Chapter 2: Nope, Not Going to Be a Slave in My New Fantasy World
Will woke to the smell of garbage and piss.
His head throbbed—a deep, pulsing ache that made his vision swim. He was lying on something hard and uneven, his cheek pressed against what felt like duracrete. The surface was gritty, sticky in places he didn't want to think about.
Where—
Memory came in fragments. The white room. The entity. The Sea of Creation. The marble that was the Star Wars universe. The Universal Will's attention on him like the weight of a collapsing star.
Then nothing.
And now this.
Will pushed himself up, his palms scraping against the rough ground. His body felt wrong—too light, too coordinated. He'd never been particularly athletic back on Earth, but now his muscles responded with an ease that felt alien. He got his feet under him without the usual struggle, without his knees protesting.
The alley around him was narrow, hemmed in by buildings that stretched up into a sky he couldn't see. Rust-colored walls, pipes running along the surfaces, steam venting from somewhere above. The air was thick and humid, carrying smells that made his stomach turn. Rotting food. Chemical waste. Something organic and dead.
He looked down at himself.
Black. He was wearing something black and skin-tight, like a wetsuit but thinner. It covered him from neck to ankles, smooth and seamless. No seams, no fasteners, nothing. Just a second skin that moved with him.
What the hell is this?
Before he could process further, voices echoed from the mouth of the alley.
"—telling you, this sector's picked clean. We should head to the docks—"
"Shut it. I heard something down here."
Will's head snapped toward the sound. Two figures appeared at the alley entrance, silhouetted against the brighter light beyond. Humanoid, but he couldn't make out details. His heart kicked into overdrive.
Okay. Okay, just—talk to them. Ask where you are. They can help—
The figures moved closer, and Will saw them clearly. One was a Rodian—green skin, multifaceted eyes, that distinctive snout. The other was human, or human-looking, with a scar running from temple to jaw. Both wore mismatched armor pieces and carried weapons at their hips.
The human's eyes locked on Will, and his expression shifted from bored to interested.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"
Will raised his hands, palms out. "Hey, look, I'm lost. I just need—"
"Lost?" The Rodian chittered, a sound that might have been laughter. "In that getup? You some kind of dancer?"
"What? No, I—"
The human stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he looked Will up and down. "No pockets. No gear. No credits." He glanced at his companion. "Idiot's wandering around the Outer Rim in his underwear."
"I'm not—this isn't—" Will's words tangled. His head was pounding, and these two were looking at him like he was prey. "I just need directions. I can—"
"Directions." The human grinned, showing teeth that had seen better days. "Sure, kid. We'll help you out."
The Rodian moved to Will's left, cutting off that angle. Will's pulse hammered in his ears. This was wrong. This was very wrong.
"Look, I don't want any trouble—"
"No trouble," the human said, still grinning. "Just a little transaction. You give us whatever you've got, we point you toward civilization. Easy."
"I don't have anything."
"We can see that." The human's hand drifted toward his belt. "Which makes you pretty useless, doesn't it? Unless—"
The Rodian said something in his own language, rapid and clicking.
The human's grin widened. "Good point. Slavers are always buying. And this one's young, healthy. Stupid, but that's not our problem."
Will's stomach dropped. "Wait—"
The human moved fast—faster than Will expected. Something metal flashed in his hand, and Will tried to dodge, but his body didn't respond the way his brain commanded. He was still figuring out how this new body worked, still adjusting to the different weight distribution, the unfamiliar strength.
The metal bar caught him across the temple.
Pain exploded through his skull, white and blinding. Will's legs gave out, and he was falling, the duracrete rushing up to meet him. He hit hard, his vision fragmenting into sparks and darkness.
The last thing he heard was the human's voice, distant and distorted:
"Get his legs. Ship's two blocks over."
Then nothing.
Will woke to humming.
Not voices—mechanical humming. A low, constant vibration that he felt through the floor beneath him. His head was a mess of pain, sharp and throbbing, and when he tried to move, his body protested.
He forced his eyes open.
Metal. He was surrounded by metal—walls, floor, ceiling. The space was cramped, maybe three meters by four, and most of it was taken up by cages. Actual cages, the kind you'd see in a zoo, but smaller. Crueler.
And they were full of people.
Will was in one of the cages, pressed against the bars with three other beings. A Twi'lek woman with blue skin and hollow eyes. A human man, older, with bruises covering his arms. A child—maybe ten years old, some species Will didn't recognize, with gray skin and too-large eyes.
