Reaper200851: "The galaxy was too small, we kept meeting the same people." This passage is formulated as a sort of proverb. Maybe I should have said "... one kept meeting the same people."
I thought that Galiria's reaction quite highlighted what she thought of 'Space Ishtar'. The pirates believe that after receiving strange powers after the cosmic event they all witnessed, Corianna suffers from chuunibyou (8th grad syndrome).
In fact, for Space Ishtar, finding the Far orbit is not a matter of life or death. But it is still the only way for her to regain some of her lost energy. This is Space Ishtar; she has a slight tendency to exaggerate the dramatic side.
The Mutineers of the Far Orbit
(First Part)
Agamar, Lahara sector (Outer Rim Territories), Mirgoshir System
Adar Tollon walked fast in the corridors of the huge C.I.S. military cargo ship which served as the headquarters of the Rebel Alliance. Passing several archaic terminals, he stopped in front of a door guarded by two soldiers dressed in a brown jumpsuit and a white blast helmet. They were armed with vibrospears.
"General Adar Tollon, I request a meeting with the Head of State."
One of the soldiers pressed the intercom button and repeated what Tollon had just said. There was a buzzing sound and the door opened.
The old man entered a magnificent office that had once belonged to a senior executive of the Commerce Federation.
Wearing a white dress with the heavy gold medal of her function around her neck, Mon Mothma was a woman whose red hair was beginning to whiten. Her face was thin and wrinkled, but her eyes were bright like those of a child. The Rebel Alliance was born from the merger of three clandestine groups wishing to restore the Republic. Unfortunately, Garm Bel Iblis and Mon Mothma don't have many things in common, and the Corellian has finally left the Alliance. Later, Bail Organa perished along with several billion innocent people when the Death Star destroyed Alderaan. Since then, only the charisma of Mon Mothma kept the Rebel Alliance united.
"Hello Adar, I was not expecting your visit." She examined him briefly. "You seem in a good mood."
"Good news, ma'am. An imperial frigate has just mutinied. The crew joined Starforge station and contacted the Alliance consul to apply to become Alliance's privateers."
Mon Mothma frowned.
"I I am always happy to learn new rallies to our fight against tyranny. However, I do not understand the importance you seem to attach to the defection of a lone frigate. "
Adar Tollon manipulated some buttons on his Datapad and put the small computer on the Head of State's desk.
"The commander of the Far Orbit is not just anybody. Dhas Vedij is the son of Baron Admiral Ronnan Tyla Vedij."
My Mothma took the Datapad and quickly read the information gathered by the Alliance Intelligence. Baron Admiral Vedij had a heroic career in the Navy. Before the Clone War, he fought pirates in the RSSF (1). During the war, he joined the Grand Army of the Republic and used his expertise against pirates in preventing raids on Republican territory and protecting convoys from C.I.S. privateers. When the Empire was proclaimed, he was sent to retire. He remained, however, a member of the high society of Coruscant, and a man of great influence in the Navy... But Baron Admiral Vedij had opposed Palpatine more than once, notably on the choice of the TIE fighter (fighter without shield, without missile, nor hyperdrive) as a standard on-board fighter. He had to die with his wife in a traffic accident that may not have been accidental... just after mentioning the disappearance of resources necessary for the Navy, including large amounts of plasteel to an 'unknown' military project that later turned out to be the Death Star.
"Interesting, a man of his kind joining us would truly be an asset."
"And that's not all; Dhas Vedij announced his intention to attack commercial lines in the Core worlds."
Mon Mothma smiled.
"Oh... I see now why you support Captain Vedij's rallying."
General and tactician, Adar Tollon was above all a theoretician of the art of war. During the Alliance Council meetings, Tollon had many opportunities to remind participants that conflicts between the core and the Edge could sum up the entire galaxy's history.
And all these conflicts ended with the victory of the Core. A very logical result, as nine out of ten of the most industrialized worlds were located in the Core. Moreover, three-quarters of the galactic population resided in the Core worlds.
As a result, Tollon continually urged the Council to wage war in the Core, mobilize local populations, and overthrow the planetary governments and corporations that collaborated with the Empire.
Mon Mothma smiled.
"I approve the negotiations with the mutineers of the Far Orbit."
