Star Wars: Liberation and Redemption

By Travis Barr

What happened just after The Empire Strikes Back?! Well now you get to find out! See how Luke completed his skills with a lightsaber and became the warrior he was meant to be in Jedi! Discover just how Lando managed to infiltrate Jabba's lair as a slave guard! And witness the valiant rescue of Admiral Akbar and his brave Mon Calamari officers! It's all right here!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Travis Barr
• Release date: Jan 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463995556

Travis Barr

Travis Barr grew up in Southern California and went to CalState University of Long Beach. He graduated with a BA in film then furthered his education with a teaching credential. Travis has always held a fascination with the fantastical and suspenseful in storytelling. With his second novel and first part of The Chosen Trilogy, "The Spider Agenda," he has taken that wonderment to new levels of gripping tension and spellbinding adventure. "Agenda" sets the scene for what is to come in the second installment, "The Wasp Initiative" and is the seeds for which will come to full climactic fruition in the third tale, "The Hornet Operative." Travis still lives in the California area with his family and good friends, and enjoys the beaches of his youth. His favorite TV programs include "The Walking Dead," "Falling Skies," and "The Strain." His most cherished novels of all time include Peter Straub's classic tale, "Ghost Story," Bill Blatty's "The Exorcist," and Stephen King's "'Salem's Lot." His favorite film will always be George Lucas' "Star Wars."

Book preview

STAR WARS: LIBERATION AND REDEMPTION

By

Travis Barr

Chapter 1

The vicious and tiny freighter smacked itself out into normal space and time. It had been journeying through the hyper reality of lightspeed for the better part of two days before reaching its current destination—three sectors outside the Anoat system. Its sentient brain center was a young bounty hunter by the name of Bousch Ardian. Bousch had not travelled here to this remote part of the galaxy on some whim, a simple sojourn of the star-muddled void in hopes of something new and unexpected. Bousch was not on vacation or basking in time off. The hunter was hunting. And the mark was close.

Close but unforeseeable, housed somewhere in the faux-gravity-secured halls of one of the myriad of convoyed ships coasting in front of Bousch’s freighter. Theoretically, the mark, the bounty could be on any one of the massive cruisers or frigates in the convoy. But the hunter had been informed from the initial employer that the bounty had been wounded—a hand had been severed. That meant that the target would have been sent to the medical ship for bio-prosthetic hand replacement and therapy. The robotic hand had most likely been attached by this time, but the employer knew (as well as Bousch did) that the patient would be ordered to stay close to medical for at least seven days for extensive observation, in case the melding of organic and synthetic structures suffered a molecular rejection. Or there was a malfunction of the circuitry.

In any case, the young yet focused hunter would start with the medical frigate, trusting that the true employer was correct in his assumptions. Most likely it was true, the loss of the hand had only happened four days ago.

It had only been a split second since Bousch had arrived on the scene and already was firing on the elongated, booster-heavy medical frigate. Not repeatedly and not with laser blasts; with a metallic projectile, disc-like in shape and painted deathly black. It met its intended target—the hull near the frigate’s docking bay entrance gap. It did not explode upon impact, merely attached its flatted side to the walling, then flashed electrical-blue tendrils, crooked and searching, from its circular edge. This all happened in another split fraction of time. In the next instant, a massive spread of the energy shielding over the gap materialized, scrambled, then dissipated rapidly. The shield was disarmed, gone.

And immediately after it vanished, the hunter’s vessel shot through the bay opening, its landing gear already lowering and locking into position. Just as it cleared the gaping door, a backup metallic barrier slid down with enormous speed and force.

Inside the bay, seven crewers, all with disoriented, shocked expressions on their faces, were flung towards the new barrier between them and the cold fire of space. Had the barrier come shoving down a second later, all seven would have been vacuumed out into the void, into certain death. Immediately after crashing into the barrier, they plummeted into the metallic flooring, no longer feeling the sucking pull of depressurization. They hit the floor with thuds and oomph’s!

Bousch had already landed. The sleek and compact ship the hunter inhabited rested comfortably among the various inert ships and equipment. It waited. Waited for what it knew would come in the next few seconds.

Three seconds later, armed soldiers—protective guards—exploded into the massive bay and took up perimeter positions around the intruding vessel. All had their weapons poised and ready for any hostile movement from their gate crasher.

Strapped to one of the wrists of the lead guard, a communicator shrrted. A transmission-distorted voice inquired, Lieutenant, can you report? The lieutenant released an arm from gripping his weapon and brought the wrist comm closer to his mouth. He responded, Center, ship has landed…no movement or communication thus far…stand by. He yanked the arm back to a clasp of the weapon again. No sooner had he done this, movement from the ship did happen…from the hull’s side structures, circular hatches no bigger than three inches in diameter slid open and delivered forth metallic, glinting spheres onto the floor. Instinctively, the guards tensed and backed away, eyeing the spheres with lid-widening fear.

Instead of bouncing, however, the spheres merely stuck to the flooring, glued to where they landed.

The lieutenant began with haste, Gren—!

The spheres erupted with instant and consuming light before anyone could leap or run. But there were no white scalding projectiles of piercing flame and shrapnel.

Flash bombs.

All were blinded, and some even dropped there weapons to strap both hands to their light-needled and blinded eyes. Most of them screamed in violent surprise.

Flash bombs! Just flashes! the lieutenant hollered to the others. He had his eyes pressed together with great force but could still see throbbing light engulfing his vision. Can anyone see?!

No came back from all his men. The after-light in his eyes was dampening to a sickening purple and he made a few blinking attempts to open his eyes. Still, the only sight he was allowed was the same ill color. Slowly, however, grayish, ghosting outlines of objects about him began to materialize. Soon, they took more elaborate shape and texture; true colors of the masses ebbed back into his sight. He could now make out the full reality of his surroundings—just in time to hear a meshed metal plating clang to the floor. He looked upward briskly, as did his men, to one specific point in the high walling of the bay. A rectangular chasm used for ventilation just had a booted leg disappear into it.

