User blog:Bane7670/Short Story: Undertaking

'''This little blurb is a result of me finally getting around to writing about my Mercenary persona on CWA. But instead of setting it during the Clone Wars (basing it off of my more unique CWA interactions), Star Wars Rebels got me thinking about what he would be doing in the Imperial period. And that's what we got here. This piece is actually set around the events of the upcoming mobile RPG, Star Wars Uprising, since that timeframe worked out better for Quill's character. I probably won't even get into that game, ironically enough, but the premise goes well with what I had in mind for this. So enjoy my written daydreams.'''

The ship lurched suddenly in one direction, then again in another, then the ship shook. That wasn’t anything to worry about. The worrying started when the ship lurched again in a different direction, and the shaking intensified. Quill Bate didn’t need to wait for it to even out. He understand that something was wrong. He knew his father too well. This kind of flying wasn’t from trying to get centered in a skylane at reckless speeds. This was evasive action. They were in trouble.

“Perhaps trouble found us,” Quill’s mother would always say.

As if on cue, the muffled sound of TIE series laser cannons from outside confirmed his suspicions, prompting another sharp turn. Quill found his footing fairly quickly and rushed out of the common area towards the bridge. Anticipating more evasive action, he stuck close to the wall and doorframes, though unsure how it would make a difference.

So preoccupied with the ship’s aberrant movement, he almost collided with Corsic in the vestibule, who was having similar problems. “Easy, buddy,” Quill said, gently pushing him by the shoulders off to one side. “What’s the rush? Dad got you running another errand?”

Even if droids couldn’t scowl, Quill could easily visualize one on Corsic’s T-shaped face by the unpleasant tone in his voice. “Would it kill you to take any situation seriously without having to stare down a blaster barrel?” he bit out at the young man.

“Well…” Quill said, pretending to carefully consider his words.

Corsic didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m on my way to fix whatever your dad breaks this time,” he said, quickly moving past him. “Someone has to keep this ship in one piece, and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

“Did he mention if there’s something I can do?”

“Yeah; get on the turret and blow those eyeballs away!” Corsic nearly tripped on his own square foot as another laser blast rocked the ship again.

Quill raised an eyebrow. “‘Eyeballs’? We don’t use that kind of lingo. You’ve been hanging around rebel pilots again, haven’t you?”

The droid regained his balance and glanced at Quill. “Believe it or not, Quill, there are individuals in the galaxy more charming than you.”

Once again, he didn’t wait for a response and rushed to the engineering station. Quill shook his head and followed back into the common room, running for the turret ladder. “It’s all relative,” he said, mostly to himself.

He leapt onto the ladder and was in the gunner’s seat moments later. Fixing the headset over his ear, he powered up the targeting computer and activated the internal comm. The GX1 Short Hauler’s turbolaser didn’t feature a wide view like other freighter turrets did, but at least theirs was augmented enough to give other civilian-grade ships a run for their money. “Dad, I’m in the turret,” he reported. “What are we looking at?”

“We’ve got three TIEs chasing us out of the city,” Davin Bate responded, taking the ship into orbit at a steep angle. “They don’t seem satisfied with warning shots. They’re looking for a kill.”

Quill watched as Denon’s surface rapidly fell in the turret viewports. “I told you they would notice if those generators and converter terminals went missing. Imps don’t like it when someone moves their stuff, particularly advanced hardware.”

“They haven’t noticed yet,” his father clarified. “These guys haven’t made our cargo. They’re after us for flying over a restricted zone. Regular patrol. Itchy trigger fingers, I guess.”

“So, should we pull over?” Quill offered.

“What do you think?”

Quill rotated the turret to face the ship’s rear and found the pursuing TIEs in the monitor. “I think I’ll stall for you… again.”

He lined up on the nearest TIE and fired. It dodged to the left, but not before taking a hit on its right wing strut. He was all too good at this by now. Even with the smaller fighters flying circles around their ship, it came naturally for Quill to coordinate his father’s flying to find targets. They didn’t even need to say anything over the comm. There was a rhythm in both of them that no one else could match.

