Private Between Departure and Arrival

[Ana Rix]

Ana arrived with the information already secured.

Not in a case. Not on an open datapad. Not anywhere that could be taken with a single careless motion. What she carried was layered, segmented, and inert unless accessed correctly, and even then, only by her. The rest existed where it always did behind her eyes, structured and waiting.

The hangar was quieter than the main concourse, the kind of place couriers used when they did not want questions attached to their departure. A few crews moved about their ships with practiced efficiency, engines cycling, cargo seals locking down. Nothing here drew attention. That was the point.

Ana stood near the edge of the bay, coat fastened, posture loose but deliberate. She was not scanning for threats so much as verifying patterns. Who lingered, who rushed, who pretended not to watch. Satisfied, she turned as Gimbal approached, recognizing him immediately from their holocalls. Some things carried over even through distortion.

When she spoke, her voice was calm, precise, pitched for a private exchange in a public place.

"Good," Ana said simply. "You move the same in person. That helps."

She did not offer a hand. This was not that kind of meeting. Instead, she met his gaze steadily.

"I have the information," she continued. "All of it. It is already compartmentalized, encrypted, and useless to anyone but me until it reaches its destination."

A brief pause, not for drama, but clarity.

"I will be traveling with you," Ana added. "That is non-negotiable. No handoff en route, no remote relay, no secondary carrier. If something goes wrong, I need to be there to adapt instead of hoping a protocol holds."

She gestured subtly toward his ship.

"What I need from you is simple," she said. "A clean route, minimal signatures, and honest communication if conditions change. I do not need speed at the expense of visibility, nor do I need heroics. I need discretion and judgment."

Her expression softened only slightly, not warmer, but more candid.

"We have already agreed on compensation," Ana went on. "This meeting is about trust and logistics. How you handle passengers, what you consider a tolerable risk, and how you prefer to respond when a plan stops being optimal."

She waited a beat, then added:

"If you are still comfortable flying with your client instead of carrying a package," Ana said, "then we should finish preparations and depart while this window stays quiet."

The choice was his, but the work was already in motion.
Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal approached from the shadows of the hangar, hands in the pockets of his nerf leather vest. He nodded his head as she greeted him, cool blue eyes scanning her. He might have been looking for weapons, he might have been checking her out. Either way, he grinned as he listened to her.

When she was done, he chuckled softly. "I charge more for live passengers. Plus hazard pay if we run into trouble. I expect 50% upfront. In exchange, no questions. Just don't expect a pleasure yacht."

He looked around and then he started toward a beat up YT-2400 freighter in the back of the hangar with a blackened charred engine, probably from blaster fire. The communications dish was hanging from the top of the ship and a black-and-orange astromech droid was trying to weld the dish back to the ship. The droid whistled as they approached.

"Hush it, R8, she's a passenger not another girlfriend!" He shook his head as he looked at her and then he explained "sorry. He has no filter since I removed his restraining bolt. Don't worry about the cosmetic damage. Where are we going?"

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana didn't react to the scan, the grin, or the comment about passengers. She clocked all of it, weighed it, and dismissed what didn't matter. Her attention lingered instead on the freighter: the scorched engine housing, the dangling dish, the astromech's hurried welds. A ship that had survived something and kept flying anyway. That, at least, was promising.

When she spoke, her voice was calm and even, pitched to carry only to him.

"Your rates were already accounted for," she said. "Including hazard pay. I don't negotiate after the fact."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the droid, then back to Gimbal.

"And no questions cuts both ways," she added. "I won't ask how you got the damage, and you won't ask why I'm riding along instead of shipping a crate."

She stepped closer to the ship, close enough to rest a hand briefly against the hull, feeling the residual warmth of recent work.

"As for where we're going," Ana continued, "you'll get coordinates once we're airborne and clear of local traffic. They'll be real, direct, and changeable if conditions warrant."

A pause, deliberate.

