55 C55 Knowhere’s Defenses!

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Peter stood at the heart of Knowhere's control center, his gaze fixed on the large monitor wall. The room was tense with the anticipation of war.

Alongside him were his allies: Carina, who operated the consoles with swift precision; Groot, his wooden form eerily calm; Cosmo, her eyes sharp and alert; and Howard the Duck, gripping a Tommy-gun with an excited look on his face.

The atmosphere was thick with tension and the low hum of the station's systems. Peter reached up and placed his mask securely on his face, his identity now hidden behind the reflective visor.

He tapped a button on the console, hailing the incoming fleet. "Let's greet our guests," he muttered under his breath.

Seconds ticked by like hours. Then, the monitor flickered and changed, revealing a gigantic slug-like form lounging on a lavish pedestal. Jabba the Hutt was flanked by slaves, including a green-skinned Twi'lek girl, whom Peter recognized from the Star Wars p*rn videos he once watched in his past life.

Peter was the first to break the silence. "Hello, I'm Star-Lord," he declared, prompting a mix of curious and skeptical looks from his companions, especially Howard.

"What the hell kind of name is that?" Howard asked, barely suppressing a chuckle.

"One moment, please…" Peter said, quickly muting the microphone. He turned to face his crew—or friends, or whatever they had become to him now. "Look, I can't use my real name, or the Jedi might catch on."

Howard raised an eyebrow, his beak curving into a smirk. "Whatever you say, Star-Boy…" His tone dripped with sarcasm as he leaned back, arms crossed.

Peter rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement flickering despite the tension. "Come on, it's a cool name. It's... mysterious."

Groot interjected with a low, rumbling chuckle. "I am Groot," he said, which only made Cosmo's tail wag as she stifled a snicker, seemingly understanding him.

Carina shook her head, smiling slightly. "Just focus, everyone. We have bigger problems than Peter's poor choice of aliases."

"Not you too, Carina…" he grumbled, glancing around at his team, hoping for a bit of support or at least a break in the teasing. "My dead mother gave me that name, you know…" he revealed, guilt tripping them.

At Peter's words, the air in the room shifted. The smiles faded from most faces, replaced by a collective pang of sympathy. Groot's expression seemed to soften, and even Cosmo's playful demeanor turned more subdued.

Carina's features softened immediately, her voice gentle. "I didn't know, Peter. I'm sorry."

Howard, completely indifferent to the somber mood, scoffed, "No wonder she croaked. I bet she offed herself to avoid the embarrassment of having named you 'Star-Prince.'"

Howard's flippant remark hit a nerve. Anger flared within Peter, and without a word, his hand shot up, fingers splayed. Howard's body lifted from the ground, hovering a few feet in the air as he frantically waved his arms, trying to regain some semblance of control.

"What the—let me down!" Howard squawked, his eyes wide with shock as he tried to aim his gun at Peter. But with a flick of his wrist, Peter telekinetically yanked the weapon from Howard's grip, sending it clattering across the room.

Howard floated helplessly as Peter drew him closer, his eyes burning with fury. "What did you just say? Repeat that, I dare you," Peter growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Just as Howard opened his beak to retort, Peter's grip tightened around his neck, albeit unseen, constricting his airflow. The room fell deathly silent, the others watching with wide eyes, stunned by the sudden display of force.

Choking and gasping for air, Howard's bravado vanished, replaced by fear. "I said… your mother must have been a very kind and… beautiful woman," he managed to croak out, his voice barely a whisper.

Satisfied, Peter released his telekinetic hold, and Howard plummeted to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. He lay there for a moment, coughing and rubbing his throat, struggling to catch his breath.

The rest of the crew was silent, taken aback by the intensity of the altercation. Groot's branches rustled uncomfortably, and Cosmo shifted her stance, her eyes fixed on Peter with a mix of concern and confusion. Carina bit her lip, her eyes darting between Peter and Howard, unsure of what to say or do next.

The tension lingered, a stark reminder of the power and emotions swirling within their leader. Howard, now sitting up and still catching his breath, looked up at Peter with a new understanding, perhaps even respect mixed with a hint of fear.

Peter, his anger subsiding into a small bit of regret, sighed deeply. "Look, I'm sorry about that man," he began, his tone calmer but still carrying a hint of the emotions that had just boiled over. "I can take a lot—jokes about me, my name, my looks, whatever. But I draw the line when it comes to my mom. That's off-limits."

