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"Come on, Kid, don't bust on me now.."
That, however, was a tough bet.
A day ago, Jeremy's already beat up YT-1300 had a piece of its hull blown open by an Imperial rocket launcher. He was able to patch it up, but quite hastily, and even then, it was barely enough to handle hyperspace travel. Every other second he'd hear some rattling, whether it was from the repaired spot or not. It wasn't the gloryboat it used to be. All he hoped was that it would take him a little further into Imperial space, so he could drop off this shipment of weapons to a rebel cell.. then maybe he could grab one of their wrecks!
Jeremy's seat - the upholstery chewed up and the springs sticking out after mortal combat with a krayt dragon biting through the cockpit or some other thing - rumbled violently, throwing him into the air. The freighter had abruptly dropped out of hyperspace. Sighing, he leaned over the dash, checking the coordinate computer. It was still blinking blue with a flashing lightyear marker-
"The hell is this?!"
He looked out the cockpit windshield . . Ord Mantell. He'd recognize it anywhere! All those... colors. And those TIE Interceptors always flying towards your ship -
"Wait, what?
Damn!"
Two red blips appeared behind the Kid. Jeremy clutched a control stick in his hand and slowly pushed it forward, increasing thrust as much as he could, which would've helped if he wasn't already at maximum speed. Cursing under his breath, he adjusted a few more controls, when the ship violently rumbled yet again. He looked at a screen on the dash .. what little shielding he had had just been blown out by a barrage of Interceptor lasers.
A direct hit to the hyperdrive. He looked out the windshield, turning the ship slightly, and saw the trail of smoke. He was dead in the water, now, and he knew it.
"I'm dead in the water, now.."
Hastily the smuggler activated the auto-aim of the ship's top and bottom turrets, trying to, atleast, take down those fighters.
"Well either I'm gonna get shot down or I'm gonna crash..
eenie meenie mi- "
His brow raised as the ship took another direct blast to its hyperdrive. The freighter was already dangerously veering down into the atmosphere, the Interceptors following his tail as he dropped.
In a few more minutes, he crashed...
Jeremy woke up in the overturned cockpit, which had completely detached from the rest of the ship. He grabbed the extra holdout blaster locked in a compartment in the dash and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. Groaning, he crawled out of the overturned cockpit, dusted himself off, then climbed up into the other.. 9/10ths of the ship. Finding the transmitter, he pulled his blaster out and fried it to a crisp with a single shot. He wouldn't risk the Imps tracking those transmissions back to the rebel cell.
Glancing down, he found blood stains on his pants; his hands were bruised badly, aswell.
---
It took him an hour to walk - or crawl - to this rather large city. It was just his luck - in his words - , as an Imperial garrison was stationed there. On every street corner, there was a stormtrooper passing by. Often they raised their comm to their mouths. Jeremy only hoped they weren't reporting him in.
Night was falling, and with only a few sticks of motzerella cheese in his back pocket, he'd need some place to stash and curb that hunger..
Spotting a bar, he entered . . and as soon as he did, ducked back into the doorway. At least a dozen stormtroopers were in there, still in uniform, listening to the entertainment. She, at least, was pretty enough to look at.
Keeping a hand stuffed in his back pocket, he snuck behind the bar - the bartender was listening to the girl on stage, as well - and, staying in the shadows as best as he could, made his way to the backstage door. He frowned as a purple disco light shined on him, revealing his face to everyone there. After that, he snuck into the room, closed the door, dropped down on a couch and pulled out the food sticks, chowing down on 'em.
That, however, was a tough bet.
A day ago, Jeremy's already beat up YT-1300 had a piece of its hull blown open by an Imperial rocket launcher. He was able to patch it up, but quite hastily, and even then, it was barely enough to handle hyperspace travel. Every other second he'd hear some rattling, whether it was from the repaired spot or not. It wasn't the gloryboat it used to be. All he hoped was that it would take him a little further into Imperial space, so he could drop off this shipment of weapons to a rebel cell.. then maybe he could grab one of their wrecks!
Jeremy's seat - the upholstery chewed up and the springs sticking out after mortal combat with a krayt dragon biting through the cockpit or some other thing - rumbled violently, throwing him into the air. The freighter had abruptly dropped out of hyperspace. Sighing, he leaned over the dash, checking the coordinate computer. It was still blinking blue with a flashing lightyear marker-
"The hell is this?!"
He looked out the cockpit windshield . . Ord Mantell. He'd recognize it anywhere! All those... colors. And those TIE Interceptors always flying towards your ship -
"Wait, what?
Damn!"
Two red blips appeared behind the Kid. Jeremy clutched a control stick in his hand and slowly pushed it forward, increasing thrust as much as he could, which would've helped if he wasn't already at maximum speed. Cursing under his breath, he adjusted a few more controls, when the ship violently rumbled yet again. He looked at a screen on the dash .. what little shielding he had had just been blown out by a barrage of Interceptor lasers.
A direct hit to the hyperdrive. He looked out the windshield, turning the ship slightly, and saw the trail of smoke. He was dead in the water, now, and he knew it.
"I'm dead in the water, now.."
Hastily the smuggler activated the auto-aim of the ship's top and bottom turrets, trying to, atleast, take down those fighters.
"Well either I'm gonna get shot down or I'm gonna crash..
eenie meenie mi- "
His brow raised as the ship took another direct blast to its hyperdrive. The freighter was already dangerously veering down into the atmosphere, the Interceptors following his tail as he dropped.
In a few more minutes, he crashed...
Jeremy woke up in the overturned cockpit, which had completely detached from the rest of the ship. He grabbed the extra holdout blaster locked in a compartment in the dash and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. Groaning, he crawled out of the overturned cockpit, dusted himself off, then climbed up into the other.. 9/10ths of the ship. Finding the transmitter, he pulled his blaster out and fried it to a crisp with a single shot. He wouldn't risk the Imps tracking those transmissions back to the rebel cell.
Glancing down, he found blood stains on his pants; his hands were bruised badly, aswell.
---
It took him an hour to walk - or crawl - to this rather large city. It was just his luck - in his words - , as an Imperial garrison was stationed there. On every street corner, there was a stormtrooper passing by. Often they raised their comm to their mouths. Jeremy only hoped they weren't reporting him in.
Night was falling, and with only a few sticks of motzerella cheese in his back pocket, he'd need some place to stash and curb that hunger..
Spotting a bar, he entered . . and as soon as he did, ducked back into the doorway. At least a dozen stormtroopers were in there, still in uniform, listening to the entertainment. She, at least, was pretty enough to look at.
Keeping a hand stuffed in his back pocket, he snuck behind the bar - the bartender was listening to the girl on stage, as well - and, staying in the shadows as best as he could, made his way to the backstage door. He frowned as a purple disco light shined on him, revealing his face to everyone there. After that, he snuck into the room, closed the door, dropped down on a couch and pulled out the food sticks, chowing down on 'em.
