I Ain't in This for Your Revolution, part one
Title: I Ain't in This for Your Revolution, or A Fever That Made the Kessel Run in Less Than Twelve Parsecs
Rating: PG-13. ish.
Pairings: Ryan/Brendon centric, with hints of Pete/Patrick and Spencer/Han Solo. I mean what?
Summary: Captain Smith and his crew (Jon, Ryan) owe Jabba the Hutt a lot of money. They run all over the galaxy trying to earn it, picking up Brendon along the way. Cameos by the brothers Way, half of Fall Out Boy, Gabe Saporta, William Beckett. Bob Bryar and Greta Salpeter, depending on how you look at it. 21,413 words of Star Wars AU, originally intended for bandombigbang. Enormous thanks to heartequals and hatoyona.
The job is bad news from the start, but it’s damn good money and Spencer’s crew have a hell of a debt to pay.
Still though, the only thing Spencer hates more than doing jobs for Jabba is doing jobs for the Empire, and the closer they get to Alderaan the more he thinks this is a bad idea.
“This is a bad idea,” he says, sliding into the chair next to Ryan.
Ryan, sensing the onset of a serious discussion, switches on the autopilot and turns to look at Spencer. “You keep saying that.”
The job is bad news from the start, but it’s damn good money and Spencer’s crew have a hell of a debt to pay.
Still though, the only thing Spencer hates more than doing jobs for Jabba is doing jobs for the Empire, and the closer they get to Alderaan the more he thinks this is a bad idea.
“This is a bad idea,” he says, sliding into the chair next to Ryan.
Ryan, sensing the onset of a serious discussion, switches on the autopilot and turns to look at Spencer. “You keep saying that.”
Spencer shrugs. “We’re not exactly on great terms with the Empire,” he reminds Ryan. “For all we know, we’ll be arrested when we show up to collect our reward.”
“It’s possible,” Ryan agrees. “But if they’re offering this much for one guy they probably have their hands full as is.”
“Probably,” Spencer admits.
Ryan regards Spencer thoughtfully. “If you’re that worried,” he says, “we don’t have to do it. We haven’t agreed to anything yet. If we back out, no one but the three of us will ever know we were even involved.”
Spencer shakes his head. He doesn’t have to say why; they both know that this might be their last chance to pay back Jabba before he starts sending bounty hunters after them. “No,” says Spencer. “We’ll do it. But just this once. I don’t like the idea of doing the Emperor’s dirty work.”
“Me neither,” Ryan says gravely. He glances out at the sky and then back at Spencer. “We’ll be there in a few hours,” he tells Spencer. “You should try and get some sleep before we land.”
“Yeah, alright. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Ryan smiles and turns back to the controls, and Spencer watches him fly for a minute or two before he leaves. They’ve been working together for years now, but Spencer never ceases to be impressed by the affection Ryan has for the beat-up hunk of junk that is their beloved Fever.
They’re still an hour out when Jon lays a hand warm and heavy on Spencer’s shoulder and says, “I found out where our target’s staying.”
“Already?”
Jon shrugs. “You know how Alderaan is,” he answers, and he has a point. Alderaan is a peaceful, trusting sort of place; the people there rarely bother keeping secrets. They rarely have secrets to keep.
Jon’s tracked their target to a room at the Regency: a classy, popular hotel in Aldera, the planet’s capital. Spencer is less surprised by the ease with which they find the target than he is by their target’s choice of lodging. “Huh,” he says. “Doesn’t really seem like he’s trying that hard to stay hidden.”
“Could just be a misguided strategy,” Jon says. “You know, hiding in plain sight?” But it’s clear from his voice that he doesn’t really believe it.
“Or he might not be worried about anyone coming after him,” says Ryan. Which is both more likely and very, very, worrisome.
Spencer sighs, but they’ve come this far and he’s got his mind made up. “We’ll just have to be careful.”
“Aww, Spence,” Jon says. “Aren’t we always?”
As the pilot, Ryan doesn’t always come with Spencer and Jon for recon and retrieval. This time, though, their target has a price on his head so big that he has to be dangerous: which means they have take extra precautions, and for that they need Ryan. Besides, the Fever doesn’t need any repairs for once and Spencer doesn’t trust Ryan to stay in a port city by himself without getting into trouble. They’ve played that game before and it has only ever ended in disaster.
The plan’s simple enough. Ryan’s the only one who was raised in some sort of civilized society, so he’ll go in first and scout the place out. “There’s some kind of convention going on there right now,” Jon reports, “so it should be easy enough for you to wander around checking the place out without making anybody suspicious.”
Ryan nods. “Am I booking a room?”
Spencer grudgingly admits that it’s probably a good idea. Expensive though it may be, they don’t want to give anyone a reason to suspect Ryan of, well, anything. “The target’s staying in room 893,” Jon says, “so something in that part of the hotel would be ideal.”
Spencer scrounges up enough cash to cover the hotel room and hands it to Ryan, along with a photo of the target and all the personal information the Empire has issued about him.
Ryan reads it over, looking troubled. “He’s just a kid,” he says, surprised. “What kind of nineteen-year-old is wanted for high treason?”
“Brendon Urie,” Spencer answers, “apparently.”
Being high-strung is part of what makes Spencer a good captain, but it does mean he nearly has a heart attack when Ryan’s voice finally sounds on his comlink. Jon gives him an amused look but doesn’t say anything because Ryan is describing the hotel and this is important.
His impeccably detailed description takes nearly twenty minutes. “Hang on a minute, Ryan,” Spencer tells him when he’s finished, and turns to Jon.
“What are you thinking?” Jon asks.
“Balcony,” he says. “We can get to his room easy enough, but the only way I can see for getting him out quietly is flying him out.”
“In that case, we’ll have to wait ‘til dark. What should I tell Ryan?”
Spencer checks to make sure both of his blasters are in their holsters. “I’m going to go rent us an airspeeder,” he says. “I’m going to need Ryan to wait around at the hotel. We call him at sunset and meet him at his room. From there, you and I get the target, and Ryan meets us at the balcony with the speeder.”
Jon nods and Spencer hands him the comlink. Jon switches it on. “Ryan?”
Amazingly, everything goes according to plan. Even so, Spencer doesn’t really breathe again until they’re safely back on the Fever leaving Alderaan behind.
“We are awesome,” Jon says. “We are a lean, mean, bounty-hunting machine.”
“That was…” Spencer trails off, looking for the right words. “That was way too easy.”
Jon stares at him. “Wait, what? Did you just-oh my god, Spencer Smith. I hate you. Why are you never happy with anything?”
“Captain,” Spencer reminds him. “It’s part of the job description.”
* * *
“Go to sleep, Ryan.”
Ryan, hunched over the controls, considers arguing. But Spencer is using his Captain Voice, and you do not argue with Spencer when he is using his Captain Voice.
“You gonna fly,” Ryan begins, only to be interrupted by a yawn. “Or do you want me to put on the autopilot?”
“At the moment, I want you to go to bed. I need my pilot alert, which means well rested, which means I will be flying the plane and you will stop asking questions.”
“Okay, okay,” Ryan grumbles, but Spencer has a point.
When he finally wakes up, twelve hours later, Jon is at the controls and Spencer is resting. “I’m fine,” Jon says when Ryan offers to take over. “It’s on auto anyway.”
Ryan nods, stifling a yawn. “I’m getting breakfast, you want any?”
“I’m good,” he replies. “While you’re at it, though, can you go feed the captive?”
It never stops being weird, this terminology they force themselves to use: “target,” “captive,” all of it. But it’s easy to get attached, especially in cases like these when they’re working for someone they dislike. Ryan usually tries not to even learn names.
The room they’re keeping Urie in is fairly comfortable; it doubles as a bedroom when they take on passengers. He’s sitting on the bed when Ryan comes in, and though he doesn’t look happy to see Ryan his eyes light up at the sight of food. Ryan hands him one of the bowls he’s carrying.
Urie looks like he’s going to say anything, but at that moment Jon’s voice sounds over the intercom. “Ryan,” he says, “I need you in the cockpit five minutes ago.”
“Shit shit shit,” Ryan says, taking the controls. “How the hell did this happen?”
“Auto-pilot must be broken,” Jon says. He’s sitting in the co-pilot chair, though he looks too pale and panicked to be of any help.
“Clearly,” Ryan says, grimacing as a large chunk of rock slams into the side of the Fever.
“What the hell is going on?” Spencer asks, still blinking sleep from his eyes.
“Asteroid field,” Jon tells him.
