Chapter 17: Echoes of the Past
POV: Oliver
Three days in hyperspace feels like three lifetimes when confined to the Razor Crest's cramped quarters. The ship's recycled air carries the mingled scents of blaster lubricant, Grogu's meals, and the lingering ozone of overtaxed life support systems. Oliver sits cross-legged on the cargo hold floor, methodically cleaning his blaster under Cara's watchful instruction.
[HP: 230/230]
[MP: 106/106]
[REGENERATION BOOST: EXPIRED]
[SYSTEM STATUS: STABLE]
"Not like that," Cara says, reaching over to adjust his grip on the cleaning rod. "You're treating it like it's going to bite you. A blaster's just a tool—dangerous if you don't respect it, useless if you're afraid of it."
Oliver's hands still shake slightly as he follows her instructions. The weapon feels alien in his grip, despite countless hours of practice. His enhanced abilities scream that he's built for creation, not destruction, yet recent events have forced him to cross lines he never wanted to approach.
"There," Cara says as he successfully disassembles the weapon's firing mechanism. "Better. You might actually hit something intentionally one of these days."
"Optimistic," Oliver mutters, then freezes as his datapad emits a soft chime.
[ENCRYPTED FILE UNLOCKED]
[PRIORITY: MAXIMUM]
[SOURCE: DR. ELIAS VOSS - PERSONAL ARCHIVE]
Oliver's blood runs cold. The final message—the one his datapad has been slowly decrypting for weeks—sits in his queue like a digital landmine waiting to detonate.
"I need a minute," he says, gathering the device with hands that have started trembling for entirely different reasons.
Cara studies his expression with the analytical gaze of someone trained to read battlefield stress. "Bad news?"
"I don't know yet."
POV: Din Djarin
From the cockpit, Din can hear the quiet murmur of conversation from the cargo hold—Cara's measured tones contrasting with Oliver's nervous responses. In the three days since leaving Nevarro, the dynamic between his passengers has shifted in ways that speak to bonds forged through shared trauma.
Grogu sits in the copilot's chair, using the Force to manipulate his metal sphere in increasingly complex patterns. The child's power continues to grow, but so does his attachment to their makeshift family. Din wonders if that attachment will complicate whatever the Jedi decides about Grogu's training.
"Attachment leads to suffering," the ancient teachings say. But Din has watched Oliver nearly die protecting the child, seen Cara position herself between Grogu and danger without hesitation. If that's suffering, it's the kind worth enduring.
His navigation console shows their approach to Corvus—still six hours out, but close enough to begin descent protocols. The planet appears on long-range sensors as a sphere wrapped in atmospheric disturbance, its surface details obscured by what looks like perpetual storm systems.
Behind him, he hears Oliver's sharp intake of breath, followed by absolute silence.
Something has changed.
POV: Oliver
The video file opens to reveal Dr. Elias Voss—alive, terrified, recording in what appears to be a laboratory under siege. Blaster fire echoes in the background, and smoke drifts across the frame like digital ghosts.
Voss looks directly into the camera with Oliver's own gray eyes, but the expression is entirely different—haunted, desperate, touched with the particular fear of someone who understands exactly what's coming for them.
"If you're watching this," Voss begins, his voice steady despite the chaos around him, "the resurrection worked. But it won't be me. I designed the Host Control System to be autonomous—it needed a pilot, not a prisoner."
Oliver's enhanced hearing picks up the sound of approaching footsteps in the recording, the mechanical whine of Imperial technology powering up for execution.
"The Syndicate wanted to force-bond it to Imperial soldiers," Voss continues, speaking faster now. "Create perfect weapons that could be controlled from orbit. I refused. So they killed me."
The camera shakes as an explosion rocks the laboratory. Voss steadies himself against a workstation, his breathing ragged.
"If someone else is in my body now... I'm sorry. You didn't ask for this. The system chooses based on psychological compatibility—someone who values life, who sees connection everywhere, who could use this power for creation rather than destruction."
Oliver's throat constricts. The Host Control System didn't grab a random consciousness from the void. It selected him specifically, based on criteria he's never understood until this moment.
"You're not me," Voss says, looking directly through the camera with desperate intensity. "But you're wearing my sins. Use the power better than I did. And if the Syndicate finds you..."
The laboratory door explodes inward. Imperial stormtroopers flood the frame.
"Run," Voss whispers, and the recording cuts to black.
POV: Cara Dune
Cara finds Oliver in the cargo hold twenty minutes later, sitting motionless with the datapad dark in his lap. His expression carries the particular numbness that comes after trauma overload—the point where the mind simply stops processing additional horror.
"Talk to me," she says, settling beside him on the supply crates.
Oliver stares at the bulkhead for a long moment before speaking. "I need to tell you something. About what I am. About where I came from."
Cara prepares herself for revelation, though nothing could prepare her for what follows.
