Saber Girls:You knew? By the way, I know I must sound stupid, what was does MTFBWY mean?
Pirtroid: Thanks. :) And of course Leia is -- I would be.

CHAPTER FOUR

Wet grass came off on my knee, and my palms, and I toll to lower the impact of the ground. After a moment, I gingerly stand. My wrist hurt, but it doesn't seem to be anything terrible. I shoot a look up at the two-story window I had just jumped from, and start to jog lightly away, shutting my mind out to anyone trying to pry. As I pass my mom's office window, I feel a sense of relief as the room was darkened out; at least she won't see me. If I'm lucky, she won't even know I'm leaving until I'm actually gone.

I reach the side-house where I keep the X-wing - again, a sense of relief since the thing is actually working - and, hoping that the large doors that held the twelve and a half meter ship would open quietly, I quickly tap in the code. To my horror, large clanging endued, and I curse quietly, running in as the door opens wide enough to allow. I sprint to the far wall, turning on an astromech droid then running to where my white helmet and flight suit were. I haphazardly tug them on, pulling the helmet onto my head as the astromech droid slowly rolls to the X-wing's side.

Oh great. I just heard the door to my house open.

Damn, damn, damn, damn...

I pull a sort of platform near the R2 unit, and the little thing rolled on. Good thing it knew the procedure...

Hurried footsteps are coming nearer...

I press a button, and the platform shoots upward. The poor astromech was barely on the platform when I hit it, so the little thing almost rolled off as I run up the ladder. An extended walkway makes its ways toward the astromech slot on the X-wing, and I couldn't be gladder that the little thing I chose was nothing like Artoo. It actually complies silently, rolling its way into the slot.

"SYRMÉ!" I hear my mother's voice, but I wasn't about to answer her. I nearly slip as I hop into the cockpit, letting the window close over me. I could barely see my mom striding across the small room and toward my ship, but its not like I'm paying attention. I buckle in, switch on the ship...

Mom's getting nearer, she's running now...

The engine roars to life, and I quickly stabilize the controls...

It's possible that mom would hop onto the ladder now and come with me as I take off...

I pull a lever, and am pushed against my seat as the ship lurches forward. I don't even look back at my mom as I clear the room and am out in the open, tropical night. As I reach the outskirts of the atmosphere, I quickly set the coordinates and make the jump to hyperspace (those General Ship classes really paid off).

I decide to first head for Coruscant.

The ride to Coruscant was uncomfortable. It was hot and constricting, but I had managed to fall into a light doze for a good part of the trip, and I am currently just entering the Coruscant atmosphere, towards where my R2 unit tells me is a popular vacation resort. That seems to be a pretty good cover.

A red light above me started flashing, and I take that as a comm call coming through. I hit the button to allow transmissions, and I hear a very professional voice through the speaker.

"Name and business?"

Crap. In those cramped hours in my X-wing, I hadn't even thought of name for myself. Surely I couldn't go as Syrmé Carr.

"Erm..." I think, and shout out some random sounds. "Tyle... Noon. Vacation... purposes...?" I said, mentally kicking myself for sounding so uncertain.

Some static. "I'm sorry, what was that? Mtyle Nolon?"

That's certainly a lot better than Tyle Noon.

"Yes." I reply, firmly. "And for vacation." I add.

"Proceed to Docking Bay 27F, in landing hangar 42 section B. Please transmit a sum of seven hundred credits to account number 0027522."

Seven hundred? That sure as hell is a lot of money. Then again, I am paying with my mother's credits, and she definitely isn't short on those.

"Agreed." I say, pressing a few buttons to make the transaction. Its not like they would be willing to haggle, anyway. And I don't want to draw attention, for obvious reasons, so I flew into the planetary coordinates that they gave me quietly, setting my ship down -- which started to make a weird whining noise in the engine.

Oh crap. Just my luck.

I set her down -- I still haven't named her, I just realized -- then hop out quickly, ignoring the strange looks. So what if I have an old ship? There's no reason to gape like I had just stepped out one of those over-glamorized holovids depicting the Rebellion. Jerks.

A quick check told me that my engine is still... working. Well, its old, so that long after such a short time of getting it up and running again was... I admit, rather tactless. No use crying over spilled juice, I suppose, so I'll just fix it.

Thing is is that it may take as much as a week to fix her. And then it comes to finding the right parts for such an old model, and news will leak out eventually that I have gone missing and I may get recognized...

I have dug myself into my own little hole here.

The best I could do was... I hate to do it, but leave my X-wing here and hitch a ride out.

That is, if all that was wrong was that I needed new oil.

Doubtful. I had changed the oil around the day before I told mom. Or let her know that I know, should I say.

Still, it doesn't hurt to hope, does it?

Crap. I knew it was inevitable.

I look wistfully at my ship, laying a hand on her. I had spent so much time on her... but I wasn't going to give up just yet. I was going to give my family a little scare before I went back.

Because I'm feeling oddly vengeful -- and that's bad for me. But I had a good reason. And I'm not turning to the Dark Side any time soon. And I don't want power, so what harm could this do?

A lot.

With a sigh, I take one last glance at her. She was suddenly all the more majestic; chipped though the paint was, and blaster marks streaked the sides, but she seemed proud, ruling over all other ships in the hangar.

And I would hate to leave her, but... I guess I had to.

I sigh, my forehead screwed up from the upsetting situation, and quickly half-jogged out of the hangar without a backwards glance.

After all, if I keep looking back I won't have any idea where I'm going.

Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter, sorry for taking so long (busy week), and I'm sorry if its a filler.