Starforge Station, Starforge Nebula
The Grek-class troop shuttle was a common parasite vessel used by many space defense forces of the galaxy, including the Imperial Navy, for non-combat troop shuttling and cargo hauling. It was 30 meters long, shaped approximately like the Aurebesh(2) letter Grek, and armed with a computer-controlled laser cannon.
The shuttle maneuvered between vehicles of all kinds that traveled between the buoys surrounded by advertising holograms and veered over Starforge's main body, heading for a brightly lit hangar deck.
As the shuttle slowed through the atmospheric shield, Dhas Vedij, commander of the Far Orbit, turned to the other officers accompanying him.
"I remind everyone of the rules on board this pirate station. No heavy weapons, only sidearms allowed."
Captain Vedij quickly looked at his men but none had longarms, repeaters, or explosives.
"If you want to buy weapons at Starforge Market, orders will be delivered directly on board. Next rule: No Killing! You obviously have the right to defend yourself if you are attacked... and even participate in a duel to death... but in the arena!"
He looked at his men who nodded one after the other.
"No beating! We're not here to start fights anyway. And of course, No Stealing! That said, if you're stupid enough to fight and steal pirates... you'll have to find a ship other than the Far Orbit to leave the station, it is obvious that you have nothing to do on board a ship that I command."
A young lieutenant stood up.
"Sir, we have no intention of... causing trouble, we know the importance of this meeting."
Indeed, it took several days of talking to get permission to land on Starforge. The officers had to meet with a Rebel Alliance agent to get a letter of mark. The crew of the Far Orbit did not intend to become pirates but to participate in the Galactic Civil War as privateers.
Starforge Bazaar was among the most exotic and animated places in the galaxy... It was also well-ranked among the most dangerous and barbaric places in the known universe. Members of dozens of extraterrestrial races crossed in the alleys between the stalls: Barabels, Lomins, Shestavens, Nagai, Tiss'shar, Rodian, Ubeses, Gamorrean... They were often dressed in armor or space suits adorned with the emblems of famous pirate bands. All had a blaster at the belt or a more exotic weapon. The market rustled with an incessant hubbub where dozens of Alien languages were audible.
The Mutineers of the Far Orbit were by far the most remarkable group. With their imperial uniforms, they seemed as much in their place as Ewoks at a Wookie lamb barbecue. All turned their heads to look at them with surprise and... hostility.
Walking overhead, Dhas Vedij wore a cloak over his captain's uniform and also had a vibrorapier on his belt.
"Sir?"
Captain Vedij turned briefly to a lieutenant who was walking two steps behind him.
"Lieutenant Borjeev?"
"Where do we meet the rebel emissary?"
"In a cantina called 'The Lean Nuuti Bar and Grill'. I received a password that will allow us to be recognized. emissary will be an Ithorian, but I don't know his name. Ah..." Vedij paused for a brief moment to look at the market map on his Datapad and then showed a neon holosign that was flashing over the street. "Here is the cantina."
'The Lean Nuuti Bar and Grill' was everything you should expect from a leisure hall on a pirate space station: dank, grubby, dark, and filled with unsavory individuals from every corner of the galaxy. Bad Rodian music was blaring from a broken autojuke in the corner, as several pirates are jostling each other over a game of holodart.
The entry of the Mutineers would have had its place in a bad holodrama, all eyes turned towards them and a tense silence followed the conversations... the pirates appraised the newcomers and then (by a kind of secret agreement) resumed their debates without further concern for them.
The former Imperials looked around them without spotting an Ithorian... or any humans apart from themselves.
Vedij pointed to a metal table similar to the others, but which was free.
"Let's set up here!"
After a few minutes, a MixRMastR Robo-Bartender approached the table to take their order. Vedij answered: "Flangth and ootoowergs with Shasa ale."
Flangth was some sort of fast-food typical of the Flangth-2-Go restaurant chain, the ootoowerg were common vegetables grown throughout the galaxy, and the ale was a local production... in short, a really strange menu (especially for the flangth since they were not in a Flangth-2-Go restaurant).
Of course, the menu was a passphrase.
The droid left without comment but he returned a few minutes later, accompanied by an Alien with a highly recognizable hammer-shaped head, an Ithorian.
The Alien stopped in front of the captain.
"Are you Dhas Vedij?"
The former Imperial rose and greeted as politely as an aristocrat... what he was anyway.
"Indeed, I am the man you are looking for."
"My name is Momow Nadon (3). I am very pleased to meet you. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me? I have booked a private lounge for a discreet conversation with your uncle (4). You can choose one of your officers to follow you. The others must stay here."
