Shai felt an overwhelming sense of calm wash over her and suddenly things felt as if they were going to be alright. She looked around the cargo bay with a bit of shine in her eyes from her newfound lack of worries. The Exile met the Captain's gaze, which told her subtly that maybe bringing the relic out was something best saved for a later, more private date and time. She stuffed the black object back into her pocket and stood up, stretching and suppressing a yawn. The Captain got everyone's attention and obviously interrupted a semi-heated discussion about some frakking device or another between Woo'rah and the Dug. Shai didn't much care for fancy devices personally. They had their uses, she allowed that much, but relying on them too much would make one weak without them (and there were numerous ways of stripping gadgets of their usefulness in the galaxy.)

The Captain explained the details of the living arrangements and the technical specifications of the cargo hold itself. Most of it was fairly logical and made no difference to Shai. She did, however, note with a somewhat raised eyebrow that the co-pilot was a droid. Not a totally unheard of arrangement but still, it was unique enough that it warranted some small reaction. The pilot himself was the trandoshan she had noticed earlier, apparently named Baarsuth. Being piloted by a Trando and a Droid. Not a situation Shai could have placed herself in a year prior, but a lot has changed lately. It was a period of change for the galaxy at large it seemed and no one could avoid it.

At the very least it was nice knowing that someone would always be in the cockpit. At one point she had commanded a ship but she hadn't the faintest clue on how to fly one. Now that she thought about it commanding one probably was out of her abil- Shai shook the self-doubt away. No use dwelling on the past now, the present was all that mattered at this point in her life. Shai focused on happier thoughts as she tuned out the technical details of the living arrangements. It seemed like she was going to be sharing a cabin with the wookiee, Liak'ykam. Well she definitely could have ended up with someone worse. Like the Dug. Or the other Twi'lek. She laughed internally at the thought of sharing a cabin with a Dug; one of them would probably end up strangled by the end of the first cycle and dark side users were known to be fond of choking people.

Finally the Captain finished his briefing on the hold and asked for questions before they headed upstairs. Shai kept her course of staying silent and shook her head. Not much to get about a cargo hold.

l

The Dug regarded Woosie for a few moments before approximating a shrug, which jerked his entire torso. "Well, if you find yourself turning into an unguided munition, just remember that I told you so." he replied, turning at the captain's voice to get everyone the grand tour of the heap. Zekha had served on a ship similar to this once upon a time, so the layout wasn't a mystery to him; what he was looking for was defects. Falling in with the others, the newly anointed crew followed Varen as he lead them out of the spacious cargo hold into the comparatively claustrophobic halls of the ship. When he pointed out that the workshop wasn't just Woo'Rah's, a grin crept across Zekha's face. "Oh good. I'll try not to skip off work early to play with my toys... much." he remarked as they headed down the corridors.

The Phoenix was definitely an old bucket of a ship that had been remarkably diligently as maintained and loved as the abysmal design would permit; over time, the prior crews definitely got fed up with trying to keep things presentable and instead as functional and accessible as possible. Paint was long gone in spots, wires were exposed but neatly sorted, panels had crudely bolted on latches rather than bolt heads, suggesting problem areas that needed to be accessed far more than anyone cared to fight with power tools for, anyways.

The accommodations seemed to be satisfactory, anyways. Zekha's arrangement was very much a "sleep where you work" situation, prompting him to look at the Wookiee and the other Twi'lek. "Fair warning; I snore." he remarked flippantly in an attempt to discourage bunk mates. In truth, he could use the space away from Woosie to lay out his own personal work area and lay out his kit he didn't want the woman to lay her gross blue mitts on.

"No questions here, Cap'n." Zekha remarked, returning his gaze to Varen for a moment before reconsidering. "Actually, outside of our proper duties, who gets assigned what for the more..." he twirled a finger around in thought, reaching for the right word. "Civic jobs. Cooking, cleaning, tucking in the Wookiee, that sort of crap. Rotating schedule, fixed? I also imagine there's going to be emergency drills and rolls so it's not just me trying to put out a dozen fires and seal hull breaches on my lonesome."

---

---

"Are you all grown up yet, Zekha?" The captain chided. "Everyone can cook and clean up after themselves. If you can't cook, you can make an arrangement with another crew member who does or you can deal with nutripaste, which is in the ship's larders. There's enough of that garbage to last for months. Emergencies... just look at this way: the less you help, the more likely all of us are going to die in the middle of outer space."

The captain looked back and forth between the crew, his expression matter-of-factly, with his arms stretched out in a sort of fashion as if he were asking everyone, "well, what did you expect?" With the rest of the crew silent, and <ZEKHA's> questions answered, he turned back around and led everyone up the staircase to the upper level of the ship, where they finally set foot on the bridge. The bridge itself, like the rest of the ship, has probably seen better days but looked better maintained than the cargo hold was. It was almost as though this part of the ship was not apart of the original blueprints, if judging by appearance alone. The fore side of the bridge had two seats up front which were unmistakably the piloting controls. They two were identical, so it did not matter much where the pilot chose to sit unless one side happened to be locked out. There were two other seats on the bridge, one port and one starboard. The port side seemed to be a communications panel and galaxy map, and the starboard side was linked to the ship's weapons system. The latter was rather simplistic and unimpressive - after all, the ship only had one medium laser cannon.

<BAARSUTH>, The cockpit didn't seem like anything that was necessarily fancy, but the aesthetic wasn't the tell-tale sign of a good ship. Whatever you might think about the rest of the ship, you could tell at a glance that the controls were fine-tuned and optimized. Nothing was missing, no lights were flickering, bent or rusted levers, no weird sounds of humming - while somewhat worn, they were still polished and didn't look like they were falling apart.

<ZEKHA>, No need to fear. The windows were already replaced. No suffocating deep in the black for you, no sir. Not yet, anyway.

"Here is your bridge." Varen said. "These two seats up front are for the pilot and co-pilot - it doesn't matter which. Port side, you have your communications, galaxy map, life support controls - so on and so forth - for the ship. Starboard side, the controls and targeting system for the medium laser cannon. It sometimes works. Just hope we won't need it."


<BAARSUTH> and <SHAI RIVELLIA>, you two managed to see through the captain's bluff. It was probably the first sign of a sense of humor anyone has seen since all of you boarded the ship. The rest of you however? Evidently not quite as quick to pick up on the joke, but who can blame you? The captain has been all business since you met him! Perhaps there was a sudden wave of dread washing over you or maybe you just weren't that impressed with the awful condition the ship was in and how your own means of defense was inoperable half the time. Even more troubling, the implication of the even requiring a cannon on this job was haunting in its own right. <LIAK'YKAM>, ordinarily, I might say the wookie is flipping out right about now, but you're also zen like all the freaking time. Then there's the catch where you're not even experienced with interstellar travel or ship cannons anyway. You're more likely to wonder why we even need a cannon. Regardless of what you think about ships and guns, you've taken Varen's word entirely to heart. He's been straightforward, serious, and honest so far, why has that got to change now?

