Boarded
I'm trying not to panic.
We're about be boarded.
We're running blaster rifles for Toydarian antiracists and we're about to be boarded by soldiers of the New Republic.
We were not expecting to run into the New Republic. While it's not uncommon to run into the New Republic in the Mid Rim, it is out of the ordinary to run into them in Hutt space. The Hutts and the New Republic have something of an understanding in which neither bothers the other and both try to respect the boundaries and of the other.
Or, at least, that's how it's been explained to me.
Yet, as we approached the green planet of Toydaria, we found ourselves in the shadow of a Mon Calamari capital ship. They hailed us, asked for our identification, and then told us to prepare to be boarded.
"What's the New Republic doing out here anyway?" Palial hisses.
I'm trying not to panic.
I'm only fifteen years old.
I've been a smuggler for less than a year, but that's not going to matter to them.
Smugglers are sent to prisons or mines or thrown into pits where no sun can reach them. They key is thrown away and no one remembers them.
I shouldn't be here.
I shouldn't have come.
Of all the ways I could have tried to get off that miserable rock, why did I choose a smuggler's ship?
Was I even that miserable?
Pasquaal VI is a fine place. I could have made a life there and found some happiness. Maybe marry a barmaid or-
I feel the patient hand of Siom Lech on my shoulder. He looks down at me. He tries to smile. He tries to wordlessly comfort me, but the Utapaun only succeeds in looking like every single nightmare I had as a child.
"Happens all the time," Siom says. "Nothing to worry about."
There's a knock at our door. We're inside their ship and they're knocking at our door.
Palial activates the door. It opens and the ramp descends. Moments later, two soldiers of the New Republic are on our ship.
"What can I do for you," Siom asks politely, bowing slightly.
"A ship matching your description was recently seen on Tatooine," says the first soldier.
Were were on Tatooine a few months ago.
"It is believed the ship is owned by a smuggler who is working for an Ithorian spice dealer by the name of Qew Dak," says the second soldier.
We met with Qew Dak. I didn't like him. I let Siom know and he decided we were not going to do business with him.
"Ah," Siom says, tilting his head back, "I understand now. There has been a misunderstanding. Several, actually."
The New Republicans shared knowing glances. They're ready for his excuse, his lie, they've heard them all.
"That was us on Tatooine," Siom admits to their surprise. "We were just there. I have no doubt it was our ship your scanners picked up. And we met with the spice runner you spoke of, Qew Dak."
The soldiers are confused. They were not expecting a full confession. One of them drops their hand to their holster.
"The first misunderstanding is yours. We are not smugglers. We work in the antiques market," he lies through his pointed teeth. "We find, purchase, trade and sell every sort of rare antiquity. The second misunderstanding was the Ithorian's. Not only did he think we were for hire, he assumed we would be willing to courier illegal substances for him. We declined his offer and left immediately. Which leads us to your, most understandable misunderstanding. You were presented a connect-the-dots picture with no information on what picture you were supposed to be drawing." Siom smiles. "You connected the dots, you've just drawn the wrong picture."
The soldiers are speechless.
"You are welcome to search my ship," Siom offers with a welcoming gesture. "And if you give me a moment, I will find my papers, which you will find are in perfect order."
It is a masterful performance and I am, frankly, in awe. The soldiers are still a little confused, but mostly they are disappointed. They had hoped to make an arrest today, they are both very eager to prove themselves to their commanding officer. Everything they had been feeling, and everything they are feeling, is being overtaken with their belief that Siom Lech is telling them the truth.
The first soldier nods. "We'll need to do a sweep of your ship."
"Of course," Siom takes a grand step backwards, letting them pass.
The soldiers work their way through the ship. I watch them walk over the secret compartments. They poke their heads into our cabins, but what they're searching for, what they're hoping to find, is much larger than anything we might have tucked in our foot lockers.
They pause occasionally when their scanners make a sound or a noise, but they never for long. They adjust the settings of their scanners, shake their head, and move along. I can't believe it. We're going to get away with this.
"Right," says the second soldier. "Sorry for the misunderstanding."
"No apology is necessary," Siom says courteously, "you are doing your jobs, your duties, to keep this galaxy safe. And speaking not just for myself, but my crew, thank you."
The soldiers nod politely and disembark. Palial closes the door behind them and stares at Siom.
"It doesn't matter how many times I see you do that, it never gets old."
Siom drops the act. "Get us out of here. Put as much space between us and this ship as quickly as possible. Any commanding officer worth their salt will question their findings and will keep us here for a more thorough investigation."
The New Republic ship drops its shields and Paliel takes us planet side immediately. The anarchists are on the opposite side of the planet, but he wanted us off their scanners and out of their visual line of sight as quickly as possible.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I am able to breathe again.
