Private Between Departure and Arrival

[Ana Rix]

Ana accepted the grease-rag without comment, wiping her hands carefully before folding it once and setting it within reach instead of dropping it on the deck. Practical habits, even when things calmed down.

She glanced toward the cockpit displays as hyperspace smoothed out, the familiar stretch resolving without the usual complaints from the ship. That earned a small nod.

"Stable output, clean timing," she said, matter-of-fact. "The system just needed to stop fighting itself."

At his offer, the corner of her mouth curved faintly. Not dismissive. Not tempted either.

"Appreciate it," Ana replied evenly. "But I don't stay in one cockpit long enough to be useful that way. I'm better when I can step in, fix what's breaking, and move on before I start rearranging things that don't need it."

She shifted slightly in her seat, posture relaxed now that the immediate risk had passed.

"And for what it's worth," she added, a little warmer, "your ship listens once it trusts you. That counts for something."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the grey in his beard, not lingering, just noticing.

"Get some rest when you can," Ana said. "Machines aren't the only things that burn out from overclocking."

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

He grinned as he listened to her and then he nodded his head as he added "sleep doesn't come easy in my line of work." He gestured toward the hammock in the ship's main hold. "I rest when I can, but never when there's someone else onboard." He grinned at her.

He glanced around and then he stood up and left the cockpit. A few moments later, he called back. "You want something to eat? I have Imperial nutribars, or Republic nutribars. Oh! Or some good ol' Nabooian black caf."

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana leaned back slightly in her seat, the hum of hyperspace settling into something almost soothing now that the ship had stopped protesting. At his question, she glanced toward the hammock and then back to where he'd disappeared, filing the detail away without comment.

"Just the caf," she called back evenly. "Black's fine."

A brief pause, then she added, practical rather than pointed,

"And if we're both staying aboard for the duration, we'll need to sort out sleep eventually. Not now. Just… before exhaustion starts making decisions for us."

Her tone stayed calm, unpressured. Not a demand. Just forward planning.

She let her gaze drift back to the stars stretched beyond the viewport, voice carrying easily through the ship.

"For the moment," Ana finished, "caf's enough."

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal returned with two mugs of steaming black caf. He offered one to her as he sat down and then he sipped from his own. "As far as sleep, you can use the hammock. If I get tired, it wouldn't be the first time I sleep right here. R8 is a great alarm system."

The droid chirped.

He smiled as he sipped from his mug and watched her. He decided to try to make conversation. "So, what kind of information are you selling to the Bothans?" He guessed, but he was trying to gauge her reaction to the question.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana accepted the mug with a nod, wrapping her hands around it and letting the heat seep into her palms before taking a measured sip. The caf was strong, clean, grounding. She listened to him without interrupting, eyes briefly flicking to the astromech at the chirp, then back to Gimbal.

At his question, she didn't stiffen. Didn't deflect with humor either. She simply took another sip and answered evenly.

"Not something I can share," she said calmly. "Not because I don't trust you to fly, and not because I think you'd misuse it. But because I gave my word that I wouldn't."

Her tone stayed neutral, professional, without judgment.

"I don't trade in details mid-transit," she added. "Once information starts moving, it stays contained until it's delivered. That's how I keep people willing to work with me more than once."

She held his gaze for a moment to make sure he understood it wasn't a rebuke, just a boundary.

To say it out loud would be to fracture it, she thought. Not the data itself, but the structure holding it together. Names, vectors, leverage chains, cause and effect, layered so tightly they only made sense as a whole. Speaking even a piece would be like pulling a thread. And she had promised it would arrive intact.

Ana took another sip of caf, then softened her posture just a touch.

"What I can tell you," she said, "is that it's information that needs a careful hand and a quiet arrival. Which is why you're flying it, and why I'm sitting here instead of sending it ahead."

A small pause.

"And I appreciate you not pushing," she added. "That tells me enough."

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal shrugged and then he nodded. "I understand."

He dropped the subject and then he sipped from his mug slowly. Eventually he asked another question. "Where you from?"

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana didn't answer immediately. She took another sip of caf first, letting the silence do a little work for her.

"Coruscant," she said at last, evenly.

Not proud. Not bitter. Just factual.

"Lower districts. Media-heavy zones. Too much noise, too many feeds, too many people talking at once." Her gaze drifted briefly, unfocused, then returned to him. "You learn quickly how to listen without being heard there."

She adjusted her grip on the mug, shoulders relaxed.

"I don't live there anymore," she added. "Haven't for a long time."

It wasn't a refusal. But it was a line.

"What about you?"

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal nodded his head slowly as he listened to her. He sipped his caf slowly, not answering for a few moments.

