Darth_Kuangduk
Tack slept, but fitfully. He tossed and turned, an unusual occurance for him. He could usually sleep anywhere, even a bare metal floor. Tonight though, something was different. Old memories haunted his thoughts. The faces of friends long dead returned to visit for a moment, then wafted away.

Before long, Tack found himself back in a place he knew all too well... a place he'd never wanted to see again, even in his dreams. It was a plain room, long and rectangular. There were doors at either end, the walls between them lined with lockers. There were twelve of them alltogether, each with a serial number that did duty for a nametag.

"This is a dream," Tack found himself saying as he stood before one of the lockers. He shook his head. "Just a dream." Still, everything seemed eerily real. Slowly, almost of it's own free will, Tack's right hand slowly raised and pressed against the surface of the locker. The metal was cold against his fingertips, the numbers on the serial number rough. Tack jerked his hand away from the locker. "I don't want to be here," He said aloud. "I left this behind a long time ago."

"Then why do you keep your armor?"

Tack spun around so quickly he almost fell over. There, leaning against another locker, was a small man in Imperial issue fatigues. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time Tack has seen him... but that shouldn't have been a surprise. "I can't get rid of it, Haco."

"No?" The small man crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side.

"I can't sell it, they'd trace it right back to me." Though he was aware he was arguing with a figment of his imagination, Tack felt as if he couldn't do anything else.

"That may be," Haco said sagely. "But you could have spaced it."

"Yeah, I could have." Tack agreed. There was a bench in front of each row of lockers. Tack sat on the one nearest him, sat heavily. "But I just can't space it, Haco... it's got memories."

"Of us," Haco said softly. He sat on the other side of the same bench Tack was on. The two men faced each other for a moment, dreamer and dream.

"Yeah," Tack replied. "Of you."

"We did some bad stuff, Tack," Haco said, pressing his lips together and shakeing hsi head. "All of us did. You can't remember us and forget about that."

"I've done pretty well so far," the smuggler looked around the room again. Locker by locker, he could recall the face of every man who'd used it. They were all gone now. Like Haco, they only lived in memories and dreams.

"You remember what we talked about," Haco asked, "the night it all ended?"

"Destiny," Tack answered shortly. "We talked about destiny."

"We talked about your destiny," Haco reminded him. "How it was like one of your plans, all convoluted and complex so it looked like no one part relatead to another, but they all worked together?"

"Yeah, I remember." Tack grimaced. He remembered something else about that night. And, as if by remembering it he'd conjured it into being, Tack was once again seeing through the electronic heads up display of Imperial stormtrooper armor. Explosions rang through his helmet speakers, desparate comm chatter from pinned and wounded team members. He was at the entrance to an alley, takeing cover in case anybody with a blaster and a night vision scope was out there. In front of him was a building that rocked with yet another explosion.

"We've gotta get them out of there!" Tack heard an echo of his own voice, the words faded. He turned to look at another black suit of armor. "Cover my six Haco, I'm going back in."

"Not a chance, sir. You stay put, I'll go get 'em."

"Haco, don't make me order you."

"This isn't your destiny, Tack." Tack remembered numbly how those words had made him falter for a moment. "In there," Haco had said, "That's my destiny. You go find your own." He was off and running for the building before Tack could argue. He'd never come back out. None of them had... the building, an illegal weapons plant run by a rebel cell, had exploded just when Tack was getting ready to go in anyway.

"You can't run from it." Tack blinked, and he was back in the locker room, Haco sitting at the other end of the bench.

"What?" Tack asked, confused.

"You started down a path, Tack. Now you think you've run away from it. But it doesn't work that way." Haco stood and looked down at Tack from across the distance. "It's convoluted, it's complex, and it doesn't look like anything's connected... but it all works together anyway. Things are woven together in ways you can't see. Just because you can't see it, though, doesn't mean there's no connection. You kept that armor for a reason..."

Haco looked over at the locker Tack was sitting near, the locker that had once held his armor. Tack looked over at it as well, and as if under it's own power the door swung open. In it stood the black, shiney exoskeleton that Tack had worn for so long.

"You're about to find out what that reason is."

"Haco..." Tack started, standing up. "I can put that all behind me. I have put it all behind me. I don't need anything from my past crashing my future. I'm not like I was back then. I never really was that way. That's why I left."

"I can't change the future, Tack. I can't even help you through the present. Even now and again, though, I can help you figure out destiny's plan."

"I always thought there was something different about you, Haco."

"Me? Tack, I'm just a figment of your unconcious mind."

"Sure you are," Tack smiled slightly. With a smile and a shrug, Haco dissapeared. Tack was left alone with his thoughts, his past, and his armor.

***********

In the secondary cargo bay, the whirring of servomoters nearly blended into the background hum of shipboard machinery. Wheezer was suffering the droid equivalent of insomnia. He was fully charged, and after his ordeal with the restraining bolt he didn't particularly feel like sitting still. Moving around and exercising his freedom was, to the little droid, one of life's many pleasures. Right alongside zapping Tack every now and again, though Wheezer had to admit in a human sort of way that Tack wasn't really that bad a guy. He had saved Wheezer from the scrap heap, after all.

Another one of life's little pleasures for the unusually uppity droid were the little bugs that had stowed away on Arellia. They were large enough to make suitable zapping targets, but just fast enough to make hitting them difficult. And they were smart, too, having long since learned that the approaching noise of droid servomoters meant impending death... or at the very least, severe discomfort.

That was why Wheezer liked the cargo holds. They were close enough to the ship's sublight engines that when they were activated, servomoters could hardly be heard. On this midnight hunt, however, Wheezer got a little bit more than he'd bargained for. As he wheeled into the secondary hold and around a few stacks of crates, his optical receptors swung from this side of the room to the other. He stopped looking around when he caught sight of a human figure kneeling by what appeared to be a hole in the deck.

This was curious for two reasons. First, the human figure wasn't Tack. Usually when there were holes in the floor, it was Tack putting stuff into them or takeing stuff out of them. This wasn't Tack. In fact, the droid searched his memory banks and matched the figure to that of Jola, one of the new female passengers. Oddly enough, however, the Imperial issue ID cards she held did have Tack's face on them. The second reason the situation was curious was that this was a hole in the floor Wheezer had never seen, and he'd been with Tack long enough to have seen a good many holes in the floor.

Resolutely rolling up behind Jola, electric zapper still extended from his hunt for bugs, Wheezer put forth a spattering of binary droid speak. Excuse me, but why is there a new hole in the floor? he inquired. On second computeing, he wasn't sure why he'd asked. None of the organics he knew could comprehend binary droid speak anyway.

JolaEdana
Jola had spent the first 15 minutes inside the room looking through things, and piling most of what was left in the corner by the door. A few coveralls, undershirts, old flimsiplast notes, and a few chits she assumed were empty. She'd decided those, along with the sheets covering the bunk, would go into the nearest trash receptical she could find.

