Star Wars_ Millennium Falcon - James Luceno [93]
“Who owned this ship?” she asked Quip over her shoulder as they headed into the cockpit connector.
“What I heard, the Imps took it off a criminal from Nar Shaddaa.”
Zenn Bien nodded. “That would explain it. It'll be a shame to chop this one.”
“Like you said, more parts equals more credits for us.”
In the cockpit, Zenn Bien climbed up into the pilot's chair, adjusting its position to suit her size. Strapped into the copilot's chair, Quip adjusted it to place himself on an even height with her.
Humanity needs more like him, she told herself.
They waited an hour for the clone-piloted V-wings to complete their patrol of the corral; then, disabling the magnetics that kept the YT from drifting, they maneuvered out of the press of CIS warships, firing the attitude thrusters briefly to drop the ship out of the corral.
“The port-side jet has a problem,” Zenn Bien said as momentum began to carry the YT away from the impound facility.
“We can have it looked at on Sriluur.”
Zenn Bien centered herself at the controls. “Ready?” She grabbed hold of the throttle and sent the YT hurtling into space.
“Dial up the compensator!” Quip said, struggling to remain in the chair.
Catching her breath, she eased up on the throttle and reached for the inertial compensator, dialing it up to 99 percent. “I had no idea this thing would be so fast!”
The Nilash Impound Facility was already a distant memory. Zenn Bien swiveled to the Rubicon navicomputer and tasked it with plotting a course for the Sisar Run. A moment later the stars elongated into lines and the ship leapt into hyperspace.
Zenn Bien blew out her breath and extended a hand toward Quip. “Look at this—I'm actually shaking.”
“I told you it would be a breeze.”
She laughed. “Not from stealing her. From flying her.”
They put in at a remote desert spaceport on Sriluur, where they paid a couple of Weequays to watch the ship while they went looking for Quip's contact. A Verpine more than twice Zenn Bien's height, Luufkin was waiting for them in the spaceport's small tapcaf. The four-limbed hermaphroditic insectoid greeted Quip like a long-lost friend.
“Everything is prepared,” Luufkin said, struggling with Basic. “I have computer documentation for new registry and name for freighter—Gone to Pieces. Fuel is waiting, full recharge of power systems. A cargo of fine brandy and tabac sticks on hand.”
Noting Zenn Bien's puzzlement, Quip said: “Good for bribing officials in the Tungra sector.”
“And for celebrate with junkyard owners who purchase parts,” Luufkin added.
Quip smiled. “May as well celebrate our luck so far.”
While Quip hurried to the bar to order drinks, Luufkin turned to Zenn Bien. “You leave Sullust long time back?”
She nodded. “Long time back.”
“Quip tells us much technical ability you have. Why not working for SoroSuub Corporation?”
Zenn Bien scowled. “SoroSuub is part of the reason I left Sullust. They were wrong to support the Confederacy during the Clone Wars, and they're wrong to support the Empire now. But most Sullustans know better. Things will change.”
No slouches when it came to technical wizardry, the Verpine species had their own version of SoroSuub in the form of the Roche Hive Mechanical Apparatus Design And Construction Activity For Those Who Need The Hive's Machines. Among other ships, Roche had manufactured the predecessor of the V-wing fighter used by the Republic during the Clone Wars, and was still in use at remote Imperial facilities like Nilash Impound. Luufkin had the manner of someone who had worked for the hive.
“Support Rebels you do?”
She laughed. “I can barely support myself.”
“Understand that. No time for political affinity when belly empty.”
It took the better part of a local day to see to the refueling, load the cargo of brandy