Elaine's Shadow is nearly silent, as she recently had been of late. The clicks and rumbles of the engine echo off the panels of her corridors. At one point, those panels had been polished, smooth and clear and spotless. Years of dragging cargo through her corridors, children playing tag and keep-away, and a handful of stray blaster bolts had scratched and scuffed the surfaces, giving a dull appearance that in some spots seems to absorb so much light that they opened to space itself. Here and there, a dent from a cargo crate getting dropped appeared. Actually, that one odd-shaped, shallow dent is from when one of the children, by then a young woman, had used the empty ship for some late-night fun that was a little rougher than the thin metal plate protecting the underlying circuitry could take. The next run had started with all three teenage children receiving a long lecture about proper care of the ship. Sha'li had rolled her eyes but apologized, frustrated that her uncle and her father placed so much value in the "hunk of junk".

Sha'li had never been cut out for this sort of life. She had embraced every port, every dock as a slave embraces freedom. She had been sixteen when she had disappeared into a port and never returned. Her father, Uncle Ze'har, had been expecting her to run off, but it still tore his and Aunt Keki's hearts to pieces. She never was the same after that.

For the next two years, it had been life as normal for those still on the ship. Pick up a cargo, run it to its destination, get paid, maintain the ship, buy basic supplies and if there was any left over, buy a bottle of Correlian rum and celebrate. Then, Uncle Ze'har caught Aunt Keki with another man. He was right furious. When she said that she wasn't the same woman anymore after her daughter ran off and she didn't love him any more, he just sat down on the big couch in the lounge and cried and drank and cried some more. Aunt Keki left two days later. She tried to keep in touch for a while, but it was too hard on him and she stopped sending messages at all.

Then, everything went back to being blessedly normal for another four years, until that big deal. The cargo was mysterious, unmarked, and specific orders kept it from being touched by any other than the recipient. Uncle Ze and his brother, who played the part of Cap'n Valis for this round, left in the morning, and that evening two Imperial officers came by to tell the two remaining crew that they had been killed and not to ask any questions, and to surrender themselves and their vessel. Like that was going to happen.

Shaken, unsure, and without any payment, Elaine's Shadow left and touched down at the nearest port. Jol searched and searched for a contract. Eventually, he got the ship a cargo of weapons and ammunition for the a faction on Ord Mantell. It was a good contract, with a small portion of the money paid up front. Before the shipment could be strapped down in the cargo hold, Jol said, "I can't do this anymore, Ines. I can't go on without Dad and Uncle Berk. Go to Ord Mantell and pick yourself up some new crew."

He had turned and marched down the ramp, leaving me alone in the only home I had ever known in all my twenty years. I tried to call after my cousin, but he never responded.

That day, I became Cap'n Valis of Elaine's Shadow. I'm a far cry from the man who came before me. Who bounced me on his knee and taught me to shoot, to pilot, to fix an engine. I'm an even farther cry from the man before him.

And if I can't find a crew soon, I'll be the last Valis to captain Elaine's Shadow.

Correction: if I can't navigate this near-minefield of ships shooting at me, I'll be the last Valis to captain Elaine's Shadow. She won't be in existence to captain, in fact.

I spin the ship in a tight spiral, evading two fighters fast closing. This is not as easy as Jol and I had been led to believe. I have been flying the ship though for a long time; my father had let me steer the course since I was old enough to reach the controls. It's a gift I have, and I eventually became the secondary pilot, thanks to quick reflexes and the fact that I could pull the ship into almost any size docking bay without jostling her crew or cargo.

This situation, though, with fighters closing in on both sides, is more complicated than landing in a docking bay. More instinct than reflex, guessing where the fighters would appear and what patterns they're flying. I've only ever been in this situation once, not counting the holo-sims, and at the time, I was co-pilot, my father's instincts overriding any mistake I made.

I pray that I evade any shots and make it to the surface alive.

Lady Luck must have pitied me for once, and I bring the Shadow onto the pad in the clearing. This particular landing will never be in my book of successes, I can already tell. Too much grind and a few sparks. I almost wonder if Uncle Ze could have done better, but I kill the thought. I take a deep breath as I start running shut down procedures and preparing to disembark. I'm not my father nor my uncle; I have never borne the title of "Captain" for a mission. Jol and I trailed along, helping, scouting, or spying, but we never were the front of a deal. It dawns on me that I don't know what I'm doing at all. More importantly, it dawns on me that I'll be the one stepping off that ramp, and the one doing all the talking. I'm the captain, but I'm hardly the kind of personality that is commonly associated with smuggling. I'm going to have to be someone else for a few minutes, maybe a few hours.