Finally, he answered with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Naboo. Before the Empire showed up..." he clearly had more to say, but he was hesitant to elaborate. It might explain the Imperial insignia all over the ship.

He looked down at his brown leather boots thoughtfully, and then he continued. "My parents were killed at an Imperial checkpoint when I was 17. I jacked this freighter and never looked back."

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana didn't interrupt him. She let the silence do its work, watching the way his gaze dropped, the way the words weighed more than he let them. When he finished, she nodded once, slow and deliberate, acknowledging what he'd chosen to share without trying to soften it or fill the space it left.

She reached into her jacket and drew out a slim datapad, the motion unhurried. A few quiet taps brought up a star chart and a concise political brief. She angled the screen toward him, not pressing it into his space, simply making it available.

"About five years ago," she said calmly, "Naboo became the capital of the High Republic. Imperial authority was formally removed. The garrison withdrew. The checkpoints dismantled."

She let that settle before continuing.

"It isn't occupied," Ana added, precise. "It's governed. Civilian-led, Republic-aligned. Security is visible, but it isn't enforced through fear or arbitrary force."

Her eyes stayed on him, steady, not expectant.

"I'm not saying that fixes anything," she said quietly. "Or that it makes what happened mean less. But the Naboo you left isn't the Naboo that exists now."

She lowered the datapad slightly, still holding it, not closing it away.

"If you ever decided to go back," Ana finished, "it wouldn't be through an Imperial checkpoint."

There was no push in it. Just information, offered cleanly.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

He nodded slowly and then he moved to take the datapad, scrolling through the information as he spoke. "Republic, Empire, doesn't matter. They're different heads of the same monster. I trust people, I trust R8, not governments. I survive however I can, work for whoever pays."

The droid whistled what sounded like AWWW.

He skimmed the datapad and then he offered it back to her. "Although, at least the bounty hunters and Mandos have a code, I suppose."

He smiled softly. "Thank you though. The thought helps."

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana accepted the datapad back with a small nod, her grip light but certain as she slipped it back into her jacket. She didn't rush to contradict him. She never did when someone was speaking from lived experience rather than theory.

When she spoke, her voice was even, thoughtful, and deliberately unforced.

"I understand the instinct," she said. "Governments ask for trust at a scale they rarely earn. People earn it one choice at a time."

She glanced briefly toward R8 at the droid's forlorn whistle, not smiling, but acknowledging it.

"And you're right about codes," Ana continued. "They matter more than banners. At least they tell you where the lines are."

A beat passed before she added, quieter but firm.

"That said… they aren't the same monster," she said. "The Empire ruled through fear, disappearance, and obedience enforced at blaster point. The High Republic is flawed, bureaucratic, slow—but it is accountable in ways the Empire never was."

She didn't frame it as defense. Just distinction.

"You can criticize something and still acknowledge when it's better than what came before," Ana went on. "Especially when the alternative was checkpoints that killed civilians for standing in the wrong place."

Her gaze returned to him, steady, grounded.

"You don't have to trust a government," she said. "But it's worth knowing when one has moved far enough from the worst version of itself that it no longer deserves to be treated as inevitable."

Then, softer, more personal:

"I'm glad the thought helps," Ana finished. "Even if all it does is make the galaxy feel a little less closed than it used to."

She didn't push further. Some truths were meant to be offered, not argued.

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal looked at her thoughtfully and then he shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, maybe."

He smiled softly and then he turned to check the hyperdrive readouts, adding "systems still running normally. Impressive."

The astromech agreed.

He finished his black caf and then he stood, offering to take her mug. "You done?" If she was, he would take the mugs into the mess area of the ship, dropping them into a small sink.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana nodded once and handed him the mug without hesitation, her fingers releasing it easily as his closed around the handle.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'm done."

Her gaze followed him as he moved toward the mess area, not intrusive, just observant, as she always was when people moved through familiar spaces. The ease with which he navigated the ship, the casual competence of someone who knew every sound it made, every protest it might offer, didn't go unnoticed.

When he was a step or two away, she spoke again, in a conversational but curious tone.

"How long have you been a captain?"

It wasn't framed as small talk. More of a quiet attempt to place him in context, the way she did with everything that mattered.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal smiled at her question and he answered. "Probably my whole life. It's in my blood. Both parents were pilots. I could drive a speeder before I could walk. I was racing boats when I was 11, illegally of course."

He chuckled softly. He continued to elaborate. "As for piloting starships, this freighter is my first. I assume I could fly anything though. It's instinct for me. I dunno how." He couldn't explain his natural piloting ability.