There hadn't been much of interest in the drawers of the small nightstand poured into the space between the single bunk and the opposite wall. Some over the counter pain meds, a few under the counter stim pills, a small vibro blade. All of these, she'd tucked into her nearly empty utility belt, then pulled it off and let it drop on the foot of the bunk. The candy bar Allie had given her fell out, and she set that on the nightstand for later.

Having everything as in order as it was going to get, she'd palmed the door closed and unzipped her jumpsuit to some comfortable point. Then she'd ordered the lights off, and curled up on the bunk, which still smelled faintly of it's former owner.

It wasn't the smell keeping her awake. She'd slept on much worse during her time in the Rebellion- though it had taken some swallowing, after growing up in a rich Corellian family.

It was the close walls of the tiny room, the perfect blackness that felt more like a tangible substance that filled her pores, her lungs. It reminded her all too well of another brief point in her life- one she didn't want to confront in such a small space alone.

She laid there for a long time, her violet grey eyes wide and unseeing in the dark. She thought briefly of taking some of the sedative in her belt pack, but the Doctor in her restrained her from exausting the already meager supply.

Eventually, her introspection turned into listening to the sounds of the ship itself. There was very little sound, with the ship's systems quiet. It sounded like everyone else must be resting too, judging from the lack of noise.

With a sigh, Jola finally rolled from the stiff mattress and stood. She righted her flightsuit and her hair, and silently opened the door, leaving the lights off.

To her immense relief, the door opposite hers was closed. Tack must have given up for the night. Jola pulled off her boots, and padded barefoot out onto the cold deck plates of the ship.

She wandered off down the corridor, having no real idea of what she was doing or where she was going. She had a faint idea that she was going snooping- though in this case, she didn't consider it being nosey, she considered it being smart. She knew nothing about Tack, and this being his ship, she had a perfect chance to find out a few things.

After all, hadn't he told her to feel free to check the cargo holds if they needed something?

The ship was lit by cool utility lights and not much else, most everything being powered down while it wasn't being used. As she passed the common room, Jola stuck her head in to find Allie right where she expected to find her- slumped along one of the benches, an arm and both feet dangling over the side.

Jola continued towards the back of the ship, still near silent in her bare feet. She finally reached the two doors he had identified as leading to one cargo hold or another. Something made her skip the first and palm open the door to the second. A shiver ran down her spine- the ship was chilly- and as the door hissed open she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Dim," she whispered, bringing the lights up just enough so she wouldn't stub her toes. She was almost dissapointed to see plasti crates and boxes stacked, just as any cargo would be. She moved towards one stack, and pulled back the top. For an instant, a blur of colored lights flashed in her face, and she jumped back.

When she caught herself, she almost laughed out loud at the contents. Inside were mugs. She recognized them as the sort that usually held drinks sold at racing events on many of the larger planets. When activated, they had displays on the sides that lit up, scrolling ads and entertainment for the drinker's enjoyment.

She shook her head. It was so innane, she was somehow dissapointed. She opened a few more boxes. Finding more touristy goods to be sold on rich planets. A few held practical things. She opened one, and ration packets spilled to the floor.

Jola hissed and held her breath a moment, freezing until she was positive no one had heard. Bending down, she picked up as many as she could and began putting them back into the crate where she had found them. In the process, she dropped another.

She froze again, but this time it wasn't because she was worried about the noise. She'd noticed something that time- it hadn't made the same sort of sound when it hit the deck plates as it had the last time.

Experimentally, she tapped her knuckles gently against the plates. Sure enough, a hollow sound bounced back. A smile curved on her lips. Of course. A smuggler would have hidden compartments.

Now it was time to see what Tack was really running.

She gently slid the crates of food to one side until she saw the line where the deck plate ended. She ran her fingers around the edges, finally finding one place where there was a small catch. As quietly as she could, she lifted the deck panel to one side.

It was mostly empty, except for a large, shallow box at the bottom of the space.

Jola stared at the box for a long minute, wondering what was inside. She knew she should probably go back to her bunk at this point- someone was bound to hear her- the droid, if no one else. But finally, her curiousity got the better of her, and she lowered herself into the compartment and removed the top of the box.

As the lid pulled away, Jola fumbled it, her heart suddenly in her throat. She scrambled out of the compartment, and stared at the box with wide eyes, breathing hard. Squaring her jaw, she forced herself back to the edge of the decking.

A second sight did her no better than the first. She could feel the blood drain from her face as any doubt in her mind was erased. She was looking at Imperial Storm Trooper armor. And not just any. It was pure black- and she knew all too well that meant Special Forces.

Her breathing calmed, and gradually she began to take in the other contents of the box. Uniforms. A dress, and a few casual. Some boots she could see her face in, and another pair scuffed past use. Finally, a lanyard with some plastic cards clipped to it.

Letting out a long breath, she reached out and picked them up. "Medium," she ordered the lights, her whisper closer to a rasp.

Every single card held Tack's face, emblazoned with a holo of the Imperial symbol.


Darth_Kuangduk
Tack wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. He'd never been close to his own family. He and his sister had gotten along well enough, but they'd lost touch without too much trouble.

"Do they write back?" Tack asked. It struck him only after he'd said it that it might have been a less than sensitive thing to say. Quickly, he searched for something to say that might soften it a little. "Because if they do, you should drop them a line when we get to Tantor and let them know where to send stuff. I've got a few mail accounts set up for business purposes, but you could use one..."

Tack rubbed at the back of his neck. He couldn't tell for sure, but it didn't seem like Allie was up for talking much more. Neither was Tack, really. After spending most of an Arellian day trying to fix the engines, he was more in the mood to sleep. "But hey," Tack said and made a move for the exit, "You can get back to me on that later. I think I'm going to go sleep."

Trading brief goodnights, Tack left Allie in the common room and went to find his own bed. His room was disturbingly close to Jolas, and he hoped he wouldn't run into her. Luckily, her room's door was closed. As quietly as possible, Tack went into his room and got ready for bed.

JerinPuck
Allie listened to Tack's answer, slightly encouraged. She still wasn't going to make her decision right then, but she wasn't as suspicious of him as she had been before. She nodded and said, "Well, I'll let ya' know when I know." Then, in an attempt to change the subject Allie asked, "So, is your family still on Coruscant?"

Tack gave a sort of half shurg that Allie took to be an indication that he didn't want to answer. Frell, conversations take effort. It had been a long time since she'd really talked to anyone beside Zero, whom she found herself missing at the moment.

"I write to my family every once in a while, let 'em know I'm okay and all," Allie volunteered in hopes of making up for her bad question. "Even though my dad's insane," she added, with an edge bitterness in her voice.