Howard, still rubbing his throat and visibly shaken, grumbled out a reluctant apology. "Alright, alright... sorry about the mom crack. That was out of line," he muttered, avoiding Peter's gaze. His tone was gruff, and while not entirely sincere, it was clear he recognized the need to make amends.

Carina, sensing the lingering tension, stepped forward to redirect everyone's focus. "Okay, can we settle this later," she said, gesturing to the monitor, where Jabba was watching them with an amused look on his face. "When we don't have an audience watching…"

"Ah, my apologies…" Peter said as he unmuted the microphone. "Where was I again? Oh, yeah, as I was saying, I'm Star-Lord, the current ruler of Knowhere. And I suggest you turn your fleet around before I turn it into a floating scrapyard," he declared, his voice steady and authoritative through the mask's modulator.

Jabba's laughter boomed through the speakers, a deep, menacing sound. The interpreter, a nervous-looking humanoid, quickly translated as his master spoke. "You stand before the great and powerful Jabba the Hutt. He sees not a ruler, but a child playing at games. The city and its treasures will be his."

Peter clenched his fists, frustration simmering. "This isn't a game, Jabba. Pull back now, or you and your fleet will become nothing but space dust."

The Hutt's response was a dismissive snort, his massive form shifting with amusement. "The magnificent Jabba will not be threatened by the likes of you. Knowhere and everything in it is his for the taking," the interpreter relayed, a hint of fear in his voice.

Realizing that negotiations were futile, Peter sighed heavily and cut the transmission, Jabba's laughter still echoing in the room.

Carina, watching the screen go dark, turned to Peter with a look of concern. "What are we supposed to do now?" Her voice carried the weight of their dire situation.

Groot stood silently beside her, his posture tense and ready for battle, conveying his readiness without a word. Meanwhile, Cosmo began to pace anxiously around the room, her ears twitching at every small sound, reflecting her worry.

Howard, slightly less tense after his earlier confrontation with Peter, walked over to where his gun had landed. He picked it up and cocked it with a decisive click, his actions signaling his readiness to fight.

Peter, noticing the apprehension in Carina's question, smirked slightly and replied, "Why are you so worried? Haven't you seen the Collector's security system?"

"You mean the turrets in the city?" Carina asked in confusion.

"No," Peter shook his head.

When he referred to the Collector's security system, he meant more than just the typical defenses of the palace or the city. Knowhere, as a central hub of interstellar trade and information, was equipped with an exceptionally advanced anti-invasion security system, specifically designed to repel any unauthorized fleets attempting to seize control.

Peter gestured to the holographic display that flickered to life, illuminating the dim room with blueprints and data streams of Knowhere's intricate security measures. "The Collector wasn't just amassing treasures; he was protecting the as well, fortifying against any conceivable threat," he said, his voice carrying through the control center with a mix of awe and respect.

As the diagrams shifted and zoomed, highlighting various components, Peter continued, "This station is rigged with automated defense plasma cannons, but that's just the first layer. They're programmed to engage at the first sign of an unauthorized approach, using precision targeting to take out enemy crafts with high-energy plasma. But there's more to it than just brute force."

He tapped the display, causing it to shift to a schematic of the station's core. "Deep inside Knowhere, there's a network of sensors and AI-operated defense mechanisms. If a fleet like Jabba's thinks they can simply waltz in and take what they want, they're in for a rude awakening. These systems are designed to deploy countermeasures that can disable a ship's navigation and weapons systems, effectively blinding and binding them before they even get close."

Peter continued, his smirk widening. "And while the ships are stuck, drones—armed with explosives and EMPs—launch in a coordinated strike, targeting anything that moves without the correct IFF codes."

Groot's eyes followed the moving parts of the diagram, his low rumble filling the room as if to say he approved of such thorough preparedness.

Howard, having checked his gun, looked up with newfound interest. "And what if they just say f*ck it and fire at us from a distance?"

Peter grinned at Howard's blunt inquiry, tapping on the holographic display to bring up a new set of diagrams. "That's where the next piece of the puzzle comes in," he explained. "Knowhere is equipped with a powerful deflector shield that automatically activates when it detects incoming fire. This shield isn't average either; it's powered by a miniaturized sun housed within the stations core."

