JolaEdana
Jola barked out a laugh. My partner? She considered her answer for a split second. She didn't like Tack. But she did like Allie, and she figured that if these guys were working for the Imperials, the last thing she wanted was to get them tangled up with her.

"He's not my partner," she said wryly. "Frell, I don't even know the guy's full name. I just hitched a ride from him." she smirked beneath the blindfold.

She considered the being in front of her, though she couldn't see him. He didn't fidgit like the other. He seemed strong. Sensible. She'd bet money he'd fired the shot that took her down in the street.

Jola decided to be very careful with this conversation...

Darth_Kuangduk
Kral regarded Jola silently, as he had for the majority of the time she'd been captive. His fur rippled as a slight shiver went down his back. There was something... odd... about the redhead. Something he couldn't quite place. He shook his head, trying to clear the feeling from his mind. She wasn't anything special. Sure she'd been kicking around Gazrik since square one, despite being tied up, but that wasn't spectacular. Annoying, but not spectacular.

Kral sighed. Sheelzo was paying him to do this, but he wasn't paying him that much. The rodian was pretty near bankrupt at this point, what with all of his clandestine operations having been siezed by the crime syndicates or the authorities (as controlled by the crime syndicates). He had to have scraped up everything he had left to pay for this job. Which made Kral curious... what was so important about the redhead's partner?

The Imperials wanted the man and his ship and his crew... alive. That was an oddity for the Empire. Sheelzo wanted him dead. Nothing new there. And then there was the crime syndicates. Kral had a few connections, like anybody in his business did. And those connections said that there was somebody up there who wanted this guy... this Tack... to remain alive and kicking.

All that, for one guy.

Grunting, Kral pushed himself up from where he sat and crossed the room. The redhead straightened a bit, tensed as if she knew he was headed her way. Kral chalked it up to a damn good set of ears. "Your partner," the Bothan said as neutrally as possible, stopping just outside of Jola's reach. "His name's Tack, right?"

JolaEdana
Jola studiously kept her face straight as she listened to two of her captors leave the room, the one moaning about his wrist the entire time. She hoped she had broken it. If he was that stupid he deserved what he got.

Meanwhile though, her mind worked furiously. Sheelzo. Sure as frell didn't sound like an Imp. Which must mean they had a bounty out on her, and these nerf heads had just gotten lucky.

She shook her head slightly. For some reason, the name was niggling in the back of her mind.... like she'd heard it before. She chewed on her lower lip, furious that she couldn't remember where.

Her remaining captor stayed silent, and he had been very silent for the majority of their time in the room. Jola figured she probably couldn't change that.

She slumped back against the wall, gently letting her hands massage each opposite wrist. She didn't figure she was going to get out of this. But she could at least be ready to kick a few more on her way out.


Darth_Kuangduk
Neyova shook her head. It wasn't that she thought her captive could benifit any by knowing what was going on. It was just that she was disinclined to reveal anything. What would she gain by telling her captive why she was being held? Nothing, really. It was only cliche badguys in bad holodramas that got some sort of smug satisfaction out of spilling the entire plan when they thought they had the upper hand. "You'll find out soon enough," was all she ended up saying.

Gazrik wimpered again from his edge of the bed. Neyova raised both eyebrows. The redhead must've really clocked him this time, though to be fair it wasn't as if Gazrik didn't deserve it. In fact, he definately deserved it. Neyova was all for women defending themselves, especially against the likes of her partner in crime. "I need painkillers," Gazrik all but whined, rolling onto his back.

"Oh, suck it up." Neyova snapped. "Go walk it off or something."

"Hey, I think she might've actually hurt him," The Bothan said, narrowing his eyes at Gazrik.

"No, ya think?" Gazrik growled. "owie... oh the pain... Oh man, I hope she's in one piece when Sheelzo's done with her. 'Cause she won't be when I get through."

"Hey Nova," the Bothan spoke again, "why don't you take the wounded party here to the clinic or somethin'. He might have a broken wrist, the way he's holdin' it."

"Fine, fine." Neyova gave in. "But if she broke your wrist, you'll never hear the end of this. Think you can handle her, Kral?"

"Hey," The Bothan answered, "She's blindfolded and tied up. Unless she's a Jedi, I'll just stay on the other side of the room and I'll be fine."

JolaEdana
Jola let out a snort of her own. "He's the one stupid enough to poke the rancor," she shot back. "Doesn't he have something better to do?" She spat. She had determined early on that she wasn't in the hands of Imperials yet- this group seemed more like babysitters. A stopover.

"We could gag you, if you don't stay silent," the first speaker said, her voice a deadly calm.

Jola grunted, but decided against saying anything further for the moment. If she could keep them talking, they might let something useful slip.

Her general barrage of insults didn't serve any purpose anyway, aside from taking her mind off of her aching body. It still tingled a bit from the last stun bolt, and the binders on her ankles and wrists had cut off most feeling in her extremities.

