Saber Girls: Aha. Now I see. - isn't big on online Star Wars acronyms/lingo - I should take a course. xD And I know it was filler, and for that I'm sorry. I hope this chapter makes up for that. :D
GreatOne: I'm glad you did, too. :DI don't want to deter you, but Han might not be around to explain. xD By the way, love your work.
Dovasary: Haha, thank you. I got your last review for my other story, but unfortunatley that one is finished so I can't reply. But it made me blush. xDDD Anyhow, it's pronounced 'SIGH-rr-may'.
yellow-lily: If you keep reading and reviewing, you may find out. ;-D
CHAPTER FIVE
" - Yes, yes, that's what I heard too - missing - "
"Ran away?"
"Rumour has it she's been kidnapped, though from what I hear about the girl I wouldn't put it past her - "
I keep my head at my feet, nervously fiddling with my hair and the ends of my sleeves. News was out that fast? I'm actually not all too surprised, considering my mother and uncle are the most-watched siblings in a few systems, but I would think my mom and Luke would have tried to keep this quiet. But, due to recent events, I guess I don't know my mother as well as I'd have hoped.
So here I am, wandering aimlessly, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, thanking the gods that I don't have any very distinguishing features about me so long as I keep my head down.
I need a ride out of here. Fast. And from someone stupid or someone doesn't care that they're letting a missing technical-Princess Jedi hitch a ride with them. The former is the most likely, because most would be happy to bring the little rebel (or kidnappee) back home to mommy for a little reward.
The problem is finding someone of either category without getting recognized. It's not like I can go up to someone and say, 'Hey, you don't know who I am, do you?'
Definitely not. I have to scope out someone that, a) looks like their IQ is a bit below average, b) have a sort of rebellious, 'I'm in this for the money I don't care if you are a wanted criminal on twenty systems' air to them, or c) doesn't look like they care about or would recognize any sort of prominent figure (or a prominent figure's offspring).
I walk into one of the temporary hangers (or so the map says), stopping so I could cast a quick glance around. And then I practically fall over as something hard and solid pushes me roughly
"Ah - friggin' crap - " I start, picking myself angrily off the floor and turning to face my attacker, subconsciously noting exactly where my lightsaber lay, hidden. Did people not have any manners on Coruscant? Obviously not, considering the next comment.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, stopping in the middle of the aisle like that?" asked the person that knocked me from my feet.
"If you would watching where you're going, you wouldn't have that problem!" I bite back. Idiot.
"Listen, girl, I'm sorry for knocking you over but I would think someone your age may have a little more common sense."
Nice apology. Especially since you managed to imply that I was a moron during it.
"Are you calling me stupid?" I snap, letting my eyes slip over the man I was currently arguing with, trying to find a fault in him that I can retort with.
Thing is is that he's not overweight, dirty, or dressed in clothes that don't match. So that certainly rules out any physical insults. Sure, he's old - maybe forty-five or so - but that's hardly an intelligent revile.
"I dunno if you're stupid or not, but you certainly aren't gettin' any points for stopping right in front of the doorway."
"It's called using your eyes."
"It's called takin' a step to the right."
I glare at him. Imbecile.
"Well I'm sorry for causing you the great uncomfort of having to knock straight into a girl half your weight. So, if you'd excuse me..." with one last glare, I sauntered off in the other direction, almost hearing the insults and curses uttered by the man I left behind me.
A slowly studied the hangar, leaning in the shadows against the metal wall behind me. Too bad most of the personal pilots with the good freighters seemed to be rather intelligent, and I could swear that I could see my name - first, last, or both - be formed on some of their lips as they caught up with the news.
Damn, my choices are narrowing, as is my hope for getting out of this place.
I slowly trace my gaze across the hangar again, and I jolt with surprise.
He's a pilot?
Obviously; he's lounging on the ramp of his freighter that looks like it came from the Clone War era, but it seemed like it may fly. And in our little spat at the door, he had a full, well-lighted view of my face and still didn't seem to recognize me as the missing daughter of Princess Leia Organa-Skywalker (I am refusing to put my father's last name afterward, since their marriage seemingly only reaches as far as a datapad).
I don't want to have to take a flight with him. He's the biggest jerk probably on Coruscant.
Dimwit.
Actually, not really, he seemed quite intelligent when you look past him not finishing off his '-ing' words.
And there was the possibility that he won't take me. Or that he doesn't take charters. But then what the hell is he doing hanging around there for? I mean, I may as well take my chance. What harm could it possibly do? None.
I make my way across the hangar, once again having to stare at my feet and risk running into something rather than risk recognization. A quick glance up tells me that I'm three feet away from him and any closer would be wrong with someone one had just gotten into a disagreement with. I look him straight in the face, and saw that he was surveying me with dislike.
"Did you just think of a comeback, and you've come back to say it to me?"
Gods, this man was immature.
"No, for your information. I need a ride out of here."
"I'm not taking charters." he says easily, and I find myself sighing in frustration.