And yet, there was no indication that Davin trusted him enough to let him venture out on his own. After all the missions, all the snares, all of the unseen complications they had been through—during many of which Quill not only held his own but helped tip the odds in their favor—his father still wasn’t willing to let him take even the simplest hops alone. Davin always insisted that Quill take someone else with him, whether it was his father himself, his mother, Corsic, Rowani, or one of the smugglers they’d befriended over the years. The only place his parents seemed willing to let him travel to alone was that stupid education/business academy on Duunir.

''Don’t they know that I learn more with hands-on than I ever do in a classroom? What were they expecting me to learn there that would help me in our line of work? After over ten years of this, do they actually think I’ll grow up to become something respectable?''

One of the TIEs fired rapidly as it zoomed overhead. Davin tilted the ship in that direction. Quill fired straight into it when it came around for another pass. The twin solar panels flew apart as the cockpit vanished in a white burst.

One possibility was that his father thought that Quill only worked well with a partner, since he worked so well with him. “Better to have one more person than one more blind spot,” was the credo he’d always said to him. But it wasn’t as though Quill had always had someone at his side, nor was it so that he needed to have someone. Having an extra set of eyes as nice, but it was something he could do without. Davin certainly did all right in his solo time during the Clone Wars.

Another TIE shot past. “They’re still coming in fast! Don’t let up!” Davin ordered, bringing the ship out of the atmosphere.

Quill did his best to balance his thoughts with his shooting, but he was all too eager to raise this issue with his father again. He brought the turret around and fired. “I’m doing my best,” he said. Great start… “Maybe I should fly and you should shoot.”

“Don’t get snappy until we’re out of this,” Davin said. “Your mother doesn’t like us making those kinds of quips in a situation.”

“Neither does Corsic,” Quill muttered, waiting for the TIE to make his move. “Maybe she should have come along if she’s so worried.”

“Not if Rowani could help it. She and Axandra need this time away. Girls’ night out, remember?”

“You mean Rowani needed time away from you,” Quill corrected, smirking as he turned the approaching TIE into flaming wreckage that fell back towards Denon.

“I can see that argument being made, yes,” Davin replied, clearly letting that one slide for his son’s shooting.

The only TIE that remained, the one he’d hit earlier, had broken off and was returning to the planet—a difficult feat, he imagined, given how most of his stabilizers were gone. “Last one bugged out,” he reported. “Should we let it go?”

“May as well,” Davin answered after a moment of consideration. “We’ve got a schedule to keep and, even if he does make it, there are a lot of ships like us.”

Quill reluctantly powered down the turret and reset the computer. “Even ones that shoot down TIEs? I’m not sure they’re gonna let this one slide because we’re not the only ship that has the guts to ward off a TIE attack. I could easily finish him off if you just brought—”

“You have much to learn, my young apprentice,” Davin interrupted, actually sounding a little bit like a real Jedi. The tone didn’t last. “First, there are a lot of G-X-Ones out there and that last pilot didn’t get enough data on us to pick us out from the crowd. Second,” he continued as Quill climbed down the ladder. “They’re not going to notice their gear is missing in time to link its disappearance to our escape here. And lastly, the Empire has much much bigger things to worry about than the odd freighter blasting its way off world.”

There was certainly no arguing that point. The gathering Rebel Fleet near Sullust was enough to get the Empire wary, and that was enough to allow smugglers a little more wiggle room in their operations. Quill got the idea by the time he was down from the turret. And that is enough to convince Dad to give me my first solo mission. If the Rebels were planning a massive strike, the Empire wouldn’t be breathing down his neck. These circumstances were temporary, he knew, but it would make for a great first step to taking his own jobs.

He was so giddy at the prospect, he almost sprinted up to the bridge. He calmed himself enough to stroll casually just as they went to hyperspace. “Bound for Woostri,” Davin said as Quill entered the cockpit, picking up his wide-brimmed hat and replacing it on his head. “Six hours of downtime before we off-load. Anything you wanted to talk about?”