She still had enough mobility to swing out occasionally with arms or legs whenever the moron of the trio who was keeping her captive decided to annoy her. Jola honestly wasn't sure why they allowed her to do it. Her guess was boredom. They had been in this room for five hours already, no contact.

Satisfied that her tormentor had retired to a seat on the bed a ways off to tend his bruises, she let herself relax. Her pulse beat in her aching skull, and she was starving. She'd almost rather be in Imperial hands and get it over with.

Jola sighed.

"What do you want with me?" There was no answer from her captives, but she could feel them glance in her direction. She shrugged painfully and tried to sound nonchalant. "Call me curious."

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack warily entered the Golden Gorak Cantina. The sign outside had been in pretty good shape, which had suggested that the inside would also be in fair condition... though you never really knew on Tantor. Luckily, though, the inside seemed to be as advertised. The tables were clean, even the people sitting at them weren't, the booths were nice and private, and the bar was in decent shape. It even had a small relief of a Gorak mounted on the back wall behind the bar. "Why anybody would want to name a cantina after a bird," the smuggler muttered as he wove his way towards the bar, "Is beyond me."

But despite the dubious naming of the establishment, it was exactly what Tack was looking for. "I'll have a Geillian Ale," He told the bartender as he plopped down on his barstool. The patrons sitting to either side of Tack looked him over for a moment, then went back to their drinks. He started scanning the cantina, looking for familiar faces. It hadn't been too long since he'd been on Tantor, a few of his usual contacts would still be lurking around.

Tack's drink arrived, delivered by a harried looking Ithorian bartender. "Hey friend," Tack addressed the alien with aplomb, "I'm looking for Gazrik. Seen him around?" The Ithorian gestured negatively.

"Hasn't been around for days," he told Tack.

"Ah. Well, how about Neyova?" Tack inquired hopefully. He didn't want to have to go so far as to ask about Sheelzo directly. The rodian didn't particulary like having his name flashed around. Not too safe on a world like Tantor. Instead, he preferred to work through middlemen... contacts like Gazrik or Neyova.

"Neyova, yeah." The bartender answered a bit grumpily. "She was in here yesterday. Made a mess of the place..." The Ithorian eyed Tack suspiciously. "You her boyfriend? 'Cause somebody's gotta pay for-"

Tack's laugh cut off the Ithorian mid sentance. "Boyfriend? Frell pal, the last girl I hooked up with sold all the furniture in my apartment and took all the credits she could get her hands on. Which, granted, I wouldn't put past Neyova... but still." Still smiling, Tack lifted his mug of ale and took a sip. He set it down again with a sigh of contentment. Arellia hadn't had anything close to this.

"Well, if you see her..." The Ithorian pressed.

"Sure, sure. No problem." Tack assured the Ithorian and turned away from the bar. So Gazrik wasn't around and Neyova probably wouldn't be coming back to this particluar establishment anytime soon. "Still plenty of cantinas," Tack told himself as he sipped more of his ale.

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

"Last cantina," Tack grumbled as he stood before a place which called itself The Barrel. It looked bad on the outside, and as the smuggler entered the establisment he realized the owners had taken great pains to make the outside look good. The place was filthy, horribly lit, horribly entertained by a very loud and very bad band, and inhabited by the dregs of the galaxy. There was even, Tack thought, a few dead bodies lying here and there on the floor.

"Talk about scraping the bottom of..." Tack paused, contemplated the joke he was about to make, then shrugged. Without anybody around to appreciate the bad humor, there really wasn't anything worth saying.

The bar was full up, so Tack took a booth. The seat was clean enough... the constant passage of countless alien behinds was probably responsible for that. A thought which in and of itself made the booth seem very unclean. Even so, Tack sat. He made a mental note of the small pool of something near his elbow, and resolved not to touch it. He was just about to order a drink when a cloaked figure invited himself into the booth. Tack's hand immediately went to the holstered blaser he wore on his thigh.

"Hello there," Tack greeted the stranger amenably, finger on the trigger.

"Hello back," The stranger answered, pulling back the cowel that had covered his head. The man was human, and youngish. Tack kept his finger on the trigger. "Can I buy you a drink?" The stranger inquired, already gesturing for one of the scantily clad serving girls.

"I never turn down free booze," was Tack's reply. "But then, nothing's ever free around here."

"Too true," The stranger responded. He regarded Tack for a moment, smile fading. "Tell you what, then. How about you buy me the drink."

"And you give me... what?" Tack inquired. It was an old game, and he was used to playing it. The man was obviously a middleman for somebody. Probably not Sheelzo... the damn Rodian had gone and made himself scarce for some reason. And if he wasn't letting Tack dig him up, he doubted the guy would just up and send somebody to make contact. So it had to be somebody else. One of the local crime lords, maybe?

"Information," The stranger responded.

