Forty One

"I can't believe I just did that." Coric's voice was soft and somewhat vague.

The medic in Whisk made him look up to see the lieutenant standing aimlessly behind the co-pilots chair.

Chopper was typing away like a madman, his shoulders hunched over the panel as he continued to make the final calculations for the jump to hyperspace once they were clear of Coruscants orbit.

"We need to keep this bird moving," he said as he glanced up at Coric, "I've plugged in the airbase coordinates so they'll think we are heading that way."

He didn't mention the slip.

No one blamed Coric.

Whisk gently moved him aside and sat in the seat next to the scarred trooper.

"Tell me what to do."

"I would," he said before muttering under his breath, "if I knew what the fek to do." He continued to tap away, "alright, I am about to plug in the moon's coordinates. Boil?"

"Here Chopper."

"That tracking device. You sure we're good?"

"Copy that. Clear to go."

"Just checking ok?"

"All good here Chop, all good."

"OK," the beads of sweat were dripping off his nose onto the flight consul, "I'm switching to autopilot and entering in the final destination coordinates."

It was then his voice raised an octave.

"What's this osik? Is this besh or herf?"

Coric looked at the note he had scribbled months ago. The one with the directions for the escape written hastily on it.

Rex had told him to look at his record under 'distinguishable features.' There he found an image of his captain's torso with the line of numbers and letters across his left pec. He had to study the image quickly and if the truth be told, he didn't rightly know himself. What initially looked like a Besh could have been interpreted as Herf; a scar ran through the last letter on his captain's chest.

"I'm not sure," Coric stated, still in shock from his earlier blunder.

Just another one to add to the list.

"What the fek do you mean you're not sure?"

"I couldn't tell," he stammered, "I,- I'm not 100% sure."

Chopper visibly steadied himself and turned to look at Coric. He may have appeared calm, but Whisk could see he was about to blow.

"Just where the fek did you get these coordinates lieutenant?"

Coric swallowed hard. He had brought them all along on this mission, talked them into believing that he could get them free of Coruscant. Promised them a new life.

Just as Rex would have done.

"From Rex's tattoo on his left pectoral."

"WHAT? We are flying to a location that was inked on the cap's chest?"

Boil's laughter filled he comm. "I swear Coric, if the stormies don't shoot us down I'm gonna throw you out with the next 'fresher dump."

Chopper shoved the paper in front of Whisk, "what do you think?"

He studied the lettering and looked up at Coric who had now turned white.

Someone had to make a decision.

"Besh. Statistically more coordinates have a Besh."

"Statistically? That's the best you can do?"

"It's a documented fact."

Whisk was now the owner of one of Chopper's menacing stares, "Besh it is then," he said as he plugged in the final sequence.

The line had gone dead from air traffic control. They knew what that probably meant. The Empire would be scrambling some fighters to escort them to the new base or shoot them down as the deserters they were.

"Keep her steady, we need some height and fast."

Whisk did as he was ordered, his hand shaking as it continually pulled the craft up to gain some much needed altitude.

Unlike the other four, Boil could see the funny side of the situation, either that or it was his way of coping with what would eventually happen.

"What's so funny brother," Chopper managed to get out as he continued to guide them up.

"You, in a pilots seat."

"If at any point you want to get up here, I'd gladly swap."

"No, no," he said casually, "this is far too entertaining to… Wait." His tone changed. "we have visitors coming in on our six, over."

"I see them," Didge had been silent up to this point.

"Keep an eye on them, we only need another half klick before we can jump. Let's pick up the speed a bit. Coric, do something useful and strap your self in. I'm going off auto and taking over."

"You sure that's a wise - " Whisk stated, his nerves getting the better of him.

"Just hold her steady, and wait, wait." The tension was palpable. "Wait, NOW!"

Just as Chopper pushed the button to send them into hyperspace a lonely red pulse escaped from one of the fighters behind them.

The ship shuddered and the streaming stars became static once more.

"They've hit the hyper drive!"

Fek.

Boil didn't wait to return fire and Didge, after seeing the pulse leave from somewhere underneath them, joined in the fight. His aim was true, just like as it was with a DC17 and disabled two fighters in quick succession.

"Nice shot kid," came from Boil in the bottom turret.

"HOLD ON," Chopper yelled, "we're going again." The main stabilisers had been compromised not the hyper drive as he initially thought. The ships main computer had stopped the jump as part of it's fail safe mechanism.

The ship lurched forward as the engine screamed just before the blue lights began to stream again, this time continuing.

No one said anything, not for a long while. Chopper moved first, unclipping his belt and stood.

Quickly he began flicking off his armour and within a minute had his body suit stripped to the waist. He was drenched in sweat, the anxiety playing more on him than any decent battle in the past. Whisk then saw the scars that lined his body, glistening in the luminous blue light. Chop bent over and lent his hands on his knees, taking in deep breaths.

"Fek, that was close," he said as he gave Whisk a wink. He then moved over to the two pilots, now permanently asleep on the floor. "Coric, let's strip them and dump the bodies when we come out of hyper."

Whisk turned around, about to lunge for the crude comment but held his tongue. Then he watched as Chopper fell to his knees exhausted and slowly began to remove the pilots gloves. "Thanks buddy," he said kindly, "but you won't be needing these any longer." Coric leaned down and began to remove a flight suit, checking his vitals one last time.

Chopper could feel Whisk's eye boring in on his back, "I know what you're thinking back there. We gave them a chance and they declined our kind offer," Chopper grunted out as he removed the new grey suit.

Whisk looked at Coric and Chopper as they quickly relieved the two men of all their clothing. He knew as well as them that their suits, gloves, fek, even their boots would be precious when they finally got to their destination.

If they got there.

It was part of their survival training, and besides, they already knew that everything would fit.

...