The captain moved on from the bridge after giving the crew a moment to take in the information and look around the cockpits. There was another flight of stairs going up on the starboard side of the ship heading towards the aft end of the Phoenix. Climbing those, the crew then found themselves in the crew lounge. There wasn't much, and it was only just spacious enough to fit everybody. Still, most of the food supplies were here, there was a refresher, and a round table with a long booth circling around it pushed against the portside wall.

"If you're hungry, you get food here. The refresher works fine." Varen explained. He turned to face the aft side of the ship, where there were three entryways. "Left side is cabin one, there are two bunks. In the middle, here, is an air lock with a dorsal hatch that brings you outside to the top of the ship. Right side, cabin number two. Two bunks, and there's another door in that cabin that brings you to the engine room."

He pressed a button at the side of cabin two's door and it smoothly rolled open on generously oiled tracks, exposing the inside of the cabin. Two bunks, and indeed, a another door on the other side of the cabin by the foot of the bed. Varen marched through the cabin and opened the next door, inviting the hum of the engine and the hyperdrive. Naturally, this would be a lot louder once in flight and zipping through space. There was a panel with an array of control on the wall opposite of the engine. A slew of numbers, from the dew point to the kW to mW measurements, temperatures, fuel, revolutions per second, and so on.

"The engine is a little old, but she runs fine. The hyperdrive purrs like a kitten. Try to get your numbers on rounds every twelve hours or so, make three copies to give to the pilot and myself, and one to keep."

<ZEKHA>, purring like a kitten indeed. The hum of the hyperdrive had barely the faintest palpitations, with highs and lows in the tone like sounds of tenor followed by sounds of alto in a repeating pattern. There wasn't any real risk or danger to it, but it could affect fuel and energy efficiency - you just had to investigate what the problem was. It was faint, but as someone who worked on engines and drives for many years, you could pick it out pretty quickly. The engines themselves were an old model and outdated by even some of the cheaper parts on the market. The panel on the walls seemed straightforward enough, but some of the kWs had some outliers. Where most hovered just above the 500 mark while the ship was powered, but was just at rest, the kW reading for artificial gravity generator was as high as 800. That could mean that the corresponding part isn't getting enough power or that the reading was off and had to be calibrated or the part replaced. Granted, some outputs were probably different because different parts required different input. Still, it was reading the block cooling output for the generator and might be worth investigating. If the reading wasn't lying, that meant that generator was getting too hot and the cooling system was working extra hard to maintain its target temperature. It looks like you'll have just enough work to keep you busy.

"So that's the ship. If there are any questions, save them for later. Man your stations, everyone! I want this ship off the ground in ten minutes. Liak'ykam, Shai, help Zekha with whatever he needs until we break atmosphere. Wear ear plugs if you can. Baarsuth, Bo, I'll be on the bridge with you to make sure there aren't any problems."

With that, the party dispersed. <BAARSUTH> and <B-0> leave the engine room with Varen Kray and <SHAI RIVELLIA> and <LIAK'YKAM> stay with <ZEKHA>, who will be lending the engineer a helping hand with some of the take-off procedures that the pilots don't have much control over or if something goes wrong. Anyways, it's quite clear that Varen is on a schedule and was eager to get off of Alderaan. Perhaps that was something you could relate to, eh <B-0>? Speaking of whom, it was after a few minutes did the pilots get accustomed with the controls. <B-0> had taken to it almost intuitively, and it was thanks to some of your guidance that <BAARSUTH> got used to the cockpit as quickly as he did. Varen manned the control panel and monitored the ship's systems. The ship lifted into the air slowly, but before long, the Phoenix was soaring through the air and aimed towards the horizon. The engine room, though purring before, was now a loud and almost-deafening roar as the ship picked up more and more speed. The ship itself was holding together even through the turbulence of entering the atmosphere, and eventually, into space.

l

B-0 continued along with the group, her speakers remaining silent but her body whirling and squeaking softly as she climbed the stairs to the bridge. B-0 looked around the area, the gears in her neck grinding loudly as she did so. Something about this place, or the idea of this place, felt comfortable. Familiar. B-0 looked towards the two chairs at the end of the bridge, the pilot and co-pilot chairs. And although her was unable to emote, the action itself almost held longing within in.

What Varen said about the laser cannon did not seem to phase the droid, perhaps it was the wording on his phrase. Of course the laser cannon only worked sometimes, it would not work if it was broken or powered down. This would mean it did work when it was on and in good repair. Sometimes.

But the laser cannon did not really interest the droid. As Varen spoke B-0 took a few steps towards the chairs, even though she had not been ordered to. She stopped herself, however, when the rest of the group began to continue the tour. B-0 paused a moment, looking over her shoulder at the empty chairs before walking quickly to catch back up with the group, her metallic hull creaking under the strain.

The rest of the tour did not really interest the droid, luckily for her it was easy to look like she was paying attention. Oh the perks of being unable to physically emote. The lounge was nice, but she seriously doubted that she would be lounging with the rest of the crew any time soon. The supply of food kept there would also likely be untouched by the droid, as she did not eat. The bunks meant nothing to the droid, she already knew her room was the bridge. Of all the things in this section of the ship the engine was able to keep the droids attention. It sounded like her, whirling and humming, except much larger. And all the recordings and levels displayed around the engine, all things B-0 could relate to.

And then the captain said the magic words. Manning their stations. The droid, who had remained quite quiet throughout this entire tour, suddenly began to whirl and let out a long string of untranslatable beeps. Excitement. B-0 began to quickly make her way back towards the bridge, looking over her shoulder to make sure Varen and Baarsuth were following. She let out another long string of beeps and whistles, urging the others to hurry along. Soon they would be away from Aldaraan, much to the pleasure of the droid, and off into the great unknown.

The droid let Baarsuth pick his chair first, as it would only be fair to the pilot, and than sat down in the second chair. Something about this chair, and these controls in front of her, seemed to click within the droid. Although it had been years since she was allowed to be in control of a ship, and even though she moved with such strain earlier, something changed within the droid as she looked over the panels. Her programmed purpose. Her movements were clear and precise as she began pressing buttons and flicking switches, her dim photoreceptors glowing with a renewed light.