"Then what in gods' name are you doing here?"
"Waiting for someone. I'm collecting on a bet."
Either this man is telling the truth or he's an awesome liar.
"I can pay." I offer.
"As opposed to me taking you for free?"
"I can pay a lot."
"Why me? Why not that guy? He's probably charge less than what I'm thinkin' of." he says, gesturing somewhere to his right, and I look at the pilot he's referring to.
I recoiled as I saw the fat, dirty, and uncolor-coordinated man burping out the carbonation from the bottle of alcohol next to him. I glance back at the man in front of me, with what I was sure was a look of disgust on my face.
He had also just got done with surveying the drunken pilot.
"Good point." he said, shrugging. "I demand three thousand."
Are you kidding me!
"You said you could pay a lot." he reminded.
"Yes, but I didn't think it would be that exorbitant."
"Take it or leave it, or find someone else."
"Two thousand?"
"Twenty-seven hundred."
"Twenty-five hundred."
"Twenty-six fifty."
"Twenty-six hundred."
"Done." he says, swiftly, standing and stretching out his arms. I sigh in relief.
"You'd better be ready." he says, peering at me sharply with one eye.
"I am. But aren't you waiting to collect on a bet?" I ask nonchalantly, taking a credit chip out of my pocket and entering the correct amount, before holding it out to him. He snatched it lightly from my fingers.
"I lied. I wanted to get you out of my hair."
Aha. So he was an accomplished liar.
"Are we leaving now?"
"Why? Are you waiting for someone?"
"No."
"Then why the hell will we be waitin' around?"
"I don't know."
"Well, then get on board."
I shrug, walking up the ramp and into the ship. Hopefully the thing can get off the ground. I wander aimlessly around the round hallway, peering in at different rooms of the ship. It's plain, and nothing really notable, so I just went and sat in the large copilot seat in the cockpit, waiting for the pilot.
What was his name? Reflecting on our only conversation (I don't count the argument as conversing), I realized that we didn't even exchange names. Well, whatever.
I hear the distant sound of the ramp closing, and then the pilot's light footsteps as he walks into the cockpit and into his seat.
"What's your name, anyway?"
He glances at me sharply.
"Why?"
"Why not? Is it suddenly forbidden?"
He relaxes, and I realize that this guy probably isn't one big on trust.
"Tyl Olos."
"S - Mtyle Nolon." I reply, catching myself. He looks at me suspiciously, probably for faltering, but I ignore it. "Where's your copilot?"
"Don't have one."
What? How does he not have a copilot? Doesn't he get lonely? Actually, seeing how much I know him now, probably not. But you need a copilot for a freighter, that much is known.
How does he not have a copilot? Doesn't he get lonely? Actually, seeing how much I know him now, probably not. But you need a copilot for a freighter, much is known."Why not?"
"My old one started a family."
"Oh." I shrug. "So you can't get another one?"
"I don't want another one. There's a difference there, prissy."
"Mtyle." I correct him. No way will he call me 'prissy'.
"Whatever."
"I'll copilot for you."
"Do you even know how to fly?" he asks off-handedly, flicking some switches overhead, securing various systems before he starts up the ship. Standard procedure.
"Of course I do. How do you think you got here?"
A shrug. "I dunno. Supposed you live here." he glanced at me, a quick survey that suddenly made me feel self-conscious. "But you don't look Coruscanti."
"You can't see the flight suit?"
"Well, if you got here by yourself, why aren't you flying away by yourself?"
"My ship broke down."
"You were flying a ship you can't repair?"
I huff. Gods this man is annoying. Did he think I was stupid? "Of course I can repair it." I start, exasperated, as the ship started to life around me. "I fixed it in the first place. But it'll take to long, and I need to get out of here."
"Why? What's so important about leaving?"
"Is there such thing as privacy?"
Tyl grinned, and it seemed to totally change his face, making him look years younger. "Suppose so. Anyhow, you shouldn't leave your ship like that - "
"Its not like I wanted to, I put in hours upon hours of work on her in the first place - "
"All the more reason. Listen, I've been in countless situations with Ruth here where I could have just left her and it probably would have been safer for me - " Yeah, that's probably why you have three scars on your face. " - but I didn't. Because I feel loyalty to her, she's gotten me out of some tight spots."
"You call her Ruth?" I ask, incredulous. Yeah, nice name for a ship.
"For short." he says, narrowing his eyes. This was a personal insult to him. "She's Ruthless Endeavors officially, and I don't want to hear you insultin' this girl."
I shrug. Might as well call this thing Endea, it may actually sound a little better. But I'm not about to say that out loud, because Tyl Olos seems like the kind of person who would pull his blaster straight out of its holster on his thigh if I dare make a remark about Ruth.
"Well, are you going to let me copilot for you?"
"Sure, even though I've mastered pilotin' this girl by myself."
"Good." I say lightly, turning to the controls. Thank the gods that I paid attention in classes back at the Academy. After a few seconds, Tyl lightly pressed a button and we were off the ground.