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack wasn't exactly thrilled about Allie's question. Still, at least he hadn't killed the guy... "I left him unconcious on his hotel room floor," Tack explained. "He turned me into the local authorities when our employer put a bounty on hy head. Then he tried to collect the bounty himself." Tack shrugged. It seemed like only a natural thing to do to somebody who stabbed you in the back.

Tack was certain that he wouldn't get stabbed in the back again. He was going to keep an eye on Allie and Jola, to make certain none of them would pull the same thing his last partner did. He did a new partner, though, especially if he was going to keep making a living in the smuggling business. And he would be fair... but that didn't mean he was going to be lulled into any sense of security.

Maybe one day. But not anytime soon.

JerinPuck
Allie was surprised, but did her best not to show it. She eyed Tack suspiciously. Free drinks were one thing- a nice thing, that did happen from time to time. But an even share in a regular smuggling job she'd done nothing to get off the ground? What kind of strings could be attached to that? All that aside, space wasn't exactly Allie's favorite place to be. Still, though. He seemed like a decent guy.

"I, uh..." Allie cleared her throat. "I gotta' think about it."

"Fair enough," Tack said. It was, afterall, a rather big decison.

"So, your last partner. What happened to him?" Allie asked. If she was going to take this job, she wanted to know more about who she'd be working with.

Darth_Kuangduk
"There were some, ah, Imperial entaglements." Tack toyed with telling Allie the truth for a moment. The truth about how he'd been with the Empire, why he wasn't with them anymore... and why they may very well be after him.

"Imperial Center," He said after a brief pause, "Is the last place you want to be when the Imperials are looking for you. So I packed up and headed out here to the rim, where the Empire barely exists. Took on a few jobs as a smuggler, made a name for myself, got hooked up with crime syndicate and before ya know it... boom. Apartment on Arellia, girlfriend who steals all my stuff, and a partner who stabs me in the back." Tack shook his head.

"Speaking of partners, though..." Tack regarded Allie for a moment. "I am short one. I could probably even use two, though I'm not sure that redhead isn't more trouble than she's worth." Tack took a look at the corridor entrances to make sure Jola wasn't around and listening. She didn't seem to be. "If you're interested... I mean, if you don't have your heart set on getting back to Ord Mantell and staying there... well, I'll promise an equal share."

JerinPuck
"They never moved to Arelia. I just kinda' ended up there about three years ago when I-" got kicked out "moved out. Sort of a family disagreement thing." Allie explained. "I'm not gonna' miss Arelia, but there are worse planets. Coruscant, though. That's..." Allie couldn't think of what it was. "It would be weird view from space, one city and all. Any good restaurants there?"

"What?" Tack said, slightly taken off guard by the unusual question.

"Restaurants. My uncle's got this high class joint on Ord Mantell. Great food. We'll all have to go if you end up being my ride there. What made you ditch Coruscant for an appartment on water world?" Allie asked, genuinely curious.

Darth_Kuangduk
"Me?" Tack chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah. I just stop by now and again between jobs. Used to keep an apartment there so I'd have a comfy place to stay... 'couse, I made the mistake of giving my girlfriend a keycard. Heh..." Tack cleared his throat noisily. It was a rather embarrasing thing to have happen, your girlfriend selling ever last piece of furnature in your apartment. He'd probably lamented it a great deal while he was drunk, but at this point he could hardly remember anything he'd said while in such a state.

"I'm actually from Coruscant." Tack confided. Suddenly, the smuggler felt like talking. It had been such a long time since he'd talked to anybody outside of a drunken haze. Even he and his previous partner hadn't been much for conversation outside of business... maybe that's why it'd been so easy for the guy to turn on Tack. He shook his head, pushing such thoughts aside. "Guess I won't be going back to Arelia again." He added with absolutely no trace of feeling in his voice. He'd never really liked the planet all that much. "Guess none of us will, come to that. Not that that's anything to get worked up about. Given the choice between that ball of mud and somplace else, I'd choose someplace else."

Tack tilted his head to one side and regarded Allie. "Speaking of, what brought your parents to Arellia? Ord Mantell's a heckuva lot nicer..." Tack paused. Come to think of it, where were the girls parents now? Tack didn't ask that question... not yet, anyway.

JerinPuck
Allie had fallen asleep in the common room, sprawled uncerimoniously- boots and all- on the couch, but the unfamiliar sound of Tack's boots on the deckplates as he entered the room woke her with a start.

"Sixth street, Officer!" Allie bolted up and was reaching for her head with both hands before she became aware of her surroudings and Tack's presence. "Hi," she managed, pulling her hat off since her hands were already near it. She attempted to wring it out, but had been off-planet long enough that not a drop came out. Looking slightly perturbed, Allie pulled the hat back on her head.

"Sorry about waking you," Tack said.

"Um," Allie replied. He appologized. There's a thing you're supposed to say. "It's okay," she said after a few moments. "Yeah. Don't... Don't worry about it." Allie stood silent a few more moments with a look of concentration on her face. "Ya need help?"

"No," Tack answered, sitting down in a nearby chair. "I'm taking a break."

"Yeh," Allie said vaguely. She sat herself back on the couch, waiting for her brain to kick into gear.

"I guess Jola is probably asleep," Tack said.

Allie stared at him blankly. Then it clicked. "Oh, yeah," Allie glanced at her watch. "Yeah, if she was on Arelia time..."

"Are you from Arelia?"

"Nah. Ord Mantell. But I moved off planet with my family when I was 10. Or 11. What about you?" Allie asked, returning the question.

Darth_Kuangduk
The rest of the day passed quickly, at least for Tack. It was a blur of tools and maintenance crawlspaces, one attempted fix after another. Before he knew it the smuggler found that it was well into the night ship's time... which, since they'd just left, also happened to be Arallian time.

"Ugh," Tack grunted as he tossed his tools into their box. "What a day. At least I haven't seen any more of those bloody bugs." Having just performed one more procedure that would theoretically get things working, Tack decided to check and see if it actually worked or not.

The diagnostic panel in the engine room had been turned off for quite some time, having no real use until it was fixed. Tack turned it on. For a moment, the panel showed a solid green across the board. Tack, frustrated as he was, kicked it. Several lights flickered and turned red or yellow. "Hey!" Tack exclaimed, "I fixed it!"

He looked around. Nobody was within earshot, so he shrugged. They'd find out sooner or later. For now... Tack studied the diagnostic panel. It looked as if several components had shorted out in the main drive... why they would do that at the same time was beyond Tack, but at least he had the parts he needed to fix it. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, he was in the mood to relax.

In persuit of said relaxation, Tack wandered his way into the common room to see if anybody was around. He realized he hardly knew anything about the two women with whom he was traveling... now was a good a time as any to get their stories.

