Author's Note: This is Nicole speaking—my first story that I finally got up the courage to post. I am a Star Wars fan but by no means an expert; so if any problems or inconsistencies pop up in my story that bug you out of your mind, please don't hesitate to inform me. But …be nice.
Beneath the Static
Lars Welk pulled his modified INCOM Y-4 transport, Salvage IV, out of hyperspace and swore. Swiveling his chair toward the navicomputer, he called over his shoulder to his first mate, a sterile Selonian female, who was hunched over a tiny worktable in the main cargo hold that comprised most of the ship, cataloging their latest haul. "Hey, Shirra!"
"What?" she barked.
Lars turned back to the cockpit's view port, his scarred face furrowing into a frown. "Those coordinatesthey were for empty space right?" Lars and Shirra were in the somewhat innocuous business of salvage, scrounging every usable part off of the hundreds of wrecks floating through space and selling them to whoever was interested. The war between the Empire and the Rebels had been good for businessand even now that it was over, he and Shirra still managed to get lucky once in a while. On the outskirts of the Imperial sector, they had come across an abandoned transport ship, another INCOM Y-4, complete with a pair of trashed AT-ST's. After a haul like that, they liked to find a nice, quiet piece of space to count their treasure. Lars ran a finger down a particularly deep scar that cut across his right cheek and mouth; salvage work was not always easy…or safe. More than stars filled the view port.
Shirra's voice floated up the ladder, harsh, annoyed. "Yeah, why?"
"It's not empty."
Something clattered in the back, and the sound of clawed feet on metal treads echoed through the ship. Shirra burst into the cockpit, her brown fur slightly ruffled. She stood behind the pilot's seat, her keen eyes staring out into space. A low, throaty hiss fluttered the hair on Lars' head: a Selonian swear.
Suspended in the stars before them, about four or five kilometers away, was a spider web of durasteel and atmospheric domes surrounding gray, square buildings.
"Looks like a prison," Shirra hissed.
"Looks Imperial," Lars shot back and began turning the ship around. The Imps may have lost the war, but that didn't mean he was prepared to take on an entire base full of them. The Salvage IV had only one turret, rarely used, to ward off the occasional pirate.
"Wait," Shirra said softly, placing one clawed hand on his shoulder. Her brown eyes glittered. "It looks deserted."
Lars leaned forward, studying the floating prison. The power was off…a large chunk of the durasteel arm connecting two domes was torn awayindeed it did look like a relic, abandoned by the Empire after some forgotten battle.
"Think of what's inside." Shirra barred her sharp teeth in the semblance of a smile. "A whole station's worth of salvage."
Lars could feel a greedy smirk tugging at his lipsa haul like that could cover him for an entire year at least. There was still some room in the Salvage IV's hull, and the rest could be towed behind the ship with the tractor beam he'd nabbed from a Star Destroyer they'd found a year ago. But, still, he hesitated, his hand rubbing the scar on his right cheek again. That tractor beam had almost cost him his lifehe didn't underestimate the Imps. Something was not right.
The Selonian dug her claws into his shoulder. Lars shook his head, clearing it. "Yeah, right." He turned the Salvage IV back to the station and hit the accelerator. Static crackled over the comm. unit, and Shirra's ears flattened.
"Did you hear that?"
"What…the static?" Lars had already shrugged off his misgivings. The static was nothing to worry about—happened a lot around the wrecks of ships. The comlink had gone nuts when they'd cruised through the remains of Alderaan, looking for leftovers.
"No, the…" But Shirra was cut off by a low, fervent whisper almost consumed by the static: Help.
Lars jumped and glanced at Shirra who was gripping his shoulder even tighter. "What was that?"
She shook her head, pointing numbly out the view port. Lars faced forward and swore. A gray cloud of TIEs, like a hundred horrid insects, was heading straight for them.
A cold, mechanical voice floated over the com: "You are trespassing on restricted Imperial space…"
"Fucking hell!" Lars yanked the Y-4 around so hard that the ship groaned in protest, the central computer bleeping loudly. Shirra was already at the navicomputer, bringing up the coordinates of the nearest Republic base. He forced the sluggish ship through a few evasive maneuvers. "You ready yet, Shirra?" The Selonian nodded.
"Punch it!" The stars blurred, leaving the TIEs chasing only empty space.