“How the hell did we-”
“The auto-pilot-”
“Can you take this conversation elsewhere?” Ryan asks, voice rather more shrill than usual. “I sort of need to concentrate.”
His shipmates know better than to argue. They don’t want to get pulverized by asteroids anymore than Ryan does.
Ryan tightens his grip on the controls and focuses every last neuron on flying. “Come on,” he mutters. “Come on, baby, hold together-”
The Fever, though, can only do so much, even with Ryan’s fail-safe coaxing. He regrets sending Jon and Spencer away about two minutes later, when a flashing red light informs him that the deflector shield has just failed. “You have got to be kidding me,” he mutters, trying to find the button for the intercom without taking either hand off the controls or either eye off the large chunks of rock hurtling toward his ship.
“Need help?”
“Yeah,” Ryan mutters, banking sharply and wincing. “Our shield generator just took a pretty nasty hit. We’re running without a particle shield and I need somebody to go start the backup.”
“Just tell me where to go and what to do.”
Ryan realizes, belatedly, that he is not speaking to Spencer or Jon and by simple process of elimination their captive has escaped. Normally he would be freaking out about this, but there are more pressing matters at hand. “Okay,” he says, “listen very carefully because there may not be time for a second try.”
“Well done,” Jon says, still pale and tightlipped as they leave the asteroid field behind at last.
Ryan nods. “We’re going to need to stop for repairs soon, though.”
“For the auto-pilot?” asks Spencer. “I think that can wait.”
“No, not the auto-pilot. We lost our main shield generator to an asteroid.”
Spencer turns somewhat green. “Ryan,” he says levelly, “did you just navigate that without a particle shield?”
“Oh, hell no. I had Urie set up the backup.”
“You what? You let him out?”
“No, I did not let him out,” Ryan says, annoyed. Contrary to popular belief, he’s not completely unprofessional. He’s about to explain when Brendon appears and saves him the trouble.
Spencer rounds on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Brendon shrugs. “I felt the turbulence,” he says. “I thought you might need help.”
Spencer looks like he’s going to start yelling, but Jon lays a hand on his shoulder that’s both comforting and warning.
“We did,” Jon says. “Thanks.”
Spencer says nothing for a long while. “This job just keeps getting weirder.”
Ryan visits Urie later, after they’ve changed course for Tatooine. Spencer gives him a disapproving glare as he unlocks the door, but Ryan ignores it; they’d probably be dead if it weren’t for their captive, and Ryan doesn’t like the way they said thank you and put him right back in his room. It seems wrong-not to mention ungrateful.
Urie’s lying on his back in bed staring at the ceiling. He sits up when Ryan walks in, looking apprehensive. “Don’t worry,” Ryan says. “I just came by to check in.”
Brendon nods but doesn’t respond, leaving Ryan to clumsily fill the silence. “Thanks for, you know. The shield.”
Brendon shrugs. “Hey,” he says. “If the ship went down, I’d go down too.”
His answer lacks the traditional Rebellion altruism, which Ryan appreciates. “Fair enough,” he says, surprising himself with a smile. There’s another silence, which is probably Ryan’s cue to leave. He ignores it; instead, he asks, “So what were you doing in the Regency?”
Ryan’s been wondering about that since the beginning, and the successful capture hasn’t made the whole thing any less troublesome. Brendon has to be deeply involved with the Rebellion for the price on his head, which means he shouldn’t have been so easy to capture. He’s been entirely too cooperative from day one. And then he helped repair the ship, so all selfish excuses aside he’s helping them turn him in. Which is insane.
Brendon doesn’t clear any of that up, though. “It’s a nice hotel,” he answers. “I was in the area.”
“You must have known the Empire was looking for you, though,” Ryan insists, an almost involuntary protest. “You didn’t even hide.”
“I’ve done my part,” Brendon says, shrugging again. “I did it well. I’m good at what I do, Ryan, but I’d be a terrible fugitive. I’d never make it. So why bother?”
Spencer calls for Ryan over the intercom then, and he leaves Brendon without another word. He reports to the cockpit, still trying to decide which is weirder: Brendon’s answer or the fact that their captive just called him by his first name.
Brendon just won’t stay in his room after that, which is not much of a surprise. More surprising is that, after the initial shock wears off, Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Spencer, who is the dictionary definition of a responsible captain, who always follows his own rules, who never even mentions their captives most of the time. If Ryan didn’t know any better, he’d say Spencer was losing his touch.
They’re eating dinner the day after the asteroid incident-well, “dinner” is really just a guess, it’s hard to keep track of mealtimes during space travel-when Jon says, “I think we should invite Brendon.”
It’s yet another sign of how unprofessional things have gotten lately that no one even blinks to hear Jon say “Brendon” when he ought to be saying “the captive.”
“Hmm,” says Spencer.
Ryan looks from Spencer to Jon and back to Spencer. “There can’t be any harm in it,” he says. “He’s not even in his cell half the time anyway.”
Spencer gives him a tired, sympathetic look, like a parent with a very dull child. “This is true,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“I really don’t think he’s dangerous-”
“That’s not what I mean, Ryan. Just-both of you.” He looks at Jon. “Don’t forget we have to turn this kid in. To the Empire.”
“I know,” says Jon.
“We’re probably sending him to his death,” Spencer adds, this time to Ryan.
Ryan looks down at his plate. “I know.”
* * *
They see an Imperial star destroyer about twenty-four hours into the trip to Mos Eisley, and Spencer tells Ryan to avoid it more out of habit than anything else. Ryan gives him an odd look. “Don’t we have business with them?” he asks.
Spencer glances into the main hold, where Jon and Brendon are having an animated discussion over the last of the coffee. “It can wait,” he tells Ryan, and it might be his imagination but he thinks Ryan looks relieved.
The problem, Spencer knows, is that Brendon is one of the most likeable people he’s ever met. He’s a good kid. He can be irritating at times, but he’s friendly and charismatic in a way that you really wouldn’t expect a captive to be. In fact, he doesn’t act like a captive at all. Moping, Spencer thinks. There ought to be more moping.
It occurs to him, sometime after the speck that is Tatooine first becomes visible, that Brendon might be plotting his escape. Maybe he’s nonchalant and unworried because he knows he’ll be gone before they can turn him in. He’s probably capable of it.
Spencer considers this for a few hours, pacing the Fever, his opinion changing moment by moment. He’s finally made up his mind to put Brendon back into confinement when he looks into the cockpit. Ryan and Brendon are in there, talking. A dim green light tells Spencer that the auto-pilot’s on, and he realizes that not only is Ryan ignoring his ship, but he’s laughing.
And really, if he makes Ryan laugh, how bad can he be?
They land in Mos Eisley early in the morning, which is good because it’s not the safest place in the dark. Not the safest place in general, really, but safety and bounty hunting don’t really go together. Spencer just makes sure they’re all heavily armed, with the obvious exception of Brendon.
“You should stay on the Fever,” Spencer tells him for about the thousandth time.
“Not happening,” says Brendon. “You can lock me up if you want, but you know I’ll get out.”
Spencer does know, and it gives him an excuse not to admit that he’d really rather not go back to treating Brendon like a prisoner. Even though that’s what he is. “Fine,” he says. “You’ll go with Ryan to get the parts he needs to repair the ship.”
“And I’d advise keeping close to him,” Jon adds. “Mos Eisley isn’t the kind of place you want to get lost in. Especially without a blaster.”
“Right,” says Brendon. He almost looks nervous.
They part soon thereafter; Brendon and Ryan go one way to shop for parts, Jon goes the other to restock their food stores. Spencer makes his way to Chalmun’s Cantina in search of news or perhaps their next job. It’s good form to make an appearance there every once in a while regardless, both so you can keep tabs on the state of the galaxy and so people won’t forget who you are. In a business like this, reputation is important.
There are some familiar faces; a couple people even give Spencer a nod of greeting. He’s leaning against the bar, about to order, when he feels a sharp tap on his shoulder. He has his blaster drawn and his finger on the trigger before he’s had time to register who he’s aiming at.
He lowers his blaster immediately. “Han.”
Han Solo grins, though there’s something wary in his eyes that Spencer’s never seen before. “You gonna shoot me, Smith?”
“No.” Spencer slips the blaster back into its holster. “No, of course not.”
Han, strangely, looks relieved. “I didn’t think so,” he says, “but when you drew on me I thought maybe you were sent by Jabba.”
“Jabba?”