"Ah," was Tack's only response. The two men sat in silence... well, in what passed for silence in The Barrel, and regarded each other. "What kind of information?" Tack asked at last. The guy across from him was a cool customer, that was sure. He never even changed his expression.

"I think I'll wait for my drink before I go into details," The stranger responded, smiling slightly. Tack nodded in agreement. It wasn't long until the serving girl brought over a large tankard of something. Tack noted this with interest. The man hadn't even had to give her his order, she'd already known. That either meant he'd ordered before he'd sat down, or he was a regular and the staff knew his usual.

"Here you go," Tack told the serving girl as he set a few credchits on the edge of the table. With his free hand, of course. The serving girl took the credits, smiled when she realized there were a few extra, then walked off. Tack watched her go for a few seconds. "So..." He forced his attention back towards his new companion, "About that information."

The stranger took a long drink of his beverage before answering. "You've been trying to get into contact with Sheelzo."

"What are you," Tack asked sarcastically, "A Jedi mind reader? Tell me something I don't know."

"Heh, ok. You haven't been able to get in touch with him." The stranger held up a hand to forestall another snappy remark, "What you don't know is why." The man lowered his hand and took another pull at his drink.

"Go on," Tack invited.

"He's gone into hiding... somebody leaked some very unpleasant information about him to one of the local crime lords. They pretty much ruined him overnight, but either couldn't or didn't feel like killing him."

"Oh..." Well, that would certainly change things. Tack still needed to find somebody who could offload his hot cargo for him, and if it wasn't Sheelzo... well, Tack guessed the real question was who could he trust?

"Yeah." The man answered with a shrug. "He's pretty paranoid now. Not to mention angry as can be. Word is he's out for revenge on the one who leaked the info, whoever that might be, but all he's done so far is hide from the syndicates."

"And you went out of your way to tell me this because...?" Tack prompted. The man grinned and hefted his mug.

"It got me a free drink, didn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Tack made it clear with his tone that he didn't believe that one.

"Ok then," The man continued, "How's this. The Imperials showed up a little while back. They were pretty hot to get their hands on you and your ship... which means you might have something they want. Anything the Empire wants as bad as that is worth having. Your usual guy is so far underground he's on the other side of the planet, and I'm willing to help you get whatever it is off your hands, and the Empire off your back."

"It's about time we got to the point," Tack replied. "Sure, I've got a hold full of hot cargo. If you want it, you're welcome to take it. Just make sure you pay me in cash."

"Perfect," The stranger downed the last of his drink and set the mug loudly back onto the table. "Then we've got a deal."

"No, not yet we don't," Tack shook his head.

"No?" The stranger asked quizically, visibly thrown for the first time.

"Nope." Tack repeated, "Before we have a deal, I want to know you're name and who you work for."

The man across the table chuckled. "You can call me Kaimen. As for who I work for... well, do you really need to know?"

"Not really," Tack admitted. "But it was worth a try."

"So it was," Kaimen agreed. He stood from the booth, and shrugged his cowel back on. "Oh, there's something else," He said. "As a sort of bonus to the deal. One of your crew got nabbed downtown earlier today, probably bounty hunters who want to cash in on the reward."

"Crew?" Tack asked curiously. "I don't have a crew." And then it dawned on him.

"She came from your ship," Kaimen said. "Short stature, red hair..."

"Jola," Tack muttered. "Great."

"So she is part of your crew," Kaimen prompted.

"Well... yes and no." Tack replied. "Either way, thanks for the info." Kaimen nodded and walked off into the crowd. He stepped gingerly over an inert twi'lek, dodged a puddle of something, and was gone. Tack sat in his booth a little while longer, wondering whether he should feel guilty for pushing Jola off on her own to get captured by bounty hunters, or just feel sorry for her kidnappers.

In the end, it was a mix of both.

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

Four people occupied one room of a very shady hotel in Cartogen's downtown area. The paint was peeling off of the walls, the air conditioning didn't work, there were bugs everywehre, and the neighbors were noisy. But it was as good a place as any to keep a hostage until you got orders about what to do with 'em.

"eep"

There was a heavy thud as a body hit the floor, then soft wimpering.

"Oh for sith's sake, Gazrik. She's blindfolded and tied up. What the frell do you need us to do, stun her again?" Neyova shook her head at her pain racked companion. She then looked over at the cause of Gazrik's pain... a fiesty little redhead who had been nothing but trouble since the moment she'd woken up. "You try that again, sweetheart," Neyova warned, "And we'll have to start letting Gazrik hit back."

The only noise made by the third abductor, a grey furred, purple eyed Bothan was a soft snort.

JolaEdana
"...get the frell off my ship..."

Jola stuffed the last of her things into a small haversack she'd found in the small storage cabinet beneath her bunk. She was beginning to have misgivings about going. It all seemed too simple. The still holo of Tack's face on that badge kept flashing in her mind's eye.

There was no help for it. This might be her only chance to escape.

