Too soon, Billy heard the signal that the ship was coming to the end of the hyper-lane. He and Corso headed to the bridge, while Dalokk and Bowdaar went to the engine room.
Billy and Corso were in their seats when Anya arrived. Billy indicated the empty navigator's seat then warned Bowdaar to get the sub-light engines ready.
Looking out the cockpit, it seemed the vessel came to a sudden and complete stop. The Bernouli Effect of hyper-space was replaced by distant stars and the huge space station several thousand kilometers in front of them.
All manner of space vessels were docked at the station's many airlocks. Corso relayed instructions to Billy as Billy maneuvered them to the dock they were assigned.
She had traveled in space many times, but never had the opportunity to see what was happening on the bridge. Anya watched in fascination as Billy slowed his vessel and eased her into the berth. Clanks and groans ran through the ship's hull as the docking clamps took hold and pulled her snugly up to the airlock.
Billy stood and faced Corso. "She's all yours, Captain Dekidt."
Corso grimaced and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "It don't feel right, Boss."
Billy laid a hand on Corso's shoulder. "If anything happens and I don't come back, Barena is all yours."
"Don't say that," Corso growled. "It's bad luck."
"I don't believe in luck. I believe in skill and planning," Billy countered. "You better see to the refueling of your vessel, Captain." He turned to Anya, "Let's go. Bring just your Class 1 uniform. We travel light. Oh, and stick close to me, there can be some real scum bags on this port."
She and Billy carried nothing but light kit bags when they stepped through the airlock. She was immediately hit by a disgusting stench and gagged. "What is that smell?"
Billy chuckled, "This isn't Dromund Kaas Spaceport, Honey. That is the delightful aroma of some of the worst low-lifes this galaxy has to offer. Remember, stay close, and don't wander off. You can lose a lot more than just your way in this cesspool."
"Billy," a tall, aristocratic-looking older man jogged up. "Got your message. 2V is getting her prepped for takeoff." He seemed to suddenly notice Anya. "Well hello there, lovely lady. Welcome to Point Nowhere."
"Anya, this is Darmas Palloran. He manages Point Nowhere." Billy explained.
"Please to meet you, sir," she greeted with exaggerated formality. He was a fine looking man but old enough to be her father.
He fell into step on the opposite side of Anya from Billy. They were not at all subtle in their protection of her. It didn't take long for her to appreciate Billy's warning; some of the stares she got made her skin crawl.
Point Nowhere had very few hanger bays, but it was to one of these that they came. When she stepped off the elevator into the bay's control room, she was struck by how different this area was from the rest of the station. It was spotlessly clean.
"There she is, just as you left her," Palloran announced proudly. "That droid of yours has been working straight since I notified him of your impending arrival. Only my most trusted men have been assigned to help 2V get her ready."
"That's an Imperial Phantom-class shuttle!" Anya blurted.
"Yep, standard issue for Imperial Cipher Agents," Palloran informed her. "I don't want to know how she came to be in possession a scoundrel like Billy Dekidt."
Billy silently leaned on the observation deck rail and studied the sleek vessel. Conduits and fuel lines snaked across the hanger floor, umbilical cords to the ship. "She's been idle a long time," he finally said.
"2V has been maintaining the engines and kept them calibrated all this time. He did tests on the hyper-drive and assures me all is in working order," Palloran said. "This is where I leave you." He held out his hand. When Billy took it, he said, "I don't know where you're going and don't want to, but good luck. See you when you get back. Nice to have met you, Anya. Oh, and don't let him use that tired old line about running out of fuel on you. We've filled her."
Anya smiled and noticed Billy furrow his brow in confusion. "Why would I do that?" he asked. "Come on, let's get on board. The longer we hang around here the greater chance of being seen by someone we don't want to see us."
"Welcome back, Master, I hope you find your vessel in tip-top condition," the steward droid greeted them. "As per your request, the hyper-drive and weapons have been upgraded with the latest technology. I have turned the holo-terminal to the frequency you requested and disconnected the command accessing system, though why you would do that is beyond my comprehension. The kitchen has been stocked and I have been uploaded with all the recipes from the Crespada Culinary Institute. I…"
"What?" Billy grabbed the droid. "You did what?"
"Oh, please, Master, don't dismantle me. It was that crass man Darmas Palloran who made me do it. I'll erase…"
"No, no, no, no, no don't do that!" Billy took off running.
Anya and 2V caught up with him in the galley. He was opening and closing cabinets and cupboards and laughing like a giddy child.
"No Imperial rations!" He finally cried joyously.
"I'm so sorr…"
"You misunderstand," Anya said soothing the droid. "He's not angry, he's ecstatic. I look forward to trying some authentic Chiss Ascendancy fare. Their cooking is supposed to be unsurpassed in the galaxy."
Billy was dancing now.
"You're acting like it's been years since you've had your native food," she noted amused.