But a couple other patrons are looking curious, so Han shakes his head and nods toward a more secluded table. “Come sit, I’ll tell you all about it.”
Spencer follows him over and sits down on the side opposite Chewbacca. “Chewie,” he says.
The wookiee growls out something that could either be a threat or a greeting, Spencer really can’t tell. He suspects the former; Chewbacca’s never really liked him much.
“So what’s this about Jabba?” Spencer asks.
Han sighs. “I owe him some money,” he begins.
“You too?”
Han looks a little shocked. “What the hell do you owe him for?”
Spencer didn’t explain the debt to Han at the time and he has no inclination to do so now. “Complications with the Fever,” he answers tersely. Han knows better than to ask for details.
“Huh,” he says, the wariness flaring up again as he looks at Spencer. “You’re sure Jabba didn’t send you?”
“Positive,” Spencer tells him. “Look, I don’t care what kind of a price that worm’s put on your head. I’m not going to turn you in. You know I won’t.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t mean to be paranoid, but-”
“Yeah, I know. You can’t be too careful.”
Han Solo smiles. “Hey,” he says after a minute. “Have I shown you my new ship?”
They walk out through the dusty Mos Eisley streets, leaving Chewie behind in the cantina. They haven’t seen each other for years, and their last parting hadn’t been pleasant. Now, walking together and catching up like nothing more but old friends, Spencer can almost forget that. It’s good to see Han again.
They go to one of the city’s many docking bays and Han stops, grinning at Spencer. “Isn’t she something?”
“Han,” says Spencer, looking up at the ship. She’s gray and ugly, but there’s a certain charm in it and besides, Spencer’s seen this thing in action. She’s a good ship. “Han,” he says again, “isn’t this Lando’s?”
“Used to be. Kind of a long story.” He grins. “Come on, I’ll take you for a spin.”
Spencer considers it, briefly. “I can’t,” he says. “I really better be getting back.”
Han’s smile vanishes. “You still flying around with that Ryan kid?” Spencer nods. “See, I’ll never understand that,” Han says. “He’s a decent pilot, sure, but he’s nothing special.”
Spencer sighs impatiently. “Look, it’s been good seeing you,” he says. “Don’t ruin it.”
“Alright, alright,” says Han. Spencer can hear him forcing the bitterness out of his voice. Han’s the kind of guy who never really forgives. “Take care, kid. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Same to you,” Spencer says. Han hugs him, tight and a little awkward, and goes back toward the cantina. Spencer watches him go and calls up Jon on the comlink.
* * *
Mos Eisley is crawling with stormtroopers. Ryan hates stormtroopers at the best of times, same as any other self-respecting sentient being this side of Coruscant. And with Brendon present, this is far from the best of times. The hour it takes Brendon and Ryan to buy all the parts they need is one of the most stressful of Ryan’s life.
They even get stopped, once. Ryan nearly has an aneurism but the stormtrooper just asks if they know anything about a couple of droids the Empire’s looking for.
“No,” Ryan says, trying to step in front of Brendon without looking like he’s trying to hide something. The stormtrooper is either uninformed or simply preoccupied because he doesn’t look twice” just wanders off to interrogate a shopkeeper.
Ryan hears Brendon’s breath come out all at once and he turns to look. “That was probably the scariest moment of my life,” Brendon says. His eyes are wide and a little feral with recent fear. Ryan squeezes his shoulder in a way he hopes is comforting.
“We’ll be okay,” he says. He tries not to wonder how he’s ever going to hand Brendon over to the Empire.
Maybe Spencer will take care of it.
Ryan has this one shop he always goes to, one shop he comes to Mos Eisley for, really. Hell, it’s the only thing that’ll get him back on this miserable planet, these days. Which is saying something, because if there’s a bright center of the universe, Tatooine is the planet that it’s farthest from. Mos Eisley has its own charms, in a seedy, sinister way, but it’s not somewhere you go just for kicks. Not with Ryan’s history, especially.
But the simple truth of the matter is that no one else has quite the selection, expertise, or reliability that the Way brothers do. And so that’s who Ryan goes to.
The older Way’s behind the counter when they walk in, tinkering with a droid and muttering under his breath. He looks up and grins when he sees Ryan. “Ross,” he says, putting down the screwdriver to shake Ryan’s hand. “It’s been a while.”
“Good to see you, Gerard,” Ryan replies. He doesn’t introduce Brendon, and Gerard’s lived in Mos Eisley long enough not to ask.
“So what’s up? That ship of yours still holding together?”
“She’s doing alright,” says Ryan. “The main shield generator’s fucked, though, you have anything for that?”
Gerard does; it takes some searching but he has all the parts Ryan needs, and his prices are fair so the whole thing goes pretty easily. “You don’t have anything for a faulty auto-pilot, do you?” Ryan asks as an afterthought.
Gerard considers this for a minute. “No,” he says finally. “Auto-pilots, you have to replace ‘em or do repairs onboard. I can’t do nothing for you from here. It’s probably fixable, though. I can have Mikey take a look at it for you if you want.”
“Maybe,” says Ryan. “You know Spencer, he might want to get going as soon as we get back. But I’ll see.”
Gerard nods. “Sure. Well, I’ll see you again sooner or later.”
They shake hands again and Ryan leads Brendon back outside.
Sure enough, Spencer says they don’t have time to get the auto-pilot fixed on this visit. “Besides,” he points out, “we shouldn’t be parading Brendon around anymore than we have to. Don’t want the Imperial soldiers getting the wrong idea.”
“Right,” Ryan says, and heads for the cockpit.
Brendon comes with him, which is weird because Ryan’s steering the Fever in the direction of Coruscant. Brendon doesn’t seem too bothered by it, which is weirder. “I like Coruscant,” he says brightly, watching Ryan plug the coordinates into the ship’s computer. “I haven’t been there in years.”
“You’ve got a while to wait,” Ryan tells him. “It’s a bit of a journey.”
Brendon shrugs. He’s quiet for a few minutes, letting Ryan focus on getting the Fever set in the right direction and at the right speed. It’s a long way to go and Ryan wants this fuel to last, so this is even more important than usual. Finally he sits back, dropping his hands in his lap, and sighs.
“I’ve never been,” he says.
Brendon looks confused for a second, but then he catches on and his jaw drops. “You’ve never been to Coruscant?” he asks. “Seriously? But it’s like…”
“I know,” Ryan says. “My parents used to go all the time, on business, but I was always to young and then I was…with Spencer. And you know, we’re not big fans of the Empire, and they’re not too fond of us, so…”
“Sure,” Brendon says, nodding. And then, “You’ve been flying with Spencer for a long time, huh?”
Ryan reaches out to adjust their bearing slightly. “Not so long,” he answers. “I met Spencer back on Tatooine, actually. We were both about fifteen. He was already on a ship, working with this crazy old smuggler, Han Solo. I was just trying to get back on my feet, working long hours for no pay for Jabba the Hutt. Wasn’t a great time in my life, really.
“So I mean, we’ve known each other for a good six, seven years now. But we didn’t start flying together ‘til about two years ago, when Spencer got his own ship.”
“And he hired you as a pilot?”
“Had to, really,” Ryan says, smiling. He pats the console fondly. “This baby won’t have nobody else.”
“She’s yours?”
“No, no, she’s not mine. It’s…complicated.” Ryan stops, thinks for a minute. The details of how he got here are dangerous memories, the kind you don’t talk about unless you have to. Finally he looks at Brendon and says, “I’m hers, really.”
Not having the auto-pilot is tricky, because even at meals someone has to be at the helm. They take it in shifts, everyone but Brendon taking turns at the controls. It’s too bad they’re not eating together anymore, but the novelty of having some fresh food overshadows that. “Vegetables,” Ryan sighs, setting his plate down on the table. “I don’t even remember what these taste like.”
Brendon laughs at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this excited about leafy greens,” he says.
“Dried food and nutrient pastes get boring pretty quick,” Ryan answers. “Trust me.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Jon’s done well; they’re low on funds, as always, but this is some quality stuff. There’s bread as well, and rice, and it’s a small meal but it puts their normal rations to shame. “God,” Ryan breathes, closing his eyes. “We should seriously make port more often.”
“You’re insane,” Brendon observes. He says it like it’s a new realization for him, one that’s both surprising and delightful. The note of fondness in his tone doesn’t escape Ryan’s notice, either.
“Maybe,” says Ryan. He meets Brendon’s eyes across the table. “Living on a ship will do that to a person.”
He stands up and goes to clean their plates, but Brendon stops him. “You’re flying next,” he says, taking the plates out of Ryan’s hands. “You should get some sleep.”