Jola tucked a still damp strand of coppery hair up into the elaborate twist of braids her waist length hair formed around her head. She tugged the zipper on her clean black jumpsuit to her chin, and double checked that her utility belt and blaster rested on her hips.

Then she made her way towards the boarding ramp. She stopped at the common room, where Allie sat in the booth occupied with something. Jola cleared her throat somewhat akwardly. "Just so you know," she said, "I'm taking off. Tack and I don't get along, and I know I haven't been the greatest. Good luck with everything, okay? It was good traveling with you."

The younger woman gazed at her a moment, then gave her a nod. Jola didn't pause any longer, but continued towards the entrance. Tack came around the opposite corner at the same time as she did. For a moment they both paused, eyeing each other.

Jola finally gave him a nod. "Thanks for getting me here." She forced herself to say it. Her stomach flipped and churned inside her, and if she hadn't had years of practice keeping her face straight in tough situations, Jola was sure she would have looked as terrified as she felt.

She couldn't bring herself to let him study her though. She had to walk down the ramp and get far away before she lost her nerve and her chance.

So the redheaded doctor got the frell off of Tack's ship.

He followed her for a moment, but soon turned the opposite way out of the docking bay.

Jola walked a little faster. She had no idea where she was going. Tantor didn't seem to have a nice section of town. Jola finally forced herself to admit that while she had been trained to fight, and knew how to take care of herself, she had always lived in the nicer parts of Corellia. She'd spent plenty of time around rough and tumbles in the military, but it had always been in the nice, controlled enviroment of her medical ward.

So when she found herself on the streets of Tantor's largest space port, possibly being followed, or walking into an ambush, she realized how very alone and clueless she really was. And without credits. She was almost flat broke.

A motel there, a string of bars and clubs there. Booths selling wares there, a junk shop over there. Jola wove through the streets, hoping that by getting deeper into the city, and going somewhere she wouldn't be expected to go, that she could avoid being found. She could find a ride off the planet. Or fix someone up for some spare creds. There had to be a lot of fighting on a planet like this... she'd duck into a bar. Talk to a few people....

So preoccupied was she with her sudden shortcomings, Jola never realized that she really was walking into an ambush.

And by the time she'd walked under the arch that led to a side street, it was too late. The first stun bolt came late, and missed her by a hair- but by the time she pulled her blaster and brought it to bear, the second was on its way. In that short nanosecond, she realized that if the Imperials wanted her, there was no way she could have escaped on her own.

The blue energy beam hit her fully in the chest and she slumped into the dirt without so much as a cry.

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack watched Allie as she hurridly left the cocpit, and wondered why it seemed like she was offended. Maybe it was the way she left, or maybe it had been the tone of her voice when she'd spoken.

"Just my luck with women," Tack told himself, alone in the cocpit, only his droid for company. "No matter what I do, I always end up on their bad sides." He leaned back in the pilot's chair and put his feet up on the control panel. He closed his eyes, and listened to the hum of the now operational hyperdrive engines. Only a little longer, and he'd be free of both women. Free to go... somewhere. And do... something. He hadn't exactly figured out where or what, but it would all come in good time.

"Wheezer," Tack addressed the astromech as it trundled across the metal floor, "Grab me some boozeahol from the galley, will ya?"

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

The Broken Dream seamlessly entered realspace, decelerating rapidly to normal cruisng speeds. Still sitting with alcoholic beverage in hand, Tack began a sensor sweep of the system. Imperials were usually hard to miss, and didn't generally bother hiding. But the sensor scans showed no Star Destroyer silouettes, no TIE squadrons on patrol, no Imperial IFFs. As far as he could tell, the system was clean.

"Finally," Tack muttered, "Something's going my way." He cleared his throat and pushed the ship's intercomm button. "Good evening ladies and droids," He intoned in a purposefully bland voice, "This is your captain speaking. We've just arrived in the Tantor star system, and will be entering orbit of Tantor Prime in just a few minutes. Landing will commense as soon as possible, at which time you can get the frell off my ship." The last part of the announcement had been squarely aimed at Jola, and Tack was pretty sure she'd know it. Smugly satisfied, he released the intercomm button and concentrated on bringing the ship in for a landing.

Being a rimworld, Tantor wasn't as technologically advanced or as populated as most core worlds. It wasn't quite as lawful, either, which was one reason Tack liked it so much. Of the dozen or so major cities on the planet only two had starports, and both were hotly contested by local crime organizations. Again, not nessicarily a bad thing. Landing procedures for "known" ships was usually fairly quick and efficient, and Tack was certainly known. Whether or not that was a bad thing was another question.

"Wonder how many bounty hunters are lookin' around for me," Tack said mostly to himself. The bounty his former employer had placed on his head was quite substantial. Tack hadn't allowed himself to think much about it since leaving Arellia, but the prospect of actually having to deal with a price on his head was starting to sink in.

