Chapter One - There Are Cracks In The Walls

Narrator: Infirmaries on freighters were some of the best places to have hidden compartments. If the ship ever was robbed in port, most thieves cared only for bacta and some of the medical supplies found there. If boarded by authorities, having a sick or injured patient resting in an infirmary was enough to detract most routine searchers and even give the more persistent contraband officials pause.

Dan'lo knew that the panel seemed out of place, and Roooargh appeared to agree. From his knowledge of ships, and the YT series, there shouldn't really be anything there, so why the removable panel? He pushed on it and felt it give way slightly. He pushed on it again and both the doctor and the engineer saw another screw fall out to the port side of where the original screw was found near the lip seam of the wall. A panel was now revealed as one corner fell away from the wall giving way to a small passage on the other side. It was just enough space to hide a sleeping dusty stowaway. A stowaway that had likely been on the ship for decades.



It was a NR-5 maintenance repair droid (stands approximately .7 meters tall). While they weren't as sophisticated as an R2 astromech, they were hard working reliable technicians that helped do in-flight repairs of the ship...sometimes even going outside the ship to work. This unit had a designated marking on it "MRT-7". Along with the designation, it had what looked like dents and scrapes from may have been a vibroblade. It sat there, motionless with a powered off optics blank stare, waiting to be powered up from a very long nap.

Narrator: Roooargh found a switch near the base of the diminutive droid’s swiveling/extending neck and flipped the toggle. It vibrated for a few seconds as mechanical buzzes and whirling sounds could be heard coming from it internally.

The droid’s optics came online and it suddenly hopped backwards in a startled fashion, smacking into the wall. It seemed unphased by the slight crash and produced a small buzzsaw, turned it on and held it up defensively.

"New crew? Trandoshan slaymos shot dead, yessirno?" the droid questioned in a hurried nervous fashion. It waited for a response from the doctor or the Wookiee, it’s head swiveling back and forth slightly: watching for sudden movement.

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Narrator: Elsewhere on the ship, Mennoe walked the short distance to the gun well access and checked out the gun system. While not an upgraded turret, it certainly could punch through starfighter armor without much problem: especially unshielded vessels like the Uglies that pirates were known to use on a regular basis. It could also make short work of TIE fighters…if it came to that.

Narrator: The droid listened and hesitated to put away his saw, but then after a few seconds of not seeing any Trandoshan slaymos, he raised his heavy grasping arm and threw a solute while putting away his saw. "Oh, no way MRT slack-that’s a fact-jack. So used to solder vape when getting ship in tip-top-shape. Can count on MRT back to back-that’s a fact-jack. Beep. Look-out." He rotated his gears, spun all of his arms and then launched forward half a meter before he realized he didn’t need to gun it and could move at MRT pace, which was considerably slower than most of the people on the ship. He spent the next half hour going around the ship waving to any he encountered, "I’m new, you’re new. That’s a fact-jack," before settling down and updating himself in the lounge. "Power recharge. Yip. Repairs. Okay. Maintenance. Okay. Galactic standard time. Oooookay. No way. They cancelled ‘Any Givin Sun Day,’ sixteen standard years ago? MRT’s sad, but can watch reruns as a reward for a hard day of work."

It was more entertaining watching MRT react to a show about a group of four Givin friends walking around outside on ships pranking people on passenger liners than watching the show itself. "People on ship go crazy when they see people outside-ship, but not so when they see droids. No one gets excited when they see droids. Being a droid-boring."

He continued to watch holos while periodically scanning the shape of the ship while everyone else prepared a watch schedule for the ship’s journey. The night went off without a hitch. The crew awoke to find that MRT was still watching holos, but this time it was action instead of comedy. "Imperial Storm Commandos," which MRT had blurted out at one time that they were probably "pushover Kowakian monkey lizards" in real life.

"Not so." commented Varn who had taken up first and last watch. He could hear the laughing, "oohs and aaaahs" and running commentary from MRT all the way from the cockpit, and several times asked him to keep it down.

The food aboard the ship was fair to decent. The refreshers were surprisingly clean, and everyone went about their business getting ready for the eventual pull out of hyperspace and the arrival of into the Vulgas system.

That "pull" was more of a loud shudder and shake than a slight shift, and it was earlier than expected.

Mission Time Chronometer: 24.5 hours after leaving Rodia.

