Star Wars: A Fortunate Encounter

Daavin Fash awakened with a dull throbbing behind his eyes and a tenderness at the back of his head. Laying across the cold metal floor, the slender humanoid felt a faint vibration in his hands as he pushed himself upright. The room was dark, save for the light red glow around the door, most likely indicating that it was magnetically sealed. Every so often, he could hear muted footsteps as someone walked past, but they never slowed down to stop and check on him.

How long had he been unconscious? The last thing he remembered was that he was having a drink with his crew at the Star's End Cantina on the planet of Javin. There had been laughing and joking with different ales and whiskeys flowing. A few of his companions were busy playing a game of Dejarik Holochess, while some others were wagering on chance cubes.

A group of Imperial Stormtroopers surrounded them out of nowhere, their blaster rifles drawn. They had demanded their identification cards and the reason why they were there. He remembered telling them that he and his companions were traders from the Outer Rim territories and were there to unwind while their freighter was getting refueled. They were loaded with tech cargo for a delivery to Bestine, along the Corellian Trade Spine. It was at that moment when they began accusing them of being spies for the Rebellion and carrying military hardware and supplies.

"That's ridiculous!" Fash had exclaimed, rising from his chair. Before he could say anything else, he was sharply clubbed across the back of his head with a blaster. He saw a bright flash and felt a sudden wave of dizzy nausea envelop him as he fell to the floor. He thought he heard blasters being fired but couldn't be sure.

He edged his way over to the wall and leaned back against it, rubbing at the sore area at the base of his skull. With his other hand, he rubbed his eyes, then pinched his fingers together at the bridge of his nose. The pain slowly receded and he began to take a mental and physical inventory.

His lightweight blaster and holster belt were missing, as was his pocket torch and small vibrocutter tool. He reached down to the heel of his boot, and felt it was still in place. Was it too much to hope for? Giving it a sharp twist, he opened it and probed inside for the diminutive comlink device. It was still there. He had some hope.

Prying it out of the recess, he held it between his fingers for a moment. How could he call for assistance when he didn't even know where he was to begin with? He decided to activate the distress beacon and try to get some more information while he could. If his ship were nearby, it would activate the alert on the communications terminal. With any luck, maybe a few of his crew were able to get back to the ship and mount a rescue. He stuffed the comlink back and snapped the heel shut.

He thought it best that he try to get as much information as he could. He crouched down low to the floor and began faintly tapping with his fingertip on the wall. Using old smuggling language, he quickly rapped out the question, "Anyone there?" He waited a few minutes before trying again. When he got no response after the second attempt, he moved to the opposite wall.

Before he could begin tapping out the same message, he heard the sounds of boots marching towards the doorway. He sat back and hung his head down, feigning grogginess. With a muted click, the red illumination around the door turned pale green and slid open. The sudden brightness caused Fash to wince against the sharp contrast.

Two Stormtroopers stepped in, their blasters aimed directly at him. "On your feet, you Rebel scum," the one closest to him hissed through his comlink.

Fash pushed himself slowly up and held his hands up in front of him. He didn't want to make any sudden movements and risk getting clubbed again.

Or worse.
The second trooper holstered his weapon and reached around to the back of his utility belt, producing a pair of binders. With a quick snap, they were quickly secured to the prisoner's wrists.

"Let's go," the first one commanded, stepping back out into the corridor.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Keep quiet," the second one replied, pushing Fash through the doorway. He unholstered the blaster and kept it at the ready while he followed behind.

It was a long hallway, with gray metal walls and plate decking for the floor, and was relatively empty except for the two Stormtroopers coming towards them with their own prisoner. It was a very tall, hairy beast, wearing some sort of bandoleer across its chest attached to a leather pouch at the end. He recognized it to be Chewbacca, the Wookiee co-pilot and friend of Han Solo, a fellow freighter pilot and rumored smuggler. He wondered briefly how he managed to get captured. They were incredibly strong and not likely to be taken alive. If Chewie was in shackles, what had Han's fate become?

Just as they passed, the Wookiee let out a slight growling cry and the two Stormtroopers turned and aimed their blasters Fash's captors. "Don't make a sound," the closest one said, his voice barely a whisper.

The Wookiee snarled briefly and relieved the weapons from the other two.

"In here," the whispering trooper said, opening the door to the nearest cell. They all slipped inside, closing the door behind them. Once the door was secured, he quickly dispatched both of the Stormtroopers with the stun setting.

"Who...who are you people?" Fash stammered.

"We don't have much time to explain, Daavin" said the trooper, before removing his helmet, revealing that it was Solo in disguise. "This here's Luke," jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the other Stormtrooper, who was taking off his own helmet. "Lucky for you, we found you. Looks like the Empire was going to have a busy day with executions."

"Wha... what?" Fash could barely believe what he was hearing. "Why were they going to kill me? I didn't do anything!"

"Beats me, kid. My guess is that some of your crew was aiding the Rebellion and you got caught up in it. I've always told you that you need to keep your crew small."

Luke and Chewie quickly removed the armor from the Stormtroopers and secured them in their own binders. They also ripped strips from their captive's tunics and tied them around their mouths as gags. Even if they managed to revive, they wouldn't be able to cry for help until it was too late.

"You're still flying the Sullistan Dream, right?" Solo asked.

Fash nodded, rubbing at his freed wrists. "You still clunking around in the Millennium Falcon trying to pay off that debt to Jabba? He was really looking for ways to put a hurt on you for a while there."

Solo chuckled. "Put on one of these and make your way to hangar bay fourteen." He handed Fash a piece of the Stormtrooper armor. "As long as you don't stop and don't talk to anyone, you should be okay. The Dream is down there waiting to be reduced to scrap. The Imperials aren't keeping an eye on it, probably because they don't expect an escape."

"We've got our own problems to deal with, otherwise I'd tell you to come with us," Luke added. "We have another rescue to make."

Fash was almost done putting the white armor on. "We're gonna need a whole lot of luck to get out of here. Heck, I don't even know where here is! But, if we make it out of here, not only will I owe you one, I'll make sure I send Jabba in the wrong direction when he comes looking for you."

Solo flashed a quick smile. "Come on, you know I make my own luck. I've got it all figured out."

"Care to enlighten me, then?" Fash slipped the bulky helmet on his head. It took a few moments for him to get acclimated to the computer display and command functions accessed by his eye placement. He was able to pull up a map of the unbelievably huge space station they were on and plotted a route to his freighter.

"Just get back to your ship. We'll grab our other passenger and make it back to the Falcon. It'll be really easy. Trust me."