Cali glared at the hulking scrap collector floating outside the Whydah’s cockpit, directing angry thought’s at Reil, who for all she knew, had managed to drown himself. Our Hero, ladies and gentlemen. She frowned, and tried to reach Reil on his comlink again, but there was no answer. While that could mean any number of innocuous things, like Reil having shut off his comlink to stay stealthy, or he could had dropped it, or that it’d been damaged but Reil was fine, it could also mean that he’d been captured, or shot, or was face down in a flooded room all bloaty and corpsy, waiting for a maintenance worker who never came.
Cali hit the console in frustration. This was fracking typical of Reil. Of course he couldn’t just leave Fi on the ship; he can never leave well enough alone. Not an hour ago, they ran into a talking trash compactor, and Reil just had to poke around in it and find Fi and her magical bag of endless troubles, and oh goody, she felt like sharing. On Gamorr, there was a lost Sith Academy, so naturally Reil was the first one to suggest they go investigate it. On Rothana, Reil just had to whip out his blaster to protect poor defenceless Tam from Elayne. Civil war breaks out? Of course Reil had already joined the Rebellion. On Tatooine, he runs across a slave girl, so of course he kills her master and takes her under his wing.
Cali felt some of her venom drain, as that last traitorous thought crossed her mind. Sitting here fuming wasn’t accomplishing anything. Slowly, she goosed the engines to bring the Whydah back into position to dock with the Reclamator.
Sloat waited for the inevitable burst of anger from his captor, but it never came. Reil instead sighed again, and sat behind the controls. Sloat was puzzled.
“What are you doing?”
Reil waved dismissively as he poured over the console.
“I can see that. . . but. . . I mean doncha wanna go after your friends?”
Reil turned and cocked an eyebrow.
Sloat fumbled for his words.
“Well. . .uh. . . Aren’t ya worried about if Rammo catches up with them again?”
Reil shrugged and went back to the console.
“He can’t really hurt them if he intends to perform the nuptials. Besides I’ve got complete control of the ship from here. I could drop the shields, or call the police, or just lock the ship down so the next time I go looking for Fi she’s still fracking where she’s supposed to be.”
Sloat nodded in comprehension.
“Ah. That makes sense. So which are you gonna do?”
Reil turned around again.
“Uh. . . I don’t know. I guess whichever system I get working first.”
“You don’t know how to work the ship?”
Reil became defensive.
“I know how to work lots of ships! Just not this specific one. . . Ships ain’t all the same you know! Why does nobody get that?”
Sloat held up his hands defensively.
“Yeah! No! I get it! I’ll ah. . . I’ll just let you work. In silence.”
“Thank you.” Reil said as he rolled his eyes and returned to his work on deciphering the control scheme for the console.
With his captor’s back to him, Sloat began edging towards the exit. Slowly at first, he began to grow bolder, until he was just a hands breadth from making it out the door. He braced himself ready to make a dash for it. Right then his foot hit the empty fire extinguisher, sending it spinning across the bridge. Reil spun in his chair and fired immidiatly, and the bolt struck the spot Sloat’s head was only the second before, as he went sprinting down the ship’s corridor. Reil frowned.
“Well that can’t lead to anything good.”
Reil was about to return to the console when a thought struck him.
“Aww, frack me, he was the pilot!”
Zealos Reil thought he was hot
so he left the sim-pod cold
on his eighth mission he got shot
and that's all there is to be told.
Draw your own conclusions rookies.