JolaEdana
Jola shook her head, unable to help an inner amusement at the other woman's parting shot. She sighed, the situation setting back in all too quickly. "Well then," Jola murmured. "I'll just let you keep your bunk, and take this other one. I'll leave any chivlarous protest on her part to you."

Tack shrugged, obviously wanting to get back to the ship.

"Go ahead," Jola said. "I doubt I can help, but you know where I am if you think I can."

She watched Tack retreat to the back of the ship, and turned to her dismal new quarters. From the looks of things, she had plenty of her own work to do.

JerinPuck
"Yeh, but it's not a question," Allie responded. "I can't sleep in other peoples sleeping places. It's- it just creeps me out. Don't ask."

"These are the only bunks," Tack said, with a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Yes," said Allie, confused. She wasn't sure why Tack had repeated himself and decided to just go on. "I was gonna' say I could sleep in the common room. Haven't slept in a bed or bunk in so long my back would probably go on strike if I did, anyway. I'd really rather sleep anywhere else in the ship... except the 'fresher."

"If you insist," Tack gave Allie a strange look; she smiled almost imperceptibly, glad that that matter was taken care of.

"Okay," Allie changed her mind about asking what was wrong, exactly, with the Broken Dream. The adjective in the name had begun to sink in, and she was begining to feel tired. "Wake me up if you need help fixing the ship. But don't wake me up if we're all about to die. I'd rather sleep through that," she nodded conclusively and began to wander away.

Darth_Kuangduk
"Food?" Tack repeated aloud. Oh yeah... of course. If we're gonna be stuck here, we're gonna need to eat. The fact that Jola had thought of this before Tack did was only slightly annoying. "Uh... yeah, there's some emergancy rations stored in the secondary cargo hold. You might want to look through the primary hold as well, I'm not sure what all is in there. May get lucky, eh?"

Tack continued looking about inside the maintenance crawlspace, but found that his attention was no longer on repairs. Sleeping arrangements, he realized, were going to be a problem. Food would be bland... all Tack had were the emergancy rations, and they were admittedly old and stale. Not that it mattered. The things were meant to last forever, after all. Tack considered the options where bunking the two women were concerned. There weren't many. Because it had only been Tack and his partner for the longest time, and because they never ferried passangers, there were only two availabe bunkrooms.

Two bunkrooms... three people.

Once again, Tack backed out of the maintenance crawlspace. He was slightly surprised to see that Allie was now there. "Well, I can see I won't be getting much work done until I take care of some things," The smuggler said less gumpily than he'd wanted to sound. He tossed the hydrospanner at his box of tools, elliciting a wheeze or three of discontent from Wheezer as it nearly hit the droid.

"Ladies, I think it's past time for a tour of the Broken Dream." Tack smiled slightly. If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was showing off his ship. They'd already seen most of the ship, of course, from the cocpit to the gun turrets to the common room. He introduced them to the parts they hadn't seen.

"This is the 'fresher," Tack said, gesturing towards a small, cramped area with a standing wash unit and a place to relieve oneself. It wasn't much, but it would suffice. Tack told them as much. And, of course, it wasn't entirely spotless... having been in the care of two vagabond bachelors for a number of years, there actually appeared to be a few things growing in the more out of the way corners. Noticing that, Tack quickly moved on.

"This used to be a small food preparation area... I think. It's the secondary cargo hold now." Tack had led the ladies to a decent sized area at the back of the ship. It had a small counter bolted to the floor, and many latched cabinets and doored shelves. Chairs and a few tables were also bolted down to the deck, presumably for the eating needs of a larger crew. Most of the cabinets contained ageing boxes of emergancy rations. Other unmarked boxes were piled here and there all around the room. "We... I mean I... use it to store spare parts, emergancy rations, glowrods... stuff that I might need to get to easily. Connected to it through that door there," Tack gestured, "Is the main cargo hold. You can look around in there later, if you like. There's also another way to get to the cargo hold from the main hallway."

Heading back into said corridor, Tack showed them the alternate entrance. Then it was on to the bunkrooms. Long ago the ship had been made to carry passengers and run with more than just two people and a droid. Because of this, there were three bunkrooms, each of which had come with a double bunk. One of the three was now piled high with assorted garbage, it's bunks removed. It was obviously unuseable for sleeping purposes. The other two had had the double bunks removed and replaced with single beds. This was the major problem, as Tack had none of the original doubles left.

"You ladies can each have one of these," The smuggler said. He didn't particularly feel like trying to work out alternate arrangements. "I'll sleep in the cocpit.... or the common room... or the cargo hold..." Tack shrugged. It wasn't like he was used to five star accomodations. He would make due with whatever he could get. "The room on the left there is mine," he added, "So whoever takes it, please refrain from snooping. The other one is... was... my partner's. Feel free to loot it."

He looked from one lady to the next, and wondered just how he'd ended up like this. "Any further questions, before I get back to working on the ship?"

JerinPuck
"In case he doesn't, here," Allie said walking up next to Jola and dropping the third- and last- candy bar into her lap. "Not exactly healthy, but they taste good." Allie decided to hold off on her own questions about what had gone wrong with the ship until Tack had answered Jola.

JolaEdana
Jola sighed. She didn't feel bad about the jabs, but she was going to give it a rest. Even she had to admit she had no good reason other than the fact she was exausted and scared and hated the universe. She scowled, unable to help feeling that wasn't a bad reason.

"She's in the common room. And she's not a kid. She's just not cynical like we are," she gave a little half smile and slid down the wall to a sitting position. "She'll be fine."

She watched him work for a minute, but didn't offer to help. It looked like the droid had things under control, and besides which, she was kind of afraid of the little thing. It didn't seem to have a predictable temperment.

She rubbed at her face a moment, suddenly feeling the events of the last two weeks hitting her like a herd of banthas. She had been in the middle of a surgery when the attack hit. The man couldn't have been moved, and she still didn't know what they'd done with him. Probably dead.

Randt had pulled her down the hall and shoved her on the first ship they'd come to. She had no idea if the base was still intact, her guess was no. Then Arelia. Then these two. Then this ship. Now, the hyperdrive.

And that was only recent history. Some days, she felt old.

She finally lifted her gaze from the deck plates. "You don't have anything to eat on this thing, do you?" She inquired. "Place to sleep?"

Darth_Kuangduk
"Hey," Tack grumbled from inside the maintenance crawlspace, "At least I've got a ship. I didn't see you piloting us off of Aralia." Grunting, the now grime covered spacer extricated himself from the crawlspace. Once he was out, he sat with his back against the wall, facing Jola.

The redhead was leaning against one of the diagnostic consoles that refused to work, looking rather smug. Tack hefted the hydrospanner he was holding and waggled it at her menacingly. "And if I were you," He continued, "I'd be spending more energy trying to help and less energy trying to piss me off, 'cause unless you haven't noticed you're stuck here with me until we can get to some planet or another."