“I just slept,” Ryan protests.
“You slept for about four hours,” Brendon replies. “Twelve hours ago.”
Ryan considers telling Brendon about his record-something in the realm of three straight days-but he refrains. “You sound like Spencer,” he grumbles, but Brendon’s right and he goes to his room, curls up under the blankets.
He dreams about Tatooine and the look on Brendon’s face when they ran into the stormtrooper. He doesn’t remember it when he wakes, but the feeling of unease he wakes up with tells him he’s been having nightmares.
It’s his turn in the cockpit, though, and there’s nothing more comforting than that. The Fever doesn’t need much more than hands to keep her steady and minor encouragement at the moment, but something about just being at the controls always calms Ryan’s nerves. Spencer says it’s because Ryan feels closer to the ship in there, which Ryan always says is stupid; it’s a ship, the only difference between being in the hold and being in the cockpit is that in the cockpit you have some semblance of control.
He doesn’t really believe that, though. No matter what he says, the way he sees it, the Fever’s as much a part of the family as him or Jon, or even Spencer.
Brendon shows up halfway through the shift, and as much as Ryan was enjoying the soothing solitude of flying, the smile he gives Brendon is genuine. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” Brendon returns, taking the co-pilot seat. “Sleep well?”
“Not especially,” Ryan admits. He sighs. “All this Imperial business is making me anxious.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s the goddamn Empire,” he says. “Look, I’m not one of your revolutionaries, but that doesn’t mean I like ‘em.”
“Then why are you working for them?”
“Because we fucking need the money, Brendon. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a whole lot of money in idealism.”
The words come out harsh, but Ryan doesn’t apologize. Brendon’s silent for a minute, and Ryan thinks he’s angry, but when he speaks he sounds more thrilled than anything.
“You don’t want to turn me in,” he says, delighted by the revelation.
Ryan makes a face. “No,” he insists, trying to summon some sort of professional indifference. It’s a losing battle. “I’m used to you, is all,” he says, and Brendon laughs.
* * *
They’re three days into the journey to Coruscant when Jon turns to Spencer and asks, “What’s up with Brendon and Ryan, man?”
“What do you mean?” Spencer asks. Not because he doesn’t know, it’s just sort of a reflex.
“Well, I mean, he’s a good kid. Brendon. It sucks that we have to turn him in. I like him. But Brendon and Ryan…you never see one without the other anymore.”
Spencer makes a noncommittal noise. Jon gives him a look. “We’re about halfway to Coruscant,” he says. “Do you think Ryan’s ready for that?”
“No,” Spencer admits, standing up. “No, you’re right.” Fucking hell, he thinks. Ryan goes around being all bitter and aloof for years and Spencer’s glad he’s getting over it, he is. It’s just so inconvenient that it had to be thanks to a fucking captive. He sighs. Typical fucking Ryan.
“Sometimes,” he says, “I think he just does these things to annoy me. I’d better talk to Brendon. I’ll be back.”
Ryan and Brendon are sitting in the main hold. They look up when Spencer walks in. “Ryan,” he says, “could you fly for a while? I know it’s not your shift, but I need a break.”
“Yeah, of course.” Ryan scrambles to his feet, eager as always to be working with his beloved ship, and goes to join Jon in the cockpit. Spencer turns to Brendon.
“So,” he says.
“Everything alright?” Brendon asks.
“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” Spencer says. He can’t help being pleased at the tension that appears in Brendon at those words. At least someone still respects him as captain.
Spencer says, “I’ve noticed you’re getting pretty friendly with my pilot.”
He keeps his tone carefully nonchalant, but Brendon still looks nervous. Smart kid. “I guess,” he answers warily.
“I’m going to need a hell of a lot better answer than that,” Spencer replies, impatient. “Look, Ryan doesn’t get friendly with anyone. And I don’t understand it, but I’m starting to worry about what’s going to happen when we get to Coruscant.”
And then Spencer breaks the one rule he never, ever breaks. He asks what Brendon’s wanted for.
Brendon stares at him for a minute, shocked. He coughs. “I stole, um. I stole some very important plans for the Rebellion.”
“Plans?”
“Technical readouts of the space station they’re building,” Brendon says. He sighs. “Were building, actually, I think it’s supposed to be done now. Something to give us rebels a fighting chance, you know?”
“Where are the plans now? Are they safe?”
“Of course they’re safe,” Brendon says. “I never would have let myself be captured if they weren’t.”
“But where are they?”
Brendon’s voice is suddenly very cold. “I can’t tell you that,” he says.
“You think I’ll tell the Empire?”
“I think they might make you.”
Spencer’s never personally witnessed or experienced torture at the hands of the Empire, but the rumors of it are terrifying. “But not you?”
Brendon gives him a sad smile. “I imagine that’s what they want me for.”
Spencer spends the next two days being angry.
They’re literally mere hours outside of Coruscant when he storms into the cockpit and tells Jon to turn the ship around. “I give up!” he says. “I can’t do it. I am a terrible bounty hunter. I ought to retire. I ought to be shot. We’re going to Cloud City, we can refuel there.” He takes a deep breath and glares down at Jon. “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m not laughing,” Jon answers. “I’m just happy.”
Ryan comes running in, then, freakishly attuned to the Fever’s every move. “What’s going on?”
“We’re not going,” Spencer says.
“What?”
“We’re not going to Coruscant. We’re not turning Brendon in.”
“But we need the money,” Ryan begins. It sounds more than a little halfhearted.
“Some things are more important than money,” Spencer says. He leaves it at that, ambiguous: he could be talking about Brendon’s life, or Ryan’s shaky mental health, or the Rebellion, or any number of things. Ryan just nods, but there’s a softening in his jaw and shoulders that Spencer knows is relief.
“Don’t be stupid,” Brendon says. “You need the money.”
Spencer sighs and crosses his arms. It would be enough to tell Jon or Ryan not to press the matter, but Brendon doesn’t know Spencer well enough to understand this stupid fucking decision and Spencer has to actually reply. “Not that badly we don’t.”
“Spencer.”
“I’m not doing it, Brendon.”
“Spencer,” Brendon repeats. “If it’s not you, it’s the next guy. If you let me go, three days from now I’ll be back on my way here. Different ship, different bounty hunters, same end of story. I at least want the money going to someone I like.”
“Go back,” Spencer replies. “Go rejoin your Rebellion. They still need you.”
“I wish I could,” Brendon says. “But it’s not possible. I wouldn’t even know where to look for them now, and even if I did, it’s too risky. I might bring the Empire to them by mistake.” He shakes his head. “They don’t need me,” he says. “They’d be more upset than anything if I went back now.”
“Well,” says Spencer. “I guess you’ll just have to stay on board.”
Brendon grins and hugs Spencer so violently he nearly falls over. And Spencer is finally sure he’s making the right choice.
* * *
“I’m losing my touch,” Spencer tells Jon the next time they’re in the cockpit together.
Jon turns away from the controls just enough to smile at him. “You don’t sound too upset about it.”
“No,” Spencer admits. “But I feel like I should be. Somebody should be. I mean, we are royally fucked in all sorts of new and exciting ways.”
“Spencer,” Jon says. He pauses, watches Spencer take a deep, slow breath. Jon’s not much older than the other members of the crew, but he’s a lot more experienced and he’s used to having to give advice. Even to the captain.
“Spencer,” he says again, “you’ve had the same debt to Jabba for two years now. We’ve paid some of it, sure, but with interest it really hasn’t changed. We blew one chance to pay it off all in one go. It’s unfortunate, but there will be other chances. There will be other jobs. We’ll ask around in Cloud City. It’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” Spencer echoes.
Jon looks at him for a long moment. Spencer doesn’t often get like this, fragile and unsure. He’s usually the most sane and put-together person on the Fever. But the Jabba thing has put enormous strain on the captain since day one, and the longer their debt stretches on, the more it gets to him.
Ryan tends to be even more of a mess than Spencer, so dealing with the captain’s anxiety tends to fall to Jon. He doesn’t really mind. Plus, he likes to think, he’s pretty good at it.
“You did a good thing, Spencer,” he says. “This is the second time since I’ve known you that you’ve done a good thing even though it’s made your life a hell of a lot more difficult. It won’t be the last.” He looks Spencer very carefully in the eyes. “You’re still an outstanding captain.”
Spencer’s tense and nervous for another few seconds, but when he exhales Jon can see him relax. “Okay,” Spencer says again. “On to Cloud City, then.”