Eventually, and with little hassle, Tack set the ship down in one of the open air docking bays that dotted the city of Cartogen. As the engines wound down, he contemplated what his next move should be... and what the girls would be doing. Jola would likely jump ship as soon as humanly possible. Allie, on the other hand... who knew?

As for Tack himself, he needed to get in touch with Sheelzo. Having a bounty on your head was one thing, having a hold full of hot cargo was something else entirely. Custom's hadn't been a problem on the way in, thanks to Tack's "known" status, but that was just here on Tantor. Any number of other planets would likely be a little less gracious... and Tack didn't exactly plan on sticking around all that long.

"Wheezer," Tack addressed his droid, "Prep the cargo bay for unloading, and keep an eye on the ship... I'm gonna go find somebody to take this stuff off our hands for us." He headed for the boarding ramp.

JerinPuck
It would have been impossible for Allie to miss Jola and Tack's conversation. She knew they were angry at each other- had been almost from the start- but the motivation behind the animosity was beyond her. The kid comment, though, that she had caught. Causes were difficult, but signs were easy. This smuggler guy genuinely thought of her as a kid. Allie recalled his offer of a job and was even more confused. Playing cards was infinitely easier.

Allie watched Tack as he came back in, tipping her head so far to the right that her ear nearly touched her shoulder. She closed one eye in a strange appraising look, and he muttered about needing a drink.

"That shouldn't be a problem. Ya' have enough on board," Allie answered, then hightailed it out of the cockpit because the view of hyperspace was making her feel sick again.

JolaEdana
Jola stopped dead in the corridor and stared at the wall, her fists clenched.

"Dryok* it," she swore softly.

What a flaming mess. Had he meant any of that? Or was he just letting her think she could leave any time she wanted? Either she was wrong, or he was so fraking good she was doomed for sure.

Jola mentally continued down her list of curses. Being native Corellian, it was a long one.

She slowly flexed her fingers, forcing herself to let her body relax. Well, if nothing else, she could get in the 'fresher and try to look human again. And in the meantime, she could decide wether or not to apologize and try to get back on his good side.

One thing was for sure- if she took his offer, it wouldn't be at face value. She'd watch her back and cover her tracks.

Darth_Kuangduk
That was more like it, Tack thought. For some reason, a confrontation with Jola just seemed more comfortable than her being nice. What an odd, odd way to look at things. "Hey, I've been plenty civilized!" Tack shot back, putting up a fist. He raised an index finger from it. "First, I got you off that mudball of a planet back there. Second," he raised another finger, "I gave you a room to sleep in. I even offered to sleep on the floor so the kid could have my bunk!" Another finger came up, "Third, I haven't spaced you yet, and believe me, Red, I've been tempted."

"But hey," Tack shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, "You wanna leave, that's your business. As soon as we hit the pad on Tantor you're perfectly welcome to get off my ship."

Turning around, Tack stalked back towards the cocpit. A thought occured to him as he was partway there. The whirled around, but Jola was nowhere in sight. "And I'm not even charging you for the trip!" He bellowed, not feeling like going after her to make his final point. He was somewhat relieved that Jola seemed dead set on leaving once they reached the planet. The woman had been a constant pain in his ass ever since he'd met her... and somehow, the fact that she looked as good as she did failed to make up for it.

"I need a drink," Tack muttered, mostly to himself.

JolaEdana
Jola chewed on her lip. Frell.

She turned to face him, hands on her hips. She pulled up her chin, hoping posture would make up for her disheveled look, and fixed him with a level look.

"The point is," she said, back to her usual dry tone, "You don't really have an option. Everyone on this ship is more civilized than you've managed to be the entire time I've known you."

"I'm stuck on this ship until we get to land, and I'd like to hit dirtside without murder charges. I was trying to be nice for once. But since you make that impossible, I'll go freshen up and pack."

She swallowed hard. Now, she'd done it. If she couldn't lull him into a false sense of security, she'd just have to try to leave and take her chances. She'd let it be known she intended to leave, now to see wether or not he'd try to stop her....

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack opened his mouth, a snappy comeback already half formed, when he realized what exactly it was that Jola had said. The smuggler paused for a second, mental processes thrown slightly off kilter. She wasn't arguing. Why wasn't she arguing? Tack's immediate reaction was to become highly suspicious, something that had been ingrained in him from years of life in the underworld and the Empire. But there was something in Jola's voice that disarmed even that deep rooted reaction. It was almost like she was trying to be nice for a change.

That, of course, just scared the Force out of Tack. Women who were unexpectedly nice had something up their sleeves. And Jola was a devious one, he could tell. Tack closed his mouth, a slightly confused frown on his face. Jola, perhaps knowing that she'd managed to win this particular verbal battle with a single salvo, walked towards the cocpit exit. Well, Tack thought, that wouldn't do. "Hey," He tossed over his shoulder at her, "What makes you think I even want to interact with the civilized?"

