Title: A New Path

Summary: Tycho Celchu's journey from the Empire to the Alliance. Set prior to A New Hope.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

---------------

Chapter 6: Bothans!

---------------

Tycho had taken advantage of Jesina's lack of consciousness to clean her wounds. She'd had a nice gash on the back of her head, and a couple shallow cuts from her struggle over the vibroblade. She'd stirred slightly a couple of times, and gasped from the pain more than once, but she hadn't woken up, and he was glad. He'd watched her sleep for a while and then fallen asleep himself.

He was awakened by the sound of someone – he guessed it was Kowladda – shuffling around in the back. A quick glance at his chrono told him that they had an hour and a half until they had to meet that blasted Bothan. That was going to be so much fun.

Time to wake Jesina. Ugh. Given the choice between dealing with Gil'fra or whatever his name was, and waking her up, he wasn't sure which he'd choose. Jesina had told her about some friend of hers who worked for the same smuggler she'd been running cargo for who had tried to wake her up. According to her, he was more experienced than she was, and she'd damn near killed him before she was even fully awake. He didn't have much choice, though.

"Jes?" He said her name softly first, then louder, but got no response. Finally he reached over and brushed her dark hair, having come loose from her braid during the fight, out of her eyes, and then shook her less-injured shoulder. "Wake up, Jes."

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, surprise mixing with sudden fear as she scurried backward away from him into the corner of the decrepit sofa. He held up his hands. "It's only me."

She looked around, eyes flicking from place to place quickly. "We're at Kowladda's," she said finally, satisfied that they weren't in any immediate danger. "Kowladda!" she yelled, and Tycho shushed her.

"Relax, Tycho," she retorted. "Kowladda's well known around here. No one is going to be harmed by my yelling for him."

"What if the couple of guys who got away last night followed us or something?"

She shook her head, laughing at him. "If they were that stupid, they wouldn't have survived here this long. Chances are, they didn't live through the night, if Kowladda had anything to say about it. Like I said, he's well known around here. People know not to tangle with him." She studied him for a moment. No one could say the Empire didn't train their people well for battle, but none of the ones she'd met seemed to have the street smarts to stay alive on their own. Even those that she'd run across who had come from tougher areas of the galaxy – the Outer Rim, some parts of Corellia – seemed to have lost something in their training. Tycho was no exception. Though he hadn't had a rough childhood, he'd had more sense than this. "Kowladda!" she called the Wookie again.

"Rowr," he mumbled, coming into the room. He huffed at her, and she held up a hand, laughing.

"You have my apologies," she told him. "It's just that we're kind of in a hurry."

He whuffled at her, finishing with another "Rowr," and Tycho watched the exchange with frustration as she laughed again.

Sensing his confusion, Jesina turned to him. "Kowladda says that he knows why we're in a hurry. Apparently he talked to Eskrit. He says that I'd better get you off Nar Shaddaa before you cause any more trouble."

"Me?" he exclaimed. "I didn't do anything."

She laughed at him again. "Don't be so sensitive, Tych. He knows it wasn't your fault." She glanced back to Kowladda. "Who were they?" More indecipherable growling – indecipherable to Tycho, anyway. Jesina apparently understood him just fine. "Thanks." She looked back to Tycho. "He said they were second-rate thugs who won't bother anyone again. And he says you did good against them, for a human."

Tycho looked at the Wookie. "Thank you." He wanted to tell the being that he was sorry for what he had obviously gone through at Imperial hands, and for what other members of his race were still enduring. But he couldn't find the words, and, given Gil'fra's reaction to him the night before, doubted the Wookie would accept the apology. Instead he glanced at his chrono. "We need to get going."

She nodded. "Kowladda, can you take us back to my ship?"

The large creature nodded its furry head. He came forward and pushed a package into Jesina's hands, then motioned for them to follow him out the door.

---------------

Eskrit was already waiting on board the Nightwind when they reached the ship. "You're early," he hissed, eyes lighting on Tycho, as if they'd done something wrong and it was entirely his fault.

Unwilling to deal with the belligerent Bothan and wondering if all the Bothans – or all the Rebels – were so difficult, Tycho met his glare. "So are you," he retorted, heading for the cockpit, missing the surprised look on the Rebel's face.

Jesina didn't miss Gil'fra's reaction. "He's learning," she told him.

"What happened to you?" the Bothan asked, ignoring her comment and looking her up and down, taking in the bruises.

"You talked to Kowladda," she reminded him. "Don't play stupid; I'm not going to fall for it. And before you ask, it wasn't Tycho's fault. He nearly got himself killed trying to save us both, when he could have just run, and it actually would have been healthier for him if he had."

"So I heard. So he's an Imperial and he's stupid."

She shook her head, amused. "It's a wonder you've managed to recruit anyone, with that attitude."

He shrugged at her. "Look at it this way. If they're willing to put up with me, they must be sincere."

"You know, if you keep on his case like this, he's going to be ready to kill you. And I just might let him."

"Don't play cruel," he replied. "I'm not going to fall for it." He tossed her words back at her.

"Ah, but I'm not playing." She turned away from him to help Tycho with the start-up.

Tycho was pacing around the cockpit, occasionally kicking the base of the co-pilot's seat. "Hey!" she scolded him. "What did my ship ever do to you?"

"Sorry." He dropped into the chair and glared in the direction of the main compartment. "Are they all like that?"

"Bothans? Mostly," she shrugged. "It's their culture to be suspicious, competitive, arrogant, and underhanded." She got a mischievous glint in her eye. "Basically, if you take the worst characteristics of pilots and Imperials and put them together – and add fur – you get a Bothan. Some of them are nice. But don't bet on meeting any of the nice ones."

She sat down and hit a few buttons to begin the automated start-up sequence. "He's coming around. All you have to do is put up with him and give it right back to him, like you just did. Plus, Kowladda talked to him, which I'm sure went a long way to convincing him that you aren't all bad."

Tycho was still irritable. "Let's not talk about this anymore. Where are we headed?"

"I don't know yet. Eskrit will tell me once we get off the moon, and probably out of the system. For now, I'm just going to make a micro-jump."

He nodded, understanding their need to be careful, but still not liking it. "When can I put on normal clothes? And get my real hair back?"

She looked at him innocently. "You mean, you don't want to leave it that way? I think it's really you."

He scowled. "Your smuggler friends have rubbed off on you."

"And they'll do the same to you," she retorted. "I'll wash the dye out and you can change your clothes once we're actually on course." She looked at him slyly. "That's IF you let me take a holo of you."

He shook his head vehemently. "No way. No. I'm not letting you humiliate me for all posterity."

She laughed at him as he turned away, face as red as the clothes she'd made him wear, to get on with his part of start-up. "I don't know who's worse, you or him," he muttered.