Cover 15/27, PG-13
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
The grating, luckily for them, was not welded in place. It was affixed with four screws, one of which was cross-threaded and took some time.
“We won’t be able to screw it back into place after ourselves,” Ryn observed, feeling a perverse need to bring up everything they couldn’t do anything about. “They’ll know where we’ve gone.”
Anakin shot her a quick glare. “Thank you. Do you have a better idea, or are you just here to criticize?”
Ryn smiled dreamily at him, forgetting for a moment to fight the effects of the tranquilizer. “I’m just here to criticize,” she conceded cheerfully. “I’m a killjoy. Everyone says so.”
Anakin gave her a wary look as she stepped closer. “Who’s everyone? What -- Ryn, what are you doing?” He gasped the last question, distracted as Ryn’s tongue swept into the hollow behind his ear, waking nerve endings and making them beg for more. He shuddered hard with pleasure, and Ryn licked again, working her way down his neck, tasting salt and sweat and Anakin.
She whimpered when he pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length. “You are not yourself,” he told her.
Ryn thought that might be good news, depending. “Who am I, then?”
Anakin shook his head, his thumbs on her shoulders stroking the outer ends of her collarbone, and Ryn shivered, wanting more. “Ryn,” he said, and Ryn blinked at him, momentarily confused. Hadn’t he just said she wasn’t Ryn? “Listen to me. You were shot by a tranquilizer dart and it is making you do things you wouldn’t normally do.” I wouldn’t? Ryn thought. What was I thinking? “But you have to fight it,” Anakin went on, the sheer burning desperation in his voice dragging her back, because she couldn’t let him sound like that. “I need you, Ryn, you have to fight it.”
Ryn really didn’t want to. If there was one thing she was clear on, it was that she wanted more of Anakin and less of their current reality. Except, as far as reality went ... Anakin really needed her to focus, because they were both in real danger.
He looked at her, waiting, his eyes full of warmth and trust and encouragement, and Ryn huffed out a breath and tried hard to focus.
“Right,” she managed after a couple of tries. “How are those screws coming, then?”
Anakin dropped his hands from her shoulders and reached for the grating with a relieved smile. “Last one,” he assured her. “We’ll be out of here in no time.”
It was a little unclear whether Ziro’s ventilation ducts were going to be a big improvement over Ziro’s holding cell, but Ryn decided that saying so fell under the category of Unhelpful Remarks. So she just nodded and stood still, trying not to do anything else loopy while she waited for him to finish.
Ryn didn’t have her hands free for climbing, so Anakin pulled himself up first and then reached down to catch Ryn’s wrists and haul her up after him. Even without the Force, he made it look easy, and Ryn wanted to point out that this was irresistibly attractive, but she was feeling a sort of muted embarrassment about that whole licking business, so instead she drained as much of the lust out of her voice as she could and said, “Thanks.”
She must have sounded a little off, because Anakin frowned at her. “Don’t mention it.”
Even if I really want to? Ryn thought, but she let it go and did her best to crawl quietly after him down the shaft. With her wrists bound in rigid metal, it wasn’t easy.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, the sound echoing faintly.
“Somewhere we won’t be found until I can get these things off us,” Anakin whispered back. He sounded less patient than usual.
“No, wait a minute,” Ryn said anyway, stopping because she needed all her energy to think. “Didn’t you say we were next to the slave quarters, before?”
Anakin flinched. “Not out loud, I didn’t.”
“Sorry,” Ryn said, because she knew he hated it when she read his mind, even by accident. “But if you’re right, then we might be able to get some help there.”
Anakin twisted to look back at her in the confined space. “I thought we were here to help them.”
“Which we’ll be able to do much better once we’re out of restraints,” Ryn said. “Come on, Anakin. It’s our best shot.”
She wondered if Anakin realized that he was making a faint but distinct growling noise.
“Okay, fine,” he said finally, and beneath the obvious frustration Ryn could feel something bleak and awful, like a black hole forming inside him. Ryn wanted to comfort him somehow, but there was really nothing she could say. Tatooine loomed over them both, a vast and ominous cloud that could have blocked even that planet’s two suns. Like a storm of crows, Ryn thought, remembering a line of poetry from home. So in the end she just reached forward and squeezed Anakin’s ankle, the only thing she could really reach in the ventilation shaft.