“On to Cloud City,” Jon agrees.
on to part two...
Rating: PG-13. ish.
Pairings: Ryan/Brendon centric, with hints of Pete/Patrick and Spencer/Han Solo. I mean what?
Summary: Captain Smith and his crew (Jon, Ryan) owe Jabba the Hutt a lot of money. They run all over the galaxy trying to earn it, picking up Brendon along the way. Cameos by the brothers Way, half of Fall Out Boy, Gabe Saporta, William Beckett. Bob Bryar and Greta Salpeter, depending on how you look at it. 21,413 words of Star Wars AU, originally intended for bandombigbang. Enormous thanks to heartequals and hatoyona.
The job is bad news from the start, but it’s damn good money and Spencer’s crew have a hell of a debt to pay.
Still though, the only thing Spencer hates more than doing jobs for Jabba is doing jobs for the Empire, and the closer they get to Alderaan the more he thinks this is a bad idea.
“This is a bad idea,” he says, sliding into the chair next to Ryan.
Ryan, sensing the onset of a serious discussion, switches on the autopilot and turns to look at Spencer. “You keep saying that.”
The job is bad news from the start, but it’s damn good money and Spencer’s crew have a hell of a debt to pay.
Still though, the only thing Spencer hates more than doing jobs for Jabba is doing jobs for the Empire, and the closer they get to Alderaan the more he thinks this is a bad idea.
“This is a bad idea,” he says, sliding into the chair next to Ryan.
Ryan, sensing the onset of a serious discussion, switches on the autopilot and turns to look at Spencer. “You keep saying that.”
Spencer shrugs. “We’re not exactly on great terms with the Empire,” he reminds Ryan. “For all we know, we’ll be arrested when we show up to collect our reward.”
“It’s possible,” Ryan agrees. “But if they’re offering this much for one guy they probably have their hands full as is.”
“Probably,” Spencer admits.
Ryan regards Spencer thoughtfully. “If you’re that worried,” he says, “we don’t have to do it. We haven’t agreed to anything yet. If we back out, no one but the three of us will ever know we were even involved.”
Spencer shakes his head. He doesn’t have to say why; they both know that this might be their last chance to pay back Jabba before he starts sending bounty hunters after them. “No,” says Spencer. “We’ll do it. But just this once. I don’t like the idea of doing the Emperor’s dirty work.”
“Me neither,” Ryan says gravely. He glances out at the sky and then back at Spencer. “We’ll be there in a few hours,” he tells Spencer. “You should try and get some sleep before we land.”
“Yeah, alright. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Ryan smiles and turns back to the controls, and Spencer watches him fly for a minute or two before he leaves. They’ve been working together for years now, but Spencer never ceases to be impressed by the affection Ryan has for the beat-up hunk of junk that is their beloved Fever.
They’re still an hour out when Jon lays a hand warm and heavy on Spencer’s shoulder and says, “I found out where our target’s staying.”
“Already?”
Jon shrugs. “You know how Alderaan is,” he answers, and he has a point. Alderaan is a peaceful, trusting sort of place; the people there rarely bother keeping secrets. They rarely have secrets to keep.
Jon’s tracked their target to a room at the Regency: a classy, popular hotel in Aldera, the planet’s capital. Spencer is less surprised by the ease with which they find the target than he is by their target’s choice of lodging. “Huh,” he says. “Doesn’t really seem like he’s trying that hard to stay hidden.”
“Could just be a misguided strategy,” Jon says. “You know, hiding in plain sight?” But it’s clear from his voice that he doesn’t really believe it.
“Or he might not be worried about anyone coming after him,” says Ryan. Which is both more likely and very, very, worrisome.
Spencer sighs, but they’ve come this far and he’s got his mind made up. “We’ll just have to be careful.”
“Aww, Spence,” Jon says. “Aren’t we always?”
As the pilot, Ryan doesn’t always come with Spencer and Jon for recon and retrieval. This time, though, their target has a price on his head so big that he has to be dangerous: which means they have take extra precautions, and for that they need Ryan. Besides, the Fever doesn’t need any repairs for once and Spencer doesn’t trust Ryan to stay in a port city by himself without getting into trouble. They’ve played that game before and it has only ever ended in disaster.
The plan’s simple enough. Ryan’s the only one who was raised in some sort of civilized society, so he’ll go in first and scout the place out. “There’s some kind of convention going on there right now,” Jon reports, “so it should be easy enough for you to wander around checking the place out without making anybody suspicious.”
Ryan nods. “Am I booking a room?”
Spencer grudgingly admits that it’s probably a good idea. Expensive though it may be, they don’t want to give anyone a reason to suspect Ryan of, well, anything. “The target’s staying in room 893,” Jon says, “so something in that part of the hotel would be ideal.”
Spencer scrounges up enough cash to cover the hotel room and hands it to Ryan, along with a photo of the target and all the personal information the Empire has issued about him.
Ryan reads it over, looking troubled. “He’s just a kid,” he says, surprised. “What kind of nineteen-year-old is wanted for high treason?”
“Brendon Urie,” Spencer answers, “apparently.”
Being high-strung is part of what makes Spencer a good captain, but it does mean he nearly has a heart attack when Ryan’s voice finally sounds on his comlink. Jon gives him an amused look but doesn’t say anything because Ryan is describing the hotel and this is important.
His impeccably detailed description takes nearly twenty minutes. “Hang on a minute, Ryan,” Spencer tells him when he’s finished, and turns to Jon.
“What are you thinking?” Jon asks.
“Balcony,” he says. “We can get to his room easy enough, but the only way I can see for getting him out quietly is flying him out.”
“In that case, we’ll have to wait ‘til dark. What should I tell Ryan?”
Spencer checks to make sure both of his blasters are in their holsters. “I’m going to go rent us an airspeeder,” he says. “I’m going to need Ryan to wait around at the hotel. We call him at sunset and meet him at his room. From there, you and I get the target, and Ryan meets us at the balcony with the speeder.”
Jon nods and Spencer hands him the comlink. Jon switches it on. “Ryan?”
Amazingly, everything goes according to plan. Even so, Spencer doesn’t really breathe again until they’re safely back on the Fever leaving Alderaan behind.
“We are awesome,” Jon says. “We are a lean, mean, bounty-hunting machine.”
“That was…” Spencer trails off, looking for the right words. “That was way too easy.”
Jon stares at him. “Wait, what? Did you just-oh my god, Spencer Smith. I hate you. Why are you never happy with anything?”
“Captain,” Spencer reminds him. “It’s part of the job description.”
* * *
“Go to sleep, Ryan.”
Ryan, hunched over the controls, considers arguing. But Spencer is using his Captain Voice, and you do not argue with Spencer when he is using his Captain Voice.
“You gonna fly,” Ryan begins, only to be interrupted by a yawn. “Or do you want me to put on the autopilot?”
“At the moment, I want you to go to bed. I need my pilot alert, which means well rested, which means I will be flying the plane and you will stop asking questions.”
“Okay, okay,” Ryan grumbles, but Spencer has a point.
When he finally wakes up, twelve hours later, Jon is at the controls and Spencer is resting. “I’m fine,” Jon says when Ryan offers to take over. “It’s on auto anyway.”
Ryan nods, stifling a yawn. “I’m getting breakfast, you want any?”
“I’m good,” he replies. “While you’re at it, though, can you go feed the captive?”
It never stops being weird, this terminology they force themselves to use: “target,” “captive,” all of it. But it’s easy to get attached, especially in cases like these when they’re working for someone they dislike. Ryan usually tries not to even learn names.
The room they’re keeping Urie in is fairly comfortable; it doubles as a bedroom when they take on passengers. He’s sitting on the bed when Ryan comes in, and though he doesn’t look happy to see Ryan his eyes light up at the sight of food. Ryan hands him one of the bowls he’s carrying.
Urie looks like he’s going to say anything, but at that moment Jon’s voice sounds over the intercom. “Ryan,” he says, “I need you in the cockpit five minutes ago.”
“Shit shit shit,” Ryan says, taking the controls. “How the hell did this happen?”
“Auto-pilot must be broken,” Jon says. He’s sitting in the co-pilot chair, though he looks too pale and panicked to be of any help.
“Clearly,” Ryan says, grimacing as a large chunk of rock slams into the side of the Fever.
“What the hell is going on?” Spencer asks, still blinking sleep from his eyes.
“Asteroid field,” Jon tells him.