The other cages held more. A dozen people, maybe more. All of them looked beaten down, exhausted. Most wore collars—thick metal bands around their necks.
Will's hand went to his own throat.
Metal. Cold and unyielding.
No. No, no, no—
The humming intensified, and the floor shifted slightly beneath him. Not an earthquake. Not a building.
A ship. He was on a ship. In space.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. He'd been knocked out, dragged onto a slaver ship, and now he was—what? Being transported somewhere to be sold?
This can't be happening. This can't—
His head throbbed, and he pressed his palm against his temple. The pain was intense, disorienting. He could feel something wrong inside his skull—swelling, maybe bleeding. A concussion at minimum.
And then, without thinking, he reached for something.
It wasn't a conscious decision. It was instinct, like reaching for a light switch in the dark. He touched something inside himself, something new and foreign, and information flooded in.
Biomancy.
The word appeared in his mind, along with knowledge he shouldn't have. He could feel the damage in his head—the swelling, the minor hemorrhaging, the inflammation. And he knew, with absolute certainty, how to fix it.
Will closed his eyes and followed the instinct.
It felt like flexing a muscle he'd never used before. Energy flowed through him—not from anywhere external, just from within, redirected and focused. The swelling in his brain began to recede. Blood vessels repaired themselves. Inflammation decreased.
The pain faded.
Will opened his eyes, breathing hard. The headache was gone. Completely gone. He felt clear-headed, alert, better than he had since waking up in that alley.
Holy shit. It worked. It actually worked.
He ran a quick internal scan—another instinct he didn't question—and found a dozen minor issues. Bruises forming on his ribs. Strained muscles in his back. Dehydration. He fixed them all, one by one, until his body felt better than it had in years.
Better than it ever had, actually.
Okay. Okay, I can do this. I have powers. I can—
Technomancy. The other power he'd grabbed from the Sea of Creation.
Will reached for it, and the world exploded into information.
He could feel the ship around him. Not see it—feel it, like it was an extension of his own nervous system. Every circuit, every wire, every system. The engines thrumming below. The life support cycling air. The navigation computer plotting a course.
And the nanites.
Will's attention snapped to his own body, to the black suit he was wearing. It wasn't a suit. It was nanites—billions of them, maybe trillions, formed into a flexible layer over his skin. And they were packed with power. Dimensional energy tap, pulling from somewhere else, somewhere infinite. The amount of energy they were generating eclipsed everything else on the ship.
Where did these come from?
He dug into the nanites' stored data, and his breath caught.
Blueprints. Schematics. Technical specifications for technology that shouldn't exist. Designs for ships, weapons, power systems, all of it based on the Technomancer novel he'd been reading before—before whatever had happened to him.
I was only trying to get the power. How did I get all of this?
No time to figure it out. He could analyze later. Right now, he needed to focus on not being a slave.
Will extended his technomancy through the ship, mapping everything. It was a small freighter—boxy, utilitarian, with minimal weapons and shields. The kind of ship that relied on speed and anonymity rather than firepower. There were four slavers aboard, plus a handful of droids. And the cargo hold where Will was imprisoned.
He accessed the navigation logs.
Nar Shaddaa. They were heading to Nar Shaddaa.
Will's stomach clenched. He knew that name. The Smuggler's Moon. Hutt-controlled territory. A place where slavery was legal and life was cheap.
A docking request was pending. They'd be there soon.
No. Not happening.
Will reached out with his technomancy and locked down the ship. Every door, every hatch, every access panel. He isolated the cargo hold, sealing it off from the rest of the vessel. Then he opened every door between the slavers and the airlocks.
The ship's internal sensors showed him what happened next.
The slavers were in the crew quarters when the doors opened. They had maybe two seconds to realize something was wrong before the airlocks cycled.
Atmosphere vented. The slavers were pulled toward the void, scrambling for handholds, screaming into comms that no longer worked. Will watched through the sensors as they were sucked out into space, their bodies tumbling away from the ship.
He felt nothing.
Maybe he should have. Maybe he should have hesitated, should have felt guilt or horror or something. But these people had knocked him out, collared him, caged him. They were going to sell him. Sell all of these people.
The ship shuddered as the last of the air expelled, then settled. Will closed the airlocks and began repressurizing the affected sections.
In the cargo hold, the other prisoners were stirring, confused by the sudden movement.
Will reached out with his technomancy and deactivated every cage lock. The doors swung open with a series of clicks.