“We’ll be all right,” she whispered, although she had precious little evidence in support of her assertion. “We’ve got each other.”
“Yeah,” Anakin said roughly. “Back up.”
So Ryn scooted backwards on her hands and knees, easing herself over the hole they’d just come through, and Anakin followed her, until Ryn crossed the next grate -- very, very carefully. Hardly daring to breathe, she whispered, “This is it. We’re over the next room now.”
Anakin was very still for a few seconds. Ryn could feel him concentrating, trying futilely to reach the Force. Finally, he said, “Any guards?”
“I don’t think,” Ryn breathed. “They all feel ... the same.” Tired and frightened and hopeless. She didn’t think Anakin needed the description; he already knew.
“Let me,” he whispered, and Ryn backed up again so that he could cross the grating and look down through the metal grid.
She heard him tap quietly a few times, and the there was some shuffling down below and a voice said, “There’s someone in the vent!”
“That’s Cam,” Ryn whispered to Anakin, recognizing the voice and the feel of the boy’s mind.
“Cam,” Anakin said softly, and Ryn felt the boy’s surprise, “I’m Anakin Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”
“You’re who?” Cam said, and Ryn smothered a snort.
“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” Anakin repeated, sounding more impatient than usual. “I’m here with Ryn Orun, and --”
“Ryn Orun!” Cam exclaimed. “Where is she?”
Ryn tried not to laugh at Anakin’s frustration. “I’m here, Cam. Try to do what he says.”
She heard Anakin puff out his breath in exasperation. “Thank you. Cam, I need you to find somebody to unscrew this grate so we can get down, all right?”
“Um.” Cam’s uncertainty was sharp against Ryn’s mind. “Okay.”
Movement below, a low murmur of voices. Then Anakin said, “I don’t think you -- oh.”
Ryn bit back an impatient desire to demand to see. There was no rational reason for her to be at the grate instead of Anakin; she just liked being in control. You’ve really got to get over that, she told herself. But then something shifted and sharpened in her senses, and ...
“Someone’s coming,” she told Anakin.
“Get down,” he hissed to whoever was on the other side of that grate.
There was a thud, and then a click, not quite so close, and Evinne’s voice said, “What the hell?”
“Evinne!” Cam gasped, and then: “Who are you?”
“My name is Ferus Olin,” said a newly familiar voice. Ryn felt him coming closer. “Anakin.” He sounded rather pained. “What are you doing in the ventilation system?”
Anakin drew breath for an angry retort, and Ryn reached out to grab his ankle. “Anakin,” she whispered, not sure whether it was a warning or a plea.
He wrenched his neck to glance over his shoulder at her, face set and stormy and Ryn gave him a tiny shrug. Behave, she mouthed.
For a split second she thought Anakin was going to argue the point. But then something softened in his eyes, and he turned back to the grate. “We got captured before we could mount a rescue,” he told Ferus, which wasn’t quite true, because only Ryn had really gotten captured. Anakin had surrendered, rather than let her be killed.
“Ryn’s with you?” Ferus asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Back up. I’m going to cut you out.”
“There are screws --” Anakin began.
“I think we might be on a schedule.”
Ryn closed her eyes. “Do I want to know?”
“If we do this right, you’ll never need to,” Ferus promised her.
That wasn’t terribly reassuring.
Anakin backed away from the opening and a lightsaber speared through the grate, making short work of the rusting metal.
Anakin started toward the opening, then stopped and pulled off his poncho, awkward in the confines of the narrow shaft, and passed it to Ryn. “Here. Put this under you when you scoot over the edge, so you don’t burn.”
Ryn glanced at the heated edges of metal. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” He crawled forward without waiting for her protest. “I’m not the one wandering the bowels of Coruscant half-naked.”
Ryn snorted, but she didn’t argue. Instead she eased forward and watched as Anakin descended, bracing his hands on the walls and lowering himself by tension, so carefully that he barely brushed the hot edges of the hole. Ryn wasn’t sure she had the upper body strength to pull off that move, even if she’d had her hands free. So she concentrated on arranging his poncho to minimize her skin’s contact with the edges of what used to be the grate. By the time she slid into Anakin’s waiting arms, she had a couple of burns that would need to be smeared with bacta later, but she’d managed to hold in her automatic shrieks and the pain was doing an amazingly good job of burning through the fog left by the tranquilizer.
