Chapter 50: The Shadows We Leave Behind

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Jake's P.O.V. :

We were gathered in the common area of the Stellar Envoy, cramped but familiar. Kado, as usual, took charge to start the meeting. His calm and measured voice cut through the general chatter as he kicked things off.

“We need to debrief about our latest... expedition,” he began, his gaze sweeping across the group. “Both the initial space station and what we found in the Ashen Wastes. Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page about what went down and what we’ve brought back.”

I smirked as Kado tactfully avoided calling our adventure what it really was: tomb raiding. The others noticed too, judging by the subtle coughs and grins. Tarek, of course, didn’t even bother to hide his amusement. “You mean the part where we robbed a crypt full of killer droids?”

Kado shot him a look but didn’t rise to the bait, and we all chuckled before settling in for the serious discussion.

We went over the highlights—the Sentinel droids, the IG models, and the grav machine I’d rigged to flatten anything we left behind. Rina gave a concise report about the data she’d extracted, while I filled in details about the Sentinel droids' components and how they could inspire upgrades for our own tech. It was a strange mix of pride and exhaustion, recounting what we’d accomplished and what we’d survived.

The conversation naturally shifted toward what came next. That was my cue.

“I have a proposal,” I said, sitting forward. All eyes turned to me, and I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous—not that I’d ever admit it. “I say we lay low for a while, but not by sitting idle. Let’s actively hunt pirates and slavers.”

A ripple of interest spread through the group, though Kado’s expression stayed carefully neutral. I pushed on.

“Think about it. It gives us a chance to test the upgrades I plan to make—on the droids, the ship, and the crew’s combat gear. And,” I added with a sly grin, “it’d give us a chance to deal with certain... unresolved issues.”

“Gardulla,” Davik said flatly, crossing his arms.

“Gardulla,” I confirmed.

The room buzzed with murmurs. It wasn’t hard to see that the others were warming up to the idea, even if the revenge part wasn’t their main motivation.

Tarek raised his hand like we were in school. “Do I get combat armor?”

I rolled my eyes. “Everyone gets armor.”

“Sweet!” Tarek grinned, clearly satisfied.

The conversation gained momentum after that, moving fluidly between my pitch and the other suggestions. Davik laid out a detailed report about our current gear and tactics, emphasizing where we needed to shore up. Mira chimed in with ideas for other ways to lay low, like taking on less risky salvage jobs or working as freelance couriers.

Then Rina, never one to shy away from bold ideas, dropped her suggestion like a thermal detonator. “We need a bigger ship.”

Tarek practically jumped out of his seat. “What? No! I love this ship!”

“I’m just saying,” Rina said, shrugging, “we’re pushing the limits of what the Stellar Envoy can handle. It’s not about replacing it—it’s about expanding our options.”

“I’m with Tarek,” I cut in. “This ship is iconic. And I still haven’t renamed it the Millennium Falcon yet.”

My inner monologue kicked in as everyone groaned or rolled their eyes. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a weird obsession. Bite me.

Kado steered us back on track with a raised hand. “Let’s table the ship discussion for now. Right now, we need to focus on logistics and supplies. We’re burning through resources faster than we’re replenishing them.”

And just like that, the meeting shifted gears again. It wasn’t as exciting as battle plans or revenge schemes, but it was the kind of practical talk that kept us alive. Rina opened up the ship’s inventory logs, Kado talked numbers, and the rest of us chimed in with suggestions about restocking, repairs, and potential trade routes.

The meeting stretched into hours, but nobody complained. We were all invested in keeping this ragtag operation afloat—and, more importantly, in figuring out how to turn everything we’d gained into something even better.

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The meeting dragged on until what I figured was midday—hard to tell on this Force-forsaken planet with its eternally gray skies. As soon as we wrapped up, I excused myself, heading off to the mobile tool station. There was work to do.

I programmed the station to fabricate some of the parts I’d need for my next round of gadgets and upgrades. With that out of the way, I made a beeline for the Engineering-slash-Medical room to check on the droids.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew was busy running scans of the surrounding area and orbit, just in case someone decided to sneak up on us. A solid plan, really. The last thing we needed was to get caught with our pants down. Unless, of course, it was by Mira or Rina— By the stars, Jake, what in blazes is wrong with you? My cheeks burned, and I slapped them lightly in a frantic attempt to shove the thought out of my brain.

Once I got my focus back, I gave the droids a thorough inspection. The Nick and Skew units were functionally back to one hundred percent. Visually? Not so much. Dents, scrapes, and some battle scars still marked their chassis. But I wasn’t worried. That would all be covered up soon enough with the phrik armor I had planned. I could already see the terror on the faces of any pirates or slavers foolish enough to cross us.

That thought made me laugh—a deep, triumphant bwahaha that grew louder and more dramatic with each passing second. I was so caught up in my villainous daydream that I didn’t even notice Anakin enter the room until he was standing there, arms crossed, giving me a look like a kid fed up with his older brother’s antics.

I froze mid-laugh, cleared my throat, and awkwardly greeted him. “Uh, hey, kiddo. What’s up?”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said simply, though his little face still carried traces of worry.