Then he deactivated the collars.
His own collar clicked and fell away. Will caught it before it hit the floor, staring at the device in his hand. Explosive charge. Shock capability. Designed to kill or incapacitate at the press of a button.
He dropped it, his hands shaking.
Around him, the other prisoners were touching their necks, their collars falling away. The Twi'lek woman looked at Will, her eyes wide.
"What—how did you—"
"I'm getting you out of here," Will said. His voice came out steadier than he felt. "All of you. Just—stay calm. I'm setting a course for the nearest Republic world."
"You're a Jedi," the older human man said, his voice filled with awe.
Will didn't correct him. Let them think what they wanted. It would make this easier.
He accessed the navigation computer and plotted a course. The nearest Republic world was several days away, with stops at intermediate planets. He set the autopilot and locked it in.
Then he stood, his legs unsteady, and looked at the people around him.
They were staring at him like he was a miracle.
Will swallowed hard. "It's going to be okay. I promise."
He hoped he wasn't lying.
The next few days passed in a blur.
Will spent most of his time on the bridge, monitoring the ship's systems and making sure they stayed on course. The freed slaves—he couldn't think of them as anything else—kept their distance at first, watching him with a mixture of gratitude and fear.
Gradually, they warmed up.
The older human man was named Torvin. He'd been a farmer on some Outer Rim world before raiders had hit his settlement. The child was Neela, a Bith whose parents had been killed in front of her. The blue-skinned Twi'lek woman was Nayela, and she had four companions—other Twi'lek women, all of them young, all of them with the same haunted look in their eyes.
There were others, too. A Wookiee who'd been separated from his family. A pair of human siblings who'd been sold by their own parents. A Rodian mechanic who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They all had stories. They all had losses.
Will listened, and he tried not to think about how close he'd come to being one of them.
At each stop, people disembarked. Torvin left at the first planet, tears in his eyes as he thanked Will. Neela and the siblings left at the second. The Wookiee and the Rodian at the third.
By the time they reached Kashyyyk, only six people remained.
Will. And the five Twi'lek women.
The ship settled onto a landing platform in one of Kashyyyk's tree-cities, and Will opened the ramp. Wookiees were already approaching, their growls and roars filling the air. They'd been contacted ahead of time, told about the freed slaves.
Will stood at the top of the ramp, watching as the Wookiees boarded. They moved past him without acknowledgment, heading deeper into the ship to check for any remaining prisoners.
The five Twi'lek women stood behind him, silent.
Will glanced back at them. "This is Kashyyyk. You're safe here. The Wookiees will help you get settled, find work, whatever you need."
Nayela, the blue-skinned one who seemed to be their leader, tilted her head. "And you?"
"I—" Will hesitated. "I don't know. I need to figure out what I'm doing next."
"You saved us," one of the others said. She had green skin and bright, intelligent eyes. "You killed the slavers. You brought us here."
"Anyone would have—"
"No," Nayela interrupted. "They wouldn't have. Most people would have saved themselves and left the rest of us."
Will didn't know what to say to that.
The Wookiees finished their inspection and disembarked, gesturing for the women to follow. But none of them moved.
Nayela stepped closer to Will. "We have nothing to go back to. No homes. No families. No money." Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "If we leave this ship, we'll be starting from nothing."
"The Wookiees will help—"
"We don't want their help." Another woman spoke—this one with red skin and a sharper edge to her voice. "We want to stay with you."
Will blinked. "What?"
"You're powerful," Nayela said. "You have a ship. You're going somewhere, doing something. We want to be part of that."
"I—I'm not—" Will's thoughts scattered. "I don't even know what I'm doing. I just got here. I don't have a plan."
"Then we'll help you make one." The green-skinned woman smiled, and it was the first genuine smile Will had seen from any of them. "You need a crew, don't you? Every ship needs a crew."
Will looked at them—really looked at them. Five women, all young, all beautiful in that way Twi'leks were, with their colorful skin and head-tails. They were watching him with expressions he couldn't quite read. Gratitude, yes. But something else, too. Something calculating.
"I don't—" Will started, then stopped. What was he going to say? That he didn't need help? That he could do this alone?
He couldn't. He had no idea what he was doing. He had powers, yes, and a ship, and apparently a suit made of nanites. But he didn't know this galaxy. He didn't know how to navigate it, how to survive in it.
And these women were offering to help.