Zekha scowled at Varen when the human mocked him for asking, what he thought, was a very sensible line of questions. Of course he was an adult, but in the Dug's experience if you gave people free reign to do what they wanted without any directives, it would get out of hand. One asshole decides not to do their dishes, then the next person piles theirs up, and absolutely nobody wanted to clean the lavatory after aliens expelled half their body weight inside of one.

"Putrid bantha sty, got it." Zekha retorted. The captain didn't want disciple? That was fine with him; it meant he'd get to reap what he sowed and Zekha would be largely left to his own devices, which he'd do his duties beyond expectations. The rest of the ship could turn into the equivalent of a refugee camp for all the Dug cared; he just wanted free reign to pursue his own interests without any overbearing captain or first mate butting their squashed hideous noses into his business. Give him a week and the right parts, and Zekha would have a personal droid to clean up after him, leaving his mind free to pursue much more worthy pursuits. If Varen decided to keep being a flippant slimo, he'd soon discover the ventilation system going to his quarters would start accumulating a variety of unpleasantness without warning.

The rest of the tour was concluded in prompt fashion, the Phoenix uniformly disappointing throughout. The entire ship should have been scrapped before most everyone aboard was born, but alas, Zekha was getting the impression that the captain was an extremely cheap individual who would have prostituted his own mother for a few credits. Whatever the case may be, the Dug's mind was whirring with possibilities for tinkering, to make the shitheap that would be home for the foreseeable future respectable, if not somewhat admirable. He only briefly noted that the ship had armament; something like that was more ceremony than practical. This thing wasn't going to be out maneuvering an interceptor or pirate barge.

At last, they approached what was to be Zekha's quarters and the adjacent engine compartment, which to the Dug's pleasant surprise was in good working order at a cursory glance; the readings looked to be in the green and nothing sounded off, such as auxiliary cooling pump cavitation or severe fluctuating frequency in the hyperdrive; the only thing that was of some concern was that some of the systems were running a bit hot, which usually meant that the system was calling for more power than the generators were reliably putting out and the coolant pumps were either losing prime or the pipes themselves were causing head loss. The Dug tilted his head at the Captain's request for readings every 12 hours; something like an ancient creaking ship such as this needed routine rounds, likely every 4 hours or so, because once one system failed, the whole thing would start a chain reaction of problems if one weren't diligent. He was also surprised at being assigned two lackys for the take off prep, although it couldn't hurt to have multiple eyes and trained crew in case something happened to him. As the crew departed to their respective stations, Zekha was stuck with a towering Wookiee who looked like she didn't know what the heck a wrench was and she said as much. At least she didn't overstate her utter lack of experience. There were things any idiot could do, and the Dug appreciated that Liak'ykam, or Leaky as he was starting to think of her, bothered with a translation device. It was above par for his usual dealings with her species.

"Easy enough, my shaggy friend. I'll have you watch some of the instruments, or in rookiee terms, the glowy screens and needles that ain't supposed to move much." Reaching into his tool belt, Zekha produced a white-tipped marker and began to mark the various gauges in basic for what they did after quickly affirming from memory what exactly correlated with what, and with that out of the way said, "All you have to worry about is making sure that the dials and bobs don't go outside those white markings, got it? If they do, tell me right away unless you like sucking in the vacuum of space or radiation leaks. Once we're out of orbit, I'll have you start putting together an inventory of whatever supplies we have on hand so when yours truly has to fix something, we aren't tying joints together with your shaved fur. Likewise, those screens over there," he pointed to the SCADA system, "Will tell you if there's an alarm, and if anything starts blinking red or yellow, again, find me."

Turning to the Twi'lek, he considered the blue-skinned woman for a few moments. Deciding to err on the side of caution and assume that she was just as clueless as Leaky, he pulled out a datapad and spent a few moments going through files he had leftover from his previous tour on a 587-R class transport, pulling up a checklist and locking the device on the file to prevent snooping. "There's not a lot you can do right now that wouldn't take me hours to make you understand anything that isn't more basic than buttered Gorg jerky, so there's a basic pre-flight checklist for securing the ship before departure. Doors, ramps, equipment that's laying around, things that sound very wrong, make sure it's secure or somebody's going to get a concussion or worse if our Trandoshian pilot turns out being an alcoholic or a death stick addict. We'll go over anything you don't know after I make sure everything here is passable." Zekha said, looking between the two women. Why couldn't one of them be a Dug? They'd be prettier, and how anyone got anything accomplished with only two hands was beyond him. Setting down his tool belt, he produced a pair of hearing protectors for himself and scrounged up some old plugs he'd stuffed in a hard case if he had to make do. He had no idea if they'd fit either a Wookiee or Twi'lek, but it was all he had. Offering them up, he said, "If you need to ask something, make it quick; this ship gets loud enough you'll swear we're all about to die when it's getting up to speed."

Shai half listened to the rest of the tour, only really paying attention at the end to the crew lounge. Thankfully the Twi'lek exile could indeed cook (although not very well) so she wouldn't have to survive off nutripaste. It was one of the only skills she held onto since her youth in slavery. As they were standing around in the cockpit, something curious happened. The Captain, who up until this point was all business, seemed to make a joke. Shai raised an eyebrow and exhaled quietly at the delivery of the joke but otherwise made no moves to laugh. At least the Captain has a working sense of humour. The rest of the crew left the pilot and co-pilot to their work in the cockpit and moved on to the engine room, which was behind the bunks.

As the Captain explained all the dials and lights and blinking screens to the Dug, Shai leaned against the doorway to the engine room and glanced around at the rest of the compartment. The two giant discs must be the engine itself. Or maybe the hyperdrive? Maybe the hyperdrive was further back behind some panels? Shai tried to think back to what the hyperdrive looked like in other ships she'd flown in. Unfortunately she had never cared and hadn't bothered to look. Well, at least she wasn't the engineer. Shai had to admit that the ship didn't look nearly as bad as she had expected it to from the outside. Although she wasn't the best judge and that it was probably the result of an overhaul or numerous extensive retrofits. In fact, even to Shai's untrained eyes several pieces in the engine room alone looked to be from some other ship or just younger parts than the hull they were mounted on.

"Liak'ykam, Shai, help Zekha with whatever he needs until we break atmosphere."

The Twi'lek blinked twice before fulling understanding the meaning and nodding in acknowledgement. There's a first time for everything. Shai pushed herself off the wall and let the captain and the other crew members by before she re-entered the engine room and looked at the Dug, Zekha, the Captain called him. Shai looked at Zekha expectantly, like a rookie soldier looking at their Sergeant for orders. Zekha looked up from his work and addressed the Wookiee first. Her job was to look at some screens and make sure nothing went over a certain point. Seemed simple enough. Once he was finished explaining things to the Wookie he turned to Shai.