Tack couldn't decide whether he'd sounded too harsh or not harsh enough. Either way, it was something he'd have to worry about at a later date. With a small sigh, he rummaged around in a toolbox. Belatedly, he realized Wheezer was holding it, and took it from the droid. He started stuffing himself into the maintenance crawlspace again. "Where's the kid?" he inquired over his shoulder, wondering about Allie. "You probably shouldn't leave her alone. Oughta keep her company or something..." Because I don't trust her? Tack thought to himself, Or because she looks alot like my little sister?

Again, Tack decided that whichever it was, he had more important things to worry about.

JerinPuck
Jola. Tack. Jola. Tack. Jola. Tack. Jola. Was leaving. Where's she going? I'm hungry. I wonder.... No! Concentrate. T- T-something. Jol? Jewel? Shavvit.

Allie sighed and got up off the floor. She paced for a few moments, then took off her jacket and sat down. Allie's arms were very pale, having seen virtually no sunlight in three years. She inspected them suspiciously, tracing one of the many visible blue veins with her finger. She distinctly rememered her arms being less pale, and her veins less visible. "Weird," Allie muttered and unzipped the hidden- and more importantly, waterproof- pocket inside her jacket lining.

Nothing was missing. Her ID card, which declared her Allie Achan, natural born citizen of Ord Mantell (among other things,) was out of date, but that didn't bother her. Satisified that there was nothing to worry about, Allie put her jacket back on, and dug another candy bar out of a different pocket. Only one bar left after that; she hoped they got to that planet soon.

Allie wandered out into the corridor to look for her companions. After all, without anyone else around they might kill each other, and then Allie really would have something to worry about.

JolaEdana
Jola was sitting in the common room, but she had an incredible urge to be alone. It wasn't Allie, it was just that kind of day- that, and she didn't really like being on ships- especially small ones like this. She scrubbed her face with her hands a moment before standing.

She stared around the room. It wasn't like there was a whole lot of ship to explore, but since she was going to be on here a while....

It wasn't long before providince gave her a direction. She heard cursing and a lot of banging coming from the front of the ship, and for a minute, it got closer then receeded to the back quarter. Jola raised an eyebrow and stuck her head out into the hall.

It was Tack.

"What in the Maw is wrong now?" Jola muttered, stalking off after the noise.

She came upon Tack- or at least the half of him she could see- immersed somewhere in the ship's insides in what she assumed was the engine room. Wheezer, the droid, was busy sticking out his mechanical arm and poking his owner in the leg before extending the arm once more with some sort of tool in it.

"I think you named your ship fittingly," Jola called out casually, leaning back against a consule, arms crossed.

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack immediately saw why Wheezer had seen fit to summon him from the company of two lovely ladies. The stars shone brightly through the cockpit windows, boldly casting their light through the darkness of space.

They weren't supposed to be there.

Tack looked at the status and instrument panels that lined the Broken Dream's cockpit. None of them showed a problem. The hyperdrive actuator was still pushed forward in the "on" positiong, indicating that the FTL engines were supposedly on and working. Tack looked out through the canopy again. He still saw stars. Nope, the hyperdrive definately wasn't working.

With a sigh, the smuggler plopped himself down into the pilot's chair and began running a computer diagnostic on the FTL drives. While he was at it, he checked to see whether or not the sublight engines were working. All they're status lights showed green, but Tack had recently learned that green lights didn't mean anything these days.

Deciding to use the imperical method, Tack fired up the sublight engines. Sure enough his ship began to move forward. He banked it. It banked. He rolled it. It rolled. He did the same in opposite directions. Everything did what it was supposed to do. "Well, that's something anyway." Tack muttered. "The ladies," he said and looked down at Wheezer, "are not going to be happy."

The control panel beeped. Tack eyed it suspiciously, but punched the buttons that would bring up the diagnostic's results. Sure enough, everything registered fine and dandy. "Liar," Tack accused the console, eyes narrowing. "If the engines were working, we'd still be in hyperspace." He sighed. "Things are gonna have to get ugly."

Wheezer twittered a comment. Tack gave the small droid only the briefest of glances, then went back to thinking about how he was going to fix this particular mess. Wheezer hooted and wheezed more insistantly. Tack gave the droid a 'don't bother me' look, and turned his attention once more to the control panel. "It could just be that the sensors are out," he thought aloud. "They'd be easier to repair, and if I did that the damn thing would tell me what's wrong with the engines..."

Tack distinctly heard the metallic clink of Wheezer's utility compartment springing open. Immediately fearing the zapper, Tack jumped and whirled to face his droid. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was only Wheezer's manipulator arm. The small grasping device was pointing at the floor of the cockpit, where there lay...

"What the hell is that?" Tack demanded of nobody in particular. He leaned forward in his seat to take a closer look. It appeared to be a dead bug of some sort... a very ugly dead bug. "Great," He muttered, "Wheezer, be a pal and get rid of that thing for me will ya?" He made the mistake of looking back up at the control panel, and recoiled in his seat with a shout of alarm. Another bug was on the control console... and this one was alive. It twitched it's antenna at him. "As soon as I get the hyperdrive fixed," Tack growled at the thing, "You're dead, see?"

The bug skittered away, but not too fast... it obviously hadn't been impressed.

"Why must my life be a living hell?" Tack sighed, leaning back in his seat. "One thing after another. All we need now is an Imperial Star Destroyer." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Tack tensed. He waited, he listened, but no beep emitted from the sensor station to alert him to the presense of a Star Destroyer. He sighed, then frowned. If the status panels weren't working, what else on the ship was broken? Sensors, with his luck. But what about more important things? Things like, for example, the nav computer? Or the life support? Now that was a dismal thought.

"To escape the armpit of the galaxy and death by Imperials only to suffocate in my own ship force knows where... can the gods of irony get any more pissed off at me?" With a groan, Tack stood up. "Well, I guess I'd better get to work, hadn't I?" he asked Wheezer, and headed for the hallway.

JolaEdana
"No..." Jola said, raising an eyebrow. "But if Tack has friends there, I can't think it's the nicest place in the universe." She stood. "Besides, that's not why I don't want to stay there. I just don't want to take any chances with Imperials. Period. Maybe we can talk him into Ord Mantell."

She looked at the slightly younger woman for a second. "Do you even know my name?" She asked, looking somewhat bemused.

Allie didn't say anything for a moment. Her forehead creased in concentration before she finally shrugged in apology.

"Dr. Jola'Edana Kahlid," the medic finally supplied, reaching out to shake the girl's hand. Allie did so somewhat akwardly. "I know I'm not always in the best mood, but I don't bite," Jola murmured softly. "Don't tell Tack though. He doesn't need to know that."

Allie smiled a bit.