"I don't need speed that attracts attention," she said. "I need a pilot who knows when not to be impressive."

She met his grin with a level look, not humorless, but unruffled.

"If that freighter flies as well as it looks like it refuses to die," she finished, "we'll get along just fine."

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she inclined her head toward the boarding ramp.

"Shall we?"

The job was already moving. The rest was execution.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

"Fine."

He climbed up the boarding ramp. The inside of the ship looked as bad as the outside, but there was at least a single small hammock and a holographic monster chessboard. The holo emitters flickered but still worked.

Gimbal moved toward the cockpit as the astromech rolled through the ship, beeping and trilling. Gimbal yelled "LANGUAGE! Get us ready to take off. No flips this time, the lady doesn't want undue attention." The droid whined apologetically and rolled into the cockpit, plugging into the ship.

He sat in the pilot's seat and gestured toward the empty seat beside him. "Make yourself at home. It's Ana, right?"

The ship's engines revved to life with a strained sputter that quickly went away. He flipped a few switches overhead, turning off unneeded lights outside of the ship.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana took in the interior with a single, efficient glance. The scars, the patched panels, the flickering holo board. None of it earned comment. Function mattered more than polish, and this ship clearly still functioned.

She moved up the ramp without hesitation and paused only briefly before the cockpit, choosing her footing carefully as the engines came to life. When he gestured to the seat beside him, she stepped into it smoothly, securing herself without fuss and setting her bag where it would not shift if things became abrupt.

She answered him as the ship powered up, tone calm and precise.

"Ana," she confirmed. "That will do."

Her eyes flicked across the console, the astromech's interface, the way he worked the switches. She noted the dimming exterior lights and approved silently.

"I appreciate the restraint on the flips," she added, not dry, not joking, simply factual. "Once we're clear of traffic control and their predictive lanes, I'll pass you the initial coordinates."

A brief pause, then:

"They may change," she said. "If they do, I'll give you notice before it becomes urgent. I don't like surprises any more than you do."

She settled back into the seat, posture composed, gaze forward as the freighter prepared to lift.

"Whenever you're ready," Ana finished. "I'm aboard."

The information was already in motion. Now it was just a matter of flying it safely to where it belonged.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal nodded his head. He took the ship out of the hangar and into orbit without much trouble. The droid turned its plug a few times, clearly working as a co-pilot as if they had been doing this for a while. Gimbal reached under his seat and flipped another switch, clearly a modified transponder signal. The device turned on with a chime.

Once the ship was in orbit, Gimbal swiveled his seat toward her. "Now, where are we going?"

The astromech kept the ship steady, able to pilot without him apparently.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana waited until the ship had fully settled into orbit before answering. The moment the modified transponder chimed, she noted it with a brief glance, not impressed, not concerned. Just confirming.

When Gimbal turned toward her, she met his look evenly.

"Bothawui," she said.

No flourish. No hesitation.

"We'll be approaching through standard trade lanes at first," Ana continued, already adjusting her posture as if the route were unfolding in her head. "Nothing that flags as unusual on initial scans. Once we're two jumps out, I'll want to reassess traffic density and reroute if the pattern feels crowded."

She tapped the side of her seat once, a small habitual motion.

"The delivery point is planetside," she added. "Urban, but not central. I'll provide exact coordinates when we're closer. Until then, it's better they don't exist outside my head."

Her gaze shifted briefly to the astromech, then back to Gimbal.

"No rush, no heroics," Ana said calmly. "If we arrive unremarkably, we've done it right."

She settled back, hands resting loosely, composed and ready.

"Let me know if you see anything you don't like," she finished. "I'd rather adapt early than improvise late."

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal looked at her and then he shrugged his shoulders, adding with a bit of sarcasm. "Yes ma'am. R8, you heard the lady."

The astromech whistled affirmatively and the ship started to jump to hyperspace, the engine whined and something popped, and then the ship dropped out of hyperspace. The astromech whistled loudly.

