Notes: This takes place before the X-wing series of books. Cookie to anybody who understands it :P
The rebel pilot glanced up as three men slid into his booth. He tightened his grip on his blaster, hidden beneath the table.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" He inquired softly.
"We were hoping you could give us a lift offworld." One of the men answered. "The weather down here has been terrible."
The rebel flicked his eyes towards the cantina entrance where the sun was streaming through the open door.
"Of course it has." None of the men answered. The rebel narrowed his eyes, "I don't carry criminals."
"We're only criminals from the Empire's point of view."
"Not a good position to be in. This is an Imperial world." The rebel carefully returned.
One of the men leant forward, green eyes boring into the rebels as he spoke quietly. "You work for Airen." The rebel started, his hands clenching reflexively around his blaster. Something about the man was familiar but he couldn't place it.
"I have no idea what you mean." The rebel returned, if these were Imperial Intelligence they would have noticed his reaction, he shifted the blaster slightly, at least he would take some of them with him.
"Yes you do. We need to get off planet. Now."
"You jumped ship?" The rebel finally asked, catching a note of urgency in the speakers tone.
"You could say that." One of the other men snorted lightly at his comrades words.
"Well, the three of you should be easy enough to slip past customs."
"Ah, well." The man frowned slightly as he sat back, "actually, there's another twenty four."
"Twenty seven of you?" The rebel asked with a totally flummoxed expression. "What did you do, fly an entire wing of starfighters away from the empire?"
The three men glanced at each other. "That about sums it up." one said. "Only we forgot a minor fact." The rebel lifted an eyebrow. "TIE's don't have hyperdrives and we sort of blew up our stardestroyer."
"On the plus side," one of the other men put in, "the Imps won't be checking customs for a while"
"Sort of blew up?" The rebel shook his head. "Don't answer that."
"This was the only system within range of our fighters and the Imperials will figure that out as soon as they pick up the escape pods."
"Fine, although this is going to be rather cramped." The rebel sighed, not quite the cargo he was expecting but the Alliance was always in need of pilots, providing they all passed the Alliance security checks of course. "I leave in an hour, with or without you."
The three men nodded as they got up and slid out of the booth. The rebel remained in his seat for a while nursing his lomin ale which had been forgotten during the conversation. He was sure he had met one of those men before, yet rebels do not consort with Imperials, too much chance of ending up dead. Finishing his ale he stood up, sliding his blaster back into its sheath and heading towards to the spaceport.
"Boss." The rebel inclined his head to the red haired man on the screen.
"Transmission is secure. Go ahead."
"Picked up the cargo I came for and managed to procure a live Imperial shipment, I'll need containment for them when I arrive home."
The red haired man narrowed his eyes as he nodded, "how many specimens?"
"Twenty-seven."
The eyebrows which had been drawn in a frown leapt upwards. "I see. Have a good flight home." The screen crackled as the transmission was terminated.
The rebel leant back in his seat to wait for his Imperial cargo to arrive.
"We're all aboard." The rebel sat bolt upright as he finally made the connection that had been eluding him. He glanced at the screen then back to the man lounging against the cockpit entrance. "I didn't think Airen Cracken would have the guts to send his own son undercover."