[Fic-a-Thon: 2016] "Supply Run" [G]
Title: Supply Run
For: Jess iceplanet, wraithsquadron Rogues & Wraiths Fic-a-Thon 2016
Prompt(s): (1) the Rogues’ earliest days (2) smuggling shenanigans (3) an encounter with Soontir Fel (not so much that last one)
Word Count: 959
Fandom: Star Wars (original trilogy, between Episodes IV & V)
Character(s): Wedge Antilles, Luke Skywalker
Summary: A simple supply run goes as well as things usually do- badly.
Supply Run
Most people, Wedge was sure, had no idea how much bureaucracy was involved in open rebellion to another bureaucracy. Standing up to the Galactic Empire wasn’t all war plans and blowing up Death Stars. The majority of their time was usually taken up with recruitment and supply, even before the heavy losses they’d taken while destroying the Empire’s superweapon.
And those losses were what was making it difficult. Wedge had only been a part of the Rebel Alliance for a few years, but surviving the Battle of Yavin made him now one of the more senior officers- or, at least, the most senior one they’d been willing to spare on a supply mission like this.
Selfishly, he wished Biggs was still with them. Wedge unselfconsciously knew himself to be pretty average, unnoticeable and unmemorable, but Biggs had always been a charmer, able to ease their way in or out of any situation. He wouldn’t be standing in the spaceport of a dusty Rim world, trying to gather his wits.
“Is this the place?” asked a voice.
Wedge turned, frowning. Luke still looked a little uncomfortable in the beat-up spacer’s clothes somebody had found for him, but he didn’t stick out too badly. Maybe if he couldn’t have Biggs, another farmboy from Tatooine would do- especially if he really was a Jedi.
“This is it,” Wedge agreed.
He was pleased to see Luke square his shoulders, taking in their surroundings without looking like this was only the third planet he’d ever set foot on. Nobody else in the landing bay paid them any attention as Wedge led the way across it, then through the blast-door to the larger complex beyond. The tapcaf where they were supposed to meet their contact was easy to find, and he sidled up the bar.
“Lomin ale,” he said. “Two.”
“Should we really be drinking?” Luke asked, even as he took a sip of his.
“Yes,” said Wedge, then muttered, “Cold weather gear, I tell you. I’d rather be smuggling weapons again.”
“Again?” repeated Luke, but before Wedge could reply, another man had joined them.
“Antilles?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Wedge agreed. His surname was common, not just on his native Corellia, but on most of the Core worlds, and the Alliance command figured it would be less memorable than ‘Skywalker’, so they were posing as brothers.
“Donnal,” the man said. “Got your stuff. Docking bay nineteen.”
“We’re in twenty,” said Wedge. He drained his glass and set it back on the bar. “Let’s go.”
They followed Donnal back out of the habitat section, and Luke fell into step beside Wedge, close enough to murmur, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“You think he’s Empire?” the Corellian asked, as they passed a loud group of Sullustians going the other way.
Luke frowned. “Can’t tell.”
“They keep your eyes open and play dumb,” Wedge suggested.
The battered cargo ship in the next docking berth held several equally-battered crates, but Donnal pried one open to show Wedge the computer equipment inside. Most computers were designed to operate at average human habitation temperatures, and the kind of industrial-strength military-grade system they needed to create for their new base were in short supply, even before the added requirement of needing them to run at low temperatures.
Wedge and Luke were just one of a dozen teams gathering the things they’d need, but that didn’t mean that every bit of equipment wasn’t vital to the Rebellion.
“Looks good,” said Wedge, and Donnal closed the crates again, loading them onto the hover-cart so that they could transport them to their own ship. The Corellian shook his hand, then held out a credit chip. “Payment, as we agreed.”
“About that,” said Donnal. “I think there’s a few things we need to renegotiate. Unless, maybe, you’d like me to mention to that nice Imperial patrol what we’re doing here?”
Wedge glanced over at the hangar entrance, where a group of men in Imperial uniforms were questioning the crew of the landing control center.
“You don’t want to do that,” said Luke. His voice was low, not a threat but something else.
Donnal frowned, like that confused him. “I don’t?”
“No,” Luke continued, in that same odd voice. “You want to take our money, let us have the goods, and leave.”
“Right,” said Donnal, then he smiled. “We had a deal. You should get those loaded, before they come over here.”
“Great,” said Wedge, looking between them, but he grabbed the handle of the hover-cart and began loading the crates.
He kept an eye on the Imperial patrol, who reached the ship on the other side of theirs just as they shut the cargo hold behind the new supplies.
“You, there, halt!” cried their leader. Up close, Wedge could see that he wore a pilot’s uniform, with red detailing.
Wedge pulled out his blaster. “Luke, start her up!” he called. He aimed at the other ship’s coolant system and fired, dousing the Imperials in a cloud of chemicals, then added a few more random shots for good measure. “Luke!”
On cue, their cargo ship lifted off the ground, and Wedge scrambled toward the open hatch, shutting it quickly behind him. Luke piloted them out of the hangar, and waited until they were in hyperspace to slump back in his seat.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Wedge. He took several deep, calming breaths, then asked, “What in all nine Corellian hells did you do back there?”
“Oh,” said Luke. “I… I didn’t know I could that.”
“Do what?”
“A Jedi Mind Trick.”
Wedge managed a smile- so, he really was a Jedi. “Handy,” he said, and Luke smiled back.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “We should ask for tomorrow off.”