Quill paused where he was. How could his father tell so easily when he wanted to talk? Maybe he really was part Jedi, deep down… somewhere…

He decided not to let him also guess what it was he wanted to address, so he sat down in the copilot’s chair and faced him. “Well, I was thinking,” he began. “Been thinking for a while… I was hoping that, one of these days… you know, now that I’m finished with the academy, that I could start taking some missions on my own.”

“Sure,” Davin said immediately, putting his feet up on the console. “You’re more than welcome to. Grab the roster, pick one that suits you, grab a friend and go get it!”

Quill sighed at the last part. Timeliness was an illusion after all. “I mean by myself,” he amended. “I want to start working some jobs on my own. You know… without you or mom.”

Davin sighed and stared at his bulky boots. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know you’ve been itching for that day ever since we first took you out on the Preybird. And now that you’re a grown man, I’ve started thinking about it myself.”

The soft vibration of hyperspace on the hull was all that filled the silence that fell in the next several seconds. Davin didn’t make eye contact. He must have been thinking still. “And you’ve realized I can handle things on my own, right? All those hops we did, I’ve proven I could have done it myself. Simple missions that only take one. Just me and the Stars’ Folly handling the job and bringing home the creds. I don’t think it’s all that unrealistic.”

“I never said it was unrealistic,” Davin said with a mildly irritated glance.

“You’ve never really said anything about it at all, actually,” Quill pointed out, refusing to let this opportunity pass by. “I think you can agree that I’m old enough to go out on my own without a parent holding my hand, right?”

Davin took another few seconds in hesitation to answer. He knew that silence was not an option in this discussion. “That’s not it…”

“What is it then?”

He waited another moment, then took his feet off the console, sat up straight and turned his chair to face his son fully. “You’re a capable and strong-willed young man, Quill, and you know the ins and outs of this job just as well as I did when I was your age. Maybe even better.”

">Quill smiled. “Hey, I learned from the best.”

“And that’s just it,” Davin said. Quill partially deflated. That didn’t last long. “I’ve taught you everything you know, but not everything I know.”

With a sigh, Quill leaned back in his seat. He could tell where this was going. “So, what? I need more time at the academy?”

“No, this isn’t about knowledge,” Davin said firmly. “This is about something that can’t be taught. Something that comes with experience.”

“And I don’t have enough of that?”

“Let me finish.” Quill was tempted to tune out, seeing only another lecture headed his way. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and looked him in the eye. “There’s one skill we don’t yet share. Something I learned long ago and has gotten me through a lot of tough scrapes.” Davin paused before continuing. “It’s the ability to know when to fly solo and when to have company.”

It didn’t take Quill long to figure out what he meant. He had many friends out of the numerous allies his parents made over the course of their work and, aside from his childhood friends on Naboo, they were about the only friends he had. But when it came to work, whether it be bounties or smuggling, he liked to do things on his own. He had a pension, of which his father was well aware, for initially refusing the help of their allies and clients, believing they would only slow them down. “To do something right is to do it yourself,” he always said.

''It’s not like that’s an irrational concern. If we have extra baggage to worry about, we won’t be free to do things the way we want, which is what makes us so effective. Having to adapt extra hands to our style takes time, and you always say how rarely universe gives you more.''

He kept that thought in his head, of course, lest it earn him another lecture. He let half a minute of silence pass, listening to the muted chaos of hyperspace. “So… what?” he finally spoke, his eyes absently wandering over the console’s many controls. “You want me to make more friends first?”

“In a sense, but like I said, you need the right experience,” Davin said, trying to keep things level between them. That was how he liked to talk. “You’ve been picking up on my style since you were ten, but there’s a lot about this job you still don’t know. You can only learn most of those things through experience.”

“Well, then give me more experience,” Quill replied, shrugging his arms and flopping them over the arm rests. “Give me a few jobs and let my mercenary potential flourish, assuming you trust me that is.”