Jola finally stood and pulled off her utility belt, frowning at its many pockets- and how empty they were. She was going to have to see about refreshing her medical supplies. And hope that the Rebellion cred chit in her breast pocket was still worth something.

She laid the contents of the belt out on the table and began tallying up what she had, what she needed to restock, and what she'd like to get ahold of, just in case.

JerinPuck
"Hmm," Allie said, once Tack had gone. "Sheelzo, he said? Not a name I would trust," Allie flopped down on the floor, crossing her arms behind her head; she stared up at the ceiling. "Really. Think about it. I mean, move over the "L" and you've got Shleezo. Who's gonna' do business with a guy with a name like Shleezo?"

"Tack, apparently," Jola replied.

"Tack... Tack...?" Jola gave Allie an incredulous look, but Allie was too busy concentrating trying to figure out who Tack was to take any notice. Then it came to her. "The guy whose ship were on. Right?"

"Right."

"Ha!" Allie said, triumphantly. "So, you really think this planet we're goin' to is real dangerous? Have you been there before, or something?"

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack looked from Allie to Jola, then shrugged. "Ok," He said. "If you've really got something against staying at Tantor, we can move on. But I want to stay long enough to look up an old friend of mine."

"An old friend?" Jola asked dubiously. Tack nodded. The smuggler still had cargo in his holds, both legit and smuggled. Back before everything went to hell, he'd been supposed to deliver it for his former employer. He hadn't gotten the chance, and certainly wasn't above selling it all for personal profit.

"Yeah," Tack answered. "I want to unload some of the cargo in my holds, get some extra money to work with. In case you hadn't figured it out yet, I'm flat broke right now. Sheelzo should be able to help me sell anything I want to. It'll only take a day or so," he added in the hopes that Jola wouldn't raise too much of a fuss.

Wheezer rolled into the common area, blattering and beeping at Tack in something that sounded a lot like annoyance. The smuggler looked at the droid for a moment, then make a shooing motion. "Fine," He told it, "I'll be there in a sec. I'm headed back to the cockpit, ladies," He announced. As he left, he cast a glance at Allie. "Ord Mantell, huh? I think I can scare up some business in that neck of the woods." And then he was out into the hallway.

JerinPuck
"Anywhere that doesn't rain much is okay with me," Allie yawned. "Maybe I'll try to get back to Ord Mantell some time. Dunno. For now," she shrugged, "wherever." Allie was tired, and still slightly damp.

Now that there weren't actually any imperials around, Allie wasn't concerned about them. Out of sight, out of mind. She looked at her two companions and made a mental note that she might need to learn their names at some point.

"Hey, Um. It.... doesn't rain much on Tantor, right?"

JolaEdana
Do you really think that they'd send an entire star destroyer out to Tantor just for one runaway smuggler ship?

Jola's lips tightened as her stomach dropped. She could think of plenty of reasons other than the fact that this guy was some small time smuggler that they'd be following the ship. Reasons that might be good enough to send the Star Destroyer personally.

She just couldn't decide if she wanted to tell these two what they were yet.

She swallowed hard. "I don't care where," she finally managed. "But I won't stay in Tantor. I don't like taking chances."

Jola tried not to look as worried as she felt.

Darth_Kuangduk
"They might have," Tack admitted, setting his tools down on a nearby table. At one point it had been used for holochess, but it hadn't worked in years. Now it was simply a home for Tack's tools and a potted plant that looked like it had seen far better days. "But do you really think," He continued, "That they'd send an entire star destroyer out to Tantor just for one runaway smuggler ship? More likely they'll send a smaller force, which will probably take a little longer to get here."

Tack carefully gauged the look on Jola's face. She didn't quite look like she was ready to kill him... not yet, anyway. "But hey," He shrugged, "If you've got someplace better in mind, fire away. Either of you," He added, looking at Allie, "I'm open to suggestions."

JolaEdana
Jola sighed and looked back at Allie for a moment. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Get in here!" She shouted one final time.

She could have shouted all day, but at least one of them had to be civilized. She slid down the wall into a booth seat nearby, and waited for him to come around the corner, one red eyebrow arched in exasperation.

She and Allie heard a dim clinking, and a low whirring of servomotors, probably, she guessed, the droid.

The minute he came into the common area, Jola continued. "I hope you're not thinking of staying in Tantor."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I know people, we'll be fine."

Jola fought the urge to strangle him. "You don't think they got a vector, then?" She asked icily.

Darth_Kuangduk
The restraining bolt had finally fallen to the floor when a shout echoed down the hallway. "Tack!"

Tack frowned and stood. He recognized the voice as belonging to that troublesome redhead... what was her name again? "Jola," He muttered darkly.

"What's your plan?" The woman continued, voice bouncing down the corridor and echoing around the ship.

"Plan? She thinks I've got a plan?" Tack grumbled, "Plan?!" He shouted back down the corridor, stooping to gather up the tools he'd been using to remove Wheezer's restraining bolt. The droid, for his part, beeped and wheezed a few times in what seemed like an amused manner. "The plan," Tack bellowed in Jola's direction, "Is to get as far away from Arelia as possible, that's the plan!"

Picking up the last of his tools, the smuggler straightened and looked around. As luck would have it, the local authorities had left his cargo mostly alone. It would take a more thurough search to be sure, but if they hadn't looked too closely at the legal cargo they probably hadn't done a good enough search to find the smuggling compartments.

"Where are we going?!" Jola's shouted question slammed into Tack's ears like a runaway swoop.

"Tantor!" Tack shouted back, recalling the name of the random planet he'd punched into the nav computer. It was fairly close to Arelia, as far as galactic distances went, and still well within the lawless confines of the outer rim. A smuggler on the run would have no problem finding a place to hide, and neither would his friends. "Why?" Tack demanded, suddenly realizing that his passengers probably had other, more specific destinations in mind. Not that Tack himself actually had anyplace specific in mind.

JolaEdana
Jola ran her hands through her unruly hair, which after all the excitement was even more difficult than usual. "No idea," she murmured quietly.

There was a long moment of silence where Jola appeared to be mulling something dire over, chewing slightly on her lower lip. Finally, she cleared her throat. "And thanks. For the compliment, and the help getting off the planet."

Allie nodded. "'Course."

"I would've let you take the guns, but I figured by the time we switched it'd all be over anyway... I shouldn't be so out of practice I guess." She stared at the metal deck plates for a minute. "Of course, it's not like I expected to end up here either."

"I don't think any of us ever expects to be anywhere we end up."

Jola smiled wryly, but made no response. She finally stood. "Tack!" She shouted down the corridor. She ducked her head around the corner, looking in the general direction of the fleeing ship's captain. "What's your plan?"

"His plan?" Allie asked from behind her.

"Well, it's his plan at the moment. Which is why we need to get the details so we can edit it accordingly."


