THIS STORY IS MARY SUE! IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT!
Author's Notes: This is one of the stories I'd wanted to write for a while. I'd actually started before I got married. Originally completed in time for Star Wars' 30th anniversary.
Trivia and In-Jokes: AL went the way of her friend, the Doctor, and rescued her ship from the scrapheap like he rescued the TARDIS. The guessing at a translation came from Luke constantly guessing Artoo's speech in the novel Truce at Bakura.
Chapter One: Lost in Space
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…
A junker of a ship drifted through space, its engines sounding like they were about to die at any moment. The thing was impossibly old and the bolts keeping the hull from coming loose were slowly undoing themselves.
The owner of the ship was in a foul mood, mostly because of the state of the thing. While she knew it would be a "fixer-upper", especially since she'd rescued it and the droid, literally, from the scrapheap, she was under the assumption that the mechanics she'd taken it to had made sufficient repairs.
Evidently, those assumptions had been false.
"Stop throwing sparks at me, you useless pile of scrap! Shorty, shut up…I don't care if that is where I found you."
Lisa plopped herself into the pilot's chair, which wobbled dangerously as it took her weight, and sighed, irritated. The WED Treadwell droid beside her warbled in its binary code language.
She didn't understand the droid, but she could guess at the translation.
"I'm just hoping this bucket of bolts will get us to a repair station before it dies completely," she said.
As if to go against her, the controls dimmed out for a moment before returning to their normal illumination.
"Don't you dare…" Lisa warned the ship.
The ship bucked as the engines spluttered and coughed, making much more noise than usual.
"Dammit!" she swore. "Shorty, try to get just a little more power to the Shuttle…we can't be far from a repair station…can we?"
The droid, whom she'd dubbed "Shorty" for reasons unknown, hooked one of its manipulator arms into the ship's systems. Whatever he said next, Lisa knew it was bad news.
"No, no, no!" she shouted as the ship jerked and bucked again, the engines emitting a loud whine. "Don't you dare!" She kicked the panel, which shot sparks out in retaliation.
Lisa growled as the engines finally sputtered and died, leaving them adrift in space.
Rubbing her forehead, sighing, she said, "Shorty, send a distress call."
End chapter one.