"There's not a lot you can do right now that wouldn't take me hours to make you understand anything that isn't more basic than buttered Gorg jerky, so there's a basic pre-flight checklist for securing the ship before departure. Doors, ramps, equipment that's laying around, things that sound very wrong, make sure it's secure or somebody's going to get a concussion or worse if our Trandoshian pilot turns out being an alcoholic or a death stick addict. We'll go over anything you don't know after I make sure everything here is passable."

Shai nodded curtly and replied with a short, "Got it."

Okay this shouldn't be so bad. A simple inspection. Shai had done lots of inspections. Although most were of soldiers and not ships but it was the same thing really. You look for the things that appear out of place and you beat it into submission right? Zekha offered hearing protection but unfortunately ear plugs don't really work on ear cones so Shai refused them as politely as she could. The Exile began to retrace her steps from the tour, making sure anything she could see that was loose was promptly secured with a rope or net or box of some kind. She tucked a fire suppression device back into its nook from where it had fallen before entering the cargo hold once more.

Now this was the real challenge wasn't it? Shai began the tedious work of scooting empty and full crates of all kinds into neat piles before dragging a net over them so they wouldn't slide around. Several of them were ungodly heavy but thankfully Shai Rivelia was no weakling and managed to push them into place. The blue-skinned woman glanced over the hold one last time before remembering that the other Twi'lek, Woo'rah had a 'workshop' down here. Shai walked over to where she remembered the taller woman to have her hammock and asked, "We're getting ready for departure, is all your stuff squared away down here?"

---

The captain wasn't funny, but that didn't surprise Baarsuth one bit. He was a straightforward guy, which Baarsuth liked quite a lot. What Baarsuth didn't like was that Varen Kray seemed criminally arrogant about this whole mission. In fact, just about everyone on this ship was too full of themselves for Baarsuth's taste, everyone but the droid. That was a blessing at least, he thought. Last time Baarsuth had a haughty copilot, things hadn't gone so well. Kid ended up getting them inspected by Sith and nearly gave the crew up to an imperial inspector. Kid was never seen again; Barnx drove him out into the desert and nobody heard from him again.

After the tour, Baarsuth walked into his quarters and threw his satchel on the bed. It was old and green, covered in multicolored patches that hid dozens of tears. The black residue around one of the patches looked suspiciously like a blaster mark. He unbuttoned the satchel and threw its contents onto the bed. Inside were two jumpsuits, a strange, block-shaped object, and an ion blaster wrapped in a powder blue cloth. Baarsuth put the blaster on the nightstand in the room and picked up the blocky object. It was about five inches long and two wide, with a black screen and a thin body. It was slightly transparent.

Baarsuth walked into the bridge, the strange device in hand, and sat down in the captain’s chair on the left. The little droid silently sat in the chair on the right. Baarsuth studied Bo’s face; it was expressionless, but something told Baarsuth that the droid was in thought. He shrugged; probably just projection. In his experience, rogue droids had that effect on people. They always seemed to be thinking, contemplating. Most of the time, someone couldn’t take them or, worse, they couldn’t take themselves. Most of the time their lives ended in scrapping.

“Hope you like music, Bo,” Baarsuth said. “You’re gonna hear a lot of it this trip.”

From Baarsuth’s pocket, he produced a thin white wire. He plugged it into a port in the ship that was connected to the cockpit speakers. He plugged the wire into the device in his hand. Then he hit the silver button on his device. The speakers crackled to life, and music began to play. It was loud and thrashing, with heavy guitar.

"Ya ever hearda this kinda music before?" he asked Bo. "Blastin for You by White Wompa Club."

---

---

Player interaction? You two have got this in the bag. For the record, <B-0>: even if the music is a little hokey... it's kinda lit.

By the way, you two still need to do your own rounds and checklists.


Oh yeah, there's nothing to worry about. <B-0>'s analysis of the unfamiliar piloting panel was able to quickly and ably guide <BAARSUTH> through the process as well. Everything looks crystal clear from bridge. Lock-threat warning system looks good, stabilizers were in the green, and though the target tracker was kind of spotty, the micro-maneuvering controls were beautiful. The only peculiar thing worth noticing was the fact that there were multiple telesponders that were hidden in obscure locations on the bridge, and you doubt you found them all. Normally a ship would only need one, since all it did was automatically transmit the ship's identification profile to starports and military vessels.

---

---

You know what I say when the characters have to perform a new or possibly challenging task? It's roll time.


Between the technophilic misanthrope and a tribal elder who thought star ships made great pottery for wroshyr trees, the two of you managed to take care of things pretty well as far as pre-flight checklists go. <LIAK'YKAM>, you did as you were told and followed those directions diligently. While you might not have much if any knowledge of star ships at your disposal, you certainly aren't a stupid wookie. Some things your dug partner had you do were self-explanatory: make sure the needles don't go into the red, make sure nothing bright was flashing, make sure that nothing loud was banging. The last might've been a little trickier, given the hum of the hyperdrive, but so far nothing sounded like there was a terentatek on board the Phoenix. That only thing you might have found of note was the fact that some wiring was protruding from a panel of the... you don't know what it is, but you figure that <ZEKHA> could probably tell you. Speaking of...

<ZEKHA>, admittedly you found it slightly more challenging a task than you anticipated it to be, but that could also very well be the case of working with worn-down and dated equipment. Stuff so old that you might have forgotten had existed and had to take a minute to remember how to operate them, so you might have made a mental note to obtain a newer model of the power outlay differentiator and the alluvial dampers for the hyperdrive. One particular thing of note you found was an issue with a heated solenoid for the fuel reversal system that fed fuel to the ship from two individual tanks. You know from your experience that it has two purposes: the first is how firing from one side and then the other helps with the center of balance of the ship so that one tank doesn't get much heavier than the other. The second purpose is to keep any one engine from getting too hot. When a reversal is happening, combustion air is also reversed. One valve closes while the other one opens, and the valve that closes directs the exhaust through a flush vent and into space where it doesn't suffocate and kill the crew. The bad solenoid controlled combustion air. For you, it was a simple fix of replacing the wiring of the solenoid's coil, but you also know that it's often the simple fixes that kept exhaust from flooding the ship and slowly killing everyone on board. Nice job.