She grunted as he set her on her feet, and for just a second the galaxy faded away as Anakin held onto her waist and stared into her eyes. “Are you all right?”
Take me now. “Yeah,” Ryn answered breathlessly. “I’m fine.”
Someone cleared a throat, dragging them back to reality, and Anakin dropped his hands and stepped back with a quick, furtive glance at Ferus.
“You have a pretty interesting definition of rescue,” Cam observed, surveying her with his arms folded. “And who’s this guy?” He pointed his chin at Anakin.
“Anakin is ... a friend,” Ryn said. “He agreed to help me, but then I got myself captured and he ... came along.”
“Besides,” Evinne said to Cam, “you’re in no position to complain.”
Ryn nodded, instantly felt dizzy, and swayed, clutching at Anakin’s arm for support.
Ferus shot her a curious look. “Is she drunk?” he asked Anakin.
“No,” Anakin said, “but they hit her with a tranq dart.”
“It’s wearing off,” Ryn said, but they didn’t look convinced.
“Look, we have a problem,” Cam said to Evinne. “They took Nesaala and Hirtai away. We have to get to them somehow.”
This pronouncement was met with grave silence, except by Ferus. “Who are Nesaala and Hirtai?”
“Two of the Twi’lek women who were captured with Cam,” Evinne said, glancing at Ferus, who re-ignite his lightsaber with a repressed sigh and sliced through Ryn’s manacles. He hesitated, eying Anakin’s collar, and was met with a fierce scowl.
“Don’t even think about it,” Anakin warned him, and Evinne snorted as Ferus snapped off his lightsaber and stepped stiffly back.
“You mentioned that you were separated,” Ryn said, ignoring them to focus on Cam. “Any idea where they were taken?”
“Same place I met you, probably,” Cam answered. “The same guy came for them, anyway. But I’m guessing you don’t have somebody on the inside any more?”
Ryn shook her head, looking at Evinne, who made a face. “Good guess,” the older girl said unhappily.
“Then we have to get over there right now,” Cam said urgently. “Before ... anything happens to them.”
“It wouldn’t be anything that hasn’t happened to them before,” Evinne said, sounding grim.
“That doesn’t mean we should let it happen again,” Cam insisted.
“Wait a minute,” Anakin said. “We can’t just leave all these people.” His gesture encompassed the entire slave quarters.
“Are you kidding?” Evinne asked him, looking harried. “Ziro must have close to a hundred slaves. If he’s holding even a quarter of them here, that’s --”
“We’re not here to stage a coup,” Ferus put in. He was trying to sound calm, but Ryn could feel his tension.
She glanced around the dismal group gathered in the slave quarters -- maybe fifteen miserable souls in all. “Well,” she said quietly, “maybe we should be.”
“We’re not equipped,” Evinne began, but Cam interrupted her.
“The new guy is right,” he said, indicating Anakin with a twitch of his thumb. “Besides, these people can help us. They know the way around.”
Evinne stared at him for a long moment, then finally threw up her hands. “Oh, hell, then. Ferus, see if the Force won’t open that stanging collar. And we’re going to need to deactivate these AEDs somehow. I wonder --”
A young Twi’lek female, maybe about Evinne’s own age, took a couple of timid steps forward. “Excuse me, Madam. I just - if we had a control wand, we could use it to deactivate all the AEDs, couldn’t we?”
“Yes,” Evinne said, giving her a sharp look.
“Well I, I mean, they keep all that stuff in the treatment center, in case there’s damage, or if they need to do a health inspection. They’re all set to the same frequency, and --”
“Enough,” Evinne said. “You could find this treatment area?”
“Oh, yes, Madam.”
“What’s your name?”
“Marath, Madam.”
“Stop calling me that,” Evinne said. “Ryn. You and Ferus take Marath and go get that control wand. Then come and find us in the transport bay, where we will be looking for something ... spacious.”
“Everything flyable will have a restraint code to prevent theft,” Anakin pointed out, looking over Ferus’s shoulder as the collar snapped open and clattered to the floor.