“I do trust you, son,” Davin said calmly. “And I’m going to give you those jobs.”

That really caught Quill off guard. He had already considered letting him go out on his own? That gave him an odd feeling of both fervor and apprehension. After all, who knew what else he ran through his head. Axandra, of course, but…

Corsic returned to the cockpit right then. “Well, we got off easy this time,” he said, noisily plopping himself down in the seat behind Davin. “None of the alluvial dampers are out, and the cooling system is running fine. But the power regulators keep acting up. We need to get those sorted out before they burn out, and then it won’t matter who’s shooting at us as long as they hit the ship.”

Davin glanced at him once, but kept his focus on Quill. “I’ll get some new coils in there as soon as we finish this hop.”

“You’re the one with the creds,” the droid responded, leaning back. “Just don’t get mad at me when the auxiliary flops.”

“You think we’d get mad at you?” Quill asked facetiously. “How little do you think of us?”

Corsic didn’t face him. “You don’t want me to answer that, bud.”

Quill smiled. At least he had a sense of humor. “Anyway, Dad, back up a minute,” he continued. “You said you are going to give me my own assignments? As in on my own?”

Davin nodded. “Yes. In fact I have the perfect job for you.” Quill expected Corsic to make some sarcastic remark, but he stayed quiet. “You know of our friends in the Trade Spine League, the ones who you insist we don’t need?” Yes, Quill knew who he was talking about and, once again, where he was headed. “Now, just hear me out once,” Davin continued, reading his son’s thoughts. “The Alliance Fleet is gearing up for something big, and that’ll keep the Empire off our backs enough so to—”

“Just ‘something big?’ Your buddy, General Solo, hasn’t let you in on it?” Quill asked skeptically.

“Can I finish one line of thought?” Davin requested. Quill cut his old man some slack this time around and went silent. “As I said, the Trade Spine League has some assignments opening up, and with the Imperial Fleet preoccupied, moving our more valuable cargo should be easier. You remember that shipment of arms and power cells we need to get to our guy in the Anoat sector? Well, this is our chance.”

Quill perked up. He’d heard a lot about this contact and what he was moving. He’d also heard about the Empire’s increased activity in that sector. Now if they had cause to look another way… “You want me to handle that shipment?” he asked, suddenly timid. “All that stuff in the Stars’ Folly? We’re thinking about the same thing, right?”

“Yes, we are. This shipment isn’t that big, but it needs to get going. Your ship is fast and well-armed, and at this point you should be able to slip into that sector undetected. Provided you think she can handle it.”

“There’s nothing she can’t handle,” Quill assured. Another obvious truth. His old G9 Rigger was in good shape, given how long ago the Empire had put the model out of production, and it was just as fast as his father’s prized Star Courier, the Preybird. Its cargo capacity wasn’t much, but it was the perfect type of craft for covert ops, another part of Quill’s record that spoke for itself. “She’s gotten us through a lot, you know.”

“I know,” Davin said, smiling at the fond memories. But then his smile faded. He turned his head towards the forward viewport, something going on behind his eyes that Quill could barely make out. “We’ve been through a lot,” he repeated, uncharacteristically quiet.

He was doubting this choice. Quill knew it. He wasn’t ready to see his son out on his own, and perhaps he never would be. Whether it was a matter of pride or trust, Quill couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he was ready and his father wasn’t. Well, that wasn’t going to matter. His future was moving forward whether his family was ready for it or not. “So I’ve got the mission. It’s settled,” he said very matter-of-factly.

“Yes, it is,” Davin replied, turning back to face him. He sounded more convinced than he looked. “I’ll fill you in on the details after we finish this job. Go get some rest.”

“Fine,” Quill said, wishing for more ways to express his contempt at that moment.

He stood and left the cockpit, keeping his eyes forward. The doubts didn’t matter. If Davin really wanted his son to branch out and make new connections, then that’s just what Quill would do, on his own terms.