"SON OF AN INFECTED HUTT, NOT AGAIN! R8, watch out for trouble!" Gimbal stood up and ran toward the maintenance bay, yelling as he slid down the ladder into the smoke filled bay "do you know anything about mechanic tools, Ana?" He coughed on the smoke, covering his face with his forearm.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana didn't panic.

The moment the ship lurched and dropped out of hyperspace, her body reacted before her thoughts did. She braced, caught the nearest handhold, and rode out the shudder with practiced balance. When the smoke started to billow, she was already moving.

She followed him down the ladder without hesitation, one hand tight on the rungs, the other pulling her coat closer as the smell hit. Her eyes scanned the bay immediately, not looking for the problem itself so much as the story around it: warning lights, heat shimmer, exposed panels, anything out of place.

When she spoke, her voice cut cleanly through the noise and coughing, calm and unflustered.

"I'm not a mechanic," she said honestly, already crouching near an open panel, "but I understand systems. Tools are just interfaces."

She leaned closer, squinting through the haze, careful where she placed her hands.

"Tell me what failed," Ana continued. "Not what it's called. What it was doing right before it stopped."

Her fingers hovered near a diagnostic port, not touching yet.

"And before you grab anything," she added, measured but firm, "let's make sure we're not about to turn a minor fault into an explosive one. R8's shouting means either feedback or a containment issue."

She glanced up at him briefly through the smoke, expression focused, not afraid.

"I can read data flows, isolate bad loops, and tell you what not to hit with a wrench," she said. "If you can do the physical work, we'll meet in the middle."

Then, softer but steady:

"Just point me at the problem."

She was already adapting, already solving—because even if grease and tools weren't her world, systems were.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

"It's the hyperdrive again! It overclocks itself and blows the whole damned system. I might have tried to overclock the hyperdrive myself without a professional." He chuckled embarrassedly and coughed again and then he pointed to the access panel the smoke was pouring out of.

The droid shrieked again. "R8 says the capacitor probably blew."

Gimbal brushed past her in the maintenance bay and jerked the panel opened, the burnt smell hitting them in the face. The capacitor and all of the Jerry-rigged fuses around it were black. He growled and reached across the maintenance bay to grab a box of spare parts.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana didn't recoil from the smoke. She stepped in beside him, eyes already tracking the damage, the blackened capacitor, the improvised fuse work that told a very clear story even without touching anything.

"Alright," she said evenly, voice cutting through the noise without urgency. "That explains the drop. You didn't just overclock it, you pushed it past tolerance without a governor."

She leaned closer, careful not to crowd him, scanning the scorched housing and the wiring paths feeding into it.

"I'm not a ship mechanic," Ana added without apology, "but I know systems logic. Hyperdrives don't fail creatively. They fail predictably when safety layers are bypassed."

Her gaze flicked to the capacitor, then to the surrounding jury-rigged fuses.

"That capacitor didn't just blow," she said. "It became the weakest link because everything else was told to ignore its limits. R8's right. Replace it, but don't mirror the old setup."

She reached out, not touching yet, just indicating with two fingers.

"If you slap a new one in without restoring a limiter, it'll do this again. Maybe worse. You need something that can bleed excess load instead of bottling it."

Ana glanced toward the astromech.

"R8," she said calmly, "pull diagnostics from before the overclock. I want the spike profile. If we know how fast it surged, we can cap it without killing your jump range."

Then back to Gimbal, practical and unjudging.

"You didn't break it out of stupidity," she added. "You broke it out of ambition. That's fixable."

A beat.

"Hand me the replacement capacitor," Ana said. "I'll help you make sure the system stops trying to tear itself apart."

She wasn't pretending to be the mechanic. She was doing what she did best: making the system behave.