My jacket sits on a hook next to the airlock, and one of Uncle Ze's spares is next to it. My hand goes towards Uncle Ze's when I realize that I can't bring a comfort out there. My own jacket slides over my shoulders as I cycle the airlock, open the hatch and watch as the boarding ramp slides down it's hydraulic lifts. I'm off the ship before the clank of metal hitting duracrete echoes around the hangar.

"You must be Captain Valis," says the man in the mechanic's jumpsuit with the tattoo gracing the right side of face. It looks like a vine of thorns, and makes me wonder why someone would choose to have a tattoo on their face, especially of something most people associate with pain and unpleasantness.

"Skavak, I assume," I respond. I'm pretty sure that was the name of the contact that Jol gave me.

"No offense meant, but I expected someone...older."

Fake it 'til I make it. What would "Captain Valis" say? "No offense meant, but I expected someone more experienced," I dish back. Probably not what previous captains would have said, but it's a start for my new persona. I make a mental note to finish working out all the details in the new character. I can't go around contradicting myself.

"Oh, I have experience." He smirks. "We really do need those weapons. Thanks for running them in."

"You're welcome. Now, let's talk payment." Maybe Pa and Uncle would have handled it differently, but I'm in charge now, and credits are something I'm in sore need of. I barely had enough to to fuel the Shadow for this run, make sure she was in good repair, and stock a few provisions for myself, and that was before I landed.

"Exactly as the contract said, you'll get paid once the goods are off your ship."

"I wasn't told just how intense this blockade is." I gesture skyward. "Getting those goods here is gonna cost a little extra." Haggling is part of this aspect of smuggling, right? Stars, what am I doing out here? I hope my face doesn't reveal any of my tumultuous emotional interior.

Skavak smirks again. "I'm sure we can work something out, Captain. Still, can't believe you made it through that Separatist shooting gallery."

"It's hard, being as great a pilot as I am," I say with a wink. "Everyone is always in disbelief of my prowess. What are these Separatists anyway?" Something tells me that they're not good news, especially in my, shall we say, precarious, situation.

"They want to break away from the Republic," he replies, his back towards me as he types something into a console. "And judging from all the explosions, they're serious about the idea."

As if in answer to his statement, the floor beneath us shakes perceptibly.

"Sounds like they're close," I say.

"And getting closer. As soon as those blasters are off your ship, I'd haul jets."

There's the sound of hurried bootsteps on the durasteel and -crete floor behind us. "Skavak! We've got a big problem."

I turn, and see that the owner of both footsteps and voice belong to a man of about twenty or so galactic-standard years, roughly my age. He's probably the first human I've ever seen sporting dreadlocks and looks to be packing enough weaponry to supply a small outpost. He's also got more scars than anyone but Uncle Ze had or has, at least to my knowledge. What happens on this out-of-the-way planet that has men decorated with scars or odd tattoos?

The man, Corso Riggs, explains that the local air defense cannons have been hijacked with some sort of remote device array. And while I'm sure that this affects the locals strongly (he says something about a downed Republic Transport), I have one thought: Just what I don't need. Can't stay, can't leave, can't get a crew. At least learning to shoot with Pa is going to come in handy, since I'll be taking out that array myself. I might even charge a little extra for my "good deed".

Normally, I'd put forth a little effort towards slicing the console and destroying the program, since I developed a little skill as a slicer, but after a few failed attempts and the knowledge that time is at a premium, I resort to more, shall we say, forceful methods. A blaster shot works just as well as slicing, after all, and in some ways, it works better. Slicing might be detected, slicing might trigger alarms, slicing might just get overwritten on the next datasweep program; a blaster ensures that the program is killed.

Just as the last of the sparks and arching voltage die down, the comm at my belt rings.

"Captain, we've got trouble at the hangar." It's Riggs, I'm somewhat surprised to find.

"What kinda trouble?"

"The kind of trouble that might put your ship in danger."

"She's sturdy, shouldn't be a problem." It's not exactly fake bravado, I've see her go through worse than a few stray blaster charges, but the comment is just as much to calm me as to answer him. This is my first job as captain, I have no one to catch me if I screw up, I have no backup for a fight, and I'm nervous as all get out. I make a quick glance around just to ensure no one is hiding or sneaking up on me while I'm distracted.

