Private A Red Right Hand

[Jace Wester]

It was a relief to the man in the black duster that his companion knew how to use a blaster. His own shot rang true, catching one hapless thug in the forehead, and hardly a moment passed before Jace realized he didn't have to worry about the second. Helena Cross bounded up the ramp of his ship with Jace on her heels, punching the keys on the door's side panel with deft fingers to close the hatch.

"What a shame, I'd have loved to stay and get to know our hosts," Jace quipped as the ramp hissed to a close behind him.

The floor rumbled beneath their feet as the ship's autopilot primed the engines for takeoff. By the time Jace reached the cockpit again, the ship was already lifting off the ground on its own. Jace switched off the autopilot and took manual control of the ship for the rest of the takeoff sequence as it began levitating in the air and pivoting towards the hangar exit. They weren't out of this yet.

"You ain't so bad yourself," He returned Helena's compliment with one of his own. Clearly, this Keshiri was more than meets the eye. Clearly she'd been in a scrap or two in her time, but wasn't affiliated with the Hutts. "What are you, Black Sun or something?"

 

[Helena Cross]

HC

HELENA CROSS

NAR SHADDAA

HAT-GUY'S SHIP

EVENING • DATELINE: UNKNOWN

♫ LORCA — THE FLIGHT

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Helena didn't bother to wait for an invitation; she followed Hat-Guy into the cockpit. "Black Sun?" she echoed, one side of her mouth tugged upward by an invisible string of mirth. "Adorable. But -- no. It's much worse than that." And, strictly speaking, it was true. But beyond him, out the viewport, a distressing visual caught her attention. Already, beneath them, the flashing lights indicating police presence -- Hutt thug presence, more like -- were lighting the far end of the landing bay, and getting closer. "We've got to move," she said anxiously, though clearly he already knew that because his hands were on the controls.

She hung anxiously behind his chair, eyes alert and scanning out the viewport. "Look out!" she called, pointing over his shoulder at where the blast door light signal had just lit up. They were trying to close the blast doors and trap them in.

"Does this thing have a gun turret?" she called over the sound of the now-blaring klaxon warning of proximity. "I don't thin they're going to let us go that easily!"

✹

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WITH

Jace Wester • Helena Cross

 

[Jace Wester]

Worse than Black Sun? Jace considered that criminal organization to be rather standard fare in his circles, but when it came to unsavory underworld types, he could imagine quite a bit. Who exactly was his cargo, and what had he gotten himself into? Answers to those questions would have to wait until later. Helena Cross was already aboard his ship, and they currently had far more pressing concerns.

"Working on it," Jace huffed, his grip on the ship's controls tight.

The hangar doors began to close from either side of the exit, which would soon make anything but a 180-degree bank escape impossible.

"I see it, I see it!" He snapped back, manipulating the controls so that the ship began rolling to the left. "Straight back, up the ladder!" He directed Helena to the turret station with a momentary look and point over his shoulder.

If she left for the controls now, she risked being toppled as the entire craft pivoted 180 degrees, narrowly slicing through the opening between the hangar doors as they closed.

 

[Helena Cross]

HC

HELENA CROSS

NAR SHADDAA AIRSPACE

SPACESHIP

EVENING • DATELINE: UNKNOWN

♫ THE ASTEROID FIELD — JOHN WILLIAMS

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Helena clung to the back of Jace's seat with one hand, the other flailing and taking hold of his jaw, thumb jammed against his nose, as the ship went vertical and she was swept off the ground by the inertia of it all. "A little warning wouldn't go amiss," she complained as the ship righted itself, enough that she landed on her knees behind the chair. She yanked on the headrest as she hauled herself to her feet and then dashed for the ladder. Helena climbed into a control pod, settled herself in the seat, and slapped the power controls before tucking the headset on.

The targeting computer came online, fed by the ship's sensors. She almost wished it hadn't.

"We've got company," she informed Hat Guy through the comms headset. "Snub fighters, looks like, scrambling from point six three. And a frigate is diverting from point nine seven. They're trying to force us into a capture lane!"

Experimentally, she swung the gun around and wrapped her fingers around the firing controls. It seemed to move well, which was promising. She shifted around to bring the gun to bear on the pursuing Hutt Cartel ships and jammed her thumbs into the firing controls. She missed; her aim was rusty, and the ship wasn't exactly flying steady. Still, she wasn't that far off.

✹

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WITH

Jace Wester • Helena Cross