There was no other way out. The mine shaft, their – his – last option, had collapsed. It was gone. He was stuck on this space-forsaken fuel planet, surrounded by several trillion gallons of highly explosive fuel.
"Well Atton, it looks like we won't be getting out of this one." He muttered to himself, rubbing his face tiredly. I guess my scoundrel's luck has finally run out.
The control panel flashed mockingly up at him, signaling life when he knew there was none to be found. He scowled at the green light and watched as it slowly moved from one area to the next. But the next area was most definitely outside of the station.
"What the— Mærin?" He tested her comlink and cursed his rising hopes.
"What's wrong now? I did absolutely nothing! It was probably that creepy protocol droid…" It couldn't be possible. She was—
"I'm getting info that you're not actually inside the station. But that can't be right." It just couldn't.
He could almost hear her roll her eyes. "Atton, look up." Directly outside the window, Mærin stood in all of her alive-and-environmental-suited glory.
"I thought I lost you for a second there." He laughed and winced at how forced it sounded. "Don't do it again." She smiled tiredly, but it disappeared as soon as she turned around. "What now? Uh, Mærin, I'm picking up some strange—"
"Docking codes, right?"
He eyed her through the window. "You know the ship?"
She chewed at her lower lip. "It's the Harbinger."