---

---

When <ZEKHA> sent you off with the duty to perform the pre-flight checklists, the job itself was mostly simple. There were a few things with a box next to it that you were supposed to indicate with a check mark or the letter x, and some of those things might have included whether or not certain cooling units were running properly, if loose objects were either secured or put away, any loose panels or missing equipment - then there were other fields such as whether the coupling motivator was giving you the correct readings or if the condition of the hyperwave emissions enhancement filter was good. Such things were far and away from your responsibilities on the last ship you were on. As you proceeded into the cargo bay, Woo'rah wasn't where you remembered her being. The hammock was empty, but you did hear some noise coming from the same curtained off workbench where you originally met her at.

Labored sounds of a woman came from behind the welding curtains which was followed by the scraping of heavy equipment being moved around as a metal-against-metal type of hammering sound, like someone had just dropped or thrown something somewhere, finally prompted a sigh. Almost dramatically, the welding curtains were thrown aside and Woo'rah walked out with a bead of sweat on her forehead. Most of the stuff in the cargo-bay looked like it was tucked away, secured, or stored somewhere, which could very well mean that the sole denizen of this bay was hard at work since the crew left. She looked around for a moment, apparently glossing over <SHAI RIVELLIA> entirely, like she was trying to see if she had missed anything of importance. That was until you began speaking to her directly.

"We're getting ready for departure, is all your stuff squared away down here?"

Woo'rah looked at you for a moment as though she didn't notice you standing there at all, then shrugged and said simply, "For the most part."

The taller twi'lek waltzed around the curtained-off work bench taking a good look at all corners of the cargo bay before making her way back around the other side, apparently satisfied with the job she's done and made a beeline back towards you.

"Was that it, missie?" Woo'rah asked, with the same sort of smug-albeit-bored expression on her face. "The sweet little thing was just coming in to check up on me?"

You hadn't stood directly next to her before, and now the height difference was actually clear: she stood over a foot taller than you and her musculature seemed a little more defined. She seemed to find some amusement out of this face as she literally looked down at you with her hands on her hips; though you got the sense it was more from the absurdity of the height disparity between you instead of it being a taunting gesture. As if fully anticipating your agitation, she just smiled for a brief moment, not giving you a chance to respond to her before she continued.

"What is such a shy little munchkin doing out in the bantha's end of space, anyway?"

Now that part was definitely her teasing you, but you didn't need the Force to tell you that.

---

The slow rumble of the engines started up and Shai heard a noise behind her. She tensed up as she spun on her heels reflexively, relaxing once she saw it was only Woo'rah (who was not where Shai had left her) emerging from behind her cave or whatever was behind her curtain. It sounded like she was smashing something. However the smaller twi'lek did not feel too particularly inclined to pry into others' business and decided to let the mysterious noise pass. The taller twi'lek gave no expression as she dryly reported that she was squared away for the most part. A part of Shai wanted to call it even and just leave at that. After all, her job was done. All she had to do was turn in the checklist and make her report. It was a very big part of her. It wanted so much to cling to duty and routine. But there was another part of her. A smaller part, sure, but nonetheless holding more power over her psyche. It told her to stay.

So Shairi'velia stayed in the cargo hold. She watched passively as Woo'rah danced around the hold for her own mysterious reasons that Shai couldn't even begin to guess at. She also watched as Woo'rah came darting back in front of the shorter twi'lek.

"Was that it, missie? The sweet little thing was just coming in to check up on me?"

Though Shai was doing her best to contain her emotions, she had to admit this kind of... interaction was a bit agitating. It had been some time since she had interacted at length with almost anyone, let alone like this. It would take some time to get used to. In the mean time, the Twi'lek Exile looked up at Woo'rah blankly and said nothing. She felt her mind start to wander for a moment before she was yanked back into reality by Woo'rah's voice yet again. Shai Rivelia's eyes refocused on the present and looked back up at Woo'rah.

"What is such a shy little munchkin doing out in the bantha's end of space, anyway?"

Munchkin. She had never been called that before. Or shy for that matter. Was... Was she being flirted with? The thought bounced around in Shai's head as she struggled to pull words together in response. Her mind was a fog, even more so in this state of agitation. It was so hard to focus. Things seemed to always pull her in one direction, her brain.. unable to let go of the past.

"I came all the way just to inspect this ship." Shai said with the hint of smile on her face, gesturing with the dataslate she had been given. A thought passed through Shai's head.

"Would you mind if I stayed here for now? It's so... crowded up there. Everyone talks too much." The Exile looked down at the dataslate for a moment and tapped a few times and entered the OK signal into the log. Her inspection was over. If the Dug needed her further, he could come find her.

The Droid scanned her dimly lit photoreceptors over the control panel in front of her. This ship was different from ships she had been designed to pilot, but enough things were similar enough that she was able to orient herself. She even found herself guiding her pilots hand a few times, pointing to different controls and beeping in a game of "Hot and Cold". The two felt like a relatively competent team, but B-0 chose to withhold her judgements until they got the ship off the ground. Which, to B-0s surprise had not happened yet. She supposed they had to wait for the captains orders, and for the rest of the crew to complete their pre-flight tasks, but the Droid found herself getting restless.

Baarsuth made a comment as he pulled a strange device from his coat about music. She watched in interest as he plugged the technology into the ships speaker system and pressed a button.

B-0 had certainly heard music before, but nothing like this. She took a moment to sift through her memory banks. Once or twice, while she was on Tatooine, could she hear the distant sounds of musicians entertaining the exhausted farmers and merchants. And even more recently, on Alderaan, had her master been serenaded by a wonderful singer with a wonderfully fishy face. But this was far different from any music she had ever experienced. B-0 could not identify a particular thing about the music that she enjoyed, perhaps it was the intense volume or the was the singer's voice blended perfectly with the instruments accompanying it.

Something made B-0's hollow chest cavity feel very...full. Perhaps she was malfunctioning. Perhaps this was the Force she had been searching for.

It was, as the narrator had stated, pretty lit.

It didn't take B-0 very long to realize a certain part of the song repeated. And while her memory banks did not contain the word 'chorus' she did quickly memorize this section of the music. On the third repeat B-0 began to trill and chirp along, a little pitchy but almost accurate in tone. The droid, as she dutifully watched over the various meters and screens on her half of the cockpit, was singing in her own strange little way.

A small part of B-0 questioned why she felt the urge to 'sing' along to the music. It certainly wasn't part of her programming, her Creators were not exactly a people of fine arts. She was never taught to sing, she was hardly taught anything outside of protocol. She just felt a...desire. Was this what it was like to be alive?

Probably not but she was still having a good time.

Well, that went better than expected.