 

[Gimbal]

He listened to her and handed her the new capacitor, which was clearly used but in much better shape than the blown one. The astromech whistled and forwarded the diagnostics to the screen in the maintenance bay just as requested. Gimbal glanced at the screen and seemed like he had no idea what he was looking at. He busied himself with yanking the blown fuses out to be replaced, something he knew how to do. The smoke finally started to be filtered out of the maintenance bay. "I dunno what you're talking about but if you can fix this I'll knock off 5% of your fee."

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana took the capacitor from him without comment, turning it once in her hands as she glanced between it and the diagnostics scrolling across the screen. She didn't rush. Smoke or not, this was a system problem first, not a speed one.

"You're doing the right part," she said evenly, nodding toward the fuses he was pulling. "Physical replacements, clean seating, proper load paths. Keep going."

She stepped closer to the console, fingers moving with practiced certainty as she brought up a deeper diagnostic layer, isolating the power curves and timing spikes that had caused the failure in the first place.

"The issue isn't just the capacitor," Ana continued. "It's being asked to absorb a surge it was never meant to handle. The overclock pushed the hyperdrive startup cycle out of tolerance, so the system compensated by dumping excess load here."

She glanced at the astromech and gave a short, precise instruction in Binary, prompting it to reroute a set of logs and flag repeat anomalies. The screen updated almost immediately.

"Once you seat that replacement," she said to Gimbal, "I'll recalibrate the limiter and smooth the ramp curve. That keeps the drive from panicking and trying to tear itself apart next time you jump."

A brief pause, then a faint hint of dry amusement.

"And don't worry," she added. "I'm not here to steal your job. You fix the hardware. I make sure the system stops sabotaging you."

She flicked another setting into place and nodded once, satisfied.

"As for the five percent," Ana said calmly, eyes still on the diagnostics, "let's see if the ship survives the next jump first."

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal chuckled softly at her last statement. He continued to replace the fuses, occasionally blowing debris from the housings. He worked quickly like he had done this several times. Occasionally he shocked himself and shook his hand. "Ouch! Son of a..." the ship was clearly not in the best condition, and she might notice Imperial logos had been scratched off or spray painted over around the maintenance bay.

The droid worked with Ana to provide technical details efficiently, but it did use a lot of profanity, even in its text replies, something it shouldn't have been programmed to do.

As he replaced fuses, various systems rebooted and came back online. "R8, lemme know if I accidentally turn off life support."

The droid beeped worriedly.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana didn't look up when he shocked himself. She had already clocked the pattern in his movements, the places where the ship fought back, the way he worked from memory instead of schematics.

"You're grounding through the housing," she said calmly, eyes still on the console. "Angle your wrist another two degrees and let the tool take the hit instead of you."

She flicked two settings into place and watched the power graph stabilize as systems came back online in sequence.

"And no," she added, answering his earlier call without looking at him, "life support isn't on that branch. If you kill it from here, we'll have bigger problems than hyperspace."

The astromech chirped and dumped another line of diagnostics, liberally peppered with profanity. Ana read it without comment, translated the relevant parts in her head, and replied in Binary with a clipped string that amounted to focus and reroute, stop editorializing. The droid whistled something indignant, then complied.

She finally glanced around the bay, noting the scorched wiring, the improvised brackets, and the faint outlines where Imperial markings had once been.

"You've got at least three generations of modifications stacked on top of each other," she observed, neutral. "Some of them don't like each other. That's what caused the cascade."

She brought up a new overlay and highlighted the startup sequence.

"Once you finish seating those fuses," Ana continued, "I'm going to stagger the ignition timing and cap the surge threshold. You'll lose a little punch on jump initiation, but the system won't try to eat itself."

A brief pause, then a dry aside.

"Which is generally preferable."

She tapped the console once, satisfied with the changes so far, and nodded toward the capacitor he'd handed her earlier.

"You keep doing what you're doing," she said evenly. "You're good with the hands-on work. I'll keep the ship from panicking."

