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The economy lounge was a choice. Phuwin would have to thank Master Tay for it later. As it was, he was already getting a headache from the overwhelming screaming both physically and in the Force - the baby off to his right had been screaming for at least half an hour, and the Holocron in his bag kept putting off pulses in the fabric of the Force around him.
He tried to be a vacuum of silence at the center of the chaos, pulling on Master Tay and New's teachings to get through. Against his chest, the focusing stone he'd received from Master Tay upon his promotion to Padawan warmed.
With every pulse of the Holocron beside him, Phuwin's jaw tightened ever so slightly. He was a Knight. He was a prodigy. He was… currently losing a battle of wills against a toddler and a piece of ancient technology that could alter the entire war effort. Potentially. If the wrong hands got hold of it.
Something to think about.
He brushed his thoughts aside and cast his senses outward, beyond the cramped walls of the passenger liner and into the rest of the ship. In his mind's eye, he mapped the Gilded Nebula through the force. His Force-propelled gaze traveled further with each breath. Every living thing aboard the vessel glowed with energy and vitality among the cold steel and even colder reaches of space.
At twenty-two years of age, he was already a Jedi Knight - a rank he'd reached far earlier than he should have due to a mixture of wartime necessity and his undeniable talent to gain insight through the use of the Force. He used his talent to his advantage, grasping onto the threads of life around him in an attempt to keep his cool.
Jedi were known for patience, yes, but they could get annoyed just as well as any other being. Arguably, they were just better at hiding it.
Which is a problem, Phuwin thought bitterly. In a room full of slumped shoulders and messy emotions, his own calm and stillness was a beacon for anyone looking closely enough. He could already hear Master Tay laughing at him in the back of his mind.
…unfortunately, it was either be too still or blow his cover with his own frustrations anyway. Not much of a choice there. He'd chosen the first option a while ago.
Three rows behind him, a woman's anxiety spiked. Somewhere two rows ahead and two to the left, a man's greed - he was eying his neighbor's chrono - snaked through the Force like oil. Through it all, the Holocron pulsed a steady, cold beat.
Then, a ripple.
He felt it before he saw it. Cold. Mechanized. Something not meant to be and filled with malicious intent.
His eyes snapped open. He didn't move. Moving would set off alarms in the other passengers, and the last thing he needed was to worry about civilians. His muscles did coil beneath his poncho, hand hovering above the satchel at his side just in case.
The Force screamed. The focusing stone went cold.
Three… two…
The ship groaned low and loud, the sound of metal ripping through metal ringing in the large enclosed space of the lounge. Sharp metal prongs pierced the wall ahead of him before they bloomed into a familiar pattern of triangles. He heard the thunk of magnetic docking clamps attaching to the hull. The passengers remained silent for a heartbeat - those precious few seconds where people process the danger before they react - but Phuwin was already halfway to his feet.
"You really shouldn't do that," a breezy voice drifted from the seat next to him.
Around them, people launched into the panic Phuwin had been anticipating. Anxiety and confusion rippled through the Force, but Phuwin -
Phuwin froze. His gaze snapped to his seatmate. The stranger, around his age, maybe a little older, lounged with a nonchalance that was almost offensive in the face of the danger ahead of them. He nursed a glass of amber-colored liquid with his boots kicked up on a small luggage rack in front of them.
"Sit back down, Princess," the man said. Unlike everyone else in the room, his eyes were trained on Phuwin rather than the hull breach. "You pull that out that light-stick you're reaching for, and you're going to turn everyone here into charcoal."
Phuwin's hand dropped from the holster hidden beneath his poncho. He glanced back at the man.
He'd sensed him in the Force. Messy mop of hair. A jacket smelling faintly of grease. Barely hidden amusement at something - probably Phuwin, if Phuwin's suspicions were true.
Before he could respond, the boarding pod hissed open. Men in mismatched scavenged plates of armor flooded into the lounge. Phuwin couldn't hide his disgust when he saw a few familiar painted sheets of armor with the Republic insignia stamped across the plating.
Pirates.
The frantic energy in the room died out almost immediately. Fear spiked further in Phuwin's Force-imbued senses. He gritted his teeth as the men fanned out, large blaster rifles pointed at the crowd.
Separatist and Republic make, Phuwin noted. At least they're equal opportunity offenders.
Their leader stepped forward. His eyes, hidden by a thermal visor, scanned the crowd.
"We know there's a Republic dog on board," he barked into the nervous silence. "Hand over the Jedi, and the rest of you may make it to Coruscant."
He felt the thermal sweep more than he saw it coming. He carefully maneuvered his satchel behind his back. His body heat wouldn't be enough to fully block a focused sweep, but it would buy him some time.
Beside him, the man finished the last of his drink with a loud slurp that cut through the silence. The pirate leader froze, and Phuwin wanted to reach over and strangle his seatmate as the visor locked onto their row. The pirate stepped forward.
"You," he growled. He leveled his rifle in their direction. "The one in the poncho. Stand up."
Phuwin took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the hammering of his heart against his ribs. He wasn't afraid, not in the slightest, but he was ready to attack if need be. One flick of his wrist and his lightsaber would be ready.
Violence is a last resort, Master Tay's voice told him sternly. Use your lightsaber only when you've exhausted every other option.