The other man laughed. “We should.”
THE END
For: Jess iceplanet, wraithsquadron Rogues & Wraiths Fic-a-Thon 2016
Prompt(s): (1) the Rogues’ earliest days (2) smuggling shenanigans (3) an encounter with Soontir Fel (not so much that last one)
Word Count: 959
Fandom: Star Wars (original trilogy, between Episodes IV & V)
Character(s): Wedge Antilles, Luke Skywalker
Summary: A simple supply run goes as well as things usually do- badly.
Supply Run
Most people, Wedge was sure, had no idea how much bureaucracy was involved in open rebellion to another bureaucracy. Standing up to the Galactic Empire wasn’t all war plans and blowing up Death Stars. The majority of their time was usually taken up with recruitment and supply, even before the heavy losses they’d taken while destroying the Empire’s superweapon.
And those losses were what was making it difficult. Wedge had only been a part of the Rebel Alliance for a few years, but surviving the Battle of Yavin made him now one of the more senior officers- or, at least, the most senior one they’d been willing to spare on a supply mission like this.
Selfishly, he wished Biggs was still with them. Wedge unselfconsciously knew himself to be pretty average, unnoticeable and unmemorable, but Biggs had always been a charmer, able to ease their way in or out of any situation. He wouldn’t be standing in the spaceport of a dusty Rim world, trying to gather his wits.
“Is this the place?” asked a voice.
Wedge turned, frowning. Luke still looked a little uncomfortable in the beat-up spacer’s clothes somebody had found for him, but he didn’t stick out too badly. Maybe if he couldn’t have Biggs, another farmboy from Tatooine would do- especially if he really was a Jedi.
“This is it,” Wedge agreed.
He was pleased to see Luke square his shoulders, taking in their surroundings without looking like this was only the third planet he’d ever set foot on. Nobody else in the landing bay paid them any attention as Wedge led the way across it, then through the blast-door to the larger complex beyond. The tapcaf where they were supposed to meet their contact was easy to find, and he sidled up the bar.
“Lomin ale,” he said. “Two.”
“Should we really be drinking?” Luke asked, even as he took a sip of his.
“Yes,” said Wedge, then muttered, “Cold weather gear, I tell you. I’d rather be smuggling weapons again.”
“Again?” repeated Luke, but before Wedge could reply, another man had joined them.
“Antilles?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Wedge agreed. His surname was common, not just on his native Corellia, but on most of the Core worlds, and the Alliance command figured it would be less memorable than ‘Skywalker’, so they were posing as brothers.
“Donnal,” the man said. “Got your stuff. Docking bay nineteen.”
“We’re in twenty,” said Wedge. He drained his glass and set it back on the bar. “Let’s go.”
They followed Donnal back out of the habitat section, and Luke fell into step beside Wedge, close enough to murmur, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“You think he’s Empire?” the Corellian asked, as they passed a loud group of Sullustians going the other way.
Luke frowned. “Can’t tell.”
“They keep your eyes open and play dumb,” Wedge suggested.
The battered cargo ship in the next docking berth held several equally-battered crates, but Donnal pried one open to show Wedge the computer equipment inside. Most computers were designed to operate at average human habitation temperatures, and the kind of industrial-strength military-grade system they needed to create for their new base were in short supply, even before the added requirement of needing them to run at low temperatures.
Wedge and Luke were just one of a dozen teams gathering the things they’d need, but that didn’t mean that every bit of equipment wasn’t vital to the Rebellion.
“Looks good,” said Wedge, and Donnal closed the crates again, loading them onto the hover-cart so that they could transport them to their own ship. The Corellian shook his hand, then held out a credit chip. “Payment, as we agreed.”
“About that,” said Donnal. “I think there’s a few things we need to renegotiate. Unless, maybe, you’d like me to mention to that nice Imperial patrol what we’re doing here?”
Wedge glanced over at the hangar entrance, where a group of men in Imperial uniforms were questioning the crew of the landing control center.
“You don’t want to do that,” said Luke. His voice was low, not a threat but something else.
Donnal frowned, like that confused him. “I don’t?”
“No,” Luke continued, in that same odd voice. “You want to take our money, let us have the goods, and leave.”
“Right,” said Donnal, then he smiled. “We had a deal. You should get those loaded, before they come over here.”
“Great,” said Wedge, looking between them, but he grabbed the handle of the hover-cart and began loading the crates.
He kept an eye on the Imperial patrol, who reached the ship on the other side of theirs just as they shut the cargo hold behind the new supplies.
“You, there, halt!” cried their leader. Up close, Wedge could see that he wore a pilot’s uniform, with red detailing.
Wedge pulled out his blaster. “Luke, start her up!” he called. He aimed at the other ship’s coolant system and fired, dousing the Imperials in a cloud of chemicals, then added a few more random shots for good measure. “Luke!”
On cue, their cargo ship lifted off the ground, and Wedge scrambled toward the open hatch, shutting it quickly behind him. Luke piloted them out of the hangar, and waited until they were in hyperspace to slump back in his seat.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Wedge. He took several deep, calming breaths, then asked, “What in all nine Corellian hells did you do back there?”
“Oh,” said Luke. “I… I didn’t know I could that.”
“Do what?”
“A Jedi Mind Trick.”
Wedge managed a smile- so, he really was a Jedi. “Handy,” he said, and Luke smiled back.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “We should ask for tomorrow off.”
The other man laughed. “We should.”
THE END