Chapter Two: Fight or Flight

Chapter Two

"Fight or Flight"

*Aboard the ISD Vengeance, Outer Rim*

         An ensign walked up to a large door, slid a document underneath, and briskly walked away.

         Talon walked to the door to discipline whoever had been so disrespectful, but stopped in his tracks upon seeing the document. It was marked Secret, and held the stamp of Moff Waugh’s office in the bottom corner.

         The fact that the document was hardcopy was reason enough to make something big of it—Waugh hated putting orders in writing. Talon knew he owed his place to Waugh, so he must treat whatever the request was with utmost importance.

         That was not a problem once he skimmed the short document. Sia-Lan Jaspor had been tracked to the small planet of Concord Dawn. Stupidly, Waugh had requested a Hand of the Emperor to assist in the arrest. I’m the one who’s dealt with them before. He left his office, heading for the lift. The fact was, Waugh had to call in his personal assets to deal with the problem four years ago, as Talon had continued to fail at that one mission.

         “Make course for Concord Dawn and waste no time,” Talon ordered as he walked onto the bridge and took his chair.

         “Yes, Admiral,” the helmsman responded as he stood to attention.

*The surface of Concord Dawn*

         “I told them to meet us at the starport; that way there won’t be a random ship showing up suddenly on sensors near your place. Well…that, and we didn’t know exactly where you were at,” Max said with a smirk.

         “That was working pretty well for me, too,” Sia said with sigh.

         “Don’t think I’m not content with the merc work I’ve been doing, but you gotta admit we four made a pretty good team back in the day.”

         “Heh. I suppose you have a point, but that was also what got us two in trouble,” Sia replied, all seriousness.

         Max saw that Sia still felt considerable agony over the situation, so he decided to end the conversation prematurely.

*Aboard the Wreckless, hyperspace*

         It didn’t seem like a long jump, but time has a way of being relative when you’re busy. Her and Mils had a tendency to go through ships fairly frequently, for various reasons. They both liked to pick replacements that neither had flown before. This one was a Nova Courier, a Gallofree Yards, Inc. light transport. Gallofree was out of business, which made getting parts painful, but it was a fun little ship for now.

         Unfortunately, Mils hadn’t made more than a couple “modifications” yet. Both of those were sensor-shielded hidden cargo compartments. Knowing the kind of trouble that Max tended to get into (not to mention the kind that he’d asked for help on), well, they might be in trouble.

         In short, they needed all the help they could get.

         Luckily, they didn’t have general cargo aboard. They could hold the extra people. Unluckily, they’d just picked up a not-to-legal shipment. Nothing useful like weapons or bacta, of course. No, this was some sort of communications gear. Or at least that’s what they’d been told—it actually looked more like splicer-type equipment, but Mils didn’t know how to use that. Sharliss might have, if she and computers didn’t mix poorer than a three-colored drink. In the drink, that was a good thing. On their missions, it had resulted in tripped alarms and accidental discoveries of long-lost recipes. Long story.

         What it all meant was that they had a ship carrying expensive stuff that wasn’t theirs. She really didn’t know what it was, she just delivered. The first, last, and only time she’d gone to meet Sia with that sort of thing in the ship, she’d lost the ship, the cargo, and a healthy dose of respect for the Rebellion. Blackmail and a bounty on hanging over her head being beautiful things, she’d worked for them anyhow. Sharliss realized her mind was wandering.

         So. A top and bottom turret, for defense. Mils could control the bottom until the others got on board, if it came to that. Mediocre shielding, decent armor. No bulky cargo meant she’d be easier to maneuver. These were their assets. They might be enough if she didn’t expect a pair of Star Destroyers and an Interdictor to be waiting for them.

         Mils was in the engine room, tinkering with the maneuvering systems. The good thing about Nova Couriers was that they were easy to jury-rig. The bad thing was that was often the only way to repair them, as parts were virtually non-existent. As a result, things usually didn’t work as well as they should. This was something Sharliss had never worried about. Then again, she hadn’t had this feeling in a long time. Mils actually preferred to set the maneuvering jets a bit out of kilter, saying it made for a more interesting ride. She’d told him to get to work on them.