"All right, lieutenant Borjeev?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You come with me!"
The four men who had remained at the table saw the Robo-bartender come back and asked them to choose a menu. The droid barely returned for their order when four Aliens rose from a nearby table. They were tall, humanoid creatures with gnarled muscles belonging to four distinct species that had only rough faces in common.
The first spoke in a much accentuated Basic.
"You, wrong menu. You tell droid bring menu to our table. That's our menu!"
And the whole cantina became silent; one could hear a pin drop.
"Uh... Is it me or... or do they want to start a fight?
The question was not addressed to anyone in particular but an officer replied. He wore a short-sleeved white tunic with a red band on the left side, the uniform of the 'medical technicians' of the Empire. Doctor Shandar sighed.
"No doubt, this is probably the beginning of a manly camaraderie where very different species will smooth out the difficulties of communication with bare fists... At least that's how it works in a holodrama."
When Vedij and Borjeev emerged from the living room, they were accompanied by an individual in the brown uniform of the Alliance. The three men stopped, a moment stunned to discover that a fistfight was underway. It was a fair fight according to the rules commonly accepted at Starforge, no weapons, between two groups of equal size, after a valid provocation. As a result, the security of the station had not intervened... The hands that descended on Starforge needed to let off steam from time to time, didn't they?
At first perplexed, Dhas Vedij stood up and began to shout.
"All hands, at attention!"
The effect was impressive... not only did the Mutineers stand at attention, but their opponents automatically backed away, while the other pirates stopped cheering the fighters.
"We leave, immediately!" With an icy look, Vedij inspected his men, noting the bruises, and the cracked lips. "Since our doctor is with the wounded, let him take care of them."
With a gesture of the hand, he pointed to the Alliance officer.
"Our contract with the Alliance is signed. Let me introduce Major Cet Willak. Willak's mission is to observe our actions, record prize values and assist us to the extent of his means.
The next day, a modulated signal sounded on Starforge's general communicator.
"Attention; this is a message from the Council of Tenants to all confirmed spacers looking for a new commitment. The Nebulon-B Frigate Far Orbit, a Rebel Alliance privateer is looking for crewmembers, capable pilots certified on TIE fighters, as well as boarding specialists. You are invited to gather at Dock 46 at 1400, of time on board."
Corianna Corell A.K.A Space Ishtar lowered her Sabac cards to watch Galiria.
"But that's exactly what I expected."
As the teen girl with black and red pigtails got up, Galiria grabbed her wrist.
"You have already forgotten that you were forbidden to leave this dock."
"Oupsiee!"
The redhead swore in Huttese:
"Keepuna Beeogola Nechaska. (Beware stupid little princess)"
She calmed down quickly.
"I'll ask Shiraz to come back. I think it won't be a problem if we escort you... and if you don't fight every bag of muscle that crosses your path."
Space Ishtar didn't answer, just smiling... a perfectly evil smile.
Lieutenant Borjeev was sitting at a metal table at the entrance of dock 46, holding a datapad in his hands. The table was framed on one side by Dr Shandar (who consulted an RFX/K Medisensor connected to the Far Orbit medical computer) and on the other by an RA-7 Protocol Droid.
"All right, open the door," Vedij said.
As the pirates began to enter, the captain pressed a button on the voice amplifier which he held in his hand.
"Attention, please. I am Captain Vedij of the privateer Far Orbit. I need an experienced crew. Anyone here who has experience with capital combat ships, starship weapons, or boarding actions is welcome enough. We are also in need of technicians and general spacehands. I have the Ship's Articles (5) here. Form a line to declare yourself and sign."
The line of pirates who came to engage seemed to stretch endlessly. This was at least Borjeev's impression. Exasperated, the Mutineer saw a sort of armored lizard armed with a vibro-ax come to the table and spew a few harsh words in some unknown language.
Fortunately, the commander had considered the possibility that some pirates might not speak Basic. The female and high-pitched voice of P879 RA-7 translated.
"I'm Kanarak the Slayer. The victor of Kinudrin. The one who crushed the weak of Falussii. The terror of the Kinatrin way. The..."
"Yes, thank you, I understand. What position are you applying for, Kanarak the Slayer?"
P879-RA-7 translated the horned lizard's squeal.
"Boatswain."
