Episode 3. No Port in a Storm

“Who are you and why are you on my ship?” Shocasta hovers over the boy gripping his collar, almost growling. Normally, soft and inviting features now are anything but.
Dev interjects, “Your ship?”

“Yes,” she says without missing a beat. “Talk or I’ll knock you out again.”

“I still own seventy percent of the Haider. She’s my ship.” Dev presses. “And knocking the kid out won’t make him talk. We need him awake.”

Sho and Patches both stare at Deviax. Even the kid, strapped to the medical bed stares. Albeit, the kid does look a tad more dazed and confused than the others. Behind him, the astromech M4 beeps and honks at him.

“Em-four is right. You’re being an ass. What are you doing?” Sho redirects her aggressive interrogation to her co-captain.

“The kid’s not dumb,” Dev says. “Are you?” But the kid just gives a vacant concussed look, so Dev presses on quickly. “Maybe a little concussed, but he still likely knows you’re not going to knock him out again. If we do, we get nothing out of him. At least threaten to pull his teeth out or shoot him in the leg.”

Sho huffs and leans on the table. “Do you want to do this?”

“No,” Dev smirks mischievously. “By all means continue.”

“Talk, kid, or I break your bones with his think head. Two problems solved with one quick bashing.” She bares her teeth grabs Dev’s left shoulder causing him to flinch from the squeeze.

“I needed a ride off Rishi,” the boy says. “Your ship ramp was open. I didn’t think you’d notice until we arrived.”

“See?” Dev squeaks a pained ah-ha. “Much better bluff.”

“We all know I wasn’t bluffing…” Sho mutters out of the side of her mouth, not yet releasing her grip on Deviax’s aching collar bone. Eyes still locked on the stowaway, she pokes a strong finger in the kid’s sternum. “Why does the Merchant of Death want you? Did you steal something? Kill someone?”

“Who? I don’t know who that is. I’m not a thief and I’m no killer.”

“Is t-t-true,” Patches say. “Had n-nothing on-on-on him.”

Shocasta needs a moment to regroup, seething at the revelation that Dev made the Bothan do the dirty work of searching the kid for clues. She takes a deep breath, rolls her head on her neck, and resumes. “I don’t believe you kid. If we get to Nowhere and find out you’re lying, I’m breaking fingers.”

The kid curls his fingers into fists, frowning.

“M4: time to arrival?” Dev asks and the droid whistles the ETA. “You have six minutes to come clean.” He makes a lifted head gesture to Sho, letting her threat sink in. “And I should get to the flight deck. Try not to break anything while I’m gone.”

He chuckles to himself as he leaves the infirmary, yelling back. “Get it? Don’t break anything?” Deviax’s laughter slowly gets further away. Yet, he still calls back, “I’m totally unappreciated by my peers.
Patches gives a reflexive chuckle and Sho tries very hard not to roll her eyes as the stowaway looks to her.

Shocasta, panting, arrives at the flight deck to peer out the observation glass. “Have we been scanned?”
Deviax is in the pilot’s chair, slowly adjusting his course. “No,” he says quietly and calmly. “We made better time than we needed to. They likely aren’t expecting us yet.”

The young Zabrak takes a circle of spongy fabric and quickly ties up her shoulder length raven colored hair as she takes the co-pilot seat. “Four Harmonix-G2 cruisers. They have the MOD’s colors,” and Sho points to the nearest one, a faint flicker of gold against the black and gray. “We’re well within their weapons range.” She flips the ship intercom and instructs Patches and the astromech back to the engine room.

“They haven’t fired yet,” Dev almost whispers, as if the pirate cruisers are listening to them through the void.

“We’re just another incoming crew of brigands looking to debaucherize in the sanctity of Nowhere’s notorious hospitality that encourage no names and no introductions…”

Sho’s voice matches her co-captain’s, sinking in volume but showing more concern. “You’re still moving toward them…”

“I’m pacing myself,” Dev says, stroking the console to his left with the palm of his hand. “The Haider is full of complex moves and spry maneuvers. But you don’t just jump into the dance. You limber up first.”

“By listing slightly to starboard?”

“I’m angling for a jump without making it obvious.”

The Haider’s comm begins to buzz and beep. They both look to the center console.

“They’ve seen us both,” Sho says. “How’s that angle working out?”

“Still angling. Running the jump calculations.”

Shocasta puts on the audio only, attempted her best masculine voice. “Cargo hauler Orowing. Nowhere flight control, we’re requesting docking for refueling and-”

A graveled voice speaks in Huttese. “Cargo ship; the merchant navy is assisting in Port Nowhere security.

Acts of terrorism have necessitated ship searches. Prepare to receive inspection team upon docking.”

“This is highly irregular,” Sho protests in her impersonation of Deviax. “Port Nowhere is a haven for secrecy and privacy. It’s why people like us come here to debaucherize.” She sneers at Dev, using his words in mocking.

“You will submit regardless of protest of face consequences.” The comm channel closes.

Dev taps on the star nav, getting the appropriate bearing. “That was subtle.”

Shocasta takes Dev’s queue, prepping her own systems. She readies the shield to churn up to full quickly and the weapons systems to begin popping should they be needed. “They would have been more suspicious if we played it passive. Any normal disreputable coming to Nowhere would protest a search. So shut up and find your angle.”

Dev moves his right hand toward the jump control. In unison, Shocasta warns Patches over the intercom to brace in case they can’t beat the tractor beam.

Both hold their breath as Dev cycles up the jump drive. The ship shutters but enters hyperspace.

A collective exhale. Though it’s heavy. “They likely scanned us full. We won’t get away with that again,” Sho announces the obvious. “We’re skagged.”