         Meanwhile, the ship hurtled through hyperspace. Sharliss tried to optimize the targeting system—they had really needed to upgrade that, too, but hadn’t had the ship long enough. It’s always the little things. She just hoped she wasn’t making it worse. Even Mils must be worried if he was letting her tinker with the computers.

         All in all, Concord Dawn arrived entirely too quickly.

*Outside of Concord Hill Starport*

         Max brought the cruiser to a stop as soon as he could see the entrance to the starport.

         “What’s the problem?” Sia inquired.

         “Stormtroopers posted on the port. We’re on the Rim; they only post them there during heightened alert. Looks like we’re expected.”

         “Well, getting off without problems was certainly wishful thinking,” Sia responded.

         “Can you ‘deal’ with them?” Max asked as he mockingly waved his arm around. Sia appeared bothered by either the comment or assumption. Max could think of nothing to say next other than a sheepish apology.

         “Do you think we can get in? Sneaking, disguises?” Sia inquired.

         “Even on an Outer Rim planet, the Imperials keep their starports secure. I got this trooper uniform, but it’ll seem out of place, and you’re…well…you don’t blend in real well,” Max replied. His strategy voice. They were in trouble if he was using it already.

         “I suppose you’re right. Let’s set up camp at the bottom of the hill. We can wait and hope that Mils gets the ship here in time, and then figure it out.”

         With no better ideas himself, Max turned the speeder around, ensuring he didn’t garner the attention of the stormtroopers at the entrance. He stopped the cruiser at the bottom of the hill and climbed out.

         “I got some food and water in here if you’d like,” Max said as he tossed a backpack to Sia.

         “Thanks,” Sia returned as he climbed out of the cruiser.

*Upper atmosphere of Concord Dawn*

         “So you know whereabouts his place is down there, Shar?” Mils asked over the com, scanning the holo-map of the planet.

         “I think I remember where we dropped him, but let’s treat this as a simple resupply stop. Gaining the attention of the local Imperial contingent would be bad,” Sharliss said matter-of-factly from the upper turret. Their days with the Rebellion had taught them one thing, at least—always man the defenses.

         “Got it.” The Farghul keyed the com. “Wreckless to Concord Dawn. Request resupply and refueling.”

         “Proceed to Bay 3. Be warned that the starport is under alert. All ships will be searched,” came the response.

         “Son of a...” Sharliss’ mind and mouth echoed one another.

         “Understood, I guess we’ll meet you in Bay 3 then,” Mils laughed across the com. Years of smuggling had trained him how to keep cool in worse situations. “You put that gear in the hold, or did you leave it out to break?” Mils shouted back towards the turrets.

         Sharliss was already walking towards the galley, where their not-too-legal cargo was sitting. In no time, she had put it into their smuggling hold.

         The ship jerked as it slowed in its approach to Concord Hill.

         “Didn’t you fix those jets during the trip?” Sharliss asked with a hair of annoyance as she got back into her turret.

         Mils knew it wasn’t the jets. Keeping quiet, he finished his descent into Bay 3, which already had four stormtroopers awaiting their arrival in the middle of the pad. “Beautiful day for trouble, at least.”

*Upper atmosphere of Concord Dawn*

         “Ensign, go awake the Admiral and inform him we have finished our jump. Concord Dawn is in view,” the operations officer ordered. Talon tended to take his rare off-duty time whenever they had a hyperspace jump, so his main job was to make sure they got to their destination successfully. And then wake up Talon; even firing upon their target was probably outside his job description, but he wasn’t ever sure.

         A few minutes later the Admiral walked onto the bridge, uniform crisp. Despite the shortness of the jump and the sixteen hours of duty prior to it, he showed no signs of fatigue.

         “Operations officer, battle stations. Level three alert, launch Alpha Squadron and the landing craft,” Talon barked as he took his place.

         Caught off guard, the officer jerked in surprise. “Excuse me sir? Is this an exercise?”