He rose to his feet, mentally calculating the angle he'd need to use to deflect the bolt back at the pirate without hitting any civilians. He resigned himself to the fact that there was no way he was getting out of here without someone getting hurt - not unless he gave himself up, but that… His focus flickered back to the Holocron. That wasn't an option right now.
Suddenly, a heavy arm slammed across his shoulders. Phuwin let out a very dignified yelp as he was dragged back into his seat with enough force to push the breath right out of his chest.
"Oh, thank the stars! You found us!" the stranger wailed.
Phuwin could only gape at the sudden transformation in his seatmate. Gone was the nonchalance from before. Instead, a loud, babbling, and deeply annoying civilian sat in his place. He pulled Phuwin into a bruising side-hug, burying the Jedi's face against the greasy fabric of his flight jacket.
"I told you, cousin! I told you we should have stayed on Naboo!" the man cried out. His voice cracked somewhere in the middle of the words, and for a moment, Phuwin was almost impressed with the performance. Almost. He looked up at the pirate leader with watery eyes. "Please, my cousin - he's very sick! We're going to Coruscant for the… the space-measles! He's very contagious!" Around them, the crowd shifted. Thinly veiled noises of disgust and worry spread through the rest of the passengers.
Phuwin stiffened. He was tempted, oh so tempted, to throw this man through the nearest viewport. He opened his mouth to correct him, but then he felt strong fingers dig sharply into his shoulder.
He realized, after a beat, that the stranger was perfectly angled to block the Holocron's thermal signature. One body wasn't enough, but two…
The pirate leader recoiled. The business end of his men's rifles wavered slightly, and Phuwin leaned into their hesitance. "I think I'm about to explode," he moaned into the stranger's jacket as if he were going to puke. He laced his words with the Force, wrapping his will tightly around them so as to give himself just a bit more credibility.
"Disgusting," the pirate said. He gestured to the other side of the lounge. "Check there! Ignore the dregs."
The pirates moved on. Phuwin almost felt sympathy for the wealthy-looking merchants huddled in that direction, but he couldn't bring himself to pay them much mind. The pirates may have given off a dangerous impression, but only toward their prey. Him. Their singular focus seemed to be on the Jedi and his cargo.
Hired, Phuwin decided, probably by the Separatists.
Just his luck.
"Now," the stranger hissed in his ear. He didn't wait for Phuwin, practically bundling the Jedi out of his seat and toward a service hatch tucked behind a decorative pillar.
They slipped through just as the pirates started their search in earnest.
The stranger didn't let go until the hatch hissed shut to seal them in the conduit-lined maintenance corridor. He stood up straight, and the bumbling, borderline ridiculous persona flowed off of him like water.
"You're welcome, by the way," he said. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall behind him. He flashed Phuwin a lopsided grin. "You owe me a new jacket. I think I actually got some 'space-measles' on this one."
Phuwin adjusted his poncho and schooled his expression into the placid calm expected of a Jedi Knight. "You touched me," he said. "And you called me Princess. I'm not thanking you." He paused, nose wrinkling at the reminder of the acrid smell of grease that had overwhelmed his senses only moments ago. "Or buying you a new jacket."
The stranger huffed. "Yet you're alive to complain about it," he countered. He turned his gaze toward the corridor. "The name is Pond. I'm a pilot - and the best chance you have of getting that shiny box to a hangar." He smirked and raised an eyebrow in Phuwin's direction. "You got a name, Jedi? Or should I keep calling you Princess?"
Phuwin's jaw tightened. "Phuwin," he finally said, dropping all pretense of his cover. Technically, his name at the moment should be 'Mork,' but his cover was already blown by… this guy. Who was smirking at him. Why was he smirking?
"You're doing that thing again," Pond said conversationally.
Phuwin tilted his head slightly. "Doing what?"
"Thinking too loud." Pond waved a hand in his direction. "You've got that 'I'm about to do something heroic and probably die' look on your face. It's very distracting."
"That's a very specific description for someone who's just a pilot," Phuwin muttered, but Pond was already sauntering away.
...would it be against the Jedi Code to smack him? Possibly.
Pond paused once he was halfway down the corridor. "You coming, Princess?" he said, looking over his shoulder.
Phuwin scowled. He couldn't think of anything he wanted less than to follow this guy anywhere. Unfortunately, fate - or the Force - was not on his side. His only other option was to go back the way he came, and that way led to a firefight he couldn't let himself lose.
He trudged after Pond and ignored the look of triumph on the pilot's face.
Traveling with Pond was an experience, to say the least.
The pilot moved through the ship with a loose-limbed gait that almost came across as clumsy. Almost being the operative word. Oh sure, to someone with an untrained eye it would seem as though Pond was just another bumbling, long-limbed humanoid in the crowd. A trained Jedi was something else entirely.
Pond's feet made almost no sound on the metal grating beneath them. Even Phuwin who had been trained in stealth and could use the Force to enhance his abilities was making enough sound that he was genuinely worried about being heard. Pond's weight was centered with every step, and his hands hovered near the various pouches at his belt.
"You're a pilot?" Phuwin asked at one point. "You don't move like one."
