Private Between Departure and Arrival

[Ana Rix]

Ana nodded once at his explanation, filing it away with the rest of the small, useful truths she collected. No commentary. Just understanding.

"Goodnight, Gimbal," she said quietly, already moving.

She climbed onto the cot with practiced ease, boots set neatly beneath it, jacket folded and placed within reach. The metal frame creaked once under her weight, then settled. She adjusted the thin blanket, tested the stability with a small shift of her shoulders, and seemed satisfied.

"Wake me if R8 does," she added lightly, eyes already closing.

Within moments, her breathing evened out. Not the deep, careless sleep of someone unguarded, but the steady rest of someone who knew how to take what was available and trust the systems in place. The ship hummed softly around them, lights dimmed, engines muted into silence.

Time passed.

Stars stretched and collapsed as the freighter drifted on its quiet course.

Eventually, the low chime of systems returning to normal broke the stillness. Soft lights brightened incrementally. The ship gave a gentle vibration as it adjusted its heading.

Ana stirred, waking without a jolt. She opened her eyes, took in the unfamiliar ceiling, then the smell of recycled air and warm circuitry. Context returned quickly.

She sat up on the cot, running a hand through her hair, already alert.

"Morning," she said calmly into the dim cabin, voice steady. "Or whatever passes for it out here."

She glanced toward the cockpit, listening to the ship, to R8's quiet beeps, fully awake now and ready for whatever came next.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal was already in the cockpit. He had been careful not to wake her. He smiled at her when he heard her. "Morning. We're about to come out of hyperspace. I figured you'd want to drop out farther away to observe traffic."

The ship dropped out of hyperspace smoothly. The droid chirped and overlaid information on the ship's main HUD. Most freighters didn't have a viewscreen HUD. He must have modded one into the viewscreen.

He looked at the HUD quietly.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana moved up beside the cockpit without hurry, bracing one hand lightly against the frame as the stars resolved into real space. She didn't speak at first. She watched.

Traffic lanes. Vector spacing. Who was broadcasting clean transponder data, and who was letting their signal blur just enough to be deniable. Civilian freighters moving like they had nothing to hide. Two patrol arcs that overlapped a little too neatly to be a coincidence. She let the picture build before she touched anything.

Then she leaned in, close enough to the HUD to trace a path with two fingers, careful not to block his view.

"You read it right," she said quietly. "Dropping out farther back gives us options."

Her fingers marked a soft curve through the traffic flow, not the fastest route, but the least distinctive.

"Most inbound ships are stacking along the primary commercial lane," Ana continued. "That's where eyes are. Customs, traffic control, bored patrol crews looking for something to justify their shift."

She shifted her hand slightly, indicating a secondary approach vector skirting the planet's limb.

"This route stays inside normal variance," she said. "Looks like someone avoiding congestion, not avoiding notice. No sudden deceleration, no sharp course corrections."

Her gaze flicked to a highlighted region on the planetary overlay and she tapped it once.

"We're expected here," Ana added. "Mid-altitude civilian port, logistics-heavy, high turnover. Lots of legitimate traffic means less individual scrutiny."

She finally looked at him then, assessing not the ship, but his instincts.

"If you bleed into the approach at this angle," she said, "match velocity early and let the traffic controller think you're boring, we'll blend."

A brief pause.

"Question is," Ana asked calmly, "can you put us down there without drawing attention, or do you want me to adjust expectations before we commit?"

There was no doubt in her tone. Just coordination.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal watched her and then he chuckled softly at her question. "Relax. Subtle is my middle name!" He winked playfully.

The droid whistled.

"R8, follow her course. Nothing fancy."

The droid chirped and the ship dropped onto the course she had pointed out.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana didn't roll her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifted just enough to acknowledge the wink without encouraging it. She stayed focused on the HUD, watching the ship settle into the lane exactly as intended.

"Good," she said quietly. "Subtle is all I'm asking for."

As the freighter matched speed and spacing with the surrounding traffic, her posture eased a fraction. Not relaxed. Just confident.

"You followed the curve cleanly," Ana added, a note of genuine approval in her voice. "No overcorrection, no unnecessary signature spikes. That's harder than people think."

She glanced at him then, brief but direct.

"This works," she said. "You fly the ship. I read the space. Neither of us gets in the other's way."

Her gaze returned to the display as the planet grew larger ahead of them, traffic flowing around them as if they belonged there.

"If we keep this up," Ana continued, lighter now, "we'll land looking exactly like what we are."

A pause.

"Nothing interesting."