The commander of the boarding commandos... no less! Borjeev checked a few boxes on the information sheet he filled in and then turned to Shandar.
"Kanarak the Slayer is healthy?"
"I don't know... the computer doesn't recognize its species, but his brain produces a lot of aggressiveness hormone... but I don't know if it's normal for his species or not."
Whether it was normal or not for his species, it remained a challenge for the discipline on board. Borjeev checked the box "problematic case" and wrote a brief explanation about the very aggressive temperament of the Alien.
"Okay, Doctor." Borjeev turned to Kanarak. "Wait for the shuttle. You will be taken aboard to test your abilities."
The Alien became angry, proclaiming that he was the best and that he did not have to prove his strength, but already the lieutenant was beckoning the next pirate to advance.
"Name?"
"Shiraz."
Lieutenant Borjeev jumped and turned to the man who had just spoken. He was dressed in Mandalorian armor and held his helmet under his arm. His face was chiseled, he had a handlebar mustache, and his dark hair was united in a mat that fell on his shoulder.
Borjeev took a picture of the pirate's face and compared it to the files on the main computer. The answer immediately fell.
"You know that you are wanted in thirty sectors of the galaxy for piracy, theft, armed assault, and... a dozen other charges... including the destruction of an imperial cruiser."
Shiraz smiled.
"Think of it as a prolonged success in business."
"I see... Do you want to join the Far Orbit? In what capacity?"
"I can do a lot of things, I've had a variety of experiences in my career. But where I would be most useful is among the bridge officers. I can command a crew, lead a warship, plot a reliable course, find the right place for ambushing a convoy..."
Borjeev spoke for a moment with the doctor who had just checked the applicant's state of health.
"I see. Prince Shiraz, you can join the shuttle. Next!"
"I am Galiria."
Pleasantly surprised to hear a feminine voice Borjeev looked up and discovered an athletic redhead rather pretty... at least for those who are in tall muscular Amazons... She had a scar on her cheek and was dressed in a jumpsuit whose sleeves and belly had been cut, and a white skull was painted on her chest. Welding glasses held her hair back.
"What position are you applying for?"
"I'm qualified as general spacehand, but I'm mostly an astrogation specialist and everything about coding and decoding communication. I also know the programming languages of computers and binary's droid language."
"Very good, you can..."
"... get on the shuttle," ended Galiria in his place. "I heard what you said to Shiraz."
She smiled and sent a kiss with her fingertips before running to join the pirate prince.
Borjeev turned to the doctor, unaware of having blushed.
"Is she healthy?"
"Yes, except for a few scars... but she is not yet an adult, the bones of her neck are not yet completely solidified. So stop looking at her like a toad dying of love."
Lieutenant Borjeev sighed striving to focus on the report he was writing on his Datapad.
"Next... uh? Where are your parents?"
The reaction of the lieutenant was very normal. Galiria had been replaced by a small girl with black and red pigtails. She was dressed in a bright yellow cowgirl outfit. A weapon belt loosely surrounded her waist with the sheath of a kind of sword and a pistol's holster.
"Dead. They were merchants who were killed in a boarding action that went wrong."
Dr. Shandar intervened.
"She's a healthy 13-year-old pre-teen."
"What's your name?"
"Space Ishtar!" She replied, proudly puffing out the torso, her hands on her hips in a very 'Superman' pose...
The lieutenant looked at her blinking, divided between the desire to laugh, to cry, and especially to sigh... I'm not to be let off anything, today' he thought. But his job was not to accept or refuse candidates, just to register them.
"You want to join the crew of the Far Orbit? In what capacity?"
"Spacehand, and mechanic, I also have my own light freighter and I can fly almost anything... Sure, I've never piloted a TIE, but I can learn.'
"Okay, get on board the shuttle."
He finished making some annotations in the folder of... Space Ishtar then...
"Next."
A calm and professional voice replied.
"Baron Brock. Boatswain. 30 years of experience. I master the close-fight, the use of knives, sidearms, heavy weapons, and explosives."
This time, looking up, the lieutenant discovered a clonetrooper with white hair and a wrinkled face. The old soldier was dressed in an armored combat spacesuit and held it helmet with one hand.
The doctor spoke.
"Physically, this clone is almost 70 years old. Nevertheless, 40% of his body has been replaced by highly illegal cybernetic implants... it's a killing machine with internal weapons, wired reflexes, and synthetic muscles."
Another weirdo...