         “Commander Rhys, I am the Admiral of this fleet, level three alert, this is not a drill!” Talon said, annoyed. “They will not get away this time,” he muttered under his breath.

*Bay 3, Concord Hill Starport*

         “You actually managed to bring us down without a problem this time Mils, congratulations,” Sharliss said across the com sarcastically.

         No smart-ass response. Bad sign. She keyed the com again. “Problem Mils?”

         “Um, yeah. You might wanna get down here, Shar. I just saw a squad of stormtroopers go running by; something’s up.”

         “For the love of...” No reason to stop swearing now. Just like old times. Sharliss climbed down from her turret.

         “Don’t forget that the Empire won’t like an ‘alien’; you own this ship, I’m just your pilot,” Mils said, lowering the boarding ramp. Sharliss seemed flustered; she was always the cool one, something here was obviously different for her.

         “Right, I got it. Just gotta keep our cool,” Sharliss said as she reached towards the button for the door. But she knew that she already lost her cool; hopefully they wouldn’t know.

         Her mind raced. Could they already have gotten Max and Sia? Were they just waiting for her and Mils to arrive? No, that’s crazy. Was Max with them, trying…absolutely not. That was worse than crazy, that was…

         “Ma’am, documents for your ship, please. Ma’am?” Sharliss finally heard, helped by a small shove in the back. The administrator looked up at her from the base of the ramp.

         “Come on, Shar,” Mils whispered in her ear.

         “Of course, sir, here they are. No inventory on board. Just need some fuel before we head back on our way,” Sharliss said as she walked down the ramp. She handed over the mostly-legitimate documents.

         “That might be a problem ma’am,” he said blandly, looking over the forms. “We’re under alert. All ships must be inspected, and the starport’s shut down until further notice.” He closed the folder, handing it back to her. “It might take a few days. But I’m sure we have spare rooms available, for a small fee.”

         Just gotta keep our cool, huh?

*Outside of Concord Hill Starport*

         Max checked his watch. That can’t be them; too quick. It’d been a good six hours since his signal, the day stretching into early afternoon. As he was sitting back down he trained the macrobinoculars on the ship anyways. He saw figure in the top turret of the landing ship…wearing that jacket? Sharliss!

         He walked over to the back of the cruiser and shook Sia’s shoulder. “Time to wake up. Our ride is here.”

         Sia was conscious quickly. “I thought you said at least a day?” he responded as he slowly stood up. They’d been trading sleep shifts in case they had to run that night.

         “Well, you know Mils.”

         “So then, you manage to come up with a plan yet?”

         “Well, it’s a long shot, but it’s either this or go in guns a’ blazin’. I got my captain’s uniform. We go with you in cuffs as my prisoner; I’ll give you the key. I’ll pull rank as long as I can, and then we make a break for the ship. Just keep your head down in there,” Max said, looking up the hill towards the port.

         “Still better than any idea I could come up with. Let’s go,” Sia said as he put out his wrists. Max put the bindings on and donned his uniform, then jumped in the cruiser.

         “I’ll be playing rough, so don’t take it personally.”

         Sia nodded and they took off to the top of the hill. I’m just hoping you don’t report me in before we get up there.

         Max didn’t, instead jumping out of the cruiser at the top of the hill and grabbing Sia’s shoulder. “Stand up,” he shouted at Sia, who complied quickly.

         The trooper was obviously fresh out of training as he was standing at attention twenty feet away. “Prisoner transfer to an Imperial transport,” Max stated as he approached the guard.

         He obviously had no idea what to do, so just popped off a salute. “Yes, Sir! Will you be paying a visit to the commander, Sir?”

         “Yes, I’ll stop in at the armory to see the Major on my way through.” Sia could detect the hope in Max’s voice. Maybe we can pull this off.

         “Sir, um…Major Wilkins has been replaced by Captain Tristan…Sir!”

         “Thank you corporal, that is all.”

         Max was lucky without even knowing it. Concord Hill Starport procedures required identification checks of all arrivals, whether military or civilian. Corporal Sheperd had forgotten. He spent the next ten minutes trying to decide how he would inform command that he hadn’t asked for identification for a spec ops captain with prisoner; by that time it was already too late.