Oliver explains everything—the video, the Host Control System, the consciousness transfer that put someone else entirely into Voss's dead body. He speaks with clinical precision, as if discussing someone else's medical condition rather than his own existential crisis.
"So you're not the monster who made bioweapons," Cara says when he finishes. "You're someone else entirely who got handed a shit deal."
Oliver looks at her with something approaching shock. "You believe me?"
"I've seen you with Grogu. I've watched you risk everything for people you barely know. I don't care whose face you're wearing." Cara takes his hand—not romantically, but as an anchor point in a universe gone mad. "I care who you are."
"But what if I don't know who I am?" Oliver's voice breaks slightly. "What if I'm just... fragments of someone who died and got stuffed into a corpse?"
Cara considers this with the pragmatic assessment that military service teaches. "Then you figure it out as you go. You're Oliver—that's what matters. The rest is just details."
The simplicity of her acceptance hits Oliver like a physical blow. For the first time since waking up in Voss's body, someone has looked at the complete truth of his existence and chosen to stand with him anyway.
He nearly breaks down, but Cara's steady presence keeps him grounded.
"You're not alone," her grip seems to say. "Whatever you are, however you got here, you belong with us now."
POV: Oliver
Din's voice echoes through the ship's comm system: "We're approaching Corvus. Everyone to the cockpit."
Oliver wipes his face with the back of his hand, grateful for the interruption before his emotional control completely dissolves. Cara squeezes his shoulder as they make their way forward, a gesture of support that speaks louder than words.
In the cockpit, Corvus fills the main viewport like a promise and a threat in equal measure. The planet's surface appears scorched, wrapped in atmospheric disturbance that suggests environmental catastrophe on a planetary scale.
"Sensors show minimal surface water," Din reports. "Atmospheric composition is borderline toxic. Whatever happened here, it wasn't natural."
Oliver studies the planet's wounded surface and feels something twist in his enhanced awareness. This is what happens when people like Voss—like him—choose destruction over creation.
"When we find the Jedi," Din says quietly, "if they can help you understand what you are... do you want that?"
The question Oliver has been avoiding crystallizes in the space between heartbeats. Part of him wants to remain ignorant, to never dig deeper into the mystery of his origins. But as he looks at Grogu playing with his sphere, at Cara's steady presence, at Din's unwavering trust, he realizes the answer.
"Yeah. I do. Because whoever I was before, I chose to be here now." Oliver meets Din's visor steadily. "And I want to make sure I honor that choice."
Din nods approval. Grogu coos softly, reaching out with one tiny hand to pat Oliver's arm in a gesture of comfort that transcends species and circumstance.
[CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT MILESTONE REACHED]
[+2,000 XP BONUS]
[TOTAL: 8,000/15,000 TOWARD LEVEL 5]
[IDENTITY CRISIS: RESOLVING]
[FAMILY BONDS: STRENGTHENED]
[QUEST UPDATE: FIND THE JEDI - DESTINATION REACHED]
As Corvus grows larger in the viewport, Oliver feels something like peace settle over him. Whatever the Jedi reveals, whatever the Syndicate wants, he knows one truth now: he's not Dr. Voss's ghost.
He's Oliver, and for the first time since his resurrection, that feels like enough.
POV: The Watcher
The figure crouched in Corvus's dying forests watches the Razor Crest's descent through advanced optical equipment. Agent Wraith has been monitoring the planet for weeks, waiting for this moment when multiple variables converge into opportunity.
Her mission parameters have evolved since Nevarro. The neural enhancer she administered exceeded all projections—Oliver's abilities continue to grow at an exponential rate, while his psychological stability remains surprisingly intact.
"He's becoming more than we designed," she notes with professional interest. "The question is whether that makes him more valuable or more dangerous."
Through her scope, she watches the ship settle into a clearing several kilometers from Calodan. Soon, Oliver will encounter the Jedi, and the Force-sensitivity will interact with his artificial enhancement in ways even the Syndicate's scientists cannot predict.
Wraith activates her encrypted comm unit and sends a brief message to dead-drop coordinates scattered across the Outer Rim:
"Phase Three proceeding as planned. Subject approaching critical development threshold. Recommend enhanced monitoring protocols. The investment continues to exceed expectations."
The message is acknowledged and deleted.
In the distance, the Razor Crest's engines cool with metallic settling sounds. Soon, Oliver will face questions about his nature that he cannot answer.
Wraith settles in to watch what happens when artificial enhancement meets the Force's ancient wisdom.
The results should be illuminating.
+1 CHAPTER AFTER EVERY 3 REVIEWS
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ The Mandalorian and the Transmigrator ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ The Mandalorian and the Transmigrator ] with exclusive access to 25+ chapters on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse, Breaking Bad , The Walking dead ,The Hobbit,Wednesday].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!