The hum of the bay evened out a fraction, less angry now, as if the freighter itself were grudgingly accepting her corrections.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

He grinned at her briefly and then he finished with the fuses, asking offhandedly. "You ever smile, chick? You're colder than that Imperial Interrogator I ran into a year ago. Total smokeshow but I'm pretty sure she was a Cyborg or somethin'. Crazy witch fried R8."

The droid whistled knowingly.

Nonetheless, Gimbal closed the fusebox panel with a slap for good measure, and then he turned to watch her. His boyish face was stained with soot and grease now, but his blue eyes seemed to want to learn from her.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana glanced up at him then.

Not sharply. Not offended. Just long enough to take in the soot on his face, the grease on his hands, the way his eyes had shifted from joking to genuinely curious. The ship had stabilized another fraction, the numbers on the display smoothing into something workable.

Then, briefly, she smiled.

It wasn't wide or bright. It didn't reach for charm. It was small, restrained, and a little tired, the kind of smile that existed because something had gone right, not because anyone asked for it.

"I do," she said evenly. "Just not usually when the ship is trying to kill us."

She turned back to the console, fingers moving with practiced precision as she locked in the last of the system changes.

"Smiling during an emergency tends to come with bad instincts," Ana continued. "Or very short life expectancy."

The astromech chirped something rude in agreement. Ana replied in Binary without missing a beat, something concise that translated loosely to not helping.

She glanced back at Gimbal once more, the faintest echo of that smile still there, but professional now.

"Ask me again once we're in stable hyperspace," she added. "You'll have better odds."

The freighter gave a low, steadier hum beneath them, less angry than before, as the system accepted her corrections.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal chuckled softly at her and then he commented back. "I'd rather die with a smile, but whatever." He thought for a moment and then he corrected himself. "Actually, I'd rather die just like I was born; buck naked and covered in --"

The droid shrieked to shut him up and Gimbal shook his head. He didn't finish the sentence.

Gimbal watched her work as the ship purred. R8 reported everything seemed to be normal again.

"R8, how's the hyperdrive looking? Can we jump?" He asked as he climbed from the maintenance pit and then he turned around and offered a greasy hand to help her up.

The astromech whistled affirmatively.

Gimbal smiled to her.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana glanced up at him from the open panel just as the droid cut him off, catching the tail end of the joke. For a heartbeat, she just looked at him, then a quiet breath escaped her that was very clearly a laugh, low and brief, but genuine.

"I figured that sentence was going somewhere the ship didn't need to hear," she said, dry but amused. "R8 did us all a favor."

She slid the diagnostic overlay closed and gave the system one last confirming look as the ship's hum steadied into something healthy and familiar. When the astromech confirmed the hyperdrive, she nodded once, satisfied.

"It'll hold," Ana added. "You'll want to ease the initial jump and let the regulators settle, but it's not going to tear itself apart again unless you ask it to."

Then she looked at his offered hand. Grease-stained, unpretentious, held out without show.

She took it.

Her grip was firm, practical, trusting his balance as she let him pull her up out of the pit. As she came level with him, she didn't pull her hand away immediately.

"For the record," she said lightly, a hint of warmth threading through her voice now, "dying with a smile usually means you did something worth doing first."

Her eyes flicked to his grin, then back to the ship around them.

"Let's aim for living long enough to argue about it later."

She released his hand at last, brushing her palm once against her jacket to clean off the grease, posture settling back into calm readiness as the ship prepared to jump.

"Whenever you're ready, pilot."

The engines thrummed in response, steady and waiting, as if they were listening, too.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

He smiled as he looked at her, and then he snapped back to reality and moved toward the cockpit, wiping his hands on an old rag as he did. He slouched into the pilot's seat with a tired sigh, and then he offered her the grease-rag.

A few moments later, the ship jumped into hyperspace, much smoother this time. "No explosions. You're pretty good at this. Want a job?" He was only half joking.

He grinned as he leaned back in his seat and R8 took over piloting duties. He looked tired, and much older than his actual age. A stressful life had already began to add grey to his brown beard.