“Not after you deactivate it,” Evinn said. She tossed Ryn a spare blaster. “Let’s move, people.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
The grating, luckily for them, was not welded in place. It was affixed with four screws, one of which was cross-threaded and took some time.
“We won’t be able to screw it back into place after ourselves,” Ryn observed, feeling a perverse need to bring up everything they couldn’t do anything about. “They’ll know where we’ve gone.”
Anakin shot her a quick glare. “Thank you. Do you have a better idea, or are you just here to criticize?”
Ryn smiled dreamily at him, forgetting for a moment to fight the effects of the tranquilizer. “I’m just here to criticize,” she conceded cheerfully. “I’m a killjoy. Everyone says so.”
Anakin gave her a wary look as she stepped closer. “Who’s everyone? What -- Ryn, what are you doing?” He gasped the last question, distracted as Ryn’s tongue swept into the hollow behind his ear, waking nerve endings and making them beg for more. He shuddered hard with pleasure, and Ryn licked again, working her way down his neck, tasting salt and sweat and Anakin.
She whimpered when he pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length. “You are not yourself,” he told her.
Ryn thought that might be good news, depending. “Who am I, then?”
Anakin shook his head, his thumbs on her shoulders stroking the outer ends of her collarbone, and Ryn shivered, wanting more. “Ryn,” he said, and Ryn blinked at him, momentarily confused. Hadn’t he just said she wasn’t Ryn? “Listen to me. You were shot by a tranquilizer dart and it is making you do things you wouldn’t normally do.” I wouldn’t? Ryn thought. What was I thinking? “But you have to fight it,” Anakin went on, the sheer burning desperation in his voice dragging her back, because she couldn’t let him sound like that. “I need you, Ryn, you have to fight it.”
Ryn really didn’t want to. If there was one thing she was clear on, it was that she wanted more of Anakin and less of their current reality. Except, as far as reality went ... Anakin really needed her to focus, because they were both in real danger.
He looked at her, waiting, his eyes full of warmth and trust and encouragement, and Ryn huffed out a breath and tried hard to focus.
“Right,” she managed after a couple of tries. “How are those screws coming, then?”
Anakin dropped his hands from her shoulders and reached for the grating with a relieved smile. “Last one,” he assured her. “We’ll be out of here in no time.”
It was a little unclear whether Ziro’s ventilation ducts were going to be a big improvement over Ziro’s holding cell, but Ryn decided that saying so fell under the category of Unhelpful Remarks. So she just nodded and stood still, trying not to do anything else loopy while she waited for him to finish.
Ryn didn’t have her hands free for climbing, so Anakin pulled himself up first and then reached down to catch Ryn’s wrists and haul her up after him. Even without the Force, he made it look easy, and Ryn wanted to point out that this was irresistibly attractive, but she was feeling a sort of muted embarrassment about that whole licking business, so instead she drained as much of the lust out of her voice as she could and said, “Thanks.”
She must have sounded a little off, because Anakin frowned at her. “Don’t mention it.”
Even if I really want to? Ryn thought, but she let it go and did her best to crawl quietly after him down the shaft. With her wrists bound in rigid metal, it wasn’t easy.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, the sound echoing faintly.
“Somewhere we won’t be found until I can get these things off us,” Anakin whispered back. He sounded less patient than usual.
“No, wait a minute,” Ryn said anyway, stopping because she needed all her energy to think. “Didn’t you say we were next to the slave quarters, before?”
Anakin flinched. “Not out loud, I didn’t.”
“Sorry,” Ryn said, because she knew he hated it when she read his mind, even by accident. “But if you’re right, then we might be able to get some help there.”
Anakin twisted to look back at her in the confined space. “I thought we were here to help them.”
“Which we’ll be able to do much better once we’re out of restraints,” Ryn said. “Come on, Anakin. It’s our best shot.”
She wondered if Anakin realized that he was making a faint but distinct growling noise.
“Okay, fine,” he said finally, and beneath the obvious frustration Ryn could feel something bleak and awful, like a black hole forming inside him. Ryn wanted to comfort him somehow, but there was really nothing she could say. Tatooine loomed over them both, a vast and ominous cloud that could have blocked even that planet’s two suns. Like a storm of crows, Ryn thought, remembering a line of poetry from home. So in the end she just reached forward and squeezed Anakin’s ankle, the only thing she could really reach in the ventilation shaft.