The engineering compartment started to come to life as the Phoenix began to fire up its systems, and Zekha was frantically checking every critical gauge, dial, and screen, cross referencing it to his own notes from prior experience on the same class of vessel. To his genuine surprise and dare he say pleasure, absolutely everything looked like it stayed green and held within the allotted variables. Even the Wookiee seemed somewhat competent, following along to his instructions diligently and either through dumb luck or genuine ability to listen, stayed quiet without anything to report.

In a way, it was almost disappointing. Without anything to really do to make the ship space-worthy or demonstrate his mechanical aptitude, Zekha now found himself in a place where things where the only thing he had to do was do rounds of checks every few hours and keep an eye on the ship's systems. The Phoenix was ready to soar. Just as well, really; no doubt prowling around was the Gigorian he'd cheated and Alderaan's finest, he didn't fancy meeting either again so soon. Captain Varen would be pleased, no doubt. Zekha glanced at Liak', mulling over telling the captain he'd saved the ship from an unspeakable disaster through quick wits and talent, but ultimately decided against it. The Wookiee would probably sell him out rather than revel in the potential boons of being indebted by the ones in charge. Oh well, later, perhaps.

Climbing over to the comm panel, requiring whatever handholds were available given his small stature, Zekha hit the intercomm, "Attention crew; it's your engineer speaking. Our brave and noble vessel is prepared for departure from a mechanical standpoint. The bridge is yours, captain, take us to the inky voids of space and to a land of cheap liquor and women if you would."

He set himself down, looking over everything again for the umpteenth time. "You know," he said to Liak' as he passed by in the tight confines, "You ain't so bad. You listen well and don't make a fuss, I'm pleased to say that I think you can be an asset back here. At the very least, you can reach things that are simply out of my reach, so maybe the captain knew what he was doing."

---

The controls weren’t all that hard to master: Baarsuth found everything he needed quickly, with B-0 proving itself to be quite helpful. The telesponder thing was odd, but Baarsuth didn’t question it. He already figured that the ship was hauling the kind of stuff you didn’t want the Republic walking in on, and such security measures were hardly out of the ordinary in his kind of work. The sheer number of them, though, was a little unnerving. ’Christ,’ Baarsuth thought to himself, ’How hot is this cargo?’

Despite the blank face, it seemed like B-0 seemed to be enjoying the music, so Baarsuth turned it up a little louder. A wicked guitar solo echoed around the bridge, just loud enough to drown out conversation in other parts of the ship but quiet enough that you could hear the computer systems humming. Normally, Baarsuth preferred his music volume to be set to “too loud” but with a ship this old he wanted to be able to hear any problems before the windshield went flying off. Finally, Baarsuth finished his pre-flight check and was ready to go.

“Good shit,” Baarsuth said. “All ready ta go. How ya feelin’, Bo?”

l

---

---

"I came all the way just to inspect this ship." Shai said with the hint of smile on her face, gesturing with the dataslate she had been given.

“Look at that, a sense of humor. I never would have thought.” Woo’rah bemused, idly chewing on her chewstim.

After a moment of thought, Shai said, “Would you mind if I stayed here for now? It's so... crowded up there. Everyone talks too much.”

“Now you know why I'd rather spend my free time down here.” She replied matter-of-factly. “Fine by me if you're as much a fan of small talk as I am.”

“I should have brought my own hammock.” Shai responded dryly as she searched around the cargo hold for a place that looked comfortable enough to withstand the roughness of takeoff. “Maybe the Captain will let me move my bunk down here.”

“I doubt it. Varen likes to keep his crew with the rest of his crew. You’ve heard it before: the crew comes first.” The other twi’lek threw her hands up melodramatically. “Crew this, crew that - it gets repetitive and boring, but credits be damned if he isn’t gonna treat you lot like his own stinking family. He’s good people. Even if he doesn’t like showing it.”

“Besides, the captain knows I like my space.” She continued, and then she leaned in a little closer to Shai and with a smirk she says, “He also knows he needs a place to keep all the dangerous spacers and mercenaries like me away from his darling little crew. Just in case.”

As close as Woo’rah was to her, Shai didn’t notice until just now that there were at least one or two teeth behind the escort’s lips that looked as though they were sharpened.

“Please,” Shai mused as she took a step back and pushed two crates together, forming a makeshift bed, “you don’t look that dangerous to me. Looks can be deceiving though.” The smaller twi’lek added with a sly smile as she scooted her ‘bed’ into the corner of the cargo hold and climbed on top of it. “Either way, I’ll try to stay out of your lekku while I’m down here.” the Twi’lek Exile finished, before pushing her own lekku onto her chest and putting her hood over her eyes.

“Be glad I’m not being paid to kill you, then.” She responded, her dull eyes lighting up for a moment until--

“Woo’rah.” A gravelly voice snarled from behind. The mercenary whipped around to see Captain Kray standing not too far behind her with an irritated and disapproving look on his face. That face then turned to look at Shai, and he said, “Miss Rivelia, a moment of your time in my cabin, if you would. At once.”

The captain turned around and marched through a door not too far away from the pair of twi’leks on the bow-starboard section of the cargo bay.

Woo’rah sighed and sat back at her work station, propping her feet on a strange-looking case of opaque flexiglass. With no effort made to hide her sarcasm, she said, “Time to pack your bags already? Shame. I was looking forward to being pestered some more.”

Shai heard the Captain’s voice and hopped to attention out of habit, her hood still over her head. “Aye sir, I’ll be there in a moment.” The smaller twi’lek answered in a neutral tone. What could he need? Had she done something wrong? After the Captain had excused himself from the room, Shai relaxed and gave a half salute-half wave to Woo’rah, “Oh, I won’t leave you that easily. Try not to miss me too much.” Shai Rivelia pushed her hood back and followed the Captain into his cabin.

“We don’t have much time left before take off, so I’m going to make this quick.” Shai heard as soon as she stepped through the door. Looking up, the captain’s face looked grave and his eyes were staring daggers into her. She also found herself in what looked to be an office, except the office also had a heavy arsenal that was mounted upon the walls.

“I don’t know where you came from, and frankly I don’t care. But that is the last time I want to see that blasted device, do ya hear? I won’t have myself any rotten war following my crew and I around the galaxy. There’s only one side anyone is allowed to take on this ship, and that side is the Phoenix. Do I make myself clear?”

Shai stood ramrod straight, eyes fixed perfectly ahead, face blank. She had been dressed down like this in the past. This was not new to her. The reason, of course, was. Usually it was her Sith betters doing the reproaching. Not her being reproached for being a Sith. Well it was not exactly that, but the Captain didn’t seem to care if she was a Sith or a Jedi. Not too surprising. Shai Rivelia had noticed throughout her travels that many hated anyone who used a lightsaber no matter which side they were on. Not that she used one anymore. The weapon was dead. Just like the Sith who wielded it.