And for a job like this, that was the highest compliment she could give.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal and R8 led the ship slowly along her course. Gimbal said nothing, focusing on the piloting duties. Eventually, the ship approached their destination and Gimbal requested docking permissions. "Light freighter Illusion requesting permission to land. No cargo. The wife and I are here for pleasure." He used a fake name for the ship, probably the one the spoofer was using.

He glanced at her and nodded his head briefly as he waited for the permissions from the ground.

 

[Ana Rix]

A brief pause followed the request, static brushing the channel before a neutral, professional voice cut in.

"Light freighter Illusion, permission granted," traffic control said evenly. "You are cleared to land on approach vector seven-four by three-one. Maintain a steady descent to two thousand. Pad Cresh–Nine is assigned."

A soft chirp of background activity followed, then:

"Be advised, moderate traffic on the eastern lanes. Keep your approach tight and your transponder active until touchdown. Welcome to Bothawui. Ground control will take over once you're down."

The channel clicked off, leaving the cockpit quiet except for the hum of the ship and the astromech's satisfied chirp.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal smiled as he answered "acknowledged."

He turned off the communicator and then he glanced at R8. "I'll take us in. Good job, buddy."

The droid chirped as Gimbal took the controls. He guided the ship closer until ground control took over and then he glanced at Ana. "Do you need a ride out as well? I can keep the ship warm."

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana kept her eyes on the descent path for a moment longer, watching the flow of traffic and the way the lanes folded in on themselves as the autopilot handed off to ground control. Only then did she turn toward him, expression composed, voice level.

"Yeah," she said, a slight lift of her brow accompanying the answer. "I actually do need a lift out."

She shifted in her seat just enough to face him more fully, not crowding the cockpit, simply acknowledging the practicality of the arrangement.

"Half the payment now," Ana continued, "the rest once we're clear and leaving the planet."

It wasn't framed as a test or a challenge. Just clean terms, offered plainly.

"Keeps things simple," she added. "And it gives us both a reason to stay on schedule."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the viewport, then back to him.

"If that works for you."

She waited, unhurried, confident in the ask and content to let him decide.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "I'll probably find a gambling den. But R8 will stay with the ship."

He stood up and started toward the boarding ramp with her, and then he called back. "R8, get us refueled and restocked if they sell food and water."

The astromech droid chirped in acknowledgment as the boarding ramp opened. Gimbal handed her a communicator.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana slowed as they reached the ramp, her attention shifting when Gimbal handed her the communicator. She took it without comment at first, turning it once in her hand as the ramp lowered and the ambient sounds of the port crept in.

She made a quick adjustment, fingers moving with the same quiet precision she used everywhere else. A short pause, then she glanced up at him.

"You already had my business number," Ana said evenly.
"I'm assuming the one I have belongs to this."

She gave the communicator a small, deliberate wiggle between her fingers to underline the distinction, not teasing, just practical.

Another tap. A soft confirmation tone.

She handed it back to him.

"That one reaches me directly," she added. "No routing, no intermediaries. If plans change, or you need me sooner than expected, use that."

Her tone remained calm, professional, but not cold.

"You can keep the ship warm," Ana finished lightly. "I'll let you know when I need the ride out."

With that, she turned toward the ramp, ready to disembark, leaving him with the communicator—and the clear understanding that this was coordination, not formality.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal watched her walk away as he attached the communicator to his belt and then he wandered into the port, looking for a Sabaac game. When he found one, he would sit down and buy into the game.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana kept the meeting brief by design.

The Bothan contact had chosen a narrow upper-level gallery overlooking the spaceport's commercial ring, a place loud enough to drown out private conversations but orderly enough to discourage overt violence. It was a smart choice. Predictable. The kind of environment Ana respected because it favored discretion over spectacle.

He did not waste time on pleasantries, nor did she.

They sat opposite one another at a small table, steam curling from untouched drinks as travelers streamed past in constant motion. Ana did not pull out a datapad. She did not need to. Instead, she spoke quietly and precisely, delivering the information in segmented pieces, structured so it could only be understood if all of it was heard together. Dates woven into routes. Names paired with patterns. Timelines that overlapped just enough to show intent without stating it outright. No conclusions. No speculation. Just facts, laid out clean and exact.

The Bothan listened closely, furred ears twitching almost imperceptibly as his dark eyes sharpened with each new detail. He asked a handful of clarifying questions, careful and exact. Ana answered only what was necessary, never more. When she finished, she paused, letting the last thread settle into place.

"That's everything," she said simply.

The Bothan studied her for a moment longer, then inclined his head in acknowledgment. "You do not exaggerate," he said at last. "That is rare."