Pond grinned at him. "I've flown a thing or two," he bragged without missing a beat. "Mostly cargo. Mostly legal."
Emphasis on the mostly, Phuwin's mind supplied dryly. "I repeat," he said after taking a moment to bury his frustration, "you don't move like one."
"I'm just a guy trying to make a living," he said, bringing a hand to his chest. An expression of offense crosses his face. "Besides, people don't usually shoot at plain old pilots." He smirked. "They tend to shoot at the acrobat with the glowing sword and the 'save the galaxy' complex."
Phuwin chose to ignore the jab. He paused and cast his senses out one more time. He'd been using his Force abilities to help them avoid most patrols, but as the map of corridors and rooms solidified in his mind, his gut dropped. "The hangar is guarded," he said.
Ahead of him, Pond froze. "Do you know how many?"
"No. More than a few, less than the whole crew." Phuwin grit his teeth and tried to pull the image into focus. Using the Force like this wasn't difficult when he was in mostly ideal conditions: sitting down, not in danger, and able to slip into a meditative trance. Here, he was unable to fulfill any of those conditions properly. "Could we take the vents to the secondary maintenance catwalks?"
Pond let out a soft huff that sounded more like a laugh than anything. "I know this kind of ship. The vents are too narrow for someone with my build, and you are wearing too much fabric. You'll snag that poncho of yours on something and whine about it the whole way to Coruscant." He shook his head. "We're going through the laundry chutes."
"The laundry chutes?" Phuwin's nose wrinkled again. He hadn't been in a laundry chute since he was a youngling playing hide and seek with Gemini and Fourth in the Temple. He could already imagine their faces when he recounted this entire misadventure to them later.
Perhaps he could skip this portion.
…no. Master Tay would call him on it immediately.
"It'll drop us right behind the guard post in Hangar 4," Pond replied. He stopped at a circular hatch in the floor and knelt. Phuwin saw the flash of metal in his hands, and then the hatch was open and waiting. "Unless you'd rather walk through the front door? I'm sure they'd love to see your lightsaber in action while they're venting the atmosphere."
Phuwin looked at the hatch, then at the confident, annoyingly playful glint in Pond's eyes.
He sighed. "Fine." He pointed at Pond with a stern finger, as if he were scolding Fourth - oh, kriff, now he got it. No wonder.
He shoved the vaguely disturbing thought out of his mind (Fourth as a 'pilot' would set the galaxy on fire, and not in a good way) and said, "But if we end up in a trash compactor, I will leave you there."
Pond grinned. "Fair enough." He motioned to the open hatch. "Ladies first?"
Phuwin shot him a look that could have melted durasteel. Is it too late to shove him out an airlock? He wondered just before he dropped into the dark chute.
The slide itself was fast. The upper decks of the ship housed primary ship operations and upper class cabins, which put the general population on the lower levels. Pond and Phuwin were only a few decks from the laundry.
He used the Force to slow his descent, landing silently on a pile of coarse grey linens. A few seconds later, Pond came tumbling after him. Screaming. He hit the linens with a much louder oomph! and absolutely no grace to speak of.
"Wasn't the whole point of the chute to be stealthy?" Phuwin mused. He stepped out of the bin and carefully re-situated the strap of his satchel over his chest.
Pond's ears flushed a deep red. "I got us here, didn't I?" he grumbled, nodding his head in the direction of the heavy blast doors at the end of the hall. He got to his feet and joined Phuwin on the floor.
They were in a dim room filled with the hum of industrial sonic washers that was only cut with the roar of engines and gruff commands of pirates coming from where the doors blocked the entrance to the hangar.
"Stay behind me," Phuwin ordered. His hand settled on the silver hilt of his lightsaber for the first time since he'd boarded the ship almost twelve hours ago. The crystal inside the weapon sung a low crooning melody within the Force, just as ready for the fight as Phuwin. "I'll clear a path to the ship. Which one is it?"
Pond pointed toward the far end of the hangar, which was visible through a small observation window. "The JASP.ER," he said proudly. Phuwin couldn't see much of the ship aside from its grey plating with muted-maroon accents, but he could tell just from the small glimpse he could manage that it would probably be fast enough to get them out of here in one piece. Probably. "I painted her myself. Well, me and my-" his voice cut off abruptly.
Phuwin raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.
Pond simply shrugged. "Look, you don't need to worry about me, Princess. I'll stay out of the way." He grinned, a crooked thing that looked unfairly cute (and where did that come from?) on his features. "I'm not much of a fighter, you know?"
Phuwin highly doubted that. Even now, he could see the way Pond's eyes were already tracking the pirates' patrol patterns through the window. "Liar," he muttered as Pond placed his hand over the control panel. He didn't push the issue, not with a mission to complete. Out the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of something in Pond's hand - a blaster.
He adjusted his grip on his lightsaber and took a deep, fortifying breath. He pulled the Force inward, letting it settle into his muscles. His body welcomed the influence like an old friend, and he felt the world around him grow sharper, more in-focus. He heard the pulse of the ship in his ears, the sharp pitter-patter of Pond's heartbeat beside him, and even the hum of his lightsaber waiting to be used.
His eyes snapped open. He nodded to Pond.