Bousch was on the move.

How did he get up there?! a guard inquired with confusion and alarm.

Must’ve had a grappler, the lieutenant said as he brought the wrist comm up again. Center, intruder is on the move! Do you track?! And the comm came back, On site, we track. Intruder is using air ducts to move. Proceed to sector four to intercept. Copy, center. The lieutenant motioned his men to follow him quickly out of the bay. Shaking their heads to aid in equilibrium and blinking repeatedly, they rushed to trail their leader.

They have more direct paths, Bousch knew; the guards would intercept soon. But that was fine. The hunter knew this ship’s design after studying its schematics for four hours during hyperspace travel. Knew that the sublevels could be reached before the guards could be in a position to block movements. Once in the sublevels, the hunter would be able to stand upright and move forward quicker.

Almost there…one more turn, one more duct to crouch down and shuffle forth in…

…And there was the meshed plating which, when removed, would allow access to the sublevels. The hunter shifted then kicked the plate three times. Being of very thin and malleable metal, the plating blistered with the succession of kicks and tore from the duct completely. It dovetailed to the flooring, clacked and shimmied, rested. Bousch eased through the gap created and plopped to the floor feet first. Instantly, she was on the move again.

This had better be it, Bousch thought, the mark better be on this ship. Because if he wasn’t, it was highly unlikely that another infiltration was possible—to say nothing about escaping out of here alive. He had just better be here.

Bousch reached a junction where it was now possible to go four ways: right, left, ahead, and back. Bousch halted in the center of the junction and reached into a pouch of the backpack the hunter was carrying. Three devices were produced, activated, then tossed gently into the air. They did not fall to the floor but floated in mid-air (roughly at Bousch’s eye level). They stayed in a loose grouping for a second then dispersed down three of the passageways (right, front, and left) while Bousch whirled and backtracked. The hunter was careful to trot at a fair approximation of the rate of speed that the decoy devices were now coasting. The ruse must be convincing.

As Bousch traveled and plotted, a certain thought kept gnawing away within: You had better be here, Luke Skywalker…

Though his arm still throbbed with a maddeningly dull ache, Luke stormed with force down the corridors leading to the frigate’s bridge. At his speed-demon’s rate, he would reach it in a matter of seconds.

Wonder what’s going on, he manically worried as he joltingly sprinted forth. Imperials? Some sort of pirate raid? Luke had no clue for certain, only the rumored rumblings of fellow officers he intermittently encountered in the last five minutes. Whatever it was, he determined, I have to help. My arm be damned. The pain resulting from the operation was considerably less than actually losing the hand anyway. He would survive, and he could still be effective in aiding his friends. He still felt the Force and Yoda had taught him well.

"…But incomplete is your training, Luke!"

Yoda’s voice rang back to him, even now in his mad dash and frenzied state, bringing a twinge of sobering doubt.

But not enough to stop him.

Leia, what’s happening?! Luke bellowed as he sprung into the bridge and halted to face the bothered and tense princess. She eyed him with the same intensity. You’re supposed to be in medical, Luke.

The bridge was like an angry ant hive with men and women walking fast, even running this way and that. All except Rieekan, Leia, and C-3PO. They were glued visually to the tactical screen that was tracking the hunter…or hunters as the representational blips now indicated.

Perhaps they were grouped quite close together, and now they are finally separating, Threepio commented, suggested to the others.

It’s a possibility, Rieekan allowed. But I think it’s more likely that there’s only one, and that the other three are decoys of some kind.

If so, Leia added, then it seems like the tactics of a mercenary or a bounty hunter.

But which is the real one? Threepio asked.

No way of telling, Rieekan concluded. We’ll have to send men after each one.

Leia turned to Threepio. Inform the detail to seek out every target.

Yes, your highness. Threepio walked away to a comm panel. As he did, Luke joined the group. How did they get aboard?

And why aren’t you resting up in medical? Leia scolded. You shouldn’t be here—

I’m fine, I feel fine, Luke assured with a brisk nodding. His arm was killing him, but he did have mobility throughout the hybrid appendage. Reflexes were on par with the rest of his physical form. So far the bionics had been receiving his neural impulses with the proper efficiency.

Leia, from hearing the medical droid give her the status report, already knew all of this.

But still she felt overly protective and motherly toward Luke and his present condition. Especially since Han had been ripped from her life.

One is down, Threepio announced. A decoy. A floating drone from the report.

Then they’ll be two more, Rieekan surmised.

Another inaudible report through the comm. Threepio repeated it. The other two drones have been destroyed. The detail is now converging on the remaining target.

Luke turned while saying, I’m going to help them out.

But Leia made him turn back and halt with, Why?

Because I have a feeling this has something to do with me.

"If that’s true and it is a bounty hunter, then that’s all the more reason for you to stay out of this. Let the others handle—"

"But what if they can’t and this is about me? Do I just let them die on my account? I have to go…"

They stared at each other, Luke expecting; Leia contemplating with reluctance.

"…Fine," Leia relented, but as Luke spun back around to exit hastily, she warned to him, But be extra careful! These hunters usually get what they’re after!

I will! he hollered with unfocused reassurance as he ran. The next instant he was gone from the room.

Unconscious, Luke determined as he kneeled down to check the vital signs of a guard sprawled on a sublevel corridor floor. Not dead, thank goodness. Whoever this intruder was, Luke thought, they weren’t sloppy. They had a specific, determined purpose; they were professional and well trained. Leia was right, I should be extremely cautious from