“Crystal, sir.” the twi’lek responded, her voice betraying nothing of her inner turmoil.

“Convince me.”

“Sir?” Shai responded, slightly confused and tensing up. What was he asking her to do? Destroy the rest of the blade in front of him? She couldn’t. It was one of her only possessions. To lose it… Would be to lose the last part of her past. She felt her whole body tense up at the thought. The past hurt to hold on to, but sometimes we hold on to things that hurt us. Or maybe it was impossible to let go completely. The twi’lek didn’t know the answer.

“I’ll give you time to figure out how,” the captain said, “you’ll have until we land on Tatooine.”

---

---

All across the deck of the Phoenix, her passengers scurried and made themselves busy to make her space-ready. The engineer and his helper tinkered and toyed as they made sure the drive and engines were warmed up and operational, patting themselves on the back for a job well done. The pilots on the bridge tested their systems and played their music, while the droid co-pilot swiveled around on the actuator in its waist and blinked one of its photoreceptors to face Baarsuth and give him a thumbs-up and a wink. The others downstairs were preoccupied with their own matters and squaring away business where it was needed. The vessel was alive and bustling with activity. From the outside, the pilots' activities could be seen as they exercised the spoilers, ailerons, the rudder, and warming up the stabilizers, maneuvering jets, and the attitude and lateral thrusters. Heat distorted the light as the repulsorlifts began whirring – any minute now, the Phoenix would be ready to take off.

The sound of static buzzed across the ship, until the sound of Zekha's familiar voice blared across the separate decks, "Attention crew; it's your engineer speaking. Our brave and noble vessel is prepared for departure from a mechanical standpoint. The bridge is yours, captain, take us to the inky voids of space and to a land of cheap liquor and women if you would."

The speakers crackled a bit, before a different voice began to speak, one which belonged to the apathetic twi'lek mercenary who the crew had met in the cargo bay, “Pilots, set a course for his mother's house.”

“Ah, I do miss home cooking.”

Crackling ensued once again as the agitated voice of the captain came alive through the speakers, “Keep the ship's channel clean of gabbin’. Baarsuth, Bo – make preparations for take off. Engage inertial compensators and artificial gravity generators. Light up the afterburners.”

B-0 listened to the chatter over the intercom with quite a bit of confusion. Were they really charting a course for a place with cheap liquor and women? If that was the case why would they not stay on Alderaan? But wait...now they are going to the captains mother's house? That seemed like a strange choice as well. B-0 certainly wasn't a creation built for jokes or sarcasm, luckily she was only the co-pilot on this trip. So it came as a relief to the droid when the captain came over the speakers, giving real instructions.

Baarsuth sprung into action. His hands flew across the control panels as if the ship were his. While he turned on the ship’s artificial gravity and engaged the inertial compensators, B-0 activated the navigational software.
The droid worked efficiently. Her arms reaching across the controls in front of her while her head swiveled, taking in the various meters above them. After a few moments of button pressing and toggle...toggling...B-0 turned to face Baarsuth. She let out a series of beeps and trills that could loosely be translated as: Let's do this thing. Baarsuth smiled and turned the music up. A new song was playing, one with a thrashing, tank-like guitar that almost sounded like an engine revving. The music player’s screen revealed the song was “Hyperdrive” by Starfleet Cru. Baarsuth’s hands rested on the primary controls, his finger hovering just above the button to engage the thrusters.

A few moments later, Zekha was entering the cockpit, looking around for any obvious deficiencies. Other than the general wear and tear of such an old heap, it wasn’t a death trap, so that much was comforting. “So, droid, who made you?” he asked, climbing up onto the back of B-0’s seat to get a better look at the bird-like head of the co-pilot. “What is your function?”

“Stop distractin’ my droid, Zekha,” Baarsuth shouted, glaring at the engineer. “We’re workin’ here.”

“It’s a droid. Droids don’t get distracted, isn’t that right pal? You can process information faster than our squishy brains ever could. Don’t let Baarsuth tell you you aren’t better than him in every conceivable way.” Zekha retorted conspiratorially towards B-0.

B-0 had tried to ignore Zekha's pestering. She was trying to work, and the sooner they got this ship off the ground the sooner she could continue her search for the Force. He had asked her some, frankly, personal questions. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of an answer, that was what he wanted her to do. She tried to get back to work, her motors whirling a little louder than before. It only got worse as Baarsuth joined in.

Droid. Droid. My Droid. Droid.

She suddenly slammed one of her metallic hands onto the control console, dragging her hand off of it with a grating screech.

"Bo." She said. Her voice remained jittery and robotic, her facial expression permanently neutral, but her body language read irritation.

The ship lurched a tad, catching everyone slightly off guard, and Shai especially as she was climbing the flight of stairs up towards the bridge, but she managed to keep her footing when she lunged for a tight deathgrip on the handrails beside her. She felt a large hand that was suddenly and firmly set against her back.

“Careful now,” the crew could hear the captain say from behind her, “if this piece of junk has got one thing going for her, it's her afterburners. They're practically brand new since the old ones were blasted off. They've got enough kick to them in just warming up to make the Phoenix jump on her landing gear.”

As the two stepped onto the bridge, Varen gave an appraising look over the bickering crew surrounding with an unsympathetic countenance. With a sigh he grumbled, “Among all of us fleshy sacks of shit, Bo is the only one who was built for space travel and won’t blow up like a bloody balloon inside a vacuum. Can you brats please not piss them off? Baarsuth, start taking us up.”

“Aye, cap’n.”

“Where’s Liak’ykam?”

Liak’ykam had been taking her tour of the ship’s mess hall, which was a rather flattering term for a glorified pantry. The cooking equipment was pretty minimal, and most of it quite foreign to Liak’ykam. Fortunately, despite the Basic she did not know how to read, the majority of it seemed fairly intuitive. It had been quite some time since she had prepared food - truly prepared food, with proper materials and everything. She chuckled at herself, at the feeling of giddiness she got looking over the different spices (labels were useless; she identified them far more easily by smell) and the various foodstuffs. Most of it smelled synthetic, factory-made, the exact opposite of what food could be. Perhaps this is for the metal one. There was a supply of real ingredients, and not nutri-paste or something equally abominable. If it wasn’t too much of a bother, she might ask the Captain Varen Kray to stop at the next spaceport and pick up some actual food. Surely they could barter something worthwhile for it, and she was certain everyone would feel better and do their jobs better with Wookiee-sized portions to sustain them.