"Okay," Will said, the word coming out before he could second-guess it. "Okay, you can stay. But I don't know where we're going yet. I need time to figure things out."
Nayela's smile widened. "We have time."
The other women exchanged glances, and Will caught something in their expressions—relief, maybe, or satisfaction. Like they'd just won something.
He pushed the thought aside. They were grateful. That was all. They wanted to stay with the person who'd saved them. It made sense.
It made perfect sense.
The ship lifted off from Kashyyyk three hours later, and Will set a course for deep space. He needed time to think, to plan, to figure out what the hell he was going to do next.
The five women—Nayela, Tyvani (the green-skinned one), Alyeni (red skin), Meyra (pale blue), and Lunira (the youngest, with rare violet skin)—settled into the crew quarters. They moved through the ship like they belonged there, claiming bunks, exploring the galley, talking among themselves in low voices.
Will stayed on the bridge, staring at the star map and trying to make sense of his situation.
He was in the Star Wars universe. He had technomancy and biomancy. He had a ship and a crew he hadn't asked for. And he had no idea what came next.
The door to the bridge slid open, and Nayela stepped inside.
"We should talk," she said.
Will turned to face her. "About what?"
"About what happens now." She moved closer, her movements fluid and deliberate. "You saved us. We're grateful. But gratitude only goes so far."
Will's stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean we need to be useful to you. Otherwise, why keep us around?" Nayela's expression was calm, almost serene. "We don't have skills you need. We're not pilots or mechanics or soldiers. We're just—" She gestured at herself. "—pretty faces."
"That's not—"
"It is." She stopped in front of him, close enough that he could smell her—something floral and warm. "But we can offer you something else."
Will's mouth went dry. "I don't—"
"You're young," Nayela said, her voice soft. "Naive. Powerful, yes, but you don't know this galaxy. You don't know how to navigate it. We do." She reached out and touched his chest, her fingers light against the nanite suit. "Let us help you. Let us stay. And we'll make sure you don't regret it."
Will's heart was pounding. He knew what she was offering. He wasn't that naive.
"I'm not—I don't want—" The words tangled. "You don't have to do this. I'm not going to kick you off the ship."
"We know." Nayela's smile was gentle, almost affectionate. "But we want to. We've talked about it. All of us."
"All of—" Will's voice cracked. "What?"
The door opened again, and the other four women stepped inside. They moved to stand beside Nayela, forming a loose semicircle around Will.
Tyvani grinned. "You're cute when you're flustered."
"I'm not—" Will's face burned. "This is—you don't have to—"
"We want to," Meyra said, her voice quiet. "You saved us. You're kind. You're powerful. Why wouldn't we want to stay with you?"
"Because—" Will's thoughts were a mess. "Because I'm not—I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just—"
"You're exactly what we need," Alyeni said. Her voice was cooler than the others, more controlled. "And we're what you need, even if you don't realize it yet."
Lunira, the youngest, stepped forward. Her cheeks were flushed, and she wouldn't quite meet Will's eyes. "We've already decided. You don't have to—to do anything you don't want. But if you're willing—"
"We'd like to stay," Nayela finished. "With you. As more than just crew."
Will stared at them, his mind racing. This was insane. This was—
But they were beautiful. All of them. And they were looking at him like he was something special, something worth having. And he was lonely, and confused, and overwhelmed, and—
"Okay," Will heard himself say. "Okay."
Nayela's smile turned radiant. "Good."
She kissed him.
It was soft at first, tentative, like she was testing his reaction. Will froze, his brain short-circuiting. He'd been kissed before—awkward teenage fumbling, a few college hookups—but nothing like this. Nothing that felt this deliberate, this focused.
Nayela pulled back, her eyes searching his face. "Is this okay?"
Will nodded, not trusting his voice.
She kissed him again, deeper this time, and Will's hands came up to her waist without conscious thought. She was warm and solid against him, her body pressing close.
Someone else touched his shoulder—Tyvani, her fingers sliding down his arm. "Our turn?"
Will broke the kiss, gasping. "I—this is—"
"Too much?" Meyra's voice was gentle. "We can slow down."
"No, I—" Will's face was on fire. "I just—five of you?"
"Is that a problem?" Alyeni's tone was amused.
"I don't—I've never—" Will couldn't finish the sentence.
Lunira giggled, the sound nervous but genuine. "Neither have we. Not like this."
That helped, somehow. Knowing they were as uncertain as he was.
"Okay," Will said again. "Okay, we can—we can try this."