It wasn't much, granted... but it would do for the moment. At the very least it was probably enough to draw the redhead back into conversation, giving Tack an opportunity to figure out what she was up to.

JolaEdana
Jola pursed her own lips before deciding to relent. She had a half formed, somewhat hazy idea in the back of her head, and decided to follow her gut.

"That is good," she offered, no trace of sarcasam in her voice. She even threw in a wry smile before leaning against the wall. "I'll give you that. A little more polish here and there, and you may be fit for interaction with the civilized."

The last barb was thrown in lightly, and meant to make him feel better. She knew if she suddenly switched to total respect, he'd pick up on it in five seconds. Nothing wrong with lacing medicine with honey.

Meanwhile, she was extremely concious of how awful she must look. She'd stormed up here, furious for getting a beating in her own bunk, and now she was aware that her jumpsuit was wrinkled, her hair unruly and tangled, and that she was still barefoot.

Fine then, time to make a semi graceful retreat before he opened his mouth....

Darth_Kuangduk
Caught up in his excitement over getting the hyperdrive working again, Tack had honestly forgotten to warn the two women on board. Actually, he hadn't completely forgotten... he just hadn't really expected the repairs to work. Not that he was about to admit that little fact, of course.

Allie's cry of indignation from the hallway beyond the cocpit reminded Tack that he probably should've given some heads up. "Sorry!" He called back into the corridor. "Sorry! The uh... the intercom must've cut out!" Approaching footsteps told Tack that Allie wasn't waiting around in the rear of the ship. Turning to look over his shoulder the smuggler was rewarded with the sight of the young woman entering the cocpit, hat in hand.

"How long 'til Tantor?" Allie inquired, gazing out of the windows at hyperspace. Tack quickly glanced down at his instrument panel. He was a decent navigator, but travel times always were problematic.

"I'd say an hour or two, no more than that." The smuggler was about to strike up further conversation when boot steps once again sounded from the hallway. Tack sighed slightly and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He'd been hoping Jola wouldn't bother coming up to the cocpit to complain, but apparently those hopes had been in vain.

"There are other people on this ship, y'know," were the first cold words from the redhead's mouth. Tack pursed his lips and gave her a frank look.

"Hey," He shot back, "I got us into hyperspace, didn't I? I thought you'd be happy about it." It was going to be a long couple of hours.

JolaEdana
Jola's eyes snapped open and she sat up with a sharp gasp. She reached out in the dark of the cubby to find a wall to steady herself against. She rubbed a hand across her eyes, not wanting to open them yet.

The dream- well, more like a nightmare- had been about her fiancee. Well, ex fiancee now. She was pretty sure he was dead. His apartment that morning she had gone to see him. Turned upside down and empty, only a week after her parents. She remembered again the cold devastation. The knowledge that her life as she knew it was completely gone. That she had to leave everything, before they came for her too.

She still didn't know what had happened to him.

The feeling of that moment came back all too easily now, though. She was in the same corner on this ship.

Jola cried out in pain as the ship gave a sudden jerk beneath her and her head hit the plating behind the bunk. Swearing softly, she sat up and ordered the lights on dimly. Lost in her thoughts and still half asleep, she hadn't noted the tell a tale hum of the ship prepping for hyperspace.

She sighed. She couldn't stay in this little room forever. They were probably already wondering where she was. Best to go out. And pretend everything was fine.

Which meant yelling at Tack for being such a frelling nerfhead and not warning them before making a jump.

She made her way quietly to the cockpit where the so called smuggler lounged in his pilot's chair, looking immensely relieved. "There are other people on this ship, y'know," she said, her violet eyes cold, one thin red eyebrow arching.

JerinPuck
Allie wandered through the ship, retracing her steps so many times that she lost count. She was bored, having nothing to do, and she sorely missed her bike. A poem of sorts that had been scrawled graffiti style up on one of the main offices walls was stuck in her head.

Zero first wrote:
If it's not raining,
it's not a work day.
A courier that Allie didn't know later added:
We're in for the biking,
not for the pay.
Allie made her own contriubtion of:
If that's not to your liking,
then go away.
High Five, (courier number 5, who spent most of his time strung out on one thing or another) concluded it with:
And don't let the door hit your butt on the way out.

Allie did not for one instant miss Arelia, but she berated herself mentally for not bringing her bike along. There was enough room on the ship for it, Allie just lacked the foresight to realize that. Not that she could have used it on board, but a bike would have given her a means of planetside transportation, and something to tinker with while they were dead in space.

Dead was, perhaps, not the best adjective. Tack and his droid were making noise from under consoles, behind wires, and what seemed to be from inside the walls. Then silence, followed by jolt into hyperspace.

"Excellent warning!" Allie called happily from her newfound location- flat on her back on the deck plates. "Really. Very nice. Way to fix the ship!" She stood up and wrung out her hat on her way to find T-whatever. "How long til Tantor?"

Darth_Kuangduk
"Wheezer!"

