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They're gonna get caught, DJ thought as he leaned back on the plush, fine-leather couch within the stolen freighter.
He studied the girl, who sat rigidly in the captain’s chair. She hadn't budged since she tossed her precious necklace at him when they were discussing his payment. Her jaw was still set, eyes fixed forward but focusing on not the stars ahead of her. She was a statue with a single-minded agenda.
The girl’s brave, but she carries herself like a mechanic. Someone good with engines, logic-driven problems, but no emotional improv that’ll be needed should another officer stop us.
DJ glanced at the guy next to her. He had his arms crossed over his chest, foot quickly tapping, eyes darting from the controls, to the girl, to the scanners, back to the controls. Finally, he resigned to stare at the long lines of light outside the view port as they traveled through hyperspace.
The guy’s dodgy, and he carries himself like a soldier.
DJ tilted his head a moment.
Huh...actually, he carries himself like a stormtrooper. A defector, then. A defector without a poker face, and most likely has a personal vendetta against the First Order. If that hate in his eyes doesn’t attract attention, then someone will just flat out recognize him. Traitors to the First Order tend to be more famous than those they betray.
With a soft snort, DJ thought. The Empire wasn’t any different. That’s all the First Order this is: the Empire run by a bunch of kids who don’t know what to do with the power they’ve got. Not that the old men running the Empire were any wiser.
Memories of deafening explosions, Imperials screaming, alarms blaring and the chaos of unpredictable blaster fire threatened to surface in DJ’s brain, but he’d long since learned how to shut those flashbacks out when they came around.
Casually he turned his head to the BB unit.
Roundy...Roundy might make it.
The droid rolled anxiously around the stolen shuttle, beeping quietly to himself.
...Kinda hope he does. Be a shame if the First Order got a hold of him.
“Psst,” DJ whispered. The sound was low enough to not draw attention from the humans, but Roundy picked up the noise just fine. The BB Unit’s head swiveled at DJ and slowly he ambled up to him, head a bit lower in a clear pout.
DJ tried to hide his smile. “Come on, don’t be like that, Roundy.”
“(I didn’t want to steal anything,)” Roundy warbled.
“Yeah, well, you wanted to save your buddies. Cheer up, ya did a great job. You're a real natural.”
Roundy perked up at the compliment, even if it was for a crime he didn’t want to commit in the first place.
“Ya know, Roundy, me n' you, we make a great team. We could make ten times whatever the Resistance guys are paying you.”
“(No, thank you.)” Roundy said, with a very polite hum.
DJ blinked. “What? They paying you that much?”
Roundy shook his domed head. “(I don’t get paid. I like to help. I’d miss my Poe.)”
“Ah, figures. Poe, huh? Is that another droid or your master?”
Roundy made an irritated blip. “(He’s my Poe.)”
“Your Poe. Alright, fair enough.”
The wheels in DJ’s head began to whirr with dismal possibilities. Whatever half- shebs plot these guys cooked up was going to get Roundy in a lot more trouble than he was equipped to deal with.
But I’m not getting paid to save one droid though.
Still…
“C’mere,” DJ said, flipping up the shoulder flap of his duster and thumbing through his variety of skeleton keys. He pulled one bypass key he never imagined he’d actually use, just kept there as an ironic token. “Load this up.”
Roundy rolled sharply back a few centimeters. “(My Poe says I shouldnt take programs from strangers.)”
DJ tilted his brimless hat up and leaned forward. “Well, Roundy, I’m not a stranger. I’m your partner-in-crime. Trust me, th,th,th,this is gonna come in handy for you and your buddies later.” He jerked his head towards the humans who were snipping at each other in low tones. “They aren’t gonna make it far, and I'm almost positive we're all gonna get caught. You upload this and you guys might have a chance to escape. Alright?”
Roundy made a woeful sound. Then after a moment he asked, “(Just...one program?)”
“Just one program,” DJ promised. “Not even a big one. Here, I'll show you what it is.”
DJ pulled out small thick disc from one of his many pockets and slipped the key in. A holoprojection of hundreds of blueprint thumbnails flickered above the disc. They scrolled too quickly for human eyes, but Roundy watched the display with complete fasciation.
“(Oooooh),” Roundy marveled, and immediately flipped up a small compartment on his round chest.
DJ grinned and put the key inside. “You be careful out th,th,th,there, alright?”
As the program uploaded, Roundy began to roll slightly forward, and slightly backward, giving DJ the impression he was rocking on his heels nervously. “(You could just join us after we complete our mission.)”
DJ's grin fell a little as he looked down at the dark, round eye gazing up at him, hopefully. “I could.” He shrugged. “I could also join the First Order. But I don’t. Live free. Don’t join. Kept me alive this long.”
It seemed the guy and girl had stopped talking and were looking for their droid. DJ held out his hand and Roundy spat the key into his palm. “My offer's always open if you want to do some more grand th,th,th,theft aero again.”
Roundy hissed out a sound that could have been an indignant huff.
“Come on, BB-8,” the guy called, eyeing DJ suspiciously.
Roundy didn’t leave right away.
Instead, he looked up at DJ, and this time the slicer had no idea what the droid was thinking.
Before DJ could ask, Roundy said, “(I still like you, even if you’re shifty.)”
He brushed against DJ’s leg, like an affectionate loth-cat and gave his shin a little bump with his dome-shaped head, then with a happy beep he rolled off towards his buddies.
DJ smirked.
He’ll do alright… DJ reassured himself. And if not, it is what it is.
DJ leaned forward, sliding his brimless cap off his head.
He ran his finger over the metal plaque bolted into the thick kodyok leather. He read the words he had angrily carved into the piece of scrap metal years ago.
Don’t Join.
It was a constant reminder.
It was a promise he made. To himself. To them. To the whole kriffing galaxy.
He glanced at the droid who was watching the guy and girl going over their plan one final time.
The plan was going to fail.
They were all going to get caught.
DJ had already formulated what sort of deal he was going to cut with the First Order.
And now that Roundy had bypass codes for every AT-ST in the First Order, maybe he would make it out alive, too.
Maybe…
DJ put the cap back on his head, feeling the reassuring weight of the metal plaque on his skull.
And maybe’s better than no chance at all.