“How the hell did we-”
“The auto-pilot-”
“Can you take this conversation elsewhere?” Ryan asks, voice rather more shrill than usual. “I sort of need to concentrate.”
His shipmates know better than to argue. They don’t want to get pulverized by asteroids anymore than Ryan does.
Ryan tightens his grip on the controls and focuses every last neuron on flying. “Come on,” he mutters. “Come on, baby, hold together-”
The Fever, though, can only do so much, even with Ryan’s fail-safe coaxing. He regrets sending Jon and Spencer away about two minutes later, when a flashing red light informs him that the deflector shield has just failed. “You have got to be kidding me,” he mutters, trying to find the button for the intercom without taking either hand off the controls or either eye off the large chunks of rock hurtling toward his ship.
“Need help?”
“Yeah,” Ryan mutters, banking sharply and wincing. “Our shield generator just took a pretty nasty hit. We’re running without a particle shield and I need somebody to go start the backup.”
“Just tell me where to go and what to do.”
Ryan realizes, belatedly, that he is not speaking to Spencer or Jon and by simple process of elimination their captive has escaped. Normally he would be freaking out about this, but there are more pressing matters at hand. “Okay,” he says, “listen very carefully because there may not be time for a second try.”
“Well done,” Jon says, still pale and tightlipped as they leave the asteroid field behind at last.
Ryan nods. “We’re going to need to stop for repairs soon, though.”
“For the auto-pilot?” asks Spencer. “I think that can wait.”
“No, not the auto-pilot. We lost our main shield generator to an asteroid.”
Spencer turns somewhat green. “Ryan,” he says levelly, “did you just navigate that without a particle shield?”
“Oh, hell no. I had Urie set up the backup.”
“You what? You let him out?”
“No, I did not let him out,” Ryan says, annoyed. Contrary to popular belief, he’s not completely unprofessional. He’s about to explain when Brendon appears and saves him the trouble.
Spencer rounds on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Brendon shrugs. “I felt the turbulence,” he says. “I thought you might need help.”
Spencer looks like he’s going to start yelling, but Jon lays a hand on his shoulder that’s both comforting and warning.
“We did,” Jon says. “Thanks.”
Spencer says nothing for a long while. “This job just keeps getting weirder.”
Ryan visits Urie later, after they’ve changed course for Tatooine. Spencer gives him a disapproving glare as he unlocks the door, but Ryan ignores it; they’d probably be dead if it weren’t for their captive, and Ryan doesn’t like the way they said thank you and put him right back in his room. It seems wrong-not to mention ungrateful.
Urie’s lying on his back in bed staring at the ceiling. He sits up when Ryan walks in, looking apprehensive. “Don’t worry,” Ryan says. “I just came by to check in.”
Brendon nods but doesn’t respond, leaving Ryan to clumsily fill the silence. “Thanks for, you know. The shield.”
Brendon shrugs. “Hey,” he says. “If the ship went down, I’d go down too.”
His answer lacks the traditional Rebellion altruism, which Ryan appreciates. “Fair enough,” he says, surprising himself with a smile. There’s another silence, which is probably Ryan’s cue to leave. He ignores it; instead, he asks, “So what were you doing in the Regency?”
Ryan’s been wondering about that since the beginning, and the successful capture hasn’t made the whole thing any less troublesome. Brendon has to be deeply involved with the Rebellion for the price on his head, which means he shouldn’t have been so easy to capture. He’s been entirely too cooperative from day one. And then he helped repair the ship, so all selfish excuses aside he’s helping them turn him in. Which is insane.
Brendon doesn’t clear any of that up, though. “It’s a nice hotel,” he answers. “I was in the area.”
“You must have known the Empire was looking for you, though,” Ryan insists, an almost involuntary protest. “You didn’t even hide.”
“I’ve done my part,” Brendon says, shrugging again. “I did it well. I’m good at what I do, Ryan, but I’d be a terrible fugitive. I’d never make it. So why bother?”
Spencer calls for Ryan over the intercom then, and he leaves Brendon without another word. He reports to the cockpit, still trying to decide which is weirder: Brendon’s answer or the fact that their captive just called him by his first name.
Brendon just won’t stay in his room after that, which is not much of a surprise. More surprising is that, after the initial shock wears off, Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Spencer, who is the dictionary definition of a responsible captain, who always follows his own rules, who never even mentions their captives most of the time. If Ryan didn’t know any better, he’d say Spencer was losing his touch.
They’re eating dinner the day after the asteroid incident-well, “dinner” is really just a guess, it’s hard to keep track of mealtimes during space travel-when Jon says, “I think we should invite Brendon.”
It’s yet another sign of how unprofessional things have gotten lately that no one even blinks to hear Jon say “Brendon” when he ought to be saying “the captive.”
“Hmm,” says Spencer.
Ryan looks from Spencer to Jon and back to Spencer. “There can’t be any harm in it,” he says. “He’s not even in his cell half the time anyway.”
Spencer gives him a tired, sympathetic look, like a parent with a very dull child. “This is true,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“I really don’t think he’s dangerous-”
“That’s not what I mean, Ryan. Just-both of you.” He looks at Jon. “Don’t forget we have to turn this kid in. To the Empire.”
“I know,” says Jon.
“We’re probably sending him to his death,” Spencer adds, this time to Ryan.
Ryan looks down at his plate. “I know.”
* * *
They see an Imperial star destroyer about twenty-four hours into the trip to Mos Eisley, and Spencer tells Ryan to avoid it more out of habit than anything else. Ryan gives him an odd look. “Don’t we have business with them?” he asks.
Spencer glances into the main hold, where Jon and Brendon are having an animated discussion over the last of the coffee. “It can wait,” he tells Ryan, and it might be his imagination but he thinks Ryan looks relieved.
The problem, Spencer knows, is that Brendon is one of the most likeable people he’s ever met. He’s a good kid. He can be irritating at times, but he’s friendly and charismatic in a way that you really wouldn’t expect a captive to be. In fact, he doesn’t act like a captive at all. Moping, Spencer thinks. There ought to be more moping.
It occurs to him, sometime after the speck that is Tatooine first becomes visible, that Brendon might be plotting his escape. Maybe he’s nonchalant and unworried because he knows he’ll be gone before they can turn him in. He’s probably capable of it.
Spencer considers this for a few hours, pacing the Fever, his opinion changing moment by moment. He’s finally made up his mind to put Brendon back into confinement when he looks into the cockpit. Ryan and Brendon are in there, talking. A dim green light tells Spencer that the auto-pilot’s on, and he realizes that not only is Ryan ignoring his ship, but he’s laughing.
And really, if he makes Ryan laugh, how bad can he be?
They land in Mos Eisley early in the morning, which is good because it’s not the safest place in the dark. Not the safest place in general, really, but safety and bounty hunting don’t really go together. Spencer just makes sure they’re all heavily armed, with the obvious exception of Brendon.
“You should stay on the Fever,” Spencer tells him for about the thousandth time.
“Not happening,” says Brendon. “You can lock me up if you want, but you know I’ll get out.”
Spencer does know, and it gives him an excuse not to admit that he’d really rather not go back to treating Brendon like a prisoner. Even though that’s what he is. “Fine,” he says. “You’ll go with Ryan to get the parts he needs to repair the ship.”
“And I’d advise keeping close to him,” Jon adds. “Mos Eisley isn’t the kind of place you want to get lost in. Especially without a blaster.”
“Right,” says Brendon. He almost looks nervous.
They part soon thereafter; Brendon and Ryan go one way to shop for parts, Jon goes the other to restock their food stores. Spencer makes his way to Chalmun’s Cantina in search of news or perhaps their next job. It’s good form to make an appearance there every once in a while regardless, both so you can keep tabs on the state of the galaxy and so people won’t forget who you are. In a business like this, reputation is important.
There are some familiar faces; a couple people even give Spencer a nod of greeting. He’s leaning against the bar, about to order, when he feels a sharp tap on his shoulder. He has his blaster drawn and his finger on the trigger before he’s had time to register who he’s aiming at.
He lowers his blaster immediately. “Han.”
Han Solo grins, though there’s something wary in his eyes that Spencer’s never seen before. “You gonna shoot me, Smith?”
“No.” Spencer slips the blaster back into its holster. “No, of course not.”
Han, strangely, looks relieved. “I didn’t think so,” he says, “but when you drew on me I thought maybe you were sent by Jabba.”
“Jabba?”
But a couple other patrons are looking curious, so Han shakes his head and nods toward a more secluded table. “Come sit, I’ll tell you all about it.”