         “One down, ten to go.” Sia breathed as he turned the corner and saw a whole squad of troopers running down the hallway.

         They continued walking towards the bays and were nearly at Bay 1 when they heard a shout from behind. “Cap’n, the armory was the last turn to the right.” Max turned around to find a grizzled warrant officer approaching.

         “I’ll take the prisoner to my transport and stop by the armory later, thank you!” Max said with overbearing annoyance to his voice.

         “Sir, all prisoners leaving the port must stop by the armory for processing.” The warrant officer obviously knew his regulations.

         “Thank you, Chief. That is all!” Max barked in response.

         The warrant office began to walk towards the pair. “I’ll take him for you, Sir.” There was no pulling rank on him.

         Sia nodded slightly at Max. He had a plan, and Max hoped it was the same as his. Waiting until the warrant officer was nearly to Sia, he turned so as to get his back towards a door to a supply closet. “Chief, you’ll return to the armory, and I’ll deal with your insubordination when I get there!” Max was fuming.

         The warrant office was actually beginning to get annoyed, “Cap’n, this is my starport. My rul…”

         The warrant officer wasn’t able to finish his statement as Max grabbed him and slammed him against the closet, hard. Before he could react, Sia landed a sharp blow to his temple with the hilt of his vibrodagger. Between them, they stashed the unconscious man into the closet before anyone could see.

         “Hurry up, I think they might be up in Bay 2, maybe 3,” Max said as he peeked out of the closet.

         Sia was watching behind them when he saw a familiar figure walk around the corner at the end of the hall. “Mils!” Sia shouted without thinking.

         Just then four stormtroopers came around the corner out of Bay 2.

         “Captain, do you need help with the prisoner?” The lead stormtrooper knew something didn’t add up.

         “I can handle him, Sergeant,” Max responded.

         The sergeant was already jumping past Max before the response was finished. “Where’s your master at?” the soldier questioned Mils as he walked up to him. “You wait here. Barr, watch him!” The soldier turned to respond to Max.

         “Sergeant, I can handle this. That alien is my personal pilot. You’ll let him join us in Bay 3.”

         “Sir, your prisoner knows your…” The lead stopped and activated his comlink.

         “Squad three to control. We have a special operations captain here with a prisoner. Says they’re with the Nova Courier in Bay 3.”

         “Detain them!” Max heard from his comlink, tuned to the same channel. The stormtroopers jumped for cover behind the bay doors after he downed the lead with his blaster carbine. “Go!”

         Mils and Sia wasted no time and took off for Bay 3. “Shar, we got company soon. Start up the engines,” Mils said into his handheld com as he ran towards the ship. Max was right on their heels, keeping the Imperials back with blaster fire.

         “Glad we found you Mils, not sure we would have made it out. Well, not without doing this,” Sia said as they ran, jumping into Bay 3 just ahead of a flurry of blaster bolts.

         Max burst up the ramp and handed off the carbine to Sia as he did. He headed straight to the bottom turret.

         Sia kept most of them pinned, but a number of stormtroopers group managed to jump behind shipping crates inside the bay.

         “Max, three behind the blue crate to the left and one more behind that food crate.” Sia shouted towards the turrets.

         Max didn’t waste time targeting. He fired the laser cannons at all the crate he saw. Stormtroopers went flying, smoke billowing out of the bay. Sia raised the ramp, and then turned for the bridge. He jumped into the right seat as Mils powered up the thrusters.

         “Got the stormtroopers pinned down; good to go,” Max yelled across the comm.

         “We’ve…got some company…” Sharliss relayed, a hint of worry in her voice.

         Mils lifted the Courier out of the Bay as the sensors came online.

*Atmosphere of Concord Dawn*

         The Wreckless rocketed away from Concord Hill as Mils fed the engines. He hugged the terrain to try and mask the ship from sensors—unlikely with a Star Destroyer directly overhead, but old habits died hard. The ship’s impromptu name seemed more than appropriate as they ripped through a valley lower than the trees to either side. “The ship won’t work for you unless you’ve named it. That’s the rule,” Mils had claimed, and so Wreckless had been born.

