By the time they reached Dock Alpha, Tycho's engines had sputtered into lifelessness and both Hobbie and Wes collapsed on the deck, gulping in delicious, blessed air. Taking a challenge datapad from a production team member, Tycho began to read the next phase's instructions aloud:

'"By now, you will have realized that any starfighter purchased for less than 10,000 quid is the equivalent of committing ritual suicide in the cabin of a Reliant Mynock. Using your remaining money, you are to improve your fighters in any way you see fit using the facilities provided."'

Wes, still out of breath, asked, 'Wait, didn't you spend 9,500 on yours?'

Tycho muttered an answer.

'So what can you possibly afford with the leftover 500?'

'Look, I'll think of something. I'll see you guys back here in a few hours.'

And with that, the lads set off into the station to haggle, extort, seduce, and steal their way into spaceworthiness.

Several hours later, the three had finished their repair jobs and by the end of it, they'd come out with fighters of, er, variable quality.

'Alright, Wes,' said Hobbie, 'you go first.'

Wes paused to wipe a bit of sweat from his brow. 'Well, I had 8,500 credits left over for this thing, so I had plenty of room to spare. First thing I did, I stripped off a lot of the external hull plating for scrap, which netted me an extra 1,000.'

'So basically, you can buy Tycho's fighter with the money you have right now.'

'Basically. I used the cash to pretty much overhaul my instrument panel. Replaced the fried circuit boards, added an astromech brain to substitute for a full navicom to save on money, and added a targeting computer from a Z-95. I used the rest of my money to fix the life support and splice a shield generator to my power plant.'

Hobbie nodded in approval. 'Very nice. I used mine to fix up my hull breach, first of all. Then I fixed up my life support and landing gear and added a Class 2 hyperdrive. With my remaining money, I added some basics to my instrument panel-gyroscope, a cheap navicom from an old Clone War V-wing, and status gauges, obviously. Then I spent the 200 I had left on some minor engine repairs.'

Tycho peeked into the cockpit. 'Why does your temperature gauge still say that your engine's about to catch fire?'

'Thats, uh, because it is. I've jury-rigged a water-cooling system from the cockpit that leads to the engine.'

Tycho gave Hobbie an arch look. '"Water". Sure. That's totally why you mounted the intake at crotch level.'

'Alright, smartass, what did you do with your piddly 500?'

The Dianoga looked like it had been mutilated, having lost its top and bottom wings and vents, as well as a considerable amount of external plating. Wes and Hobbie looked understandably amused by Tycho's poor purchase.

'Well, uh, first off, I took those wings off and sold them for scrap to let me land like a normal person. Couldn't afford landing gear, obviously. Also sold a bit of the armor, as well as two of my lasers. That brought me up to 3,500, which I used to fix my instruments, life support, and shields.'

Wes and Hobbie clambered onto the fighter and began inspecting its innards.

'Hold on,' said Wes, 'that's not your original hyperdrive.'

Upon closer inspection, the original Class 2 had been scrapped and replaced by an InCom GBk-585 model, typically found on X-wing starfighters.

Hobbie was astounded. 'Where the hell did you find one of those? More importantly, how did you manage to buy that?'

'To be honest, I didn't buy it.'

Wes and Hobbie chorused, 'What.'

'I stole it.'

'What?' they repeated.

The camera zoomed out to reveal that Tycho wore clothing completely different from those he had on earlier. A flimsy paper mask of Wedge Antilles' face also hung from his belt, along with a fusion cutter, still smoking from recent use.

Outside, a man in a green CorSec flight suit complained loudly on his holocomm as he passed the Top Gear hangar. 'What do you mean, "stolen"? I swear, Whistler, I leave for five minutes and-'

Tycho hopped into his Dianoga with uncharacteristic urgency, activating his engines and donning his helmet. With deliberate slowness, a production team agent handed Wes their next datapad.

'"With your newly repaired starfighters, you are to rendezvous with ST-166 above Kothlis in the Mid Rim, where you will compete in a minor space skirmish. With your skills, you should be capable of pulling through, regardless of the lethality of your foe." Lethality?'

Hobbie coughed uncomfortably. 'W-well,' he stammered, 'they c-can't possibly try to kill us, right? This is just a show, right?'

Tycho, meanwhile, sealed his cockpit, marked the coordinates for Kothlis, and took off. At that exact moment, a very irate Corran Horn stormed into the hangar, lightsaber ignited and spouting expletives and insults regarding Tycho's status as an Imperial sleeper agent. By the time Corran readied his X-wing and sallied forth to reclaim his stolen hyperdrive, Tycho, Hobbie, and Wes had jumped to hyperspace.

After an unspecified amount of time, Hobbie was the first to exit hyperspace. He screamed like a little girl.

'Hobbie,' Wes said as he exited hyperspace, 'what the hell are yOH MY SPACE GOD! I AM SO GLAD I'M WEARING BROWN PANTS BECAUSE A BIT OF POO'S COME OUT RIGHT THEN AND THERE!'

The second Tycho entered realspace, he, too, saw what all the fuss was about.

'Wes, Hobbie, what are you tSWEET MERCIFUL FORCE!'

All three of them screamed in unison. Twenty kilometers away floated a behemoth of alusteel and laser-spewing divine wrath. Forged in the fires of Kuat Drive Yards, the very sight of it could still make even the cockiest fighter pilot fearful, and that was if said pilot was in the seat of an X-wing. Or a Y-wing. Or any other starfighter in existence that could go for more than 10,000 credits. It was the natural predator of the CR-90 corvette family, and the bane of many, many pirates, Rebel Alliance personnel, and scruffy, nerf-herding smugglers. From its steely innards spewed a horde of TIE Interceptors and Fighters. Despite its age, ships of its ilk were still the standard by which capital ships' firepower and durability were measured. It was an Imperial-II Star Destroyer, and it was coming straight for them.