Pond's hand slammed over the door release, and blast doors hissed open.
The chill of the hangar reached Phuwin first, then the scream of machinery. He didn't wait for the pirates to register his presence. With one fluid motion, he shed his poncho and ignited his lightsaber. The telltale snap-hiss of the energy blade was the only thing he heard over the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Twenty.
Phuwin barely registered Pond scrambling toward a stack of durasteel crates before the first pirate noticed them. "Stay down," he called as the blaster fire began in earnest. He quickly deflected the first few bolts and smiled in grim satisfaction as one of the pirates fell.
Nineteen.
"Don't have to tell me twice, Princess!" Pond yelled back. A blue bolt of energy went over Phuwin's head and hit the edge of Pond's crate. Pond yelped in alarm.
Phuwin took a moment to examine the situation. Four pirates on the catwalks above their heads. Six coming around the guard post. Three between him and the JASP.ER to his left. Five coming from the hangar entrance. One somewhere in front of him, but out of view.
The Force rippled above him.
He glanced up, mouth falling into a frown as he noticed the turret aiming down at him. Guess that answered where the one missing pirate was.
"Pond!" Phuwin called the warning just as the turret fired its first volley of shots. Luckily, Pond had figured it out in time, maybe even before Phuwin, and had dove to a new location nearby.
The pirates in front of him continued to fire, but one brave soul darted forward, coming at Phuwin with a vibroblade. Phuwin moved. He was a blur of motion in the brightly lit hangar. His blade was a wall of green light as he deflected more shots and disarmed the pirate coming for him with a flick of his wrist.
He paused, reaching out into the force, and then pulled. The now-disarmed pirate went flying through the air. He let out a scream as he crashed into one of his crewmates, the two of them slamming into the wall with enough force to at least knock them out - if not worse.
Seventeen.
"Hey! Over here, you big ugly - whoa!"
Phuwin glanced over his shoulder. Pond was stumbling across the hangar floor with flailing arms as if he'd just lost his balance. As he fell, his boot kicked a manual release lever on a nearby refueling cart. The cart began to roll, accelerating until it slammed into a group of three pirates attempting to flank Phuwin's left side. The pirates went down in a tangle of limbs.
Convenient. Phuwin didn't have time to dwell on Pond's sudden fortune. He vaulted over a nearby cargo crate. His blade ended up taking the arm off of a pirate who got too close, but he didn't feel too sorry for the man. Thirteen - no, twelve.
He felt the danger in the Force too late to block the shot that was about to come from above, but then a blaster shot fired from Pond's direction. It was wild, too wide to hit the pirate taking aim at Phuwin's head, but it did hit a fire suppression canister mounted to the wall three meters to the sniper's left. The canister exploded in a cloud of thick foam. The sniper, blinded, slipped off the catwalk and crashed to the floor with a muffled thud.
Phuwin smirked. Eleven.
He didn't let the smirk last. He ducked as the turret above them cycled its cooling vents. He heard the soft whine of the machinery preparing for another volley, and the Force spiked in sharp warning.
Pond, already halfway to the JASP.ER, skidded to a stop as the turret let loose a storm of blaster fire dangerously close to the ship in question. "Don't you touch my ship!" he yelled. "Phuwin - get rid of that thing!"
Phuwin grit his teeth and reached out with his mind. He grabbed the air in front of the turret, twisting the Force until the thick metal barrel groaned and bent upward. When the pirate next pulled the trigger, the turret exploded in sparks, smoke, and shrapnel.
Ten.
There was no time to celebrate. Phuwin dove to the side as a vibro-axe came down right where he'd just been standing. He glanced up at the Gamorrean on the other end of the blade and hissed. He'd been distracted - how he'd missed the characteristic smell of the giant green oaf, he wasn't entirely sure. He blamed Pond.
He kicked the Gamorrean square in the chest, channeling the Force into the point of contact. The pirate went flying through the window of the security station.
Nine.
Phuwin sprinted toward the JASP.ER. Two pirates stepped out from behind a stack of crates, their rifles trained on him, but they all looked up as a metallic clatter rang from above.
"Oops!" Pond's voice echoed through the hangar. "Watch out!"
A heavy cargo net filled with empty fuel canisters came crashing down from a nearby crane. The pirates were buried in a mountain of durasteel.
…seven.
He didn't let it faze him. He vaulted over the pile of metal and sliced through the last two pirates blocking his route to the ship. By this point, Pond had already reached the YT-2400's loading ramp. He stood at the top, his blaster aimed at the pirates behind Phuwin.
Five.
He raced up the ramp and turned back to deflect more blaster fire. "Pond! Start the ship!" he ordered.
Beside him, Pond grunted. He disappeared into the ship, leaving Phuwin to face the last few pirates on his own. The ship beneath him rumbled to life, and then they were rising into the air. The ramp began to close.
Phuwin waved to pirates with one hand while he deactivated his lightsaber with the other. He ducked into the cabin and made his way to the cockpit. Pond was already there, hands steady as he took them straight for the exit. "Can you shoot?" he asked Phuwin as the Jedi slid into the co-pilot's chair.
"Well enough," Phuwin replied. It had been a while since he'd been in a dogfight, but his eye had always been better than most. He took the controls in his hands and let his focus cast outward. "I don't think I'll need to. They didn't bring any friends," he noted when he didn't feel anything other than the two ships behind them.