         Sensors showed the Vengeance turning to follow their track. A full squadron of TIE Fighters was already bearing down on them, and Sharliss wouldn’t bet against Talon sending more. Not that we know it's Talon—but we do know. Just like old times. Outgunned, on the run, and generally out of luck? Check.

         She really wished they were in the Banshee. It was one thing to agree that not using it helped avoid this kind of situation. It was another to actually be in this situation.

         The com crackled to life. “Com check. Mils, bridge.”

         “Sia-Lan, bridge.”

         “Sharliss, top turret.”

         “Max, bottom turret.”

         “Copy all. Looks like I have a mountain range to play in,” Mils said, sounding excited.

         Sharliss made sure to check her seat harness, just in case. “Good thing I skipped lunch today,” she added.

         “You expect me to shoot anything if we’re kissing dirt the whole time?” asked Max.

         “Oh, right, I was used to only having one gunner. Thanks Max!” And he rolled the Wreckless onto its side.

         They expected the TIEs split, half closing in, and the other half waiting out of turret range. That meant they should have to fight off a half dozen in the first wave.

         “Four marks at one-fifteen. Shouldn’t there be six?” Sharliss wondered aloud. She’d been trying to pick them up visually and not watching the sensors.

         “Don’t complain about it!” retorted Max.

         Sia, who had actually been paying attention, responded. “Looks like four broke off in the other direction right as we left.”

         “That’s odd.” Sharliss could see them now, four specks streaking down through a gap in the clouds.

         “Less talking, more shooting.” The sound of laser fire punctuated Max’s transmission.

         Sharliss pulled the triggers, adding a stream from her twin laser cannons to Max’s. The targeting system on the Courier was too poor to even hope to hit something at this range, but they hopefully disrupt the TIE’s formation. Sure enough, the flight broke into two groups of two, splitting in azimuth. She concentrated on the left group, ignoring the ground whizzing below at an unnatural angle.

         Her shots scattered wildly as the Wreckless rose, then dove abruptly, beginning a ride that Mils had to be enjoying. Sensors still showed four TIEs high; the two pairs on their track began firing back, their velocity from the dive giving them a very high rate of closure.

         The green bolts flashing past prompted Mils to start jinking, rolling the ship onto its left side and pulling hard up a slope. Sharliss cursed and wheeled her turret around again to reacquire.

         “Two at point six, two at point zero-five. Incoming!” Sia was still on the sensors, thankfully.

         The two TIEs bearing in from the right came in straight, and paid for their aggressiveness as Max blasted one out of the sky. The other broke off, but not before scoring on their light shields.

         Normally, Mils would have gotten behind one of the TIEs and done his best to stay there—fighters don’t shoot backwards—but that would just let the Vengeance regain her position above them. Whatever danger the fighters posed, the Courier would be hard pressed to survive turbolaser hits. Instead, he threw in the auxiliary power. The ship jumped forward, and the remaining pair split, one trying to cut the corner. Its fire lanced into their deflectors, but the pilot couldn’t pull out in time and smashed into the mountain.

         “Shields critical. Nail ‘em, guys!” reported Mils.

         Sharliss twisted her controls, catching one of the singles as it dodged out of Max’s firing arc. The TIE spun downward, sending another explosion echoing through the mountains. The last was too busy trying to keep up with Mils’ movements to bring its weapons to bear, and stayed back.

         One more rise, a sharp rolling dive, and they were skimming over the ocean. The long trail of ionized water stretching out behind them gave the Imperials an easy visual track, but the trailers were content to stay high in the atmosphere, waiting for the ship to climb. The lone pursuer could do little without much of a speed advantage. Even though it stayed out of range until abeam of the ship, Max blasted it as soon as it turned in. Four down.

         Even though they were far from safe, Sharliss couldn’t help taking a deep breath in relief. “How long until we climb?”

         “Less than a minute until we have a sure shot of escaping that destroyer. Looks like a second wave inbound. Maybe a third one launching now,” Mils answered.

