fight, and if the bounty hunter catches him in his ship, he may as well already be dead.