29 BBY

Look uninteresting. Look like you belong and no one will bother you. Cye kept her head down, avoiding meeting the eyes of anyone she passed. There was a holding bay on that level that had to have at least one freighter ready for the taking, but it was on the other side of the facility.

She should have taken her own advice earlier, but she'd got cocky and overconfident. It had been too easy. So easy in fact that Hondo may have set her up from the start. He'd done it to others before. Hell, she helped him set up underlings with too much initiative to put them back in their place or take them out entirely. Why should I be any different? Why had I thought I was? She forced a short breath through her increasingly snotty nose. Dwelling on whys and what ifs would get her killed. Instead she pushed down her sorrow in favor of her growing, indignant rage. How dare he cross her? Did he think he could abandon her and get away with it? That shabla hut'uun would get what's coming to him. Hondo would suffer for his betrayal. In order to do that, she had to get off this station alive.

She picked up the pace. Her determination showed with every long stride, barely slowing when she passed others that might give her a second glance. It was quiet, and she wondered how many security personnel there were on the station. There couldn't have been that many, or maybe their leadership was simply incompetent. If she'd been in charge she would have had checkpoints on every floor in multiple locations. Instead she passed through without incident until she finally arrived at the hanger.

Massive stacks of base metals and manufacturing components blocked half the landing platform from view. They used it as a holding bay, an intermediate step before they were transported to the shipyards. They simultaneously provided cover and created a maze for Cye to navigate through. She crept between stacks of crates, careful to tread lightly so her footsteps didn't echo through the hanger. Muffled conversation grew louder as she moved further into the bay. She paused near the middle and peeked around a crate hauler to find the source of the voices.

A group of four agitated guards were checking ID cylinders and badges. They focused on a YT-2400 cargo vessel, opening crates before they were loaded, noting their contents, and harassing the crew. There were two VCX-100 freighters that looked fresh off the factory floor and a G9 rigger on the far end of the hanger. Cye backed away and hugged the wall, keeping herself at the backs of the security team. The G9 would suit her needs, and was more manageable for a single pilot than the VCX. More importantly, the G9 could do a timed jump to hyperspace without having to be in the cockpit.

As she came around the wall of crates a smaller vessel caught her eye. An HH-87 Starhopper sat with it's secondary engines idling. The cockpit was wide open, practically begging to be flown. Whoever left it there was sure to be back soon. She considered waiting for the pilot to return, allowing them to distract security so she could pass by undetected to the G9.

"Hey!" The shout of the guard rang across the bay. She turned, cursing herself as one of the security thugs noticed her standing in half cover. "Authorized personnel only!" The human male marched over, his boots echoing as he stomped. "Who are you? Give me your ID."

Cye rolled her eyes but stepped out from the crates, making sure the repulsorlift was clear as well in case she needed to make a break for it. She pulled the ID cylinder from her utility belt, hoping that it would still hold up against the scrutiny of their enhanced security measures. When he was close enough he snatched it from her outstretched hand.

"What the hell are you doing here? Access to all outgoing shipping platforms is completely restricted." Sweat beaded on his brow, his voice was nasally and high pitched from stress. His eyes dilated as he slotted her ID into his datapad.

"I received a maintenance request for the G9, sir," she explained, barely having to fake a tremor of confusion in her tone. "Instructions to fully detail the interior before it's cleared for take off."

The guards eyes narrowed as he waited for the datapad to verify her assumed identity. "We'll see about that." She looked over the man's shoulder, noting that two of the other guards had turned their attention to her.

"Well, can I at least get started?" Cye asked, impatience creeping into her wary tone. "I've got a hell of a mess to clean up as it is. I'd like to get back on schedule."

"We all would," the man said as he lowered the datapad without returning the cylinder. "Unfortunately for you, you're scheduled for detailing the brig, Mister Halsid." Shab. Gender never mattered under a T-visor. The ID was meant to get her through the design system's security measures, not face to face verification. The guard pulled his blaster, ready to hold her as the others took the cue and ran towards them from across the platform.

Before he could bring the weapon up, Cye stepped in, batted his arm wide and slammed her forehead into his face. She was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as his nose buckled under the force of her Keldabe kiss. His body reeled and he wobbled on his feet. Cye took the opportunity to rip the blaster from his hand and shove him back. He fell on his shebs, the back of his head bouncing off the metal floor. She wasted no time in tapping the trigger, putting two blaster bolts through his chest.

The others opened fire, and Cye ducked behind the small, maintenance repulsorlift. The crew of the YT-2400 immediately took refuge in their ship. They were smart not to play hero, Cye thought as she opened fire on the three security guards. One had her arm up to her face, shouting into her comm for backup. Cye took her out first with a clean shot to the head. The others ducked behind crates, using cover to wait for reinforcements.

There was no way she'd make it to the G9 before the platform was overrun with guards, so she backed her way towards the Starhopper. She knew she'd regret it later, but that was the only option she had left. As the ship entered the edge of her vision her mind raced as she figured out how to get inside without getting shot full of blaster bolts. Cye laid out suppressive fire while she opened the control panel on the repulsorlift until she needed both hands to work. She tugged out the wiring haphazardly, cutting several with her vibroblade, activating it and slicing the limiter in two. She inverted the power coupling and hauled the crate with her armor to the floor.

The facility door opened and a half dozen security guards poured in. Before they could raise their weapons Cye kicked the repulsorlift towards the floor to ceiling stack of crates. She tossed her armor box into the cockpit and launched herself up after it. As the repulsorlift connected with the crates it reached critical overload and exploded, creating a rain of heavy shrapnel from the stored parts.

"Oya, me'sen'ika," she coaxed the Starhopper as she worked the controls. "Let's get out of here."

Without a second thought Cye began to charge the hyperspace engines as she sealed the cockpit. Security opened fire on the Starhopper, but their weapons weren't made to take on the bulkhead of a starship. Their blaster bolts barely scoured the surface, even the viewport's transparisteel held for the second before she raised the shields. Cye returned the favor, lighting up the hanger platform with the ship's double laser cannons. She decimated the entirety of the space, turning crates into melted slag and people into piles of sticky ash before swinging the ship around and pushing the thrusters into high gear.

Getting out of orbit was the easy part. She turned off the ship's tracking emitter and scrubbed the identification numbers. Cye wasn't planning on going to a space port that would check for transponder codes. She flew in a reverse orbit, putting the planet in between her and the station to evade any sensor scans before flying out into open space. Cye piloted straight for an hour, fretting over the hyperspace jump when her comm buzzed, jerking her focus to a live feed transmission. Cye hooked her comm to the onboard computer and opened the channel.

Jango's concerned frown filled the holoscreen. "Su cuy'gar Cye, where are you?"

Mando'a Translations:

Shabla - Fucked up / Fucking (adj)

Hut'uun - Coward (worst possible insult)

Shab - Fuck

Keldabe Kiss - slang for head-butt

Shebs - Backside, butt, ass

Oya - Let's hunt (always positive and triumphant in context)

Me'sen'ika - Little starship

Su cuy'gar - Hello (lit. 'You're still alive')