Echo surveys the market and frowns beneath his visor. Plenty of vendors, but few customers to blend in with and too many troopers. Hunter walks around the various stalls and makes it known he is passing through and selling off an ex-military droid, perfect for anything from security to playing checkers. Echo follows him around and keeps his opinions to himself.
Soon, they are approached by a man interested in the transaction. He is of medium height and of unknown profession. He has manicured hands, blue eyes with matching blue-dyed hair and an intricate haircut. He is wearing custom-tailored clothes clearly made of expensive material. The man is either unused to haggling or too impatient to do so, and they settle on a price quickly. It is a reasonable price, Echo thinks, and it makes him feel worse about the deception.
"Off you go with you new master," Hunter tells him as they part ways.
"As you say," Echo replies.
Following the man out of the market, Echo reviews his escape plan. With fresh credits in hand, Hunter would need about forty standard minutes to make the purchases of rations, supplies and fuel, then walk back to their rendezvous place and wait for him, while Tech goes ahead to the Marauder. Ten minutes for Tech to do the fuel up and flight sequence.
As they discussed before reaching the market, Echo needs to stay with his new master for just over forty minutes before slipping away, preferably unnoticed. He looks at the man with the fancy haircut walking briskly ahead of him and almost groans. He doesn't think he would put up much of a fight, and slipping away from him now before reaching their destination would be the easiest. But it is still too early.
The deception grates on him, especially since the man paid such a reasonable price for his "droid". Echo tells himself that if the man's clothes and fancy haircut are any indication, he will not miss a few thousand credits, but it doesn't really make him feel better. A thief is a thief in Echo's opinion. He wishes he could vanish now into the crowd. Almost an hour more in the man's company will probably not make him feel better about stealing from him.
Ten minutes later, Echo starts to have serious misgivings about the situation, as the man leads him towards a commercial landing strip. Patrols are even thicker on the ground in this part of town. Making his exit in any other fashion but the silent kind would attract too much attention. Echo doubts he would make it back to the Marauder should his absence trigger an alert.
He follows fancy-haircut man into the commercial hanger and to a small shuttle class carrier. The engines are on and humming. Echo fells the situation slipping away from him and he hesitates halfway up the ramp.
"Come!" the man calls back to him. "Keep up. We don't have all day." He checks his watch impatiently.
Echo follows him into the shuttle.
"Trey! I'm back. I got a droid," the man declares once inside. There is a shuffling sound in the cockpit, and a woman glances back at them from the pilot's seat. She has chin-length black hair framing a heart-shaped face with dark eyes and laugh lines around her mouth. She is wearing a pilot jumpsuit, made out of rough cloth, nothing as fancy as the man's clothing.
She swivels the pilot seat fully to face them. A crease forms between her eyebrows.
"This is definitely not an astromech droid, Salm," the woman called Trey says, her eyebrows going up. She places her left hand over her forehead and grimaces.
"There were no astromechs to be had," Salm replies. "If we'd had a week, maybe, but…" he puts his hands up in the air and drops them at his sides. There are droplets of perspiration forming on his forehead. He checks his watch again, sits down in the co-pilot seat and straps himself in.
"Did they signal?" he asks.
"Yes," Trey replies. "Five minutes."
"It's ex-military," Salm gestures in Echo's direction without looking at him, "and it's previous owner said it could do pretty much anything."
"Anything? Like juggle blasters while flipping pancakes?" Trey asks, shaking her head.
"And play checkers," Salm adds.
"Great. Exactly what we need." she replies giving Salm a sideways glance from under lowered lashes. She sighs and turns her attention to Echo. "What is your name?" she asks him.
"My previous master called me Echo," he answers.
"I see you have a socket connection, Echo," she nods towards his right arm. "Are you any good at overriding security codes? Can you pilot? Can you do repairs?"
"Yes, yes, and yes, if necessary parts are available." Echo replies.
"Good," she says, looking him up and down. "Are you in need of any maintenance? Not that I can offer you maintenance," she checks her watch, "but we should probably know if you are malfunctioning or anything like that."
Echo thinks this is not the time to mention that he hasn't had a proper meal in two days. "I am operating at optimal levels," he lies.
"You do look in great shape," she says as she looks him over and Echo's breath catches. He thinks of the low probability of a pretty woman ever saying that to him without thinking he was a droid.
"Optimal," he repeats.
"Then you will do just fine," she replies and a smile blossoms on her face, making a tiny, perfect dimple in her left cheek and deepening the laugh lines around her mouth.
Echo's heart skips a beat and stumbles into his stomach.
"We've got to go, Trey," Salm says from his seat.
"Strap in, Echo," Trey tells him, gesturing at the row of passenger seats at the back of the cabin. "We'll make it work," she decides.
Echo checks his timer. Just under twenty minutes have passed. Not enough. He imagines himself dashing down the ramp before Trey and Salm finish taking off and wonders whether they would stop and pursue him, or if their timing is tight enough that they'd be forced to let him go. Through the windshield, he sees yet another patrol walking across the hangar floor and swears silently. He sits and straps himself in.
"Ready for this?" Trey asks Salm as the shuttle takes off. "No going back."
"Going back to what?" Salm replies and Echo sees for the first time a hard, determined look in the man's eyes, and thinks that maybe he is not as delicate as he first assessed him to be.
"Echo," Trey calls over her shoulder. "You're ex-military, right? We might get shot at. Are you any good at shooting back?"
"I am good at shooting back, yes," Echo replies keeping his voice even.
He wonders if this can get any worse.