Spencer follows him over and sits down on the side opposite Chewbacca. “Chewie,” he says.
The wookiee growls out something that could either be a threat or a greeting, Spencer really can’t tell. He suspects the former; Chewbacca’s never really liked him much.
“So what’s this about Jabba?” Spencer asks.
Han sighs. “I owe him some money,” he begins.
“You too?”
Han looks a little shocked. “What the hell do you owe him for?”
Spencer didn’t explain the debt to Han at the time and he has no inclination to do so now. “Complications with the Fever,” he answers tersely. Han knows better than to ask for details.
“Huh,” he says, the wariness flaring up again as he looks at Spencer. “You’re sure Jabba didn’t send you?”
“Positive,” Spencer tells him. “Look, I don’t care what kind of a price that worm’s put on your head. I’m not going to turn you in. You know I won’t.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t mean to be paranoid, but-”
“Yeah, I know. You can’t be too careful.”
Han Solo smiles. “Hey,” he says after a minute. “Have I shown you my new ship?”
They walk out through the dusty Mos Eisley streets, leaving Chewie behind in the cantina. They haven’t seen each other for years, and their last parting hadn’t been pleasant. Now, walking together and catching up like nothing more but old friends, Spencer can almost forget that. It’s good to see Han again.
They go to one of the city’s many docking bays and Han stops, grinning at Spencer. “Isn’t she something?”
“Han,” says Spencer, looking up at the ship. She’s gray and ugly, but there’s a certain charm in it and besides, Spencer’s seen this thing in action. She’s a good ship. “Han,” he says again, “isn’t this Lando’s?”
“Used to be. Kind of a long story.” He grins. “Come on, I’ll take you for a spin.”
Spencer considers it, briefly. “I can’t,” he says. “I really better be getting back.”
Han’s smile vanishes. “You still flying around with that Ryan kid?” Spencer nods. “See, I’ll never understand that,” Han says. “He’s a decent pilot, sure, but he’s nothing special.”
Spencer sighs impatiently. “Look, it’s been good seeing you,” he says. “Don’t ruin it.”
“Alright, alright,” says Han. Spencer can hear him forcing the bitterness out of his voice. Han’s the kind of guy who never really forgives. “Take care, kid. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Same to you,” Spencer says. Han hugs him, tight and a little awkward, and goes back toward the cantina. Spencer watches him go and calls up Jon on the comlink.
* * *
Mos Eisley is crawling with stormtroopers. Ryan hates stormtroopers at the best of times, same as any other self-respecting sentient being this side of Coruscant. And with Brendon present, this is far from the best of times. The hour it takes Brendon and Ryan to buy all the parts they need is one of the most stressful of Ryan’s life.
They even get stopped, once. Ryan nearly has an aneurism but the stormtrooper just asks if they know anything about a couple of droids the Empire’s looking for.
“No,” Ryan says, trying to step in front of Brendon without looking like he’s trying to hide something. The stormtrooper is either uninformed or simply preoccupied because he doesn’t look twice” just wanders off to interrogate a shopkeeper.
Ryan hears Brendon’s breath come out all at once and he turns to look. “That was probably the scariest moment of my life,” Brendon says. His eyes are wide and a little feral with recent fear. Ryan squeezes his shoulder in a way he hopes is comforting.
“We’ll be okay,” he says. He tries not to wonder how he’s ever going to hand Brendon over to the Empire.
Maybe Spencer will take care of it.
Ryan has this one shop he always goes to, one shop he comes to Mos Eisley for, really. Hell, it’s the only thing that’ll get him back on this miserable planet, these days. Which is saying something, because if there’s a bright center of the universe, Tatooine is the planet that it’s farthest from. Mos Eisley has its own charms, in a seedy, sinister way, but it’s not somewhere you go just for kicks. Not with Ryan’s history, especially.
But the simple truth of the matter is that no one else has quite the selection, expertise, or reliability that the Way brothers do. And so that’s who Ryan goes to.
The older Way’s behind the counter when they walk in, tinkering with a droid and muttering under his breath. He looks up and grins when he sees Ryan. “Ross,” he says, putting down the screwdriver to shake Ryan’s hand. “It’s been a while.”
“Good to see you, Gerard,” Ryan replies. He doesn’t introduce Brendon, and Gerard’s lived in Mos Eisley long enough not to ask.
“So what’s up? That ship of yours still holding together?”
“She’s doing alright,” says Ryan. “The main shield generator’s fucked, though, you have anything for that?”
Gerard does; it takes some searching but he has all the parts Ryan needs, and his prices are fair so the whole thing goes pretty easily. “You don’t have anything for a faulty auto-pilot, do you?” Ryan asks as an afterthought.
Gerard considers this for a minute. “No,” he says finally. “Auto-pilots, you have to replace ‘em or do repairs onboard. I can’t do nothing for you from here. It’s probably fixable, though. I can have Mikey take a look at it for you if you want.”
“Maybe,” says Ryan. “You know Spencer, he might want to get going as soon as we get back. But I’ll see.”
Gerard nods. “Sure. Well, I’ll see you again sooner or later.”
They shake hands again and Ryan leads Brendon back outside.
Sure enough, Spencer says they don’t have time to get the auto-pilot fixed on this visit. “Besides,” he points out, “we shouldn’t be parading Brendon around anymore than we have to. Don’t want the Imperial soldiers getting the wrong idea.”
“Right,” Ryan says, and heads for the cockpit.
Brendon comes with him, which is weird because Ryan’s steering the Fever in the direction of Coruscant. Brendon doesn’t seem too bothered by it, which is weirder. “I like Coruscant,” he says brightly, watching Ryan plug the coordinates into the ship’s computer. “I haven’t been there in years.”
“You’ve got a while to wait,” Ryan tells him. “It’s a bit of a journey.”
Brendon shrugs. He’s quiet for a few minutes, letting Ryan focus on getting the Fever set in the right direction and at the right speed. It’s a long way to go and Ryan wants this fuel to last, so this is even more important than usual. Finally he sits back, dropping his hands in his lap, and sighs.
“I’ve never been,” he says.
Brendon looks confused for a second, but then he catches on and his jaw drops. “You’ve never been to Coruscant?” he asks. “Seriously? But it’s like…”
“I know,” Ryan says. “My parents used to go all the time, on business, but I was always to young and then I was…with Spencer. And you know, we’re not big fans of the Empire, and they’re not too fond of us, so…”
“Sure,” Brendon says, nodding. And then, “You’ve been flying with Spencer for a long time, huh?”
Ryan reaches out to adjust their bearing slightly. “Not so long,” he answers. “I met Spencer back on Tatooine, actually. We were both about fifteen. He was already on a ship, working with this crazy old smuggler, Han Solo. I was just trying to get back on my feet, working long hours for no pay for Jabba the Hutt. Wasn’t a great time in my life, really.
“So I mean, we’ve known each other for a good six, seven years now. But we didn’t start flying together ‘til about two years ago, when Spencer got his own ship.”
“And he hired you as a pilot?”
“Had to, really,” Ryan says, smiling. He pats the console fondly. “This baby won’t have nobody else.”
“She’s yours?”
“No, no, she’s not mine. It’s…complicated.” Ryan stops, thinks for a minute. The details of how he got here are dangerous memories, the kind you don’t talk about unless you have to. Finally he looks at Brendon and says, “I’m hers, really.”
Not having the auto-pilot is tricky, because even at meals someone has to be at the helm. They take it in shifts, everyone but Brendon taking turns at the controls. It’s too bad they’re not eating together anymore, but the novelty of having some fresh food overshadows that. “Vegetables,” Ryan sighs, setting his plate down on the table. “I don’t even remember what these taste like.”
Brendon laughs at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this excited about leafy greens,” he says.
“Dried food and nutrient pastes get boring pretty quick,” Ryan answers. “Trust me.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Jon’s done well; they’re low on funds, as always, but this is some quality stuff. There’s bread as well, and rice, and it’s a small meal but it puts their normal rations to shame. “God,” Ryan breathes, closing his eyes. “We should seriously make port more often.”
“You’re insane,” Brendon observes. He says it like it’s a new realization for him, one that’s both surprising and delightful. The note of fondness in his tone doesn’t escape Ryan’s notice, either.
“Maybe,” says Ryan. He meets Brendon’s eyes across the table. “Living on a ship will do that to a person.”
He stands up and goes to clean their plates, but Brendon stops him. “You’re flying next,” he says, taking the plates out of Ryan’s hands. “You should get some sleep.”