The droid whistled something and Gimbal squinted. "I told you, R8, I don't believe in that hocus pocus nonsense. My parents said the force was only government propaganda from both sides of the aisle."

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana listened with an easy patience, her expression softening just a fraction as he talked. There was no skepticism in her posture, no urge to dissect or correct. Just attention.

A faint curve touched her mouth at the mention of illegal boat racing.

"That tracks," she said lightly. "People who grow up around engines tend to learn limits by pushing past them."

She shifted her weight against the bulkhead, arms folding loosely, comfortable in the rhythm of the ship now that it had settled back into hyperspace.

"Instinct doesn't need an explanation to be real," Ana added, tone calm and practical. "Some people read numbers. Some read people. Some read machines. You read motion."

At the droid's comment and Gimbal's response, she didn't challenge him. No debate, no raised brow.

"Labels don't matter much to me," she said. "Force, talent, luck, experience. What matters is the outcome."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the cockpit displays, steady and green.

"And the outcome is we're moving cleanly through hyperspace in a ship that tried very hard to disagree with us earlier," she finished, dry warmth threading her voice. "That's usually enough proof for me."

She let the moment rest there, unpressured, content to let him be exactly what he was: a pilot who trusted his hands, his droid, and the ship beneath his feet.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal nodded his head again and the droid grumbled something about the force in droid-speak. Gimbal rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. The droid has some kind of obsession with a really old R2 unit. I dunno."

He shrugged and walked around the ship slowly, and then he disappeared into a small cargo-hold. A few moments later, he came back dragging a military cot with old Imperial Navy logos. "I forgot this was stashed away in here! I never have passengers."

R8 blooped. Something about a Twi'lek dancer.

Gimbal turned red and rolled his eyes as he assembled the cot.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana watched the exchange with the droid in quiet confusion, her head tilting just slightly as if she were waiting for the context to arrive and then realizing it wasn't going to.

Whatever reference R8 was making sailed cleanly past her.

She looked from the cot to the hammock, then back to Gimbal, one brow lifting a fraction. There was no judgment in it, just a practical assessment.

"I'm assuming there's no hidden hierarchy I'm missing here," she said dryly.

A faint hint of amusement crept into her voice as she gestured between the two options.

"So," Ana continued, "do I get the cot, or the hammock?"

She paused, then added with understated humor,

"And before the droid weighs in again, I should clarify I'm asking from a purely survival standpoint."

Her gaze flicked briefly to R8, then back to Gimbal, waiting—unrushed, adaptable, perfectly content with either answer.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

The droid chirped at her question.

Gimbal laughed and then he translated for her. "R8 says you'll end up wherever you want anyway. So, you pick." He shrugged his shoulders.

He finished putting the cot together as he explained. "No hierarchy. That little droid is the only friend I got. He was on the ship when I stole it, no memory and no personality subroutines. I repaired him. The only personality I could find was an old KX unit. Security droid, I think."

He shrugged and then he continued. "The advantage is he's programmed to fight now."

R8 sent a picture of a ridiculously muscular cartoon droid flexing to the viewscreen next to her.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana watched the cartoon droid flex on the viewscreen, then looked back at R8, her expression carefully neutral for a beat longer than necessary.

Then one corner of her mouth lifted.

"Of course he does," she said dryly. "That tracks."

She inclined her head slightly toward the astromech, acknowledging it as one would a very strange colleague rather than a pet.

"For what it's worth," Ana added, "I've worked with worse personalities running security."

Her gaze moved back to the cot and the hammock, assessing them with the same practical eye she applied to everything else. No hesitation, no fuss.

"I'll take the cot," she decided. "More stable if we hit turbulence, and I'd rather not wake up tangled in the bulkhead."

She paused, then glanced back at R8 and the flexing image still on the screen.

"But if your friend here decides that's negotiable," she added lightly, "I'll defer to his superior strength."

The humor was understated, but real. She set her jacket aside neatly, already adapting to the space like she'd planned to be there all along.

"No hierarchy works for me," Ana said, tone easy. "Clear rules, clear choices. That's usually when things run best."

Her eyes flicked once more to the screen.

"And tell him," she added, addressing Gimbal but clearly meaning the droid, "that I respect confidence. Even when it's… illustrated."

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal chuckled softly as he explained "he can understand basic. He could probably speak it with the right modifications." He shrugged.

He gestured toward the cot as he moved to the hammock, flopping into the net without even undressing. He did remove the blaster from his belt and laid it across his stomach with a hand on the butt. "R8, wake us if anything happens. Put the ship in silent running."

The droid chirped and the ship's lights dimmed.

Gimbal glanced at her to make sure she was fine.