Chapter 12 - In Transit
Rillien paused on the last step down to the cargo bay and clasped his hands behind his back. Ten sets of eyes looked expectantly back at him.
"Right then," he said; "We've done everything we can on the ground. It's time to take her out for a test run. The pressure test came up positive, the engines seem to be working…this is all we have left to do before we're fully operational. So listen carefully. Jak, you're piloting. Don't screw this up. Tilo, take Vanis and Tometh and man the engine room – we can't afford for anything to go wrong, so be on your toes. I want Finula on comms, and the rest of you spread throughout the ship to make sure nothing breaks or catches fire. Any problems?"
Various negatives were the only reply, until someone coughed. "No, but…what's she called?" Cheleka Rann, a tiny Mandalorian female of indeterminate age, asked seemingly out of the blue.
Rillien blinked at her: "What?"
"She's got a point," Tilo said thoughtfully; "It's supposed to be bad luck to fly in a ship with no name."
"Take it we're not going with the Rust Bucket, then?" Jak's expression was a picture of mock resignation.
"Shut up, Jak," Rillien said absently; "I'm open to suggestions…"
Immediately several were offered, but none of them felt quite right: Jakren's many and varied suggestions along the lines of Tin Can and Rattletrap were certainly not helpful. Rillien was on the point of declaring that they were flying out anyway and Sith take the bad luck, when Tilo cleared her throat and said softly; "How about the Second Chance?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Yes," Rillien said; "That's the one. Now come on, we've got work to do!" The sharp addendum sent the younger Jedi scurrying to their posts. A slight frown creased his features as he spotted Eban Valeni, who at four years old was the youngest of them. "Come here Eban!" RIllien called. He looked around quickly for Akaavi Lacuna and saw her climbing up the ladders to the gantry; "Aki, you too!"
Aki skidded to a halt in front of him moments later, the Twi'lek's bright purple skin the only real colour in the dull durasteel cargo bay. Eban took his place beside her with as much dignity as the little Mandalorian could muster. "Yes?" they chorused.
For a moment Rillien could only stare. Four…and Aki only a year older. They were far too young to have to go through this. He gave himself a mental shake: "I want you two to go to the bunkroom and make sure everything stays secure while we're in flight, okay?"
"Sure," Aki said brightly. She grabbed her friend's wrist; "Come on, Eban!"
Rillien watched them run off together before heading up to the cockpit. Of all the rooms on the ship the bunkroom was the least likely to present a threat, and that was precisely why he'd sent them there. He knew that soon they wouldn't be able to spare anyone from the dangers of the galaxy…but he would protect the younglings as much as he could. Apprehensive about the test flight, he ran a hand through his hair as he entered the cockpit. He settled into the co-pilot's chair and took a deep breath: Finula Takomi gave him a reassuring smile from her seat at the comms station, black Mirialan tattoos stark against her skin. Jakren wrapped steady hands around the controls.
The systems status readout booted up on the screen on front of Rillien and he focused intently on it, noting with relief that everything seemed to be in the green. Showtime.
"Right." He was shaking, nervous heat rushing through him to leave feverish chills in its wake. He swallowed and tried again; "Right. We seem to be operational. Fin, request permission to take off."
She flipped a switch and leaned into the microphone; "Hosk Control, this is civilian freighter the Second Chance requesting permission to take off from bay twelve, copy?"
"Copy that," a mechanically filtered voice replied; "What is your destination?"
"Negative, no destination," Fin told the flight controller; "We have made extensive repairs to our sublight engines and need a test flight."
"Clearance granted."
"You heard them," Rillien said as she closed the channel; "Fire her up, Jak."
Jak closed his eyes for a moment as if in prayer and flipped the switches to channel power to the main engines. "Primary and secondary power systems online and functioning," Rillien reeled off; "Life support functioning…hull integrity normal…engine power levels constant…Fin, ask Tilo how they're doing down there."
Fin switched to internal comms; "Tilo, is everything alright?"
"The cooling system's a little overheated, but that's not a major problem. No fires, no surges…I really think we're okay."
The ship was humming beneath their feet, vibrations running through her. The crew was silent, hoping, as Jak gently pulled the controls back to take her up. A faint but unmistakable clang rang through the ship – the docking clamps had released them. Ahead, the star-touched black of space beckoned them from the other side of the shields. They sailed neatly out of the docking bay and in to the emptiness beyond
The comm beeped: "Everything's stable," Tilo reported; "Alright, Jak – let's see what she can do."
XxXxXxX
It was quite uncanny how every spaceport in the galaxy started to look exactly the same after a while. Obi-Wan stared blearily at the sign above the doors, trying to work out what language it was in. Four weeks bouncing from ship to ship in a bid to stay under the radar and he'd managed even to lose track of what planet he was on. What a sight he must look: still dressed in the scruffy fifth-hand clothes he'd acquired on Coruscant, a bag slung over his shoulder and a small child perched on his hip. In a bid to be less recognisable he'd shaved his beard – and Force how strange a bare face felt after so long – and let his hair grow out. He thought it made him look younger.
Luke gave an unhappy whimper, and he patted the boy absently. After a while he made enough sense of the sign to realise that they'd ended up on Falleen. It wasn't too far to Tatooine: he could have Luke safely with his relatives within a week if things went well. Obi-Wan bought a mysterious spicy pastry from a stall run by a wizened Kiffar woman, who took pity on him and threw in milk for Luke free of charge. She also scolded him for carting his 'poor son' around the galaxy when everything was in such a mess.
"He's not my son," Obi-Wan explained wearily; "His father is a friend of mine, and he disappeared during the upheavals on Coruscant. I'm taking the boy to his family on Tatooine."
"Oh." The old woman's expression softened and she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "In that case, you'll want to go to the nineteenth berth on the north side and look for a ship called the Lucky Break. Captain Farfarer does the Tatooine run. He's a good man – won't see any harm come to his passengers."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, profoundly grateful. He'd been slightly concerned about the logistics of defending himself from unsavoury types with a seven-week-old baby in tow.
"Well, on you go then!" she said, waving him off. Without another glance at him she turned to her next customers, a pair of exhausted-looking Bothans.
Luke made another small, disapproving sound. Obi-Wan bounced him slightly on his hip, vaguely recalling the same thing being done to him as a child when he was fretting. Not to worry, Luke, he thought gently at the boy; we'll have you with your family and safe soon enough. The look he received in return was disconcertingly knowing.
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TO BE CONTINUED