Varn rushed to the cockpit and gasped at what he saw. The alarm system of the ship was blaring and the little droid recognized the sound.
"Mass-shadow. Into-planet-go."
"Nope. Not a planet. The Empire. Interdictor cruiser. Mass gravity generators"
"That’s dumb."

Varn looked down at the little droid and then back to the Imperial Interdictor cruiser dispatching TIE fighters. He flipped the intercom switch.

"This is Varn in the cockpit. Interdictor cruiser right in front of us. Roooargh, or someone, can you take Mr. Commentary into the back and out of sight. Roooargh, you may want to stay out of sight as well. Some Imps think Wookiees should be slaves, others don’t care, and some are disgusted by it. Let’s not take any chances. I need everyone to their stations, please. Roooargh - engineering. Mennoe - guns, but don’t power them up yet. If you’ve got shields or comm experience, I’d like some help up here. Everyone else, buckle up."

As everyone prepared, the comm band cackled and a voice came across the PA.

"The Rising Blade, this is the HMS Shocksnare. We have you on our scopes now. You’re moving into restricted Imperial space. Are you in need of assistance?"

Varn hesitated to answer. He had high-clearance investigative powers. If he used his codes, the Navy would definitely know he was here poking around. He checked their position and saw that they were on the edge of the system. The sensor array on the cruiser would be able to find them anywhere in the system, so there would be no sneaking in.

"The Rising Blade, we read you as a merchant vessel. Are you in need of assistance?"

The comm officer on the other end didn’t seem to be a bad guy. He asked twice now if they needed help.

Any who enter the cockpit are all likely in surprise and awe at the size of the Imperial ship that was only a little bigger than 1/3 the size of a Star Destroyer. The giant gravity well projectors were the ship's defining feature. Transports, pirates, smugglers, or anyone else caught in the gravity well snare would see that jumping to hyperspace on sight at this type of cruiser wasn't a likely option.

"Anybody got any ideas? I’d prefer they not know who I am and what we’re doing. This is the adversary we’re investigating. I’m still thinking and we’re running out of time. If you can't think of anything, I'm going to have to give them code clearances.

The comm cackled again, and the TIEs were getting closer. Two were on intercept for a fly along escort, while the other kept back. Varn slowed the ship's sublight speed hoping that would make the fighter jocks a little less nervous.

"The Rising Blade, do you read? Are you able to transmit?"

"You did not have a plan for how to get us onto the planet?"

Narrator: Varn winced a bit at Kezza’s. He foresaw complications but not an independent interdictor cruiser by itself. Most of the time, these types of cruisers were part of a larger Star Destroyer task force.

"I foresaw avoiding asteroids and ion storms and a relatively smooth landing at an abandoned compound. Not this."

"What sort of 'assistance need' would get them to allow us down... without too many question?"

Varn thought out loud at Kezza's question.

"Can’t run, can’t disable them. We just passed through an area of space plagued with runaway asteroids and ion storms. Appears we made it through. We may be able to use that?

"The Rising Blade, do you read? Are you able to transmit?"

Varn hit the comm switch.

"We’re having problems with communications and other systems. Being pulled out of hyperspace by your ship jarred us pretty good. Give us a few minutes to lock down what else is wrong."

"Understood. Update us soon. Shocksnare out."

The two TIES swooped by, circled around, swung back, and continued to circle while the other TIE continued in a slight figure 8 pattern, occasionally adjusting or reversing its flight path.

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Varn began to tire of the criticism.

"You were free to speak up Kezza. Someone had to say something before they started boarding us or punching holes in our ship with laser fire. They know that there's multiple people aboard the ship with their cursory scans. If you have a plan, call them back and have at it."
Varn turned to the mercenary.

"Yes, good. Ask Roooargh to put the sublight drive on intermittent failure. We'll coast to the planet. It'll be bumpy, but convincing."

Varn turns back to Kezza. "You'll be up on stage for a performance of a lifetime in just a few..."

Just then, the cockpit viewer popped up. They were greeted with the face of a stern Imperial Navy Captain. It was eerie. The Imperials couldn't see them just yet because they hadn't accepted the viewer call, but it looked like the brass had taken an interest.



"My name is Captain Grehn. The communications officer has reported you're having difficulties. We're prepared to assist you. What was your original course heading?"