"If the house whiskey is worse than that, you're damn right I don't want to try it," he said, smiling at the sudden coarseness of his voice. He cleared his throat, dropped one of his grease stained gloves onto the the counter and reached his hand to shake hers. "Name's Rawls," he said, "and I fly an old Consular-class, I'm sure you haven't heard of it."

His eyes followed a small tube, encased in durasteel to protect it, that ran down the length of the tower and then along the ground, half buried, across the square and under a fence and into what looked like a fuel depot. On the other side of the fence stood an Imperial scout trooper next to a speeder bike, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the executions above with a smile on his face. Doohan walked over to him. "Fine machine you have there" he said from the other side of the fence, gesturing at the trooper's bike.

"That she is" the trooper answered with pride.

"You must do, what? 300 miles per hour on that bike? Flight ceiling of 20 feet?"

"You know your stuff, old man"

"I'm a mechanic," Doohan said with a grin. "I'd love to take a look at it."

"Sure thing," the trooper said as he walked to a door that led through the fence, unlocked it, and opened it up. "I can show you some modifications I've made to it."

And he was in. This was going to be easier than he thought.

"And aye, I'm looking to.." he started, but as he glanced back to her, he seemed to notice her for the first time in a way that he hadn't before. Maybe his nerves were frayed from the job, or maybe her shot of whiskey was going to work (or maybe it was the smirk on her face), but Rawls appreciated suddenly that she was almost suspiciously attractive, for a jerkwater like Trighton's Point. He didn't believe for a second that she was from here, though she seemed, at least, to know this bar pretty well. Oh, he remembered, he'd been saying something, hadn't he? "... looking to hire on some passengers. As for the price, I can be reasonable," he made a point of saying loudly enough that any potential customers in the bar could hear him. "Depends where they're going," he explained as he went back to his beer, "and how much they have."

"No questions asked is fine with me," he added, "We don't much mind who we fly around, and as for where we're going, well, I guess we'll both find out when we get there." He shrugged, pulled his gloves back on and stood from the barstool (suddenly cursing himself for drinking on an empty stomach, as he held onto the counter, subtly, to keep his balance). "As for finding the ship," he played it off, "You shouldn't have any trouble. It's the ugliest one on the lot. See you there, Kaylie Winters?"

Sid was waiting—impatiently—with a duffle bag near the outskirts of the city, which opened up on a wide, rocky plain dotted with brown grass and weeds. Standing guard at the edge of town, however, was Trighton Point's only bank; a plain building made out of repliwood and resembling a barn, which was appropriate considering it was where the planet's farmers deposited their credits after the harvest. Shades were closed over the windows to keep the heat out. Perfect. "Okay, let's see 'em," Rawls said to Sid, the two of them moving just around the corner so as not to attract attention.

Sid, as bearded and as arrogant as always, handed the duffle bag to Rawls. He opened it, handed a disruptor rifle to Sid and an LD-1 blaster rifle to himself with its barrel removed (he wouldn't need long range, on this job). Sid didn't look pleased. "What gives?" his beard said with disdain, "You said the disruptor didn't work. Said it got no charge."

"It doesnt," Rawls said with a grin as he slung the now empty duffle bag over his shoulder, "But they don't know that."

"I'm not going in there unarmed," Sid protested, "I wanted to bring the repeater, but you wouldn't let me. 'Too conspicuous,' my ass. Look, you got that there pistol of yours, it's only right I have the LD-1."

Rawls thought it over. He was reluctant to give him a gun, half because he might use it like a damn fool on some civilians who didn't have it coming to them, and half because he might use it on him and then take the money and his ship. He wouldn't put it past Sid, who had made it very clear that he didn't work for Rawls, but for the money Rawls paid him. "Fine," the Captain said, reluctantly, as he traded rifles, "Comfortable now, your majesty?"

"Let's do this!" Sid said in that irritating way that he spoke to pump himself up for a job, then he rounded the corner abruptly, charged the door and burst inside with Rawls, cursing him under his breath, following behind. He got through the door just as Sid had already fired a round into the ceiling, sending wood chips raining down on the lobby which was, of course, completely empty. There was one old man who sat behind the counter who'd been fanning himself with a piece of paper until he'd been startled by the entrance (and startled, also, that anyone would bother to rob his bank). Sid trained the rifle on him and shouted, "Don't anyone move, this is a robbery!"

Rawls, exasperated, walked past his partner and ignored him as he approached the counter with the disruptor rifle resting over his shoulder. His expression was almost apologetic. "Don't mind him," he said to the teller, "We're just here to clean out the safe. It's our understandin' that this is the week the Empire comes by to pick up their bundle of tax money and kickbacks from Trighton's Point, that right? Those are the credits we're after, no need for the rest of it."

"Not everyone," the old man answered, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the smuggler drop one credit chit after another into his now-empty duffle bag.

"Well, not the poor bastards strapped to that turbolaser."

"Yes, but I didn't mean that," he said, "We're not all like those people out there, you know. In the crowd, I mean. Some of us do what we can, but we mostly end up on the scaffold. Got one of my sons just last month." He chuckled to himself briefly, an old, sad chuckle, "It's funny, you boys might be doing more for the cause than we've done in years. Either that, or things are going to get a lot worse for us as soon as they find out what you did. I hope you realize that, son."

Aaron stopped for a moment, thought to himself, and then glanced about the vault. "Does that camera work?" he asked, gesturing to the holocam mounted on the ceiling.

"Nothing works around here," the old man shrugged.