JerinPuck
After Tack left, Allie looked out at hyperspace. She thought better of it as she quickly felt sick to her stomach. Allie didn't like normal space much as it was; something about there not being any proper "up" or "down" got to her. Extradimensional space- where all directions as humans know them became meaningless- was too much. She decided to follow Tack's lead and get out of the cockpit.

Allie heard the ship's owner before she saw him. His droid apparently was less than co-operative when it came to removing the restraining bolt the security officers had put on it. Allie couldn't help but laugh, but she composed herself before entering the common room.

Jola was already there, seated on a small couch. Allie glanced around the room. "Hi," she said, without actually looking in the medic's direction. Getting no reply didn't phase Allie; she continued to take in her new surroudings, and, out of habit took off her hat and wrung it out. "Not too bad of a place," Allie seated herself on a stool on the other side of the room. "Um," Allie was unused to trying to make conversation. "Good job back there," she said tentatively. "I... don't guess he told you where we're goin'?"

Darth_Kuangduk
Allie plopped down in one of the cocpit seats, muttering something under her breath. Tack didn't hear it, but he was paying more attention to the Imperial starfighters that were trying to kill him. Another Tie blinked off the sensor screen. Jola, it seemed, was steadily getting the hang of shooting things.

Tack's eyes went to the shield status, then to the nav console. It belatedly dawned on the smuggler that he'd never input any destination into the computer. That would be a problem. Quickly, still with an eye to the enemy starfighters, he pulled up a list of nearby star systems and picked one at random. "Any port in a storm," He muttered.

A Tie fighter flashed by the cocpit canopy, one wing sporting carbon scores that spoke of a near miss. "Wheezer!" Tack bellowed again, though he knew it would do little good. The distance to the edge of the planet's gravity well slowly ticked down to zero, then began counting negatives. Tack slammed forward the hyperdrive activation lever. The Broken Dream accelereated to lightspeed and beyond.

*************************************************************

"According to our sources in the spaceport, all three boarded the freightor before it took off." The Imperial lieutenant glanced over the datapad he held in one hand, then let his gaze shift to the massive forward viewports. The ties that had been sent out after the freighter were coming back in - minus a few unlucky comrades.

The man sitting in the nearby command chair also gazed out of those windows. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Did we get a jump vector?"

"Yes sir. Several of the nearby ties got sensor recordings."

The man in the command chair nodded slightly. "Begin calculating possible destinations," He ordered. "Our quarry escaped us this time... they won't escape again."

*************************************************************

Tack pushed the release button on his seat's restraints and stood. Beyond the canopy, the swirling colors of hyperspace were playing by. Tack wasn't interested in them... he had other things to worry about. "WHEEZER!" He bellowed, storming out into the ship's central hallway, "Get over here!"

If there was one thing Tack was set on doing, it was getting that restraining bolt off of his droid. Stopping by an equipment locker to pick up a few tools, he followed the sound of the little droid's servomoters to one of the cargo areas. When he arrived, the droid was backed against the wall, sensor dome pointed forward.

"Allright Wheezer," Tack coaxed, "Come here and let's get that thing off of you..."

A compartment panel on the front of the droid opened, and Wheezer's electro zapper popped out.

"Wheezer..." Tack said hesitantly, "What are you OW!" Tack jumped back a step, rubbing the spot on his thigh where Wheezer had zapped him. "Hey! What the frell do you think you're OW!" Tack backed up another few steps, out of range of the R2 droid's meager weapon. "C'mon Wheezer... it's me... Tack..."

Wheezer beeped, blooted, and wheezed a few times, but kept his electro zapper where it was.

"Aw, c'mon Wheezer." Tack pleaded. "I just wanna get that thing off of you." He gestured towards the restraining bolt with a hydrospanner. He couldn't be sure, but the smuggler thought he heard giggles in the outside corridor. The droid booped and wheezed again. "I'm not mad at ya, really." Tack promised. The droid beeped some more, not sounding entirely convinced. "Please?" Tack tried, for lack of anything else. "It won't hurt a bit, I promise."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Wheezer's electrozapper withdrew back into it's compartment. With a sigh of relief, Tack set his tools on the floor and began trying to pry off the restraining bolt.

"If I ever find out who was giggling," He grumbled...

JerinPuck
"Yeh," Allie replied as she freed her arms from the ladder and pulled herself up. She certainly wasn't going to force the issue, and- Allie was hoping- the situation wouldn't come up again, anyway. "Hey. We jumping soon?" Allie called to Tack when she was nearly back to her seat.

"Yes!" A very frustrated yell came back to her from the cockpit.

"And the peasant rejoiced," Allie mumbled as she allowed herself to fall into the chair. She buckled the straps, then added as an after thought, "Hope those two don't kill each other."

JolaEdana
Jola grimly clenched her teeth and fired off another shot. This time it took out a tie fighter, which spun out of control and took a neighbor along for the ride.

"No, I think I've got it," she replied.

Tack put the ship into a sharp turn, throwing Jola against her harness, and Allie against the well wall.

Jola muttered a curse under her breath. "Think you could keep it steady?" she shouted up at him.

She lowered her tone for Allie. "Why don't you see if you can keep him from killing us?"

Darth_Kuangduk
"Too bloody many," Tack shouted back, throwing the Broken Dream into another maneuver that specs said she shouldn't have been able to perform. It wasn't doing much good. Tie fighters were infinately more maneuverable than light freighters, no matter how bad their pilots might have been.

Damn, Tack thought acidly, I thought I lost these guys a long time ago... Just like the Imperial Navy to never give up.

"C'mon," The smuggler said aloud, verbally urging his ship to go faster. "Wheezer!" He shouted over his shoulder into the hallway, "Hook into the forward turret's fire controls and see what you can do." Unlike most ships of her class, the Broken Dream had not one, but two gun emplacements. The first one was the standard forward arc double blaster turret... not much good for shooting at people you were running from. Even so, it would help to have somebody on it in case a Tie overran them. Wheezer generally manned the top turret since Tack and his late partner had split between piloting and manning the gun turret that Jola now occupied. In fact, it had been so modified that Tack wasn't even sure a person could manually operate it anymore.

The second turret, unlike the forward facing weapon, had been a very expensive modification. Mounted on the bottom of the ship it had a full 360 degree firing arc... as long as the target wasn't above the ship.

Wheezer, despite Tack's request, continued to roll around the ship not doing much of anything. A stacatto of beeps and a few high pitched wheezes that were supposed to be whistles reached Tack's ears. "Damn," He muttered, "The restraining bolt..."

Again the ship shuddered from blaster fire. Only a few more moments, and they'd be able to jump.

JerinPuck
The medic had taken initiative to take the turret before Allie even had time to answer in the affirmative. That was fine with Allie; she remained where she was, strapped in. She figured one or both of her companions must have done something big to get so much attention from Imperials.