He pointed to a glowing orb at the center of the station's schematic. "This micro-sun provides an immense amount of energy, enabling the shield to deflect all attacks with incredible efficiency. It would take a monumental force to even make a dent in it. So, if they decide to just fire from a distance, they'll find themselves wasting ammo against an unyielding barrier."

As Peter finished his explanation, a hush fell over the room. The team looked from the schematics back to Peter, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. It seemed like they were worried for no reason at all.

Peter's understanding and control over these complex systems were all thanks to his Mechu-Deru ability, which allowed him to take command of the station with remarkable ease. Without it, he might still be struggling to grasp the full extent of the controls, and many of the advanced security measures installed by his predecessor would likely have remained undiscovered.

"Enough talk," Peter declared, his voice firm and resonant through the mask's modulator. "How about we see what this stuff can really do? Jabba made his choice, and now, we make ours."

Placing his shining hand on the control panel, Peter seamlessly melded his consciousness with the station's intricate network of defenses, initiating the deployment sequence. From the station's periphery, hundreds of large, highly advanced plasma cannons unfolded with mechanical precision, their formidable barrels aiming into the cold void of space.

The residents of Knowhere, who moments ago were going about their daily routines, now stood frozen, gazing up in awe and fear. A collective gasp swept through the crowd as they noticed the incoming fleet in the distance.

Back in the control center, Peter turned to Cosmo, who was watching the fleet's approach with intense focus. "Alright, Cosmo, since you've been such a good dog lately, I'll let you pick. Which ship should we shoot first?" he asked, a sly grin spreading under his helmet as he gestured towards the looming figures on the screen.

Cosmo craned her head upward, her sharp eyes fixating on a large cruiser on the left. She nodded firmly, and Peter echoed the nod with approval. "Good choice," he smirked.

Outside, the cannons aligned in unison, locking onto their target. The command was given, and a deafening boom resonated through Knowhere as the cannons discharged simultaneously. Brilliant streaks of plasma shot across space, tracing a fiery path toward the chosen ship.

Civilians watched, hearts in their throats, as the plasma connected with the cruiser. The impact was catastrophic—within seconds, the ship was engulfed in a bright explosion, fragments scattering across the dark canvas of space. The ship, along with all its occupants, was obliterated, leaving nothing but wreckage where it once stood.

Inside the control center, a hushed awe settled over the crew, stunned by the display of their own firepower.

"See?" Peter looked smug, his tone light but underlined with seriousness. "You guys have nothing to worry about."

As the initial shock faded, murmurs of agreement filled the room. Howard, now standing by the window, gun in hand, muttered. "I was hoping to shoot some guys myself though..."

Carina, ignoring Howard's bloodthirstiness, gave Peter a curious glance. "What's the next step?" she asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

Peter surveyed the monitors, his gaze sharp. "Next, we take out the remaining ten or so ships and wrap this up. We might even scavenge them for useful bits later, but that all depends on how much is left…"

…

Peter continued his assault on Jabba the Hutt's fleet from the heart of Knowhere's control center. With precision and a touch of enjoyment, he fired the station's plasma cannons, successfully destroying two more enemy ships that had begun to retaliate. The spectacle was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Outside, the citizens of Knowhere watched the sky light up with explosions. Artillery fire from the remaining ships streaked toward them, a deadly light show that threatened their very existence.

But just as panic began to grip the crowd, Knowhere's shields activated, glowing a vibrant blue as they absorbed and deflected the incoming attacks.

The artillery exploded harmlessly against the shield, eliciting cheers of relief and jubilation from the onlookers. They celebrated their survival with each burst of enemy fire that failed to penetrate their sanctuary.

Inside the control room, the mood was equally triumphant but focused. Peter and his crew were locked in a battle of attrition, picking off the enemy ships one by one.

With each ship's destruction, a sense of victory grew. Until finally, only the flagship remained, looming large on the main screen, its guns silent as if contemplating its next move.

And just as Peter prepared to deliver the final blow, the communication console beeped insistently. Jabba the Hutt was calling for a parley. With a confident smirk, Peter tapped the console to accept the transmission.

The image of Jabba that appeared was remarkably different from before. The smugness had drained from his face, replaced by a scowl of frustration and defeat. Even his throne room was in disarray, showing the chaos he was enduring.

"Hello, there." Peter greeted, a ruthless smirk curled beneath his mask. "Ready to die, you fat ugly slug?"

A/N: 2556 words :) Long boy…

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