“I just slept,” Ryan protests.
“You slept for about four hours,” Brendon replies. “Twelve hours ago.”
Ryan considers telling Brendon about his record-something in the realm of three straight days-but he refrains. “You sound like Spencer,” he grumbles, but Brendon’s right and he goes to his room, curls up under the blankets.
He dreams about Tatooine and the look on Brendon’s face when they ran into the stormtrooper. He doesn’t remember it when he wakes, but the feeling of unease he wakes up with tells him he’s been having nightmares.
It’s his turn in the cockpit, though, and there’s nothing more comforting than that. The Fever doesn’t need much more than hands to keep her steady and minor encouragement at the moment, but something about just being at the controls always calms Ryan’s nerves. Spencer says it’s because Ryan feels closer to the ship in there, which Ryan always says is stupid; it’s a ship, the only difference between being in the hold and being in the cockpit is that in the cockpit you have some semblance of control.
He doesn’t really believe that, though. No matter what he says, the way he sees it, the Fever’s as much a part of the family as him or Jon, or even Spencer.
Brendon shows up halfway through the shift, and as much as Ryan was enjoying the soothing solitude of flying, the smile he gives Brendon is genuine. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” Brendon returns, taking the co-pilot seat. “Sleep well?”
“Not especially,” Ryan admits. He sighs. “All this Imperial business is making me anxious.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s the goddamn Empire,” he says. “Look, I’m not one of your revolutionaries, but that doesn’t mean I like ‘em.”
“Then why are you working for them?”
“Because we fucking need the money, Brendon. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a whole lot of money in idealism.”
The words come out harsh, but Ryan doesn’t apologize. Brendon’s silent for a minute, and Ryan thinks he’s angry, but when he speaks he sounds more thrilled than anything.
“You don’t want to turn me in,” he says, delighted by the revelation.
Ryan makes a face. “No,” he insists, trying to summon some sort of professional indifference. It’s a losing battle. “I’m used to you, is all,” he says, and Brendon laughs.
* * *
They’re three days into the journey to Coruscant when Jon turns to Spencer and asks, “What’s up with Brendon and Ryan, man?”
“What do you mean?” Spencer asks. Not because he doesn’t know, it’s just sort of a reflex.
“Well, I mean, he’s a good kid. Brendon. It sucks that we have to turn him in. I like him. But Brendon and Ryan…you never see one without the other anymore.”
Spencer makes a noncommittal noise. Jon gives him a look. “We’re about halfway to Coruscant,” he says. “Do you think Ryan’s ready for that?”
“No,” Spencer admits, standing up. “No, you’re right.” Fucking hell, he thinks. Ryan goes around being all bitter and aloof for years and Spencer’s glad he’s getting over it, he is. It’s just so inconvenient that it had to be thanks to a fucking captive. He sighs. Typical fucking Ryan.
“Sometimes,” he says, “I think he just does these things to annoy me. I’d better talk to Brendon. I’ll be back.”
Ryan and Brendon are sitting in the main hold. They look up when Spencer walks in. “Ryan,” he says, “could you fly for a while? I know it’s not your shift, but I need a break.”
“Yeah, of course.” Ryan scrambles to his feet, eager as always to be working with his beloved ship, and goes to join Jon in the cockpit. Spencer turns to Brendon.
“So,” he says.
“Everything alright?” Brendon asks.
“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” Spencer says. He can’t help being pleased at the tension that appears in Brendon at those words. At least someone still respects him as captain.
Spencer says, “I’ve noticed you’re getting pretty friendly with my pilot.”
He keeps his tone carefully nonchalant, but Brendon still looks nervous. Smart kid. “I guess,” he answers warily.
“I’m going to need a hell of a lot better answer than that,” Spencer replies, impatient. “Look, Ryan doesn’t get friendly with anyone. And I don’t understand it, but I’m starting to worry about what’s going to happen when we get to Coruscant.”
And then Spencer breaks the one rule he never, ever breaks. He asks what Brendon’s wanted for.
Brendon stares at him for a minute, shocked. He coughs. “I stole, um. I stole some very important plans for the Rebellion.”
“Plans?”
“Technical readouts of the space station they’re building,” Brendon says. He sighs. “Were building, actually, I think it’s supposed to be done now. Something to give us rebels a fighting chance, you know?”
“Where are the plans now? Are they safe?”
“Of course they’re safe,” Brendon says. “I never would have let myself be captured if they weren’t.”
“But where are they?”
Brendon’s voice is suddenly very cold. “I can’t tell you that,” he says.
“You think I’ll tell the Empire?”
“I think they might make you.”
Spencer’s never personally witnessed or experienced torture at the hands of the Empire, but the rumors of it are terrifying. “But not you?”
Brendon gives him a sad smile. “I imagine that’s what they want me for.”
Spencer spends the next two days being angry.
They’re literally mere hours outside of Coruscant when he storms into the cockpit and tells Jon to turn the ship around. “I give up!” he says. “I can’t do it. I am a terrible bounty hunter. I ought to retire. I ought to be shot. We’re going to Cloud City, we can refuel there.” He takes a deep breath and glares down at Jon. “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m not laughing,” Jon answers. “I’m just happy.”
Ryan comes running in, then, freakishly attuned to the Fever’s every move. “What’s going on?”
“We’re not going,” Spencer says.
“What?”
“We’re not going to Coruscant. We’re not turning Brendon in.”
“But we need the money,” Ryan begins. It sounds more than a little halfhearted.
“Some things are more important than money,” Spencer says. He leaves it at that, ambiguous: he could be talking about Brendon’s life, or Ryan’s shaky mental health, or the Rebellion, or any number of things. Ryan just nods, but there’s a softening in his jaw and shoulders that Spencer knows is relief.
“Don’t be stupid,” Brendon says. “You need the money.”
Spencer sighs and crosses his arms. It would be enough to tell Jon or Ryan not to press the matter, but Brendon doesn’t know Spencer well enough to understand this stupid fucking decision and Spencer has to actually reply. “Not that badly we don’t.”
“Spencer.”
“I’m not doing it, Brendon.”
“Spencer,” Brendon repeats. “If it’s not you, it’s the next guy. If you let me go, three days from now I’ll be back on my way here. Different ship, different bounty hunters, same end of story. I at least want the money going to someone I like.”
“Go back,” Spencer replies. “Go rejoin your Rebellion. They still need you.”
“I wish I could,” Brendon says. “But it’s not possible. I wouldn’t even know where to look for them now, and even if I did, it’s too risky. I might bring the Empire to them by mistake.” He shakes his head. “They don’t need me,” he says. “They’d be more upset than anything if I went back now.”
“Well,” says Spencer. “I guess you’ll just have to stay on board.”
Brendon grins and hugs Spencer so violently he nearly falls over. And Spencer is finally sure he’s making the right choice.
* * *
“I’m losing my touch,” Spencer tells Jon the next time they’re in the cockpit together.
Jon turns away from the controls just enough to smile at him. “You don’t sound too upset about it.”
“No,” Spencer admits. “But I feel like I should be. Somebody should be. I mean, we are royally fucked in all sorts of new and exciting ways.”
“Spencer,” Jon says. He pauses, watches Spencer take a deep, slow breath. Jon’s not much older than the other members of the crew, but he’s a lot more experienced and he’s used to having to give advice. Even to the captain.
“Spencer,” he says again, “you’ve had the same debt to Jabba for two years now. We’ve paid some of it, sure, but with interest it really hasn’t changed. We blew one chance to pay it off all in one go. It’s unfortunate, but there will be other chances. There will be other jobs. We’ll ask around in Cloud City. It’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” Spencer echoes.
Jon looks at him for a long moment. Spencer doesn’t often get like this, fragile and unsure. He’s usually the most sane and put-together person on the Fever. But the Jabba thing has put enormous strain on the captain since day one, and the longer their debt stretches on, the more it gets to him.
Ryan tends to be even more of a mess than Spencer, so dealing with the captain’s anxiety tends to fall to Jon. He doesn’t really mind. Plus, he likes to think, he’s pretty good at it.
“You did a good thing, Spencer,” he says. “This is the second time since I’ve known you that you’ve done a good thing even though it’s made your life a hell of a lot more difficult. It won’t be the last.” He looks Spencer very carefully in the eyes. “You’re still an outstanding captain.”
Spencer’s tense and nervous for another few seconds, but when he exhales Jon can see him relax. “Okay,” Spencer says again. “On to Cloud City, then.”
“On to Cloud City,” Jon agrees.
on to part two...