Tack's shout for his droid assistant echoed down the hallways of the Broken Dream. It wasn't exactly nessecary to shout so loudly, of course, as the droid wasn't more than three feet away from the maintenance crawlspace in which Tack lay. Still, it made Tack feel better to yell. "Bring me the spanner!" He added, still yelling.

The smugger was fairly certain that Jola and Allie could both hear him. That was fine... it paid to let the guests know that he was actually working on getting them out of this jam. He got the distinct impression, mostly from Jola, that the women thought of him as particularly inept when it came to running a ship. Proving them wrong was a matter of honor and male pride... honor because he thought of himself as quite capable of running a starship, had been at it for years. As for male pride... well, they were women, after all, and they were questioning his capabilities... and therefore his manliness. "Wheezer!"

A hydrospanner plopped down onto the deck next to Tack's hand. He blinked, and noted that a pair of droid rollers were now next to his leg. Igoring the fact that he'd been shouting for no reason, Tack took the spanner and applied it to the part... only to find that it was the wrong kind of spanner. "No no no!" Tack shouted, tossing the tool back out at Wheezer, "The hydrospanner!"

With a flabbergasted sounding blatt, Wheezer trundled off. Despite the fact that he sounded irritated, Tack was actually quite pleased. All he had to do was tighten one little bit, and the ship would be ready to jump into hyperspace again.

After a moment, Wheezer returned and plopped the correct tool down into Tack's lap. Had the tool been any heavier, the smuggler would have been sqeaking mad... and in lots of pain. But it wasn't, so he wasn't. Moments later, he slid out from the crawlspace covered in all manner of engine grunge. The cocpit was calling, and Tack could hear it's sweet, sweet voice.

"Allright small fry," Tack said to Wheezer as he plopped down into the pilot's seat. "Let's get this show into hyperspace." He wiggled his fingers for a moment to prepare them for the coming rigors, then began flipping switches, pushing buttons, and turning knobs. Green lights lit up all across the board with the exception of a few places... but those lights never worked, so Tack ignored them.

The satisfying hum of operation engines began to issue forth from the deckplates, which vibrated ever so slightly. A small bug skittered into view on those deckplates, but quickly retreated when Wheezer spotted it and extended his electrical zapper. The little critters were learning. "Scary thought," Tack muttered.

Not about to let that ruin the moment, though, the smuggler reached forth one grime covered hand and set it on the hyperspace activation lever. "One," he intoned, "Two... three!"

More slowly than he wanted to, Tack pulled back the hyperspace lever. The hum of the decplates increased, the reverberation went up just the slightest bit, and the stars began to move faster and faster. With astonishing quickness the universe began to swirl, and the ship was once again in hyperspace.

"Yeeeeehaaaaw!" Tack shouted, "Tantor here we come!"

Darth_Kuangduk
"Uh, no... that's ok," Tack responded. "Just forget I ever asked." Shoving the last of his breakfast item into his mouth, the smuggler hefted his replacement part off of the counter. "Gonna go work," He said around his food. With that, he headed for the door. He didn't have any particular qualms about leaving Allie alone in the galley... not until he realized that all of his alcoholic beverages were in there.

Tack turned on one heel, giving the younger woman an appraising look. She looked back, seemingly innocent. Certainly not the picture of a booze thief. "Uh..." Tack fumbled for a moment, realizing he should probably come up with a reason for having turned around. Still chewing, but now more slowly, the smuggler thought hard. Finally, he had it. "Watch out for the bugs," He said, and swallowed. "Nasty critters." With that out of the way, Tack turned around once more and headed for the hallway.

JerinPuck
Allie shook her head. "Nope, you're asking the wrong person. Bikes? Sure." (She'd had to fix her own enough times.) "Droids? Well, I've seen them taken apart a couple of times... but I never really paid attention," she confessed. Allie had, in fact, watched her neighbor trying to fix his ever-failing droid on a few occasions, but had been more focused on stealing his tools when his back was turned than on how the driod worked. In part, to tinker with her big brother's bike, but mostly just to watch her neighbor get increasingly frustrated while questioning his own sanity. "I'd give it a try, but really I think you'd probably kill me or something if you had to rename the 'droid 'Mute.'"

Darth_Kuangduk
"Yes," Tack responded between bites of breakfast. He regarded the part in silence for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, maybe. Hey, at this point I'm willing to give it a shot."

Due to Tack's dream, he hadn't been able to sleep very long during the night. Instead of sleeping, then, he'd decided to get up early and go over the engine problems one more time. With the diagnostic station once again up and running, it had only been a matter of patience to track the trouble to it's source... a part like the one that now sat on the counter.

