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Part 13

Wes made another five trips into the warehouse after his conversation with Hobbie. Returning for the sixth, he caught sight of his wingman stomping down the hallway toward him, disheveled and even more dour than usual, followed by --

"Ooryl!" Wes exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Ooryl's mouth-parts opened in his version of a smile. "Gands do not need much sleep --"

"Unlike humans," Hobbie interrupted gruffly, setting his carry-out tray from the cafeteria down with a thump on top of the nearest crate.

"I was passing time in the lounge when Hobbie walked by. He asked if I would assist," Ooryl finished.

"Sooner we move your boxes, the sooner I can go back to bed," Hobbie grumbled, his voice still rough from sleep. "So this is them, huh?" Posting his hands on his hips, he looked up and down the hall, taking stock of the task at hand.

"Yeah." Wes turned to the Gand pilot. "Ooryl, thanks a million. I owe you, too."

"No, you owe me two," Hobbie rebuffed, holding up two fingers and then counting them off. "One for crawling out of bed to clean up your mess, and one for bringing along extra help. You owe him one for coming along." Hobbie picked up one of the large cups of caf on the tray and slurped at it.

Ignoring his grousing friend for a second, Wes told Ooryl, "We're going to need another hoverjack to carry these things, I've only got two here. Think you can go scrounge one up?"

Ooryl nodded. "I will find what I can," he agreed in his high-pitched voice and walked off into the warehouse.

Wes turned back to Hobbie, who was leaning against a crate and yawning hugely. "I really am sorry to drag you out of bed. When did you get in last night?"

"It still is night. And you don't want to remind me how little sleep I got. What happened to you, anyway?"

"Huh?"

Hobbie gestured with his cup of caf at Wes's uniform. "You're a mess. Like you've been rolling around on the floor. What happened?"

Wes looked down at himself. His uniform was covered in dust and grit, rumpled and smudged. "Oh. That was from the swoop gang. I didn't even notice."

"The what?" Wes glanced back up at Hobbie, whose eyebrows were raised, the cup of caf suspended halfway to his mouth.

"The swoop gang," Wes repeated, brushing at his uniform. "They shot up the stupid Quarren's transports while the boxes were being hauled in, cause Frantloo told me to let Navik in here but Colonel Heshen didn't tell me they were in the area, and I had to take cover under one of the trucks to hold them off. Until the speeder unit came and chased them out." Wes rambled to a stop, giving up on his uniform and looking back at Hobbie. The taller pilot had lowered the cup of caf, an incredulous expression on his face. "What?"

"Nothing's ever easy with you, is it?" Hobbie answered, bemused.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You can tell me about it tomorrow. I don't think I'm awake enough to get it, and you're not awake enough to make sense." Hobbie sipped at his cup again, then set it down resolutely. "And if you need all of these moved by 0600, we've got our work cut out for us."

"Yeah," Wes agreed, zeroing in on the box Hobbie had brought with him. "Ooh, pastries."

Hobbie sighed, turning his attention to the hoverjack Wes had been using. "How does this thing work?"

Wes gestured with the half-eaten pastry in his hand. Powdery sugar dusted across the controls Hobbie was peering at. "Just line it up with the pallet and push that button," he mumbled through his mouthful of sweet dough.

Hobbie gave him a disgusted look, then shifted the jack to line up with the box at the end of the line. Wes resumed digging into the tray from the cafeteria, finding a generous handful each of orange, purple, and red figs. He looked up at Hobbie and grinned. "Hey, Narunien figs. How'd you know?"

Not dignifying that with a response, Hobbie awkwardly turned the jack and pushed it toward the closest door, forcing Wes to hurriedly flatten himself against the row of crates to get out of the way. Coming even with the shorter pilot, Hobbie pinned him with a fierce look. "I didn't come down here to watch you stuff your face," he said pointedly.

"Okay, okay. Sorry," Wes said. Popping one of the figs in his mouth, he grabbed the other jack, quickly picked up a box and followed Hobbie toward the warehouse. "Thanks for bringing the food, though, I was really starting to..."

Wes's voice trailed off as he followed Hobbs through the door, catching sight of the same thing that had made his wing stop in surprise. Ooryl was gliding up the row toward them, not with a hoverjack, but perched at the controls of a medium-sized load lifter, big enough to carry a dozen or so of Wes's crates at a time. Drifting to a stop, he smiled at them both. "I didn't find another jack, but I hope that this will help instead?"

Continued in Part 14...