Lady Obscura: Vader's Shadow [Star Wars | Luke Skywalker]

Chapter 11

It was several deck officers later before she was able to track down the X-Wing she had been given. It wasn't much to look at, but then, very few of the Alliance ships were in prime condition. Still, it would do. After instructing N3 to get aboard and run any diagnostics he deemed necessary, she left the little droid to his own devices.

Around her, the base was buzzing with activity. Everywhere Rebels were packing up what they could and preparing for the evacuation signal to be given. Pilots were scrambling to reach their fighters or their speeders. Captains and deck officers were relaying orders and instruction while transports were being loaded everywhere she looked. Faces flew past, and though she recognized many, she didn't see the ones she wanted to see most.

Finally she managed to find the Falcon in the maze that made up Echo Base. As usual, Han and Chewie were working away at the junky-looking ship. Han was up on top of the Falcon, while his Wookiee Co-pilot was just barely visible in the cockpit. The two of them were calling back and forth, trading instructions, suggestions and profanity intermittently while they each struggled to restore and repair the one of the variety of systems on the Falcon with a habit of acting up. Athara shook her head with faint exasperation, a small grin coming to her face as Han began to yell and curse as a burst of smoke billowed up from the open panel he was standing over. Chewie, meanwhile, was wailing and snarling his own curses, though Athara, with her limited understanding of Shyriiwook, was sure they weren't all directed at the temperamental freighter.

"Having problems, Han?" She called up to him. He all but snarled at her himself, causing her to laugh. After a moment Han took a break from whatever it was that he was fighting with, settling on the edge of the Falcon.

"So, how is Rodia this time of year?" Athara made a face.

"Warmer than here, especially with Boushh trailing me the whole time."

"He the one we ran into on Ord Mandel?" Athara rolled her eyes.

"One of them. I'm pretty sure he knows we work together, but I think he might actually have been after me this time, instead of you. He was awfully interested in trying to talk, though, which was—different. So, come to think of it, I think he's still after you." This time it was Han who grimaced.

"Sorry 'bout that. I think I pissed him off and made it personal last we saw him." Athara wrinkled her nose at the comment. Boushh was competent enough at his—her? It was hard to tell with Ubese—chosen profession and, despite being a bit bumbling compared to others like Fett, Bossk or Dengar, was still dangerous. While it was better to have him on your tail than one of the big Hunters, he was still not a good one to have hunting you...especially not for fun. And he seemed to have it out for Han and, by extension, the rest of them.

"Pray he hasn't, Han." He shrugged, but Athara wasn't kidding around. "I'm serious. There is nothing worse than bounty hunters with personal vendettas." Han made a dismissive gesture, causing the former Sith apprentice to frown.

"Well then, maybe he just likes us," his tone was just as nonchalant as the gesture. Athara grimaced.

"I hope not. As if I don't already have enough things to worry about."

"Come on, Tamara, relax a bit. Loosen up." She shot him a skeptical look.

"I could say the same to you." Han turned, poking at a bit of exposed something or other before responding, his crooked smile securely in place.

"Okay, I'll grant you that. It's a little hard to take a day when the Imperial Fleet is breathing down our necks." This time she managed to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, planting her hands on her hips instead.