“We’ll be all right,” she whispered, although she had precious little evidence in support of her assertion. “We’ve got each other.”
“Yeah,” Anakin said roughly. “Back up.”
So Ryn scooted backwards on her hands and knees, easing herself over the hole they’d just come through, and Anakin followed her, until Ryn crossed the next grate -- very, very carefully. Hardly daring to breathe, she whispered, “This is it. We’re over the next room now.”
Anakin was very still for a few seconds. Ryn could feel him concentrating, trying futilely to reach the Force. Finally, he said, “Any guards?”
“I don’t think,” Ryn breathed. “They all feel ... the same.” Tired and frightened and hopeless. She didn’t think Anakin needed the description; he already knew.
“Let me,” he whispered, and Ryn backed up again so that he could cross the grating and look down through the metal grid.
She heard him tap quietly a few times, and the there was some shuffling down below and a voice said, “There’s someone in the vent!”
“That’s Cam,” Ryn whispered to Anakin, recognizing the voice and the feel of the boy’s mind.
“Cam,” Anakin said softly, and Ryn felt the boy’s surprise, “I’m Anakin Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”
“You’re who?” Cam said, and Ryn smothered a snort.
“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” Anakin repeated, sounding more impatient than usual. “I’m here with Ryn Orun, and --”
“Ryn Orun!” Cam exclaimed. “Where is she?”
Ryn tried not to laugh at Anakin’s frustration. “I’m here, Cam. Try to do what he says.”
She heard Anakin puff out his breath in exasperation. “Thank you. Cam, I need you to find somebody to unscrew this grate so we can get down, all right?”
“Um.” Cam’s uncertainty was sharp against Ryn’s mind. “Okay.”
Movement below, a low murmur of voices. Then Anakin said, “I don’t think you -- oh.”
Ryn bit back an impatient desire to demand to see. There was no rational reason for her to be at the grate instead of Anakin; she just liked being in control. You’ve really got to get over that, she told herself. But then something shifted and sharpened in her senses, and ...
“Someone’s coming,” she told Anakin.
“Get down,” he hissed to whoever was on the other side of that grate.
There was a thud, and then a click, not quite so close, and Evinne’s voice said, “What the hell?”
“Evinne!” Cam gasped, and then: “Who are you?”
“My name is Ferus Olin,” said a newly familiar voice. Ryn felt him coming closer. “Anakin.” He sounded rather pained. “What are you doing in the ventilation system?”
Anakin drew breath for an angry retort, and Ryn reached out to grab his ankle. “Anakin,” she whispered, not sure whether it was a warning or a plea.
He wrenched his neck to glance over his shoulder at her, face set and stormy and Ryn gave him a tiny shrug. Behave, she mouthed.
For a split second she thought Anakin was going to argue the point. But then something softened in his eyes, and he turned back to the grate. “We got captured before we could mount a rescue,” he told Ferus, which wasn’t quite true, because only Ryn had really gotten captured. Anakin had surrendered, rather than let her be killed.
“Ryn’s with you?” Ferus asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Back up. I’m going to cut you out.”
“There are screws --” Anakin began.
“I think we might be on a schedule.”
Ryn closed her eyes. “Do I want to know?”
“If we do this right, you’ll never need to,” Ferus promised her.
That wasn’t terribly reassuring.
Anakin backed away from the opening and a lightsaber speared through the grate, making short work of the rusting metal.
Anakin started toward the opening, then stopped and pulled off his poncho, awkward in the confines of the narrow shaft, and passed it to Ryn. “Here. Put this under you when you scoot over the edge, so you don’t burn.”
Ryn glanced at the heated edges of metal. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” He crawled forward without waiting for her protest. “I’m not the one wandering the bowels of Coruscant half-naked.”
Ryn snorted, but she didn’t argue. Instead she eased forward and watched as Anakin descended, bracing his hands on the walls and lowering himself by tension, so carefully that he barely brushed the hot edges of the hole. Ryn wasn’t sure she had the upper body strength to pull off that move, even if she’d had her hands free. So she concentrated on arranging his poncho to minimize her skin’s contact with the edges of what used to be the grate. By the time she slid into Anakin’s waiting arms, she had a couple of burns that would need to be smeared with bacta later, but she’d managed to hold in her automatic shrieks and the pain was doing an amazingly good job of burning through the fog left by the tranquilizer.