Captain Dhas Vedij looked at the list of candidates eager to join his crew. At least half of the pirates on this list were potential problems. They did not know the Alliance and had responded to its announcement as they would have responded to the announcement of any pirate leader. Moreover, most of these pirates were aliens who hated humans.
To determine who was fit to join the crew, Vedij had prepared a series of tests. To pass the test it was necessary to obtain a certain number of successes in a limited time.
There was a marksmanship test; the applicants had 30 seconds to score five hits on moving holotargets. The next test is the emergency astrogation plotting. Only with a standard Datapad, the applicants had one minute to plot an emergency course. The candidate had to achieve ten successes. There was also an unarmed combat test, the applicants were paired off and wrestled in non-lethal combat. The top five winners will be accepted into the Far Orbit's boarding party squads.
Vedij stopped to look at a screen showing another test in progress. A teenager... no a child... was sitting in an armchair embedded in a U-shaped control panel. In front of her a holographic grid simulated the space surrounding the Far Orbit and two TIEs whirling, attacking the frigate.
With precise gestures, she changed the gun aiming to operate the joystick in the middle of the center panel. Several red energy bolts crossed the cosmos and a TIE scattered in fragments of hulls and solar panels. The second TIE veered with a howl of his ion engines and returned to attack, spitting green rays... the holographic image turned red, simulating shots hitting the frigate shield. But the child reacts by turning the gun barrel of the Taim & Back X-17 Turbolaser and repeatedly pressing the shooting trigger of the joystick.
The last fighter disappeared in an orange explosion.
Vedij stopped next to the officer watching this test.
"This child, what score did she make?"
"12 out of 12, sir."
Dhas Vedij jolted. About to ask the officer to repeat he bit his lip. Of course, he had trouble believing that someone could destroy twelve fighters in one minute... especially since she wasn't even wearing the gunners' helmet with its built-in assistance system. But the computer was monitoring the test and it was impartial.
Certain to have passed the test, Space Ishtar stood up. She turned to the camera and... smiled... while squinting in an expression that could only be described as diabolical. The Demi-Servant threw back one of her pigtails with a movement of the hand, before heading to the door with a royal stride.
Space Ishtar was finally aboard the Far Orbit and all around her, she felt mana... the ship was impregnated with mana, her mana. He must have had a way of recovering that energy.
"This girl..." the officer consulted his datapad to find the name of the young candidate "Space Ishtar... she ate a Rancor at breakfast?"
The other hands gathered around the ring of the edge gymnasium nodded silently. They were too amazed to speak.
In the middle of the ring, Space Ishtar crossed her arms on her chest, sighing theatrically.
"Well, what? You've never seen a fight?"
She turned to the little droid floating on a repulsor disc that acted as a referee.
"I won by the rules, didn't I?"
"Affirmative!"
"And you're not going to argue that I won, are you?"
Space Ishtar had bent over her opponent. A hand in front of her mouth to hide her laugh, questioning her opponent as if she thought he could still answer... He was a huge lizard-like alien with horns a warty skin... The humanoid was lying on the ground, his purple tongue came out of his snout and his eyes were glassy... a huge bump had begun to swell on his head... Kanarak the Slayer was out.
She had knocked him out four seconds after the fight began...
And that was the reason for the amazement of all the pirates and Mutineers gathered around the ring... Ishtar (a 13-year-old girl) had knocked out a colossal alien looking like a bipedal dinosaur in one fell swoop... and that would have been impossible.
On his Datapad, Dhas Vedij watched the recording scroll to slow motion. Space Ishtar had taken the BlasTech E11 Stormtrooper One rifle and... quickly started shooting at the holotargets that appeared at the other end of the room.
After twelve seconds, all twenty training targets (holofigures representing rebel soldiers in different positions) were hit, which meant she had identified, aimed, and shot each target in less than two seconds... and the score was 100/100.
Captain Vedij turned to Shandar.
"Doctor, what do you think about this... Space Ishtar?"
"Well, I initially thought that Space Ishtar had a very high rate of midi-chlorian... but that's not the case. In any case, I do not detect anything unordinary with a portable medical scanner. Of course, our knowledge about midi-chlorian is to say the least... flawed. Apart from their existence and the fact that they are the link between living beings and the Force, all knowledge about midi-chlorian has been erased from medical computers by Imperial order."