That had been the easy part of Tack's morning. The hard part, he'd soon discovered, was finding something to eat for breakfast. There was plenty of alcohol to be found, of course, as no self respecting smuggler would let himself be found without it. There was also bread... or at least, Tack thought it was bread. He didn't want to gamble on it, though, and so had moved on in search of something more appetizing. What he'd found was... well... edible. It hadn't killed him yet, at least. And it didn't taste half bad, either. The fact that it had been sealed in a plastic bag and tagged with an expiration date several decades away was also a plus.

So far as Tack could tell it was meat, vegitables, and several unidentifiable somethings wrapped in a thin round piece of flatbread. Tack waved this odd food item first at Alllie, then at the part on the counter. "We're lucky there was one of these in our spare parts," the smuggler commented. "I might've been able to jurry rig a way to get the engines working without it, but having it will speed things up greatly. An hour, maybe two, and we'll be back on course!"

Tack grinned, and tore off another bite of his mysterious food. "Oh, and there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Tack added with his mouth still full of food. He chewed hastily and swallowed with an audible gulp, then leaned across the counter. "You know much about droids? Wheezer's had this problem with his noise maker whatchamacallit for years... you know, the thing that he's supposed to whistle trough. It's broken, see, that's why he only wheezes instead of whistles..."

JerinPuck
Allie woke up several hours later still mostly on the couch. Yawning, she tried to focus her eyes on her wrist chronometer before giving up on trying to see the small display so soon after being asleep. Having no idea of how long she had slept in the middle of space, Allie decided that- since she was awake- it had been long enough. She made her way through the dimly lit corridor to the 'fresher.

Inside, Allie regarded the shower with apprehension. She had nothing against being clean, of course, but for the first time Allie could remember in three years, she was dry. Taking solace in the fact that in space there is no rain, Allie got cleaned up and dressed again- punctuating the affair by defiantly pulling on her now very dry hat over her wet hair. After, of course, first trying to wring it out.

Completely out of candy bars- something that rarely happened- Allie was forced to resort to foraging around in the ex-galley for breakfast. After eating something which advertised itself as bread (and magnificently failed to live up to that name) and starting on a bottle of beer that definitely was beer, it occured to Allie that there were other people on the ship, that they too might be up, and might need help fixing the crippled boat.

With that in mind, Allie began to wander around the Broken Dream with her bottle, looking for signs of life. In the primary cargo hold, she got distracted watching the astromech scuttle across the floor and zap at bugs. After all, bugs were life, right? After a while Allie realized that her breakfast beverage was almost gone, so she returned to the primary cargo hold to put the bottle with some other empties she had noticed. Tack popped up from behind the counter with food in one hand, and what appeared to be an engine piece part in the other.

Allie blinked. "Good morning."

Tack swallowed the food in his mouth. "Is it?"

"I don't know about either one. I'll try again. Good beer."

"Cheers," Tack said, as Allie raised the bottle before placing it in the box of empties, then he took another bite of his food.

"Is that what's going to get us back in hyperspace?" Allie asked nodding at the part which was now on the countertop.

JolaEdana
Jola watched the little droid roll away. He had sounded almost... indifferent. She shook her head, and double checked that the room looked as close as she could get it to the way it had been. She then got up quietly and went as quickly as she could back into the corridor, and back to her room.

After the door slid shut behind her, and the darkness in the room was complete, Jola realized how heavily she was breathing. She had no idea what the morning would bring.
If that little droid would tell Tack what she had seen.
If it was even really an astromech.
If Tack had a different sort of rendevous in mind.
If she was going to end up in Imperial interrogation after all.

She curled up on her mattress and stared at the door. Jola had made up her mind- the first time they hit ground, she was going to find a new ride....

Darth_Kuangduk
Wheezer watched as Jola slowly moved forward to replace the cover of the smuggling compartment. He'd decided that for some reason, she thought he was dangerous. While that was an amusing thought to an R2 armed only with an electronic zapper, it wasn't exactly what he'd been going for. With a resolute series of beeps and wheezes he communicated that he was definately not the ship's security droid, and had no intention of harming her.

Before she got the lid to the compartment replaced, Wheezer leaned forward and took a good look around the inside of it. Having the scene comitted to memory he trundled off in search of more bugs, electronic zapper extended and ready for action. He caught one running across the floor of the bay, and began stalking it, all thoughts of Jola and the smuggling compartment's contents forgotten. They would be reviewed and thought upon when boredom once again set in, or there were no more bugs in sight, or both.

JolaEdana
Jola dropped the ID tags and put her hands up, backing away from the small droid. She couldn't believe she hadn't heard him rolling in, and now she had no idea what she was going to do. He was beeping at her, and she had no idea what he was saying.

She was sure he was going to wake Tack up- and even if he didn't, he would probably tell him she had been in here. She realized it was probably over. She was a sitting duck, on a ship with at least one person who wanted her dead, stalled in space and no way to escape.

This just kept getting worse. Jola closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she whispered to the R2 droid, "I'm going to put the cover back on, and I'm going to leave, and you never saw me here. Okay?"

She took a tentative step forward and waited to see what the droid would do.