"Years," Billy said. "Look, Kabraa! My mother used to make Kabraa pie. It melted in your mouth."
"But you have C2," she pointed out.
"He's not programmed for Chiss cooking; never got around to it. Saybeen, I love Saybeen stew."
When he closed the cooler's door, she took his hand and tugged him toward the central lounge. "You said it was time to leave."
"Oh, yeah. 2V put Sergeant Zeitzo in my cabin. I'll sleep in the crew's quarters. Then get the engines ready for takeoff." He turned to Anya. "Have you had any flight training?"
"No," she shook her head.
"Oh well, you're my co-pilot anyway and I'll tell you what to do and when to do it. Landing will be the tricky part; and I have 52 hours to teach you; well teach you a lot."
"Teach me what?" She asked feeling defensive.
"How to be Imperial Intelligence for one. For example, who are you?"
"Sergeant Anya Zeitzo, Third Imperial Company Dayonne Regiment," she answered coming to attention.
"Wrong. You're Slicer 18 - no rank, no unit, no name - just Slicer 18." He talked as he led the way to the bridge. He indicated she take the chair left of the pilot's console. He put on the com-unit headset that connected him to the spaceport's control tower. "X70-Phantom is requesting clearance to take off."
Anya felt a slight shudder through the ship and heard the soft hum that meant the engines were coming on line.
"There are two read-outs: one top left and one top right. What do they say?" He asked.
"They both say 27," she answered.
"Good, tell me if either one changes. Now press that fat green button," he instructed.
She did and felt the ship tremble. "What's that?"
"That was the grav-clamps releasing. Roger that, X70-Phantom exiting Hanger 3." he switched several buttons then took hold of the helm. "Now that red-handled lever, pull it back ever so gently till I say stop, and don't take your eyes off the two read outs."
Anya did as told. She heard the pitch of the engines change and noticed the walls seemed to be moving down.
Billy lifted the spaceship up clear of the hanger deck, turned her slowly to face the hanger door, which was opening up, then began creeping forward. He deftly maneuvered through the doors into free space.
"Now pull the red throttle on your left all the way back. You don't have to do it slowly," he told her.
When she did the ship moved forward with increasing speed. Soon they were well clear of the station.
"Request permission to make the hyper jump. Roger." He addressed her as he input their destination to the nav-computer, "Now flip that blue switch in the center."
She did as told.
"Off we go," Billy said and made the jump into hyper space. He set the ship to auto, double checked all the read outs and headed to the central lounge.
"You haven't touched this vessel. Why did you keep it?" she asked.
"The moment she would go on the market, people would start talking; that would blow my story and Intelligence would have come looking for me," he said.
"Then strip her for parts," she suggested.
"Same problem; the parts to this proto-type Phantom shuttle are very specific and can't be swapped into another class ship. Who are you?"
She felt caught off guard, "Anya . . ."
"Wrong. Who are you?"
"Oh, yeah, Slicer 18," she answered with a smile.
"That answer will get you killed. You have to believe heart and soul that you are Slicer 18 Imperial Intelligence. You have no post, no identity, and no life outside of Slicer 18 Imperial Intelligence. If Darth Warthas asks you who you are, he will sense the slightest hint of doubt, hatred, fear; any one of these will raise his suspicion and get us killed. Do you know how to play Sabacc?"
"No," she answered a bit peeved. The way he went from one subject to another in less than a heartbeat was disconcerting.
"Oh well," he wandered off.
She felt aimless but when she saw 2V thought of something. "2V, Master's uniform needs laundering. Can you do that?" If Warthas could detect the slightest hint of uncertainty, his Force senses would detect the unused musty smell of Billy's old uniform.
"Oh yes, maintaining Master's appearance, health, well-being, hygiene, dietary needs…"
"I get the point. You keep him functioning. Great, take care of his uniform and make sure the creases are crisp."
She settled into one of the chairs in the lounge. This area like the rest of the ship was pristine clean but stark, devoid of "hominess" for lack of a better word. Feeling restless, she started exploring the ship. There was a sick bay complete with a kolto tank, the galley, a briefing room, and the engine room. She found Billy in the cargo hold. It was a small space full of replacement parts for every aspect of the vessel and the weapons systems were housed here.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Making a practice console so I can teach you what you need to know to help me land in Sobrik."
"How did you end up with this ship?" She asked.
"Like Darmas said, standard issue for Cipher agents." he glanced at her. "He doesn't know that about me. He thinks I killed the former owner." He went back to work. "Cipher agents need autonomy to move where and when they are needed and to do it in secrecy. This vessel shows up on no registry, not even Imperial. Who are you?"
"An. . ."
"Ah!" He cut her off.
She grit her teeth, "Slicer 18 Imperial Intelligence."
"Now repeat that over and over until you believe it. Then you have to convince me. Shoo."
She stalked off repeating the appellation as he had ordered.