Allie wasn't particularly happy about that attention.

You shoulda' just saved your credits and bought a safe ride off, Allie berated herself. At least that way there'd be no one shooting at the ship she was in. ...and you'd end up on some other backwater planet, broke, without a job. Again. Fine. So now I'm here and- the Broken Dream shook violenty, things aren't going so good.

"Frell. Tack, how many are there?" the medic yelled from the turret. She was clearly having trouble.

Allie sighed. This is exactly what you left to avoid. But I can't let us all get blown to hell, either. Shavvit. She unstrapped herself and walked calmly over to the ladder. "Want me to take it?"

JolaEdana
Jola didn't explain how she knew how to use a blaster turret, or why, she simply made her way to the turret ladder and climbed in.

The entire time she strapped herself in and scanned the controls, however, the reason was pounding all too clearly in her head: she was a member of the Rebellion. She was an unaccounted for member of the Rebellion and there were Imps right on her tail.

How they'd found her, or why they might want her badly enough to send a Star Destroyer out this far were not things she wanted to think about.

What would have happened if they'd come down to the surface looking for her wasn't something she had time to think about, because Tack had begun putting the old ship through manuvers it was never meant to handle, and Tie fighters flashed into view and back out again as it rolled on towards safe hyperspace distance.

She took hold of the controls, and as she always did, took a deep breath and forced everything else out of her mind. This was just like treating a shrapenel wound.

The first piece appeared suddenly starboard to her viewport, and she swung the gun towards it and squeezed the trigger, hoping to hit something vital.

She knew how to use a turret, that didn't necessarily mean she had the accuracy she did with a blaster.

She knicked one Tie, but not enough to discourage it. They had begun to fire on the ship, and unfortunately, the Broken Dream was a much bigger target than they were.

"Frell," she swore loudly. "Tack," she shouted back up the well, "how many are there?"

Darth_Kuangduk
The hanger was, not surprisingly, unguarded. Unphased by Jola's earlier threats, Tack surveyed his ship with a smile. "There she is, ladies," He announced. "The Broken Dream."

"Yeah," Jola quipped, "It's broken alright." Tack frowned and sent a murderous glare her way. The ship might not have been much to look at, but it still ran just fine. A Ghtroc 720 Light Freighter, the Broken Dream had been in service for a very long time. Like most smuggler ships, the vessel had been modified as much as funding and reality had allowed. And, like most smuggler ships, she mantained an outward appearance designed to make opponents underestimate her. She'd also managed to do what virtually every heavily customized transport managed to do... capture the heart of her owner.

For a moment - just a moment - Tack was sorely tempted to leave Jola behind. One look at her hips swinging as she walked away was enough to dispel that particular idea. "Com'on," Jola continued, "Let's get out of here." Tack wholeheartedly agreed.

"Last call," he announced as he punched his security code into the pad by the main boarding ramp. He looked at Allie in particular as he spoke. "Everybody sure they've got the right flight?" As far as Tack could tell, this was the girl's homeworld. Granted he could easily see why she would want to leave it behind, but you never knew when sudden doubts might crop up. If they did, Allie didn't give any outward signs.

"Since it's the only flight out," Allie commented, "Yes."

"Right then," The smuggler muttered, "Away we go." With a groan that was only slightly worrying, the Broken Dream's boarding ramp descended.

"I don't suppose either of you ladies know how to work a blaster turret," Tack inquired as he plopped down into the Broken Dream's pilot seat. He paused for a moment, considering the company he was in. He glanced back over his shoulder. "On second thought... nevermind. Just strap in and get ready. We won't be needing the guns anyway."

"Not around here you won't," Allie said. Tack nodded in acknowledgement. From the hallway beyond the cockpit, a droid's servomoters could be heard. The sound brought a smile to the smuggler's face. Wheezer, Tack's battered R2 droid, had indeed been on the ship as promised. The little droid had a restraining bolt on him, but that would be easy enough to remove once they were on their way away from Arellia.

Slowly, ponderously, the Broken Dream's engines came to life. One by one the status displays on the control consoles began to light up until the cockpit was awash in lights. A low, harmonic buzz reverberated through the freighter's deckplates as the engines woke from a cold state and began to warm up to an operational state. Tack brought up the ship's weapons up to standby as well... just in case.

It took only a few moments, but it seemed to Tack as if it were a lifetime. Finally, the engine status lights blinked green and the ship was ready to move. The repulsorlifts kicked on, blowing a cloud of dust and detrious away from the underside of the ship. Executing a tight 180 degree spin, the Broken Dream came to face the hanger's exit. They were out in open sky less than a second later, and they were in space in less than a minute.

"Goodbye Arelia," Tack gloated, "Hello great unknown."

But before the feeling of victory had time to sink in, something on the sensor display caught Tack's eye. It was a ship, coming in fast. Initially it showed up as a small starfighter, and Tack thought it might actually be the local defense forces getting adventerous. Then the sensors got a better read on it, and Tack blanched. It wasn't a Z-95, or a Y-Wing, or even an ugly... it was a tie fighter. And then another contanct joined it, and another, and another. A whole squadron of Imperial tie fighters appeared on the sensor screen and behind them, coming out from behind the planet, was an Imperial Star Destroyer.

Tack turned back towards the two women in the cockpit, face taught. "Remember that question about gun turrets? I'd like an answer now."

"What is it?" Jola demanded, leaning forward to get a look at the control console.

"Imperial starfighters." He said simply. "And they don't look happy to see us."

JolaEdana
Jola glanced at the other woman, who pointed out the last camera mid bite. "Sorry we couldn't indulge you," she replied, leaning around the corner and putting the last camera out of comission.

That done, she turned to Tack and shoved the butt of her blaster into his chest. "You ever- and I mean EVER pull a stunt like that again, and I'll stun you myself. And you can forget about the peredin patches when you wake up."

"What's the big deal? The guy was fighting with his girlfriend."

"Lucky for you. Anybody could've been on the other end of that com, and on us in minutes. Look, the last thing I need is a bunch of Imps on our tail, and I imagine they would have just as much fun with you." She shoved her blaster back in its holster. "Try and remember that, will ya?"

"Lighten up," he said with an amused grin.

Jola almost growled.

"Ah-" Allie cleared her throat. "Maybe we should hurry before someone notices the cameras are out? Not that I'm really worried..."

"Right," Tack nodded. "Should be a couple of bays over."

They made their way to the bay door, and as they stepped through, Tack grinned.

Jola and Allie surveyed the ship, feeling the whole rescue mission had reached a rather anticlimatic end.

"There she is, ladies. The Broken Dream."

Allie sniffed and wiped her hands on her coveralls.

Jola snorted. "Yeah. It's broken alright," she muttered under her breath. She ignored the look on Tack's face and walked past him. "Com'on. Let's get out of here."