pilot!”
“We got one!”
He gaped at her.
“You?”
While her youth and probable lack of experience troubled him, he knew he was in noposition to argue. Anyway, what was the worst that could happen? That they would crash on takeoff instead of being pulverized by the pursuing ships of the First Order?
They were still dangerously far from the quadjumper and terribly exposed on the bare landing area. Another craft loomed off to their right, nearby.
“How about
that
ship, it’s closer! If nothing else, we can get out of sight!”
Rey scarcely glanced in the other vessel’s direction. “That one’s garbage! We need something that’ll
move
, not just get off the ground—if we’re lucky!”
They ducked simultaneously as the two TIE fighters roared past overhead. But instead of firing at the tiny figures, their gunners directed bursts of energy at the fugitives’ destination. The quadjumper came apart in a ball of flame, flingingbits and pieces of itself in all directions as the detonation scorched the landing area. Throwing up their hands, Finn and Rey shielded their faces from the heat and flying debris. When they lowered them, nothing was left to be seen of the quadjumper but a smoking pile of rubble. Rey’s reaction was immediate and realistic.
“Okay—the garbage it is!”
Changing direction, they raced for theother craft. Though it was partially covered by several protective sand tarps, the loading ramp was down. Finn paused only briefly to glance at the ident plate sealed flush inside the airlock wall.
“Mi con,”
he read aloud. “What the hell does that mean?”
Ahead of him, Rey yelled without looking back. “Some con man’s private craft, probably. That might be a good thing. It might be builtto travel faster than a crippled skimmer!”
“If we’re lucky,” Finn muttered, echoing her early observation as he and BB-8 followed.
Rey hit a wall panel even before her companions were safely aboard. To her great relief, it responded. The ramp behind them roseand the lock sealed. The vessel’s layout was straightforward and they found the cockpit immediately. Tossing her staff to one sideand throwing herself into the pilot’s seat even as she was scrutinizing the instrumentation, Rey activated several controls. Much to her surprise, the console in front of her immediately came to life. She tapped a visualization.
“Gunner’s position is down below!”
Turning, Finn headed for the indicated area. “You ever fly this thing? Or anything like it?”
As BB-8 looked on, she shoutedback to him, “I’ve piloted all kinds of craft, but nobody’s flown this old crate in years!”
“Then what makes you think it’ll get off the ground?” he called.
Her reply was grim. “If you prefer, we can leave and try running across open tarmac while being shot at!”
Having no comeback for that, Finn slipped down and buckled himself into the gunner’s seat. To his shock, it responded tohis weight by whipping to the left. Hastily he grabbed hold of the controls.
“Whoa, easy!” Manipulating the intuitive controls allowed him to quickly take full control of the turret’s movements. “I can do this, I can do this.” If anything, he saw quickly, the track and fire controls were simpler and more primitive than those he had handled in the Special Forces TIE fighter.
Rey rapidlyran through a standard pre-lift sequence, activated the full panoply of relevant instrumentation, and sat back. A low whine rose from the rear of the craft. She reached for the control that would, she hoped, bring all her hurried preparations to fruition. One of three things would occur when she thumbed it, she knew: They would lift off, the ship would blow up, or nothing at all would happen. Notgood odds, but the only ones they had. She took a deep breath and punched the control. “I can do this, I can do this—”
At the stern of the old ship, long quiescent engines flared to brilliant life. Fully powered up now, it soared
“We got one!”
He gaped at her.
“You?”
While her youth and probable lack of experience troubled him, he knew he was in noposition to argue. Anyway, what was the worst that could happen? That they would crash on takeoff instead of being pulverized by the pursuing ships of the First Order?
They were still dangerously far from the quadjumper and terribly exposed on the bare landing area. Another craft loomed off to their right, nearby.
“How about
that
ship, it’s closer! If nothing else, we can get out of sight!”
Rey scarcely glanced in the other vessel’s direction. “That one’s garbage! We need something that’ll
move
, not just get off the ground—if we’re lucky!”
They ducked simultaneously as the two TIE fighters roared past overhead. But instead of firing at the tiny figures, their gunners directed bursts of energy at the fugitives’ destination. The quadjumper came apart in a ball of flame, flingingbits and pieces of itself in all directions as the detonation scorched the landing area. Throwing up their hands, Finn and Rey shielded their faces from the heat and flying debris. When they lowered them, nothing was left to be seen of the quadjumper but a smoking pile of rubble. Rey’s reaction was immediate and realistic.
“Okay—the garbage it is!”
Changing direction, they raced for theother craft. Though it was partially covered by several protective sand tarps, the loading ramp was down. Finn paused only briefly to glance at the ident plate sealed flush inside the airlock wall.
“Mi con,”
he read aloud. “What the hell does that mean?”
Ahead of him, Rey yelled without looking back. “Some con man’s private craft, probably. That might be a good thing. It might be builtto travel faster than a crippled skimmer!”
“If we’re lucky,” Finn muttered, echoing her early observation as he and BB-8 followed.
Rey hit a wall panel even before her companions were safely aboard. To her great relief, it responded. The ramp behind them roseand the lock sealed. The vessel’s layout was straightforward and they found the cockpit immediately. Tossing her staff to one sideand throwing herself into the pilot’s seat even as she was scrutinizing the instrumentation, Rey activated several controls. Much to her surprise, the console in front of her immediately came to life. She tapped a visualization.
“Gunner’s position is down below!”
Turning, Finn headed for the indicated area. “You ever fly this thing? Or anything like it?”
As BB-8 looked on, she shoutedback to him, “I’ve piloted all kinds of craft, but nobody’s flown this old crate in years!”
“Then what makes you think it’ll get off the ground?” he called.
Her reply was grim. “If you prefer, we can leave and try running across open tarmac while being shot at!”
Having no comeback for that, Finn slipped down and buckled himself into the gunner’s seat. To his shock, it responded tohis weight by whipping to the left. Hastily he grabbed hold of the controls.
“Whoa, easy!” Manipulating the intuitive controls allowed him to quickly take full control of the turret’s movements. “I can do this, I can do this.” If anything, he saw quickly, the track and fire controls were simpler and more primitive than those he had handled in the Special Forces TIE fighter.
Rey rapidlyran through a standard pre-lift sequence, activated the full panoply of relevant instrumentation, and sat back. A low whine rose from the rear of the craft. She reached for the control that would, she hoped, bring all her hurried preparations to fruition. One of three things would occur when she thumbed it, she knew: They would lift off, the ship would blow up, or nothing at all would happen. Notgood odds, but the only ones they had. She took a deep breath and punched the control. “I can do this, I can do this—”
At the stern of the old ship, long quiescent engines flared to brilliant life. Fully powered up now, it soared
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