"In any case," spoke Lieutenant Borjeev. "Space Ishtar passed four out of five tests... and it was enough to pass one to be qualified to join the Far Orbit's hands."
"What test did she fail?"
"Astrogation. She didn't pass two jumps at light speed tests."
"You're not considering taking that girl aboard the Far Orbit."
Everyone turned to TCet Willak, it was the first time the Alliance observer spoke. His face was wrinkled with anger and he looked at the Mutineers with contempt. Apparently, he did not appreciate being near 'Imperial'.
Dhas Vedij took a few moments to reflect on his answer.
"She came to join and passed the tests, qualifying for at least four different positions."
Willak hammered the conference table with his finger while stating his opinion with the certainty of a prophet holding in hand the Tablets of the Law that his god had just handed him.
"She's a 13-year-old girl!"
"I know. And what should I do? She wants to fight. I'd rather have her do it on the Far Orbit, where there are at least adults who can watch over her than let her go on an adventure alone."
"She doesn't belong on a warship."
"She doesn't belong on Starforge either, should we send her back to that pirate den?"
Major Willak blushed with anger.
"Children should not have to fight."
"All the kids in Alderaan would probably agree with you, but the Death Star killed them along with the adults. Children will be nowhere safe as butchers like the Emperor and Vader rule the galaxy."
Willak closed his mouth and looked away in silence. It was his first disagreement with the commander of the Far Orbit... the first of a long series.
The turbo-lift cabin slowed and stopped. Space Ishtar looked at the control panel. The number 11 was written in red. She was on the right deck. The double doors slid simultaneously.
Lifting her bag, the Demi-Servant, took a few steps looking around.
It was in a small elevator hall, a square room connected with two corridors. There was a red door marked 'Emergencies supplies' in one wall and a plan of the bridge on another.
Ishtar stopped and compared the plan with the one on the Datapad given to her by Lieutenant Borjeev ... okay, this corridor?
She crossed a first sliding door, went up a corridor in arches, crossed a second door, and entered a narrower corridor.
The Demi-Servant stopped at door seven and opened it with a cylinder-shaped key. She discovered the cabin that would be hers aboard the Far Orbit. It was not a single cabin, there were two bunks one above the other, and a tiny desk facing the other wall. Next door there was a door leading to a small sonic shower and basic sanitary facilities.
Space Ishtar had just finished the visit and the door opened again to let Galiria enter.
"So you too were accepted on board?"
The redhead smiled.
"I joined the Primary Communications' hand (Deck 1)," she pointed to the ceiling. The communications sector was just below the huge vertical antenna that crowned the prow section of a Nebulon-B Frigate. "What about you?"
"I was accepted as a gunner. Shiraz? Brock?"
"Shiraz was hired as First Officer. Brock as Boatswain."
As they spoke, the Far Orbit began to maneuver away from Starforge. It was the beginning of a long journey... the beginning of an epic that would be told the following centuries in the spacer bars, the legend of the Far Orbit, an Alliance Privateer Ship chased by entire fleets, always managing to escape and ridiculing the Empire by her incessant exploits.
Author's note: Two small remarks. Deck 11 is the deck where the officers' cabins are located. Although Ishtar isn't an officer, she's lodged there because... it didn't seem like a very good idea to put a 13-year-old girl in a 15-person bedroom full of unsavory thugs. You will have noticed that the posts obtained by Ishtar, Galiria, Brock, and Shiraz are 'strategically' distributed. In the next chapters, their cross-views during the Far Orbit's trip will allow an overview of the situation.
(1) Ringali Shell Security Force: Before the Clone War, there was no Republic army. Each sector had its own SF (Security Force) whose equipment and training level varied from sector to sector. SF still exists in the Galactic Civil War era. However, their role has shifted from defending the area to providing emergency assistance to damaged ships and pursuing armed smugglers and other criminals. It should be noted that they are the competent force when a crime (murder, robbery) occurs aboard a vessel in transit between two planetary systems.
(2) It's the name of the alphabet used to write the Basic (language spoken in Star Wars).
(3) Star Wars Connoisseurs may have recognized this Ithorian, he was at Mos Eisley's Cantina when Luke Skywalker met Han Solo.
(4) Pirate slang: An "uncle" is a government that issues letters of mark to a privateer (logically nicknamed "nephew").
(5) The Ship's Articles is the equivalent for a privateer ship of the Military Code and the Regulations that govern life on board Imperial and Alliance ships.