Rawls went back into the crate, only this time he tossed the credit chits to the teller, who caught them unexpectedly in both arms. He looked confused. "Tell them I stole it," Rawls said to him, "They won't know. Use it to do what you have to, or get yourself off this planet." He tossed a few more chits into his bag, closed it up and slung it over his shoulder as he stood and gestured for the old man to follow him out. "And take this too," he said, pulling his pistol from its holster and giving it to him, handle first. "If they come for you or one of your boys, you let that tell the bastards what you think of them."

"Rawls!" Sid shouted, clutching the blaster rifle nervously in one hand and holding up his wrist chrono in the other, "Come on, dammit! Did you get it all?"

"I got enough," Aaron answered him as he slid over the counter again and back onto the floor of the lobby. He walked for the door.

"I said, did you get it all."

"And I said we got enough," Rawls said, "and I'm tired of your damn attitude, Sid. I really am." He stopped most of the way toward the door and turned around, frustrated, only to find that Sid now had the LD-1 trained squarely on him. "Is this how it is?" he asked, frustration giving way to exasperation as he dropped the disruptor (it didn't work anyway) and raised his hands.

"You're one to talk about attitude," the gunman said, through his beard, "Strutting around that ship, all smug, telling me what to do like you own the place."

"I do own the place," Rawls muttered.

"Yeah, well not anymore. This job is it for us, Cap'n. And don't think Doohan's going to miss you either. Drop the money, and I'll make this quick so I can be on my way back to the Aphelion, or as I'm going to rename it, Bonecrusher! You and your damn big words. Can't understand what the hell you're saying, half the time, and you wonder why I don't do what you—" A blaster went off suddenly, somewhere. Sid shuttered in an odd, inhuman sort of way. His mouth hung open in mid sentence, his gaze went distant, then blank, then one of his eyes went lazy, and he fell flat on the floor with a blaster wound to the back of his head.

The old man stood behind the counter, Rawls' blaster pistol still smoking in his hands. "Bonecrusher?" he said, incredulously.

"Seriously," Rawls shook his head, picked up the blaster rifle from Sid's corpse, gave the old man a quick salute and wished him luck, and then bolted out the door with the duffle bag over his shoulder. He walked quickly, but did not run back to the lot where Aphelion and Kaylee were waiting for him. He caught his breath along the way, and calmed his nerves. They weren't out of this yet—something he was reminded of suddenly as he noticed a Lambda-class Imperial Shuttle glide over the lot and toward the town square. That would be the Governor and the other officials, arriving to oversee the festivities and, also, to collect their bribes from the bank.

He'd been so busy looking up at it that he'd almost walked right into Kaylee from behind, but noticed just in time. "Hey again," he called out to her, smiling casually enough but not slowing down his pace in the slightest. The ship's ramp lowered before them, and he'd hopped up on it and began to walk inside before it had fully settled into the sand. "I hope you're all set to go," he said, "Turns out we're a bit more pressed for time than I'd thought. I'd give you a hand with your things, but my hands are kind of full."

"I'll tell you what you can do though," he added sardonically, "If you have a god you want to make peace with, now'd be a swell time." The ship's engines rumbled to life around them, and just then the door to the turbolift hissed open. "Ladies first," he said with exaggerated chivalry, gesturing for Kaylie to enter the lift, "You might be of some use topside." He followed her in, and the lift ascended toward the flight deck. On the way, Rawls felt the need to break the awkward silence and added; "It's Aaron, by the way, or Rawls, or Captain." He shrugged, "It's not a great time for the tour, but assuming we're alive in five minutes I'll be sure to show you around."

The lift opened upon a corridor that led directly to the cockpit. Outside the viewport, an Imperial officer in a cleanly uniform could be seen across the lot shouting at stormtroopers and pointing in the direction of the Aphelion. More alarmingly, the cannon at the top of the turbolaser tower was slowly, but surely rotating toward them. Rawls leapt over the back of the pilot's chair and landed in it, beside Doohan who was in the co-pilot's seat already working on the controls. Rawls plucked the headset out of Doohan's ear. "I seem to recall you were going to disable that turbolaser?" he said, and then let go of the headpiece and turned to the controls. Aphelion shuddered around them as the repulsorlifts kicked in.

"Oh ye of little faith," Doohan said, laconic as always.

Just when the turbolaser was aimed solidly at the ship and seemed about to fire, a flash was seen and, a moment later, a crack was heard, then a thunderous roar. The tower—what remained of it—was engulfed in flames. The scaffold had been blown to splinters, and the crowd dispersed in a panic. The stormtroopers, too, were thoroughly distracted. Even Rawls paused for a moment, a grin forming on his face. "Subtle," he said, "What did you do, exactly?"

"Just mixed some fuel in the coolant line," he said, his arms crossed over his chest in smug satisfaction, although his expression was as bland as ever, "It's flammable, you know. One shot and it sets the whole thing off."

"I can see that," Rawls shook his head, bemused, and went back to work. He reached for an overhead panel, flicked a series of switches, and then rested his hands on the controls before him. The arid plains and low rooftops of Trighton's Point began, slowly, to fall beneath their field of view. "Grab hold of something, Kaylie," he said, and within moments fired up the sublight engines—Aphelion bolted forth, and unless the Imperials had nothing short of TIE Interceptors it looked like they were going to have the sky to themselves.

In minutes, the view had gone from blue to black. "I'm tired of this planet," Rawls said, speaking for everyone, "Let's get out of here." His hand came to rest on the hyperspace controls; he throttled forward, and nothing happened. The Captain looked back at Kaylie, bewildered, and then to Doohan. "Why," he said, "It doesn't seem to be—"

"Don't be an ass," Doohan said, reaching for the control himself and, in seconds, jumping to lightspeed.

Rawls' shoulders sagged, disappointed. "You ruined my prank," he protested.