"Strange ships invite strange questions. Who knew?"
"So, boss man…" the woman I had once mentally referred to as Prisoner 2 said, ambling up to where I was seated. I had claimed the captain's chair, by right of having organized this entire prison break, and by right of having some down with a bit of headache. Perhaps something about swiftly following the use of the Force to liberate several dozen prisoners with using the Force to assault more than a dozen pirates created some unwelcome feedback. Or maybe just stress. Yeah, just stress. "What's next?"
"Good question," I said by way of answer. "What's the status of our valiant crew?"
"I think we've got enough people in the right places to start moving," she said. Hesitantly, I had to note. Eh, it would do.
"Good," I said, before turning to a man in a soiled jumpsuit seated at the navigation console. He hadn't given me his name yet, so I indulged my inner theatricality for a bit. "Navigation... I never quite got any of your names, sorry about that. What choices do we have?"
"Give me a minute," said man muttered, punching some numbers into his terminal. Like the rest of the bridge, it was plain varnished metal. Functional and utilitarian, it struck a stark contrast to the generously upholstered seating. Clearly, the chairs had been aftermarket. "Right, are we thinking independent, Empire, Republic, or Hutt Space?"
"Empire or Republic, you mean?" I asked. Nobody wanted to be dropped off in Hutt Space without so much as a credit to their name, and an independent world was a gamble about where it was going to flip. And quite frankly, an imperial world was a lousy bargain if you weren't an imperial citizen. And just a regular old suboptimal choice if you weren't a Sith. "Thoughts of the crew?"
Naturally, that was when the shouting started. Not for Republic or Empire, no, that would have been too simple. They were calling for specific worlds. Their homeworlds, no doubt. Places they knew they would be safe.
"Enough," I said loudly, cutting through the shouting. "If we try to decide on a single world, we shall be here until the stars grow cold. Let's keep it simple: Empire of Republic? Unless someone wants to go to the Hutts or an independent world?"
Silence reigned.
"Republic?" One meek voice asked.
"I'm fine with it," one commented.
"That's where I'm from," another agreed.
Soon, the rest of the former prisoners were in agreement. The Republic, it seemed, had their full confidence, which was a bit of a problem for me, seeing how I was a citizen of the Empire, at least on paper. Eh, I could find a way back to the Empire.
Heaven help me, I wanted to go back to the Empire.
I knew there was a good reason for it, but it still felt wrong.
"Republic it is," I declared. "And seeing how none of us have valid travel documents for the Empire, I'd say that's for the best. What worlds are in range?"
"Civilized worlds?" the impromptu navigator asked. "The nearest is Taris. The rest… we don't have fuel for much else."
Taris?
The bombed-out ruin of a world?
Taris.
Hardly any better than dying in space, but at least it was something.
"Taris is better than being stranded here," I said. "Any objections? No? Then set a course. Once we're in friendlier space and with fuller fuel tanks, we can figure out our next steps."
There were no objections. After all, Republic space was better than wherever we were right then.
A few minutes later, and with a slight shudder, the massive ship plunged into hyperspace. The stars went from points of light to brilliant white lines to cloud-like shapes in a pale blue tunnel. And I took the chance to let out a deep breath. The hard part was done. Now, all I had to do was… hop some galactic borders.
Illegally.
But I could stress about it later. For now, there were more important things to take care of.
"So before we get ahead of ourselves," I began to say, "I'd prefer to get your names. Referring to you by your role aboard this ship doesn't quite sit right."
And more importantly, getting to know my fellow escaped prisoners gave me something to do for the next… eight hours. Seriously? I double-checked my status screen to confirm that yes, the trip to Taris would indeed take another eight hours.
Still, by the time we reverted back to real space, with the pearl of diseased green and silver clouds that was Taris just barely visible beyond the viewport, I felt reasonably comfortable with commanding my crew. Or at least, could address them by their names.
Baby steps, I suppose.
"Incoming freighter, this is Taris Flight Control," the static-laced voice came through the speakers in the central comm unit of the bridge. Despite the interference, there was a clear and undisguised note of boredom in their voice. "Please transmit your ship name and cargo manifest."
Right.
That.
I definitely had that information on hand. Glancing at the indicator lights revealed that yes, the channel was open and the mic was hot. Time to do what I did best: improvise.
"Taris Flight Control, this is former pirate freighter Prison Break," I announced. Even with the no-doubt low-quality microphone installed on the bridge, my very not-imperial accent should have been easy to recognize. Or at least easy to not confuse with an imperial accent. For the sake of this escape, that was an important factor. "We have no cargo manifest, have no idea what our transponder reads, and minimal experience in atmospheric entry. Please advise."
I looked around the bridge, hoping that one perhaps one of my crew would speak to mention that actually, they did have experience in landing frigate-sized freighters they had flown for less than a full day. But no. That just wasn't in the cards for me.
"Say again?" The poor soul at the other end of the transmission seemed entirely unprepared for this scenario.
"Abducted by pirates. Broke free. Not sure how to land. Please advise." Perhaps using small words had been a bit rude there, but sometimes they got the point across far better.
"Freighter Prison Break, this is Taris Flight Control, please hold your position until I can get someone more experienced on the line."
"Copy that, Taris Flight Control. Freighter Prison Break holding position," I said, nodding to the helmsman. As it turned out, the working man from my cell had taken that post. With a shudder that ran through the hull, I watched the speed on my status screen rapidly fall until it hit zero.
As we floated there, it occurred to me that this was the perfect opportunity for the local fleet to blow us to pieces.
"What do you think's taking them so long?" the man at the navigation station asked after several long minutes.
"Getting their supervisor?" One of the assorted freed prisoners asked. Not everyone had had the skills necessary to be able to figure out how to run a freighter, so a fair number of people had gathered on the bridge just to watch.
"Pulling up a manual for… whatever this thing is?" Another member of the peanut gallery offered.
"A Republic Fleet Systems Model 44300 Cargo Hauler," came the answer from Mourd, a kid almost out of his teens seated at a technical station. I think it was a technical station, anyway. I didn't know what half the seats on the bridge actually did. "Heavily modified to keep it running after all this time, of course…"
The young man's voice trailed off when he realized that everyone's eyes were on him.
"Trying to figure out if we're telling the truth," I offered. "Or calling a system patrol ship to shadow us in case we turn out to be lying our asses off. Or calling in shuttles to bring us down to the surface in small groups. Or wondering if it's worth the risk."
"Calling in shuttles is clever," Ackneugh, the acting navigator, commented. "It would split us up and let them claim the ship. Leaving us… completely at their mercy. Boss man, I'm starting to regret bringing us here."
"I rather doubt that they're just going to summarily open fire," I said with a calm I most certainly did not feel. "It would only invite questions, inquiry, and scandals. No, they're going to send a shuttle. Or a lot more questions."
"Hope they'll like our answers," muttered Mourd.
The comm crackled, and the voice of the flight traffic controller, now sounding considerably more awake, filled the bridge.
"Freighter Prison Break, this is Taris Flight Control. I've been told to welcome you back to civilization but be informed that we've got a few more scans and checks to do before we dispatch a shuttle. Hold tight and get comfortable. This might take a while."
"Copy that, Taris Flight Control, holding position." With that, the line went dead again. Turning back to the nervous Mourd, I gave him a reassuring smile and a blatant lie. "See? Nothing to worry about."
Meanwhile, I focused on getting into the character of Janus, the escaped prisoner and independent Force adept. A man in no way connected to the Sith Empire.
Yup, that's me.
...
Hey guys I would really appreciate it if you could throw some power stones to help elevate the ranking.
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