Nayela kissed him again, and this time Will kissed back. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. She made a soft sound against his mouth, and heat shot through him.
Tyvani's hands were on his back, sliding under the nanite suit—no, into it, somehow, the material parting for her touch. Will gasped, and Nayela took advantage, her tongue sliding against his.
This was happening. This was actually happening.
Meyra pressed against his side, her lips on his neck. Alyeni's fingers tangled in his hair. Lunira hovered nearby, watching with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
Will's knees felt weak. He was drowning in sensation—hands and mouths and warmth and the smell of five different women surrounding him. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, too much and not enough all at once.
Nayela pulled back, her breathing uneven. "Quarters. We should—"
"Yes," Will managed.
They moved as a group, stumbling through the corridors. Will's hands were on Nayela's hips, then Tyvani's waist, then someone else's—he couldn't keep track. They were all touching him, guiding him, pulling him along.
The crew quarters were cramped, the bunks too small for six people. They ended up on the floor, cushions and blankets pulled down to create a makeshift bed.
Will ended up on his back, Nayela straddling his hips. She was still fully clothed, but the weight of her was real and present. She leaned down and kissed him again, slow and deep.
"Tell us what you want," she murmured against his mouth.
"I don't—" Will's hands flexed on her thighs. "I don't know."
"Then we'll show you." Tyvani's voice came from his left. "And you tell us if you want us to stop."
Will nodded, his throat tight.
What followed was a blur of sensation and confusion and pleasure that Will's brain couldn't fully process. Hands everywhere—stroking, gripping, exploring. Mouths on his neck, his chest, his stomach. The nanite suit dissolved under their touch, reforming around their fingers, giving them access.
Nayela kissed him while Tyvani's hands worked lower. Meyra's mouth was on his throat, her teeth grazing his pulse. Alyeni's fingers traced patterns on his chest. Lunira watched, her face flushed, until Nayela pulled her down to join them.
Will's hands found skin—smooth and warm and real. He touched without thinking, following instinct, and the women responded with soft sounds and shifting bodies.
Someone's hand wrapped around his cock, and Will's hips jerked. He was hard—had been hard since the first kiss—and the touch was almost too much.
"Easy," Nayela murmured. "We've got you."
They did. They had him completely, surrounded and overwhelmed and helpless in the best possible way.
Tyvani stroked him, her grip firm and confident. Will's breath came in gasps, his hands clutching at whoever was closest. The pleasure built fast, too fast, and he tried to warn them—
"I'm—I can't—"
"It's okay," Meyra whispered. "Let go."
Will came with a strangled sound, his body arching off the floor. The orgasm hit him like a wave, white-hot and all-consuming. He felt it everywhere—in his cock, his stomach, his chest, his fingertips.
When he came back to himself, he was shaking. The women were still touching him, gentle now, soothing.
"Good?" Nayela asked, her voice warm.
Will nodded, not trusting his voice.
"We're not done," Tyvani said, grinning. "That was just the start."
Will's eyes widened. "I—what?"
"You have stamina, don't you?" Alyeni's tone was teasing. "With those powers of yours?"
Will hadn't thought about it, but—yes. He could feel his body already recovering, the biomancy working without conscious direction. The exhaustion was fading, replaced by renewed energy.
"I guess so," he said, his voice rough.
"Good." Nayela kissed him again. "Because we have a lot to teach you."
They did.
The next hours—or was it days?—passed in a haze. Will lost track of time, lost track of who was touching him and where. He learned the taste of each woman, the sounds they made, the way their bodies moved. He learned what made Nayela gasp, what made Tyvani laugh, what made Meyra whimper.
He learned that Alyeni liked control, that Lunira was shy but curious, that all of them were more experienced than he was but patient with his fumbling.
He came more times than he could count, and each time his body recovered faster. The biomancy kept him going, kept him hard, kept him able to match their pace.
By the time they finally stopped, Will was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by warm bodies and tangled limbs. His mind was blank, his body sated in a way he'd never experienced.
Nayela's head was on his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his stomach. "Still okay?"
"Yeah," Will managed. "More than okay."
She smiled against his skin. "Good. Because we're keeping you."
Will should have questioned that. Should have thought about what it meant, what he was getting into.
But he was too tired, too satisfied, too overwhelmed to care.
He closed his eyes and let himself drift, surrounded by warmth and the soft breathing of five women who'd just changed his life in ways he couldn't begin to understand.