Ana did not react. Praise was not part of the transaction, and she had no use for it.

They stood, exchanged no physical contact, and separated into the crowd as if they had never spoken, dissolving into the flow of the spaceport without a second glance.

The job was done.

The walk back to the ship should have been uneventful.

Ana kept to well-lit routes, avoided dead ends, and followed the natural flow of port traffic rather than cutting against it. She stayed alert without slipping into paranoia, aware of her surroundings but not searching for ghosts. The information was already delivered. There was no longer any reason for anyone to move on her.

That assumption lasted exactly three minutes.

The first sign was subtle, almost easy to dismiss if she had not been paying attention. A shift in foot traffic. A man slowing just enough behind her to break the rhythm. Another angling in from the side, his path intersecting hers with practiced timing. Too coordinated to be a coincidence.

Ana adjusted course immediately, turning down a secondary access corridor that fed toward the outer docking arms. If she could reach open space, crowds would follow. Visibility would increase. Pressure would drop.

She did not make it that far.

A hand seized the back of her coat and yanked hard.

Her shoulder struck the bulkhead with a jarring impact that drove the breath from her lungs, pain flaring sharp and immediate. Before she could recover, another body moved in front of her, cutting off her escape. She twisted instinctively, tried to slip past, but a second grip caught her arm and wrenched it down with brutal efficiency.

"Easy," someone muttered close to her ear, breath hot and confident. "You do not walk away from leverage like this."

Ana did not answer. She reacted.

She drove an elbow backward, catching someone solidly enough to earn a sharp grunt, but the response was immediate and overwhelming. A fist slammed into her jaw, snapping her head sideways as stars burst across her vision. She staggered, disoriented, struggling to keep her footing.

She tried to stay upright. Tried to create space. But she was not built for this. She was not trained for it.

A leg hooked behind her knee, and she went down hard, palms scraping against the deck as her side struck metal plating. Before she could roll clear, weight came down on her back, pinning her in place. Something struck her ribs once, then again, knocking the air from her lungs in ragged, painful bursts.

She curled instinctively, arms coming up to shield her head, focusing on breathing, on staying conscious, on enduring. Voices blurred together above her, irritated, confident, careless in the way of people who believed the outcome was already decided.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal had just pulled in another pile of credit chips when something hit him in the back of his mind. He glanced around and then he swept the credits into a pouch on his belt. As he stood up, he drew his blaster and he broke into a full run toward the ship.

He didn't reach the ship though. As he turned the corner, he came upon a few men standing over Ana. "What the -- HEY UGLIES!"

The men turned just in time for a blaster bolt to burn a hole through his chest. The man collapsed next to her in a smoldering heap as the other men attempted to draw their blasters. Gimbal was too quick though. Two more shots, two more bodies.

He ran toward her, lowering his blaster as he knelt down to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her up as he spoke. "C'mon we gotta go! This place is gonna be crawling with security in a few minutes!"

As he yanked her up and started running toward the ship with her, he glanced at the bodies and their jackets. "Black Meridian..."

He holstered his blaster and held up his communicator, squeezing the button. "R8, get ready to leave hot! As soon as we're aboard, go! No ground control clearance checks! Just like Mos Eisley last year!"

The droid whistled loudly.

He didn't hesitate, he didn't argue with her, he just ran up the boarding ramp with her. The ramp started to close and the ship was moving before they were all the way up the ramp. The droid had obviously done this before.

He moved to sit her on the edge of her cot. "Are you injured?" He started digging through storage lockers until he found a medkit.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana barely registered the transition from corridor to ship until the deck plating vibrated under her boots and the ramp began to seal behind them. Adrenaline carried her just long enough to make it to the cot before her legs gave out, and she let herself sit where Gimbal guided her, breath coming shallow and tight.

She lifted one hand automatically toward her mouth, fingers coming away faintly red.

Her jaw ached deeply, a dull throb radiating up toward her ear, and every breath pulled sharp along her right side where the blows had landed. Bruised ribs, at least. Nothing felt broken, but it hurt enough that she kept her posture carefully still.

"Lip's split," she said evenly, pressing the back of her wrist against it to slow the bleeding. "Ribs are bruised. Took two solid hits before you arrived."

She paused to breathe through the pain, then looked up at him, eyes clear despite everything.

"No loss of consciousness," Ana added. "No numbness. I can move."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the cockpit as the ship lurched into motion, engines climbing hard.

"You came fast," she said quietly. Not praise. Not an accusation. Just a fact. "Thank you."