His words hit me harder than I expected, and I knelt down halfway so we could see eye to eye. “I’m fine, Anakin. See?” I gestured to myself dramatically. “Not a scratch on me. And don’t worry—I’ve got plot armor.”

The joke sailed right over his head. “Why would you wear flat armor instead of regular armor?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

That sent me into another round of laughter, this time more genuine and less evil mastermind. Anakin watched me for a moment, confused, before deciding to laugh along—even if he didn’t quite get what was so funny.

After our little skit, I reached out and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry so much, all right? We’ll be careful. Promise.”

He nodded, his worry easing a bit. Then I got an idea. “Hey, wanna help me out with the droids?”

His face lit up like a freshly tuned lightsaber. “Can I? Really?”

“Of course,” I said, standing up. “C’mon, kid. Let me show you how to make these clankers even better.”

Together, we dove into the repairs, his excitement infectious as I guided him through the basics. Moments like this? They made all the chaos worthwhile.

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It's easy to forget sometimes that Anakin is only almost four. The kid's questions, even wrapped in kid-speak, showed a sharpness that would make any technician proud. He didn’t just sit back and watch; he got involved.

Before I could even ask for a hydrospanner, he was handing it to me. The little guy somehow knew exactly what I needed and when, like he was reading my mind—or maybe just that attuned to the work. When I had to move to another part of the droid, he’d quietly scoot out of the way, clearing the space without me saying a word.

It wasn’t just helpful—it was downright amazing. I made a mental note to remember moments like this whenever he decided to dismantle something he shouldn’t later on.

As we worked, I started explaining things to him, giving him the basics of droids and mechanics. He soaked it all up, tossing in small suggestions that, while not perfectly articulated, had a surprising amount of insight. "What if this part was smaller so it could go faster?" he’d ask, or, "Why doesn’t this piece protect the shiny one?" pointing to an exposed conduit.

I’d pause every now and then to grin at his questions and respond, “That’s a great point, but let me show you why it’s done this way,” before explaining. His excitement was infectious, and honestly, I was having the time of my life teaching him.

But, of course, the universe has a way of reminding you it’s still turning.

Our little bonding session was interrupted by Shmi’s call from the corridor. “Jake, Anakin! Midday meal is ready!”

I wiped my hands on a rag and gave Anakin a grin. “Well, kiddo, looks like we’re getting fed.”

He nodded eagerly, already darting toward the door with the energy only a kid his age could have. I chuckled as I followed, thinking about how much I enjoyed our little moment.

Then, as I crossed into the corridor, a thought hit me. Wait a second. If Shmi’s calling us for midday meal now… then the meeting earlier wasn’t midday at all. I let out a short laugh at the realization. Time really did blur when you were busy—or when you had a certain little genius distracting you.

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As we all settled down for the meal, Kado shared some news. "Mira found us a solid route in orbit," he started, gesturing with his fork for emphasis. "It’ll take us near a hyperspace lane and get us off this rock finally."

The mood at the table lightened a bit at that. This planet, with its endless gray skies and oppressive air, was wearing on all of us.

Kado continued, “Tarek’s been testing the route in the simulators, factoring in the pirate band, those goons Gardulla likely sent after us, and the other salvager crews.”

“Wait, they’re still up there?” I asked, surprised. “I mean, I get the persistence, but it feels like forever since we ducked down here.”

“Well,” Mira said with a smirk, “that’s because you’ve been neck-deep in circuits and droid guts for hours at a time. For the rest of us, it’s only been a day.”

The table shared a light laugh at my expense, and I took it in stride. They weren’t wrong.

After the meal, everyone got to their respective tasks. I headed back to the medbay to make sure the droids were properly docked and charging. The last thing I wanted was to lose functionality mid-flight if we ran into trouble.

From there, I went to the storage room to double-check our tools and supplies. Everything had to be secure for what I was anticipating would be another rough takeoff. My mind buzzed with plans and ideas for upgrades, but I pushed them aside for now—there’d be time for that once we were safely off this rock.

The others were busy with their own preparations. Davik and Mira manned the turrets, ensuring they were primed and ready, while Rina and Kado double-checked the flight path Mira had plotted. Shmi helped Tarek run pre-flight diagnostics from the cockpit, keeping him on task despite his excitement.

And then there was Anakin.

The little guy trailed behind me like a faithful shadow, his wide eyes taking in everything I did. He didn’t say much, just watched, occasionally nodding like he was memorizing each step. It was honestly kind of endearing.

When I finished my checks, I glanced back at him. “You know, you’re making a pretty good assistant.”

He beamed at the compliment, his little face lighting up in a way that made me chuckle.

Once everyone was satisfied with their prep work, we strapped ourselves into our seats, bracing for what I knew was going to be another bumpy ride. As the engines roared to life and the ship began to rumble, I couldn’t help but glance at the cockpit and mutter to myself with a smirk, “Let’s see if you’ve got this, Tarek.”

Here’s hoping the Stellar Envoy could once again get us out of a tight spot.