"The jump to hyperspace should shake off anyone trying to follow us," Pond muttered. He pressed a few buttons, then pushed a lever. The blackness of space melted into a mix of blue and white, and Phuwin let his senses snap back to normal.
The adrenaline in his system receded, and a cold, hollow ache took its place in Phuwin's joints. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, and he couldn't help but sink further into his chair as his body slowly came to grips with how hard he'd just pushed it.
Next to him, Pond seemed to have a similar reaction to the relative peace they'd found. He huffed a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "You know, you're a real magnet for trouble, Princess." He glanced at Phuwin. "My ship's never seen that much heat, and I once accidentally parked in a Hutt's private docking bay."
Phuwin snorted, not bothering to open his eyes. "I'm sure your ship is traumatized. I'll write an apology after I've finished scrubbing the smell of your 'space-measles' out of my robes." Well, not quite robes per se.
Like most Jedi stationed on the front lines, he was dressed in tighter fitting garb meant for combat. He'd forgone his armor for the mission considering his undercover status, but normally he'd be wearing pieces of white trooper plating painted in the vibrant teal of the 701st Legion.
He wouldn't admit it, but he missed the familiar weight over his chest. Just a bit.
He could almost hear Master Gun's disgust. Armor makes us look like soldiers, he'd said once, not long after Geonosis. Aren't we a force for peace?
"Hey, that was a stroke of genius," Pond defended, though he didn't sound as though he had the energy to fight it.
Phuwin cracked one eye open. "It was a stroke of something," he countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Usually, when people help a Jedi, they don't drag them through a bin of dirty towels." He sighed. "And though the Force moves in mysterious ways, I'm fairly certain it didn't move you to drop that cargo net."
He finally cast a dry look in Pond's direction. The pilot was leaning back in his chair, a slight smile on his face and eyes twinkling with amusement. Phuwin ignored the way his stomach flip-flopped at the sight. He refused to think about it. "If your luck is that potent, you should really consider a career in the Republic Ordnance Corps." He let a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. "We'd save millions in artillery if we had you tripping over Separatist power cores."
"And miss out on all this quality time with you, Princess?" Pond's smile broadened. "Never."
Phuwin dropped his head against the headrest with a soft thud. "I'm two minutes from using the Force to shut your mouth until we get to Coruscant," he muttered.
"Ouch. Tough crowd." Pond reached into a compartment near his knee and tossed a small square wrapped in foil onto Phuwin's lap. "Eat that," he ordered. "Rations from Corellia. Tastes like sawdust, but it'll stop you from passing out."
Phuwin looked down at the bar, then back at Pond. He was half-tempted to reject the offer entirely, but a soft ripple through the Force gave him pause.
The gesture was genuine. A peace offering. The focusing stone beneath his tunic warmed.
He took a bite. The sawdust description was… an understatement. As he chewed, his gaze wandered across the dashboard. Anything to distract him from the gritty texture coating his tongue - only Republic rations were worse than this. His eyes landed on a small, hand-etched metal plate bolted crookedly near the throttle. It was surrounded by various bits and bobs: a jagged piece of bone, a spent power cell, and a pressed flower from a planet Phuwin didn't recognize.
In messy writing, the plate read: THE JASP.ER.
Phuwin swallowed hard around the dry crumbs of the ration bar. He gestured to the plate with his hand. "I can't believe you named your ship after a rock," he segued. "Is the hull made of granite, or do you just enjoy the irony of flying a stone through space?"
Pond shot him a confused look, then shrugged as his eyes followed Phuwin's finger to the nameplate. "Jasper is a very sturdy rock," he said without missing a beat. "Just like me." He slapped a hand over his right bicep. "You might not be able to see them, but I've got more than just a blaster up my sleeves."
That, I believe, Phuwin thought as he chewed his next bite of dry ration bar. The two of them settled into an easy silence punctuated only by the hum of hyperspace.
The easy silence held for a while. Phuwin had long finished the ration bar and had turned toward quiet meditation - this time turned inward, using his stone as a receptacle for the residual energy from the fight. It was only after he'd finally purged the last of the adrenaline from his body that he felt Pond's gaze settle on him once more.
He let his senses drift toward the pilot, gently probing for intention, but all he found was quiet curiosity.
"Yes?" he asked without opening his eyes. Pond's curiosity spiked into surprise before it smoothed into satisfaction.
"That's a fancy pebble," Pond replied. Phuwin opened his eyes, his hand coming up reflexively to press his focus stone against his chest when Pond nodded to it. "Looks like it's worth more than your ticket in economy, anyway."
The stone burned against the sturdy fabric of his tunic. "It's not for sale," Phuwin uttered, voice flat.
"Didn't say it was," Pond said. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "Just noticing." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Most Jedi I've come across are all about the 'no attachments' thing," he continued, "but you've been white-knuckling that necklace since we hit the laundry chute."
Phuwin's jaw tightened. He wanted to dismiss the conversation entirely, but the Force hummed at the edges of his awareness.
Look deeper, it seemed to whisper.