         “They can’t reach us before we’re gone.” Sia pointed out. “Can we make it to the jump point with those four trailers?”

         “Shouldn’t be too bad, I’ll switch what’s left of the deflectors to double-rear and we’ll try and drive them back with the turrets.” Up at the bridge, Mils punched in a course, then got to work on the astrogation for the hyperspace jump. The computer could handle it, but he preferred to do the work. “Where are we headed?”

         “How about we go get a real ship?” offered Max.

         “Trakas IV, then,” Sharliss agreed. “We never did get to use it for anything dangerous, even after we spent all those creds…”

         Mils pulled up sharply. “Course set for nav buoy D741—we can make another jump when we get there, but that’s the easiest getaway. Straight line to the jump point. Keep those TIEs honest.”

         “Right.” Sharliss was enjoying the rush. Sure, their shields were in trouble, and they had four more TIEs to hold off. Sure, it looked like Talon wanted them dead still. Sure…what’s wrong with me? If the Empire is really after Sia again, we’ll be lucky to get out of this alive. Especially if those two manage to track us down.

         Shar’d been too busy trying to pick up the remaining fighters to pay attention to sensors. The Wreckless rocketed upwards on its track, locked on course to the jump point. “Talon knew we’d try this…” Sia called over com. Huh? She ran a sensor sweep and swore.

         They were tearing through the clouds, escaping the atmosphere as fast as they could, but those four fighters from the beginning had circled in orbit. They were caught in a pincer, four behind, four ahead. And the shield generator wasn’t gutsy enough to regenerate much of the shield before they got caught.

         She wondered why Mils wasn’t changing course, until she thought about it. The jump point’s already set. If we maneuver, we miss it. If we miss it, we have to wait for a new one. With eight TIEs on top of us. And more incoming.

         It’s been a while since I’ve sworn so much.

         Wreckless ripped through the rarified air, but not fast enough. The trap closed.

         Sharliss pulled the triggers, and heard Max’s lasers firing nonstop. The beams from the Imperials tore towards them. The ship rocked as the shields fell, the hull armor getting pounded. She watched in slow-motion as her return fire clipped the wing of a fighter, sending it spiraling out of control into the clouds. The acrid tinge of smoke came to her as she spun the turret.

         Or tried to, at least. She moved the controls and nothing happened. Manual override, nothing. The turret had locked. She keyed the com. Nothing. Were the engines quieter?

         Their velocity had carried them out of the atmosphere; they should almost be to the jump point by now. The steady jolts of continued hits shook the turret. She was about to undo her restraints and make to the bridge when the jump to hyperspace pressed her into the seat.

*Aboard the Wreckless, hyperspace*

         “And that’s that. The turrets we shouldn’t need. The engines aren’t gone, but it’ll cost a bit to fix them. The hull armor’s shot; the shields are gone for good. Just fixed the com, but I can’t exactly crawl outside and work on the stabilizers,” Mils finished.

         "So we get to experience another famous ‘landing’ of yours.” Sharliss leaned against the bulkhead. “Well, it can’t be worse than Corellia VI.” They’d met in the cargo bay, the only place on the ship with room enough for them all to stand. “Sia, what’d you do? I mean, you didn’t send out invitations or anything, right?” She missed the proper tone to pull off the joke. Nerves were a little frayed across the board after that close call.

         “Nothing different than normal. The Imperials just arrived. I might have been in trouble if Max hadn’t arrived too.”

         “I might have been in trouble if you hadn’t taken out that Dark Jedi,” Max admitted, strangely. Sometimes Sharliss thought he acted just to throw her off guard.

         “Dark Jedi? It wasn’t—” she started, but Sia cut her off. “No, it wasn’t Kat. Or Dagna. Unfortunately.”

         “Damn.” So those two were still out there. “Talon just decided to show up to say hi, then.”

         “I found out just in time to reach the planet at the same time they did. No idea how they found out.” Max, at least, seemed completely undisturbed at the prospect of being on the hunted list again. Then again, Max thinks like a hunter.