Billy chuckled when he heard her turn it into a game: using different voices, intonations, and inflections. It was humorous, but he knew at the same time she was making her new identity her own. He finally finished the co-pilot console, labels and all, and took it to the lounge.
He froze and stared.
Anya was dancing around the room singing, "I'm Slicer - 18 - Imperial Intelligence. I'm Slicer - 18 - Imperial Intelligence." When he gave a discreet cough, she stumbled, straightened and stared at him wondering what he would find wrong.
"Creative," he acknowledged.
She executed a little shuffle-ball-change, "Ta-da. You said to repeat it, you didn't say I had to bore myself. You finished."
He set the console on the table. "Do you remember what you had to do when we took off?"
She nodded, "These read 27 and you told me to tell you if they changed."
"Those are the fuel tank pressure gauges, one for each engine."
"This fat green button released the grav clamps," she pointed out the button.
"Very good, the black button that's the same size next to it activates the grave clamps," he explained.
"Then I eased this red-handled lever back very slowly."
"That's the vertical boosters. Hit it too hard and we slam into the hanger roof."
"Then I pulled this red throttle back all the way."
"Those are the forward thrusters."
"Then I flipped this blue switch."
"That disengaged the sub-light drive so that the hyper-drive can take over."
"So when we come out of hyperspace, the blue thing will reengage the sub-light drive and the red throttle will be pulled back until we slow to land at which point it goes forward until we stop. Then the red-handled lever is slowly moved forward until she touches down. We'll be on a planet so the grav clamps won't need to be engaged," she said.
"Excellent, you'll be an easy student. It took me forever to get all that through Corso's thick skull. I just need to teach you to do it without my barking orders at you."
"I'd appreciate not being barked at." She was both pleased at his praise and peeved because it seemed he had been barking orders ever since they left Nar Shadaah.
"Where's 2V? I'm starved."
There he went shifting subjects again.
"At your service, Master. How may I please you?"
"How about cooking up something to eat drawing on your new-found culinary skills?" Billy asked with a tinge of excitement in his tone.
"Oh, Master, that task would please me. Nothing but perfection coming up." The droid headed for the galley.
The meal put the former Cipher agent in such a good mood, he began regaling Anya with songs of his homeland.
Anya was fascinated. She knew the Chiss had their own language, but she had never heard it. Though she didn't understand the words, she felt she could still understand the subject and mood of each song. "Chiss is a very pretty-sounding language," she said when Billy seemed to run out of songs to sing.
Billy sighed and seemed to be elsewhere for a moment. "It's been many years since I've spoken it," he admitted a little sadly.
"You haven't been home?" She asked.
He shook his head, "Not since Barena's funeral, four years ago." he thought a bit. "I don't suppose I can since I deserted the Empire." He gave himself a violent shake. "Can't think such things. Who are you?"
"An… Slicer 18 Imperial Intelligence," she caught herself this time, but knew it wasn't enough for him.
"You have to take Anya and all she was, put her in a box and tuck it into a corner of your mind," he said.
"Is that where Billy is, and Dfrey'Bellon'Theris?" she asked her tone challenging.
"If I want to survive? Yes. Right now I am Cipher 9. I was travelling to Quesh with a new Slicer when she intercepted a data stream of republic origin. I deciphered the message, and we were diverted to Ballmora to act upon the information."
He spoke with such fluidity and confidence that Anya could believe him, and she knew the truth. No, the truth had to be tucked away, far from the prying senses of a Sith Lord. The face of Darth Warthas welled up around that thought.
"That anger must be subjugated," Billy said. "If Darth Warthas gets a hint of anger aimed at him from you…"
"I know, we're dead," she snapped back. That Sith had killed her parents. How was she supposed to not feel the anger and loathing she had for him? Could that amount of rage and loathing fit in a box that could be tucked away in some small corner of her mind? "How do you do it?" she asked, "ignore and hide all that need for vengeance?"
Billy considered the question. When his parents had died, he was 17. For a Chiss, that equates to a human in his late 20s - Anya's age now. He scratched his chin pensively. 'I need to shave,' flitted across his mind. He found out the truth of their deaths a little over four years ago. It suddenly occurred to him that Anya had learned the truth of her parents' death only in the past year. Her renewed grief and anger were fresh, raw. That explained a lot about her emotional outbursts. Information to be stored for future reference. "I'm going to sleep," he announced and headed for his quarters.
She glared after him. They were having a conversation; she had asked him a question. Damn, he was an infuriating man.
"Is there anything I might do for you?" 2V asked.
"Has he always been like this?" she asked.
"Like what?" the droid asked.
"So… flibberty!"
The droid was silent a moment. "I am programmed to be fluent in 127 languages and 293 dialects; nowhere in my memory banks can I find the term 'flibberty.' Please elucidate."
"Oh, never mind," she sighed. "Sleep well, 2V."
"Droids have no need for sleep; but sleep well, Sergeant"