Phuwin caught a glimpse of the pressed flower out the corner of his eyes. It suddenly dawned on him that perhaps Pond was less interested in the stone's value and more in the story.
He sighed. "It was a gift," he finally admitted. "My Master, Tay Tawan, gave it to me when I was promoted."
Pond's eyebrows shot up. "To Knight?" he asked.
"He gave it to me when I became his Padawan," Phuwin corrected absently as he pulled the stone from beneath his tunic. The small blue stone rested comfortably against his palm. "He said it would help ground me. The Force can be… overwhelming. It's supposed to help me filter the noise."
Pond hummed. "Bet it's a lot when you're busy being the Republic's golden boy," he said. "Must be exhausting."
Phuwin tilted his head curiously. The words on the surface seemed sarcastic, even biting, but Pond's tone was sincere. He shifted in his chair. "Master Tay thinks I'm ready. Most of the Council does, too."
"But you don't?"
Phuwin didn't answer immediately. He turned his gaze outward, staring into the swirling blue of hyperspace. His reflection stared back at him from the viewport, and for a moment, he looked far too small and young for the lightsaber resting at his hip. "The war doesn't care if I'm ready," he finally said into the silence. "The Republic needs more Jedi. Master Tay…" He paused, the words escaping him for a moment before he could continue. "He didn't want to promote me too soon, but with the war escalating, he didn't have a choice."
You can say no, Phu, Tay had told him just before the first of his trials. You don't have to do this.
Phuwin had smiled, feeling the ugly truth hidden within the words. I don't, but you do, Master.
Pond watched him for a few moments. "It's a good souvenir," he said quietly. His eyes dipped back to the necklace one last time before he turned his attention to the nav-computer. "There are a lot of people in the galaxy who'd kill for something that makes the world go quiet."
The silence that followed only lasted as long as it took for Pond to chart their current course into the system.
Phuwin felt the shift in the Force before Pond even opened his mouth. The contemplative thoughtfulness morphed into curiosity quickly - too quickly.
This man is going to talk my ear off at this rate, Phuwin thought darkly as Pond leaned back in his chair. The pilot shot the leather satchel resting on Phuwin's lap a quick glance.
"So," Pond began, drawing the word out in a casual lilt that betrayed his intentions. "The pebble is a gift. Got it. But I'm guessing whatever is in that bag isn't exactly a souvenir from Naboo."
Phuwin frowned. "It's nothing," he lied. He fought the urge to pull the bag closer to his body and forced himself to relax.
"Right," Pond replied, "nothing." His mouth twitched. "The Republic sent a Jedi Knight out into the Mid Rim in the middle of a galactic war for 'nothing'." He chuckled darkly. "Princess, I've seen pirates board plenty of ships. They usually go for the credits or the spice - not a lone Jedi passenger on a pleasure cruise. They were looking for you and whatever you've got in that bag."
Phuwin looked out at the hyperspace tunnel. Pond was too smart for any of his attempts at subterfuge to work, but he wasn't prepared to hand over the truth to a smuggler looking for a payday.
"It's a matter for the Order," he said, his voice level. "The less you know, the safer you are."
Pond shrugged. "It's all relative when you're carrying a walking, talking target in your hold." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he closed the distance between them. "You know as well as I do that if the Seps are willing to hire a whole pirate crew just to intercept you, that bag is holding something that could tip the scales of this whole kriffing war."
"It's a burden," Phuwin said bluntly. He gripped the edges of the bag tightly. "If you're looking for a payday, you should have stayed on the Gilded Nebula and robbed the merchants."
Pond's eyes narrowed. One side of his mouth quirked into a half-smirk. "Who says I'm looking for a payday? Maybe I'm just concerned for my ship's upholstery."
"Liar," Phuwin shot back.
Pond raised his hands in surrender. "Guilty," he chirped. The grin he offered Phuwin didn't quite reach his eyes. His hands dropped to the controls once more. "Keep your secrets, Princess. I just hope that whatever is in that bag is worth the trouble we'll hit when we drop out of hyperspace."
Phuwin pushed himself to his feet. "I'm headed to the 'fresher," he announced. He strapped the bag back across his chest. "Tell me when we're close."
The 'fresher was small and smelled of the same burnt wiring that seemed to permeate every inch of the JASP.ER. Phuwin stared at his reflection in the tarnished metal mirror.
He looked exactly how he felt: tired. His short brown hair had gotten greasy over the course of the mission, the shadows under his dark eyes were more bruises than anything else, and it suddenly struck him just how draining this entire journey had been. Getting the Holocron off of Ansion had been tricky enough, but everything that came after…
He adjusted the straps of his bag and reached for the focusing stone. He closed his eyes, his breath slowing to a rhythm he usually reserved for meditation in an attempt to center himself. For a moment, the tight feeling in his chest loosened.
Then, the floor beneath him tilted violently. The hum of the hyperdrive, which had filled the ship since they'd made the jump, spiked into a shriek before it died. Phuwin heard a heavy thud as the ship snapped back into real-space.
He was thrown against the bulkhead, his shoulder taking most of the impact. He didn't waste time cursing. He scrambled from the 'fresher and sprinted back to the cockpit.
"What happened?" he snapped as he slid back into his seat. The view outside the cockpit had already settled into the shimmering blue of a gravity well.