She let her hand drop, blood smearing faintly across her knuckles, and then, after a beat:

"Black Meridian," Ana murmured, committing the name to memory even through the pain. "That wasn't random."

She shifted just enough to give him room when he brought the medkit closer, jaw tightening as the movement pulled at her ribs.

"They were positioned," she continued calmly. "Coordinated. Someone anticipated my route, even if they didn't know exactly who I was."

Her focus didn't waver. The fear had already burned off, leaving only analysis.

"Patch the lip," Ana said. "Wrap the ribs tight. I'll review what I did differently this time and see where the pattern broke."

The ship roared away beneath them, hyperspace drawing closer, and for the moment at least, the danger stayed behind — not forgotten, just filed for later.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal nodded his head as he found a butterfly bandage and started to put it on her lip, squeezing the split skin together. "Life ain't all calculations and patterns, sweetheart. You're not a droid." He grinned.

He finished with her lip and then he pulled her shirt up just under her breasts. He pulled a roll of cloth from the medkit and started wrapping her tightly. He was no doctor. He was rough. But he did what he had to do.

The droid guided the ship into orbit and the ship lurched a little.

The jolt caused Gimbal to get a little too close to her but he quickly recovered and tied the bandage off. "How's that?"

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana inhaled sharply when he pulled the bandage tight, a brief hiss slipping through her teeth before she got control of it again. She didn't pull away, though. She stayed still, letting him finish, jaw tight more from pride than pain.

When she spoke, her voice was steady, dry, and very much herself.

"I'm aware," she said, the corner of her mouth tugging just slightly despite the split lip. "Droids don't usually crack ribs or bleed on bulkheads."

She glanced down at the wrap as he tied it off, testing a careful breath. It hurt, but it held. That mattered.

"Ribs are bruised," Ana added calmly. "Nothing feels broken. Lip's annoying, but I've had worse."

The ship's lurch made her instinctively brace, and for half a second, he was closer than either of them intended. She didn't flinch, didn't comment, just waited until he stepped back before meeting his eyes again.

"You did fine," she said, sincere, no dramatics. "Rough beats sloppy. And I'm still breathing."

She reached up, gently touching the bandage at her lip, then lowered her hand.

"Thank you," Ana added after a beat. "For coming back when you did."

There was no embellishment in it. Just a fact. Just acknowledgment.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal nodded his head and then he hesitated thoughtfully. "I... had a bad feeling. I dunno."

He shrugged and then he stood up. "R8, set a course for Kashyyyk and make the jump. We're gonna lay low for a few days until we can figure out what happened, and Ana is recovered."

The astromech chirped in agreement and the ship jumped a moment later.

Gimbal added as an afterthought. "Take us into the least inhabited region of the planet. Find a clearing. No ports." He was clearly operating as someone who had been in hiding before.

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana stayed seated for a moment after the jump, one hand braced lightly against the cot as the familiar pull of hyperspace faded and the ship settled into its new rhythm. She exhaled slowly, testing her ribs again, then looked up at him.

"A bad feeling is usually just pattern recognition your brain hasn't put words to yet," she said evenly. "You listened to it. That matters."

At the mention of Kashyyyk and staying off ports, she gave a small nod. No argument. No corrections.

"Laying low is the right call," Ana agreed. "If someone moved on me that quickly, it means they were waiting for an opportunity, not reacting to the delivery. Time and distance will tell us more than answers forced too early."

She shifted carefully, settling back once the ache in her ribs stopped flaring, and glanced toward the cockpit.

"Least inhabited region, no traffic, no records," she added. "That gives me space to recover and think. And it gives whoever sent them fewer places to look."

A brief pause, then quieter, more personal.

"Thank you," Ana said. "For not treating me like cargo when things went sideways."

Her gaze softened just a fraction.

"I'll be functional," she added. "Bruised isn't broken. I just need a little time before I'm back to full capacity."

She leaned back, eyes closing briefly as the ship carried them onward.

"Wake me if anything changes," Ana finished. "Otherwise, this is probably the safest place I've been in the last hour."

It wasn't praise. It was trust, offered plainly.

Gimbal

 

[Gimbal]

Gimbal glanced at her and smiled reassuringly.

The ship reached Kashyyyk quickly and dropped out of hyperspace. He moved to the cockpit and helped the astromech land in a clearing barely large enough for the freighter, nestled between giant trees, a small mountainous ridge, and a clear blue lake. Wildlife scattered as the ship set down, but no sign of Wookiees.

He glanced at her and asked. "You ever been camping? My dad and I used to camp in the wilderness of Naboo. Not much different than here."