She grunted as he set her on her feet, and for just a second the galaxy faded away as Anakin held onto her waist and stared into her eyes. “Are you all right?”
Take me now. “Yeah,” Ryn answered breathlessly. “I’m fine.”
Someone cleared a throat, dragging them back to reality, and Anakin dropped his hands and stepped back with a quick, furtive glance at Ferus.
“You have a pretty interesting definition of rescue,” Cam observed, surveying her with his arms folded. “And who’s this guy?” He pointed his chin at Anakin.
“Anakin is ... a friend,” Ryn said. “He agreed to help me, but then I got myself captured and he ... came along.”
“Besides,” Evinne said to Cam, “you’re in no position to complain.”
Ryn nodded, instantly felt dizzy, and swayed, clutching at Anakin’s arm for support.
Ferus shot her a curious look. “Is she drunk?” he asked Anakin.
“No,” Anakin said, “but they hit her with a tranq dart.”
“It’s wearing off,” Ryn said, but they didn’t look convinced.
“Look, we have a problem,” Cam said to Evinne. “They took Nesaala and Hirtai away. We have to get to them somehow.”
This pronouncement was met with grave silence, except by Ferus. “Who are Nesaala and Hirtai?”
“Two of the Twi’lek women who were captured with Cam,” Evinne said, glancing at Ferus, who re-ignite his lightsaber with a repressed sigh and sliced through Ryn’s manacles. He hesitated, eying Anakin’s collar, and was met with a fierce scowl.
“Don’t even think about it,” Anakin warned him, and Evinne snorted as Ferus snapped off his lightsaber and stepped stiffly back.
“You mentioned that you were separated,” Ryn said, ignoring them to focus on Cam. “Any idea where they were taken?”
“Same place I met you, probably,” Cam answered. “The same guy came for them, anyway. But I’m guessing you don’t have somebody on the inside any more?”
Ryn shook her head, looking at Evinne, who made a face. “Good guess,” the older girl said unhappily.
“Then we have to get over there right now,” Cam said urgently. “Before ... anything happens to them.”
“It wouldn’t be anything that hasn’t happened to them before,” Evinne said, sounding grim.
“That doesn’t mean we should let it happen again,” Cam insisted.
“Wait a minute,” Anakin said. “We can’t just leave all these people.” His gesture encompassed the entire slave quarters.
“Are you kidding?” Evinne asked him, looking harried. “Ziro must have close to a hundred slaves. If he’s holding even a quarter of them here, that’s --”
“We’re not here to stage a coup,” Ferus put in. He was trying to sound calm, but Ryn could feel his tension.
She glanced around the dismal group gathered in the slave quarters -- maybe fifteen miserable souls in all. “Well,” she said quietly, “maybe we should be.”
“We’re not equipped,” Evinne began, but Cam interrupted her.
“The new guy is right,” he said, indicating Anakin with a twitch of his thumb. “Besides, these people can help us. They know the way around.”
Evinne stared at him for a long moment, then finally threw up her hands. “Oh, hell, then. Ferus, see if the Force won’t open that stanging collar. And we’re going to need to deactivate these AEDs somehow. I wonder --”
A young Twi’lek female, maybe about Evinne’s own age, took a couple of timid steps forward. “Excuse me, Madam. I just - if we had a control wand, we could use it to deactivate all the AEDs, couldn’t we?”
“Yes,” Evinne said, giving her a sharp look.
“Well I, I mean, they keep all that stuff in the treatment center, in case there’s damage, or if they need to do a health inspection. They’re all set to the same frequency, and --”
“Enough,” Evinne said. “You could find this treatment area?”
“Oh, yes, Madam.”
“What’s your name?”
“Marath, Madam.”
“Stop calling me that,” Evinne said. “Ryn. You and Ferus take Marath and go get that control wand. Then come and find us in the transport bay, where we will be looking for something ... spacious.”
“Everything flyable will have a restraint code to prevent theft,” Anakin pointed out, looking over Ferus’s shoulder as the collar snapped open and clattered to the floor.
“Not after you deactivate it,” Evinn said. She tossed Ryn a spare blaster. “Let’s move, people.”