Pond's hands pressed a series of buttons. "We hit a wall," he replied with just as much intensity. He leaned forward, hands locked in a white-knuckled grip onto the flight controls. He'd fixed his gaze on the tactical display.
Three red blips were already closing in fast.
"Vulture droids," Pond said darkly. "They were waiting for us." He shot Phuwin a dark look. "Someone really wants that 'nothing' in your bag, Princess."
"I can handle the shields," Phuwin said, his hands a blur over the console as he reached out into the Force. "Two coming in at high velocity port side. The third is looping around."
Pond hissed through his teeth. "Forget the shields," he ordered. "Boost the thrusters."
"The engines won't take the-"
"I said boost them!"
Phuwin bit back his protests and slammed the power converters forward. He could hear Fourth's scathing criticism in the back of his mind as the hull of the JASP.ER groaned around them.
Then, Pond moved.
He threw the ship into a spiraling barrel roll that threatened to turn Phuwin's stomach inside out. Red blaster fire flew through the vacuum of space around them. It was only due to Pond's quick maneuver through the gaps that they didn't breach the hull.
Out of the corner of his eye, Phuwin could see that Pond's expression was a mask of complete stillness. Gone was the bumbling demeanor from earlier. He wasn't entirely sure what sat in its place.
"You're not just a pilot," Phuwin muttered. The realization hit harder than the blow from the bulkhead earlier. Sure, he'd suspected something was off about his unwanted companion, but -
"I'm a guy who doesn't like getting shot!" Pond replied through gritted teeth. "Now shut up and shoot back!" Phuwin barely had time to follow his instructions before he yanked the stick back. The JASP.ER pulled into a tight loop that pinned both of them against their seats.
Now, the Force sang to him. Phuwin pulled the trigger on one of the dorsal turrets, and the first Vulture droid exploded in a bright and vicious fireball.
"Pond," Phuwin warned as he felt the Force shift, "one of them is locking on. Starboard side. Dive!"
"I've got a better idea," Pond said. Instead of diving, he cut the engines. The JASP.ER drifted, dead weight in the void. The Vulture droid overshot them as it struggled to compensate for the ship's sudden loss of momentum.
In the next heartbeat, Pond slammed the thrusters back to life and flipped the ship on its axis. The movement sent the JASP.ER's tail-fin right into the droid's hull. The droid went spinning out of control right into the path of the third droid.
The resulting explosion was as brilliant as it was thrilling.
Pond leveled the ship out, his breathing heavy and face focused. He didn't look at Phuwin or offer a lopsided grin. He reset the navigation coordinates for Coruscant and set his gaze on the sensor sweep.
Phuwin sat in the silence, listening to the sound of his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked down at his shaking hands and buried them in the folds of his tunic.
"You lied to me," he bit out once he trusted himself to speak without his voice trembling. "In the hangar. On the ship. You've been holding back this entire time."
Pond snorted. "That's rich, coming from you, Princess," he shot back. He glanced at Phuwin, his mouth set in a deep frown. "I told you. People shoot at heroes. I'd rather be the lucky idiot who survived."
"You're no idiot," Phuwin countered. The Holocron in his bag pulsed a steady, cold beat. "And I don't think you're lucky, either."
"Believe what you want," Pond muttered. He turned back to the viewport as the glittering shield of Coruscant's atmosphere finally came into view. "Just get yourself together. We're landing in Hangar 94-C. Private sector. No guards, no questions."
Phuwin didn't respond. He felt the focusing stone slowly begin to warm again. He was safe.
He was home.
The JASP.ER descended through the endless layers of Coruscant's busy skyline. Hangar 94-C was tucked away in a private sector reserved for merchant ships and underhanded deals - perfect for a quiet place to land.
The landing gear hissed as it met duracrete. Pond shut down the engines with a flick of his hand, and the sudden silence left Phuwin's ears ringing.
"End of the line, Princess," Pond said. His voice had regained its lighthearted tone, but he didn't move to get up immediately.
Phuwin let out a long breath. The familiar pull of Coruscant in the Force called to him, enveloping him in its embrace with the warmth of home. "Thank you, Pond," he said. He offered the pilot a small, genuine smile. "You're a good pilot."
Pond turned in his chair. That grin - the cute one (still incredibly unfair) - was back in place. "Oh, I like that - put it in a letter of recommendation for me." He stood up and stepped toward Phuwin, reaching out a hand as if to help him up from the co-pilot's seat. "Let's get you and your 'nothing' to the ramp before I change my mind and charge you double for the laundry service."
Phuwin accepted the hand. His legs still felt like lead after the firefight from earlier, and as he stood, Pond stumbled slightly. He bumped into Phuwin's shoulder, hands coming up to grip Phuwin's chest and arms to steady them both.
"I guess we're both a bit wobbly," Pond said with a wry grin.
Phuwin jerked back from the sudden contact and straightened his tunic. He stepped toward the ramp, reaching down to adjust the satchel against his hip.
He was ready to go home and forget this entire misadventure even happened.
His hand met empty air.
Phuwin froze. He looked down. The strap was still there, but his bag (and the Holocron) was gone. He spun around, hand flying to his lightsaber.