"Separatists are busting into the hangar, Captain. Just come give us a hand?"

"Will do." Separatists would make leaving more difficult.

"Skavak? Will you give me a hand with this doo-"

The comm cuts a little too quickly for my comfort, so I sprint back to the hangar. It holds a few lightly armed men, nothing I can't manage with my handy pistol. I expect to hear the additional fire of Skavak and Corso, but there's nothing. My heart speeds up a little in reaction to the emptiness.

The enemy falls quickly, and the Shadow is still situated neatly, but the hair on the back of my neck is still standing on end. I hear a groan and look around to see Riggs, seemingly waking up from unconsciousness.

"Feels like a gundark used my skull as a drum," he says. "Thanks for saving my hide, Captain. Thought I was done for."

I reach out to help him up, and he reaches his feet just in time to hear the Shadow's engines starting.

I can't spin around or run quickly enough to do more than watch as she floats away. "No! No, no, no, no!" I shout. I collapse to my knees. What did I forget to do to lock her down? I ran all the shutdown procedures, didn't I? There was something I must have missed. There must have been.

Corso is saying something about Separatists and Skavak and a blaster, but I don't actually register what he says. I'm too focused on the receding silhouette of my ship as she fades away into the upper atmosphere.

My home is now lost to sight, moving towards Force only knows where. Every memory I have is on that ship, every last bit of my mom and Uncle and Pa and my cousins. And I'm not on it. I need that ship back, not because it's my livelihood, but because Uncle and Pa never would have made this mistake and I've failed them. I need it back because Skavak stole my family. I can feel the anger (and tears) rising in me. "He can't get away with this!"

"He won't."

I don't expect the ensuing holocall to do anything of much value, and unsurprisingly it doesn't. Skavak insults both of us, raises my anger some more and then cuts the channel in a gesture of finality. My emotions keep rolling, intense and powerful, filling my vision with a hazy filter.

"Skavak stole my best blaster, but I guess it's not as bad as losing a starship. I feel for you, Captain."

You don't understand, that wasn't just my ship, it was my home and my family and everything I cared about! The thought is there, along with the impulse to get in Rigg's face and yell at him. I squelch it down, realizing that he's been had as I have, and more importantly, I'll get nowhere if I reveal exactly who I am to anyone.

"Listen," he continues, "Skavak and I were working for a guy named Viidu. When he finds out Skavak's a Separatist, he'll want revenge just like you. Do yourself a favor and go talk to him in Fort Garnik. I guarantee he'll help you get your ship back."

"Why would I go to a military base to get back a stolen ship full of illegal goods?" There's no emotional control in my voice and even I can hear it clearly.

Somehow, Corso is as calm as I am furious. "Don't worry. The Republic Army might run the fort, but they let the boss do as he pleases. He keeps their supply lines open."

I arch any eyebrow. "That's the arrangement that lets him stay? He smuggles in goods for the Republic?"

"Viidu's a smart guy with connections everywhere," he continues. "If anybody can find your ship, it's him. I hafta lock down this hangar, but I'll send Viidu a holo and tell him what's up. Fort Garnik isn't far from here. I'll see you and Viidu there soon, Captain."

Some form of sense briefly infiltrates my fury. "Riggs, I don't even know which way to go from here. How 'bout I help you lock up and you guide me there?"

"Just go out the door and follow the path south."

"Which way's south?"

He gestures. "That way. Get going."

I pivot on my heel and walk out.

Avilatan Island is warm, but the breeze blowing in keeps the sun from being too unbearable and brings in the smell of salty air. Vegetation isn't exactly sparse, but it appears to have a tendency to go for "low and bushy" rather than "tall and leafy", so the shade is minimal, but the hike up to the fort gives me time to clear my head. The raw fury and anger in me mellow a bit, and my thoughts become less red. They turn a blackened-blue shade tinged with revenge before cooling further as I remember who I'm supposed to be. However, I've learned my lesson and I've learned it the hard way: don't trust anyone. Riggs seems alright, though; there's no way he's in cahoots with Skavak. We're two seeds in a pod in that regard. Besides, I don't have a contact network on this world to help me; my only choice is to believe that he's being honest about Viidu.

At some point or another, I realize that the sun is now behind me rather than to my left. I've switched directions and have started heading west. Blast you, horrid sense of direction, I'm gonna be late.

A/N: Somehow, chapter 1 wound up replaced with chapter 2, so there were two chapter 2s.

My apologies to anyone who tried to read this before. :(