         “Anyone who could have found out, Sia? Ever catch someone around the place? It sounds like it was fairly isolated,” she pointed out. Talon isn’t omniscient.

         Sia-Lan knew how she thought, so he didn’t mention Saari. It wasn’t her. “Not that I know of.”

         “Well that’s just odd. How did he find out?” Sharliss wondered aloud.

         “Does it matter?” Max countered. “What are we going to do about it?”

         What are we going to do about it? We’re clear for now, but if he found Sia there he could find him anywhere. For the first time, the fact that she hadn’t seen these people in four years sunk in. How well do I really know them now? For that matter, how well did I know them then?

         “How about we go after them for once?” Mils offered.

         Sharliss took the time to really look at the others, not even noticing the question. Sia-Lan looked…well, to be honest, she couldn’t really tell. This was the man who’d gotten her into the Rebellion into the first place. This was the one who’d killed Kyle—but he’d also killed Logan. But then he and Max had rescued her and Mils. After showing up to kill them, it’d seemed. What was he like now?

         “Go after a Moff and an Admiral on their own turf? How?” Max wondered.

         She spared a much briefer look for Max. Star’s End and its aftermath had changed him, somehow. He was different. Not that he’d been particularly social before that, but ever since he raised her hackles. If there was one person she had to pick to be afraid of, it was probably him. Waugh, Talon, Kat, Justin, they were distant. Max was here. That worried her. Wasn’t he wearing an Imperial uniform when he brought Sia aboard—one that matched his old Imperial rank?

         Suddenly she realized what they’d been saying. It would be insane to try that. Insane, and amazingly fulfilling.

She’d awoken from the dream, and immediately wished she was back in it. The cell hadn’t changed—but who was that? Ragged clothes, unkempt, unshaved, and sleeping like the dead. Sharliss had hated that thought. She sat up, kneeled down next to him, and shook him awake.

He moaned slightly as he woke, most likely from pain. Imperial hospitality at its best. “Wha..what? Where am I?”

She narrowed her eyes. “More importantly, who are you?”

He sat up slowly, leaning against the wall. “Lieutenant Justin Dagna…and who are you? And where am I?”

         Amazingly fulfilling, indeed.

         The others took her prolonged silence in stride—they knew when she got that look on her face, she was somewhere else. From the little she heard, the others felt similar. Wouldn’t it be nice to, “if”.

         If. If it weren’t insane. If it weren’t next to impossible. If they thought they could actually pull it off. If it hadn’t been so long.

         Then again, what else did they have to do? Hide in the Rebelli—er, the New Republic? Keep running? Hide? Ten to one we’re going to try it. Maybe she should arrange a bet with Mils on it.

*Aboard the Wreckless, Outer Rim*

         Sharliss muttered, nursing a drink in her quarters. At least she’d gotten to deliver the cargo—at a loss, but that beat the alternative. Jilted customers in this business tended to get angry. The last one had hired bounty hunters. It’s always the one you don’t see that kills you.

         The Courier’s hyperdrive had started acting up after their jump to the nav buoy, enough to make Mils head for the closest port he could find. The fluctuations had gotten worse during that jump, and the damn thing had died completely after pulling them out. If it had to die, it sure was considerate of it to wait until they reached somewhere they could repair it. Then again, hyperdrives were expensive. Ones they no longer made were really expensive. That wasn’t too much of a problem—they’d run a successful operation for a while now—but it was the principle of the thing.

         She’d called in a favor from a fellow runner, who’d delivered their cargo. Sharliss didn’t want to risk a firefight in their “repaired” ship—they were getting it flyable and no more. No point in making it pristine if they were just going to get the Banshee next.

         But three weeks! It wasn’t a large port, and the planet wasn’t worth naming. Being around the others still felt weird, but a bit of the old familiarity was returning. Now if they could only agree on what to do.

         Oh well. Time off was time off. No point worrying about what couldn’t be helped. Sharliss poured another drink.

***

Continued in:

Chapter Three: The Thyferran Gambit  (13+) A victory for the Fleet turns sour. #1367598 by Renfucious