Pond was already five paces back. He lounged against the cockpit doorframe and was tossing the Holocron lightly in one hand.
"Looking for this?" he asked. His smile was sharp and predatory, tinged with a satisfaction that made Phuwin's stomach twist. "I told you, Princess. I'm a guy that likes payday." He snatched the small cube out of the air with one hand. "This? This is the kind of payday that buys me a new ship and a private moon to park it on."
Phuwin's heart froze. "Pond," he pleaded, his voice cracking with a mixture of exhaustion and betrayal. He didn't draw his blade - he couldn't bring himself to escalate so quickly. Not yet. "You don't know what that is. It's-" He swallowed thickly. "It's a weapon schematic." The truth tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. "If you sell that to the Separatists or anyone else, you're signing a death warrant for entire star systems."
"Business is business," Pond countered. His thumb traced the edge of the Holocron's outer casing. "The Republic doesn't pay too well. The Seps do."
Phuwin stepped forward so that he could look Pond in the eyes. "If you take that Holocron, people will die. Innocent people." He reached out with one hand. "You didn't want me to start a firefight in that passenger lounge because you didn't want anyone to get hurt. You saved me, even when you could have run. Please."
Pond's grin faltered. He looked at the Holocron, then back at Phuwin. The silence in the hangar stretched between them, and within it, the Force swirled and spiked in a jagged knot of conflict between greed and empathy.
Finally, Pond let out a long groan of frustration. "Kriff. I hate it when you're right." He tossed the Holocron to Phuwin, who caught it against his chest. The pilot waved a hand dismissively. "Get out of here before it hits just how much money I threw away."
The knot in Phuwin's chest loosened. "Thank you, Pond."
"Mmm." Pond stepped closer again, the suave confidence already rearing its head once more. He reached out, his fingers grazing the edge of Phuwin's collar. He tucked a stray thread back into place and leaned in, his voice dropping to low hum that made Phuwin's heart skip a beat for an entirely different reason. "You're a real piece of work, Princess. Too honest for this galaxy." He winked. "But hey… maybe that's why I like you."
His thumb brushed against the skin of Phuwin's neck for a fraction of a second too long. Phuwin's breath caught at the foreign (but warm - so warm) touch at his nape. The Force exploded with excitement and anticipatory energy around them almost… almost as if it had been waiting.
Pond smirked, then turned on his heel and started up the ramp. "Don't be a stranger, Princess! I'm sure you'll find another way to get us both killed soon!"
Phuwin watched the JASP.ER's ramp hiss shut. He stood in the hangar feeling a strange sense of longing as the engines roared to life.
He waited until the ship had cleared the atmosphere before he reached for his focusing stone to center himself for the long speeder ride to the Temple.
His hand met bare skin.
Phuwin's eyes snapped open. He searched his chest with frantic fingers, but the blue stone was gone.
…
"Pond," Phuwin shouted into the empty hangar. A mixture of fury and begrudging respect bloomed warm in his chest.
He had the Holocron, but the pilot - smuggler - had left him with an empty neck and a vow: He was going to get that necklace back, even if he had to chase Pond across the entire galaxy.
.
.
.
.
The JASP.ER punched through the atmosphere of Coruscant, and Pond breathed a small sigh of relief as the neon haze of the planet darkened into the speckled black of space. He reached for the long-range comms.
A holo-display flickered to life on the dashboard, revealing two men sitting on a workbench. Pond grinned triumphantly. "Package delivered," he announced. "Mostly in one piece. Tell Senator Jumpol he can wire the credits to the usual account." He huffed a breathless laugh. "He was right - the Jedi is a straight shooter. Too honest for his own good."
Joong looked up from the heavy blaster rifle he was recalibrating, his expression serious as his eyes scanned the diagnostic feed Pond had sent over only minutes ago. "Mostly?" he asked. "The sensor logs show three Vulture droids downed and a gravity well snap-back. I hope the Senator's 'bonus' covers the engine stress."
The other man nudged Joong with his shoulder. "Relax," Dunk told him, "who's the engineer here?" Joong shot him a look, but Dunk just shrugged and ran a hand through his dark hair. The motion left a grease smudge on his temple. "If the ship didn't explode, it was a good flight."
Joong's stern expression faltered for a brief moment, his gaze softening as it flicked toward Dunk. "Don't complain to me when you have to fix everything that idiot broke," he muttered.
Dunk let out a brilliant laugh and poked Joong's shoulder with a wrench. "See? So serious. I think he missed you, Pond." He paused. "Or maybe he just missed having someone else to lecture."
"I missed the credits," Joong groused. He looked back at the holo. "Did you get the bonus at the very least?"
Pond reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver chain. The blue focusing stone shone in the light of the cockpit, pulsing with a faint warmth. He let the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips take over. "I decided to take a personal commission. Just a souvenir to make sure our Jedi friend doesn't forget us."
"A Jedi rock?" Dunk leaned in. "You're asking for a lightsaber to the face."
Pond shrugged. "Maybe," he said as he eyed the stone. In his mind's eye, he saw the look on Phuwin's face as his hand had made contact with the Jedi's bare skin. Cute. "But I have the feeling the Princess likes the chase."
In fact, he was counting on it.