Liak’ykam took her hood off for a moment, feeling a bit warm in the cramped kitchen. She supposed if the next planet had wildlife - and she certainly hoped it did - she could go hunting while the others did whatever it was they were doing. As she perused the various stores, attempting to plan some sort of fresh, coherent cuisine from the mismatch of ingredients designed to last until the heat-death of the universe, she felt an itching of sorts. She could not hear the Captain Varen Kray ask, “Where’s Liak’ykam?” from the bridge - could she? She heard it in her ears, like an echo from far away, and in the pull of her feet in that direction. Liak’ykam thought she felt something deeper, as well, something like a tarentatek waking from slumber, but she could pay that no mind. Liak’ykam walked onto the bridge, feet falling silently even for such a large Wookiee, her walking stick held gently in her hand, as the Captain finished asking where she was.

“Here, Captain Varen Kray,” her translator warbled. She placed her hood back up and gave them all a polite nod of the head. The ship rumbled to life beneath them and Liak’ykam - for a moment of childlike panic - braced herself against the wall, steadying herself with her walking stick as the afterburners thrusted them forwards. She chuckled. “Forgive me,” she said, smiling. “This is my second flight. What do you need for me to do…? “ she almost called him little one, because the Captain Varen Kray was quite small, and so young, too, but she did not think he would appreciate that on his ship. The other young ones had been fighting. Nothing serious, like kath pups snapping at each others’ legs, but fighting nonetheless.

The pilots took the ship up, B-O and Barsuuth handling the controls with practiced ease. Under Kray’s watch, they input the coordinates as they took the slow route out of the atmosphere, building up speed as they broke the pull of gravity and hit open space. The coordinates for Tatoooine were punched in, the ship lurched, and rocked, then made the jump to lightspeed. Liak’ykam braced herself against the wall with one hand and with the walking stick in her other, feeling the rush of speed low in her stomach.

---

The ship dropped out of lightspeed and Tatooine was there in the distance, a brown desert hanging in empty space. They’d come in at the edge of the system as the captain preferred - it was better to arrive with a little room for maneuvering, should something less hospitable than a welcoming party ever be waiting for them. Varen Kray looked over his pilots idly, everything on the Phoenix having worked just as it should -

Then the comm system burst with static for a moment, drawing their attention. It warbled, the connection weak, then finally came through. The pilots adjusted the controls for a moment, attempting to get a stronger lock on the signal. It repeated itself every few seconds, a short burst set on automatic repeat. It wasn’t far away from where they were.

“A distress signal,” the captain said. He nodded to the intercom and told Barsuuth, “Get everyone up here to the bridge. We have matters to discuss.”

Following Barsuuth’s relay, the crew assembled in the bridge. It was cramped and they were slightly too close to one another for comfort and the distress signal kept repeating automatically. “Nothing discernible or special,” the captain announced. “A standard distress call, just far enough from Tatooine that their port officials wouldn’t pick up on it. Anyone jumping right to lightspeed out the docks might miss it as well. No telling how long it’s been going.”

“Is it just me or is that distress signal getting closer?” Woo’rah commented sardonically, glancing toward the captain with a knowing look. “Maybe they’re politely informing us they’re coming to kill us all.”

Liak’ykam stayed quiet - it was not her place to speak in affairs of which she knew little. The taller hairless one seemed quite convinced it was a trap. Liak’ykam was in agreement - she had seen it before, in Kashyyyk, when they recorded the screams of the little children to lure them away from the village. She drummed her fingers against the walking stick, limbering them up. At the same time, she did not know how these distress signals worked. Perhaps it was legitimate. If they were looking to prey on those who would help others, they might deserve justice. Perhaps it was not their place. She stayed quiet and listened.

---

Shai had a lot to think about. She made her way back down into the cargo hold, past where Woo'rah was doing... whatever it is she Woo'rahs do in cargo holds, and back to her makeshift bed. She touched her pocket to make sure she felt the two halves of her lightsaber and laid down once more. If the Captain wanted absolutely no trace of the war on his ship, well he would have to take her lightsaber from her. And her boots. And also cut off her lekku or otherwise remove her tattoos. Not that she thought he had seen them, or even would know what they were if he had seen them. Either way, her mind was made up. She pulled her hood over her face and sank into it's comforting texture.

---

Shai Rivelia was jerked awake by the ship coming out of hyperspace rather abruptly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. No one had killed her in her sleep, which was always good. She checked her tunic and the wrappings that covered her tchun-tchin. As she was making sure her boots were on tight, a burst of static came from the intercom. Shai froze and listened. It was the trandoshan, Baarsuth, he seemed to want everyone on the bridge. The twi'lek swung her feet off the bed and briskly made her way up to where the rest of the crew were already waiting. It was cramped and Shai had to wedge herself uncomfortably close between two others to fit into the bridge. They had picked up a distress signal. The smaller twi'lek listened silently to the Captain and Woo'rah. Woo'rah seemed to believe it was a trap. Shai was generally in agreement. The positioning seemed too convenient and deliberate to be an accident. Shairi'velia tapped her lower lip in thought before opening her mouth, "It's pirates, like as not. I suggest we check it out anyway. If it's pirates, we kill them, take whatever they have hoarded away, save anyone they have locked up." She paused a moment before continuing, "We get whatever they have, some spacers are in our debt, and we get to take the ship and crew on a trial run. Seems simple to me." She crossed her arms as she finished, letting her plan hang in the cramped air of the bridge.

The piloting droid had let out trills and beeps as the ship launched through space. It had been far to long since she had felt the pull of light speed against her metallic casings. Most of the time she was wedged in a cargo hold, not able to watch the cosmic lights blur past her photoreceptors. Not only that but it felt good to finally have the ship off of Alderaan, she wanted to go somewhere new. A planet far away from her past, where there would be new data to fill her synthetic mind. And as the ship rapidly decelerated this mystery destination was...Tatooine? B-0s photoreceptors dimmed slightly, an expression that could be interpreted as disappointment. She had been to Tatooine, and had a love hate relationship with the desert planet.

But that wasn't the most pressing matter, the approaching distress signal was. B-0 moved quickly, her metal mitten shaped hands flicking a switch, bringing a display up for the rest of the crew to see the distressed blip in space. What surprised B-0 was that the distress signal was getting closer, if the needy ship was still operational she would think it would move closer to the planet. The droid swiveled her head back, rotating on her neck 180 degrees, as she addressed Captain Varen with her wavery and jittery voice system.

"Awaiting...your command...Captain"