It is, it is, a glorious thing, to be a Pirate King...

[Grif Vindh]

The Fool's Errand coursed through hyperspace, drive laboring as her crew forced every bit of power they could out of her reactor. It wasn't the fastest ship in space, but was fast, and could be pushed beyond its normal capabilities in a pinch. This particular situation was such a pinch, and Captain Gif Vindh was very pleased the old girl was keeping up.

Pirate, smuggler, and scoundrel: Grif was all these things, and looked and played the part with relish. Vaguely scruffy, vaguely dashing, an air of unpredictability and danger seemed to follow him wherever he went. His unkempt hair and uneven shave often made him looked like he didn't get enough sleep, which was true, and didn't pay much attention to what was going on around him, which was not.

His crew were also pirates, smugglers, and scoundrels, except for one, and they played their roles with every bit as much relish as their Captain. Amys Sif, Grif's executive officer and navigator, a raven-haired beauty who had been his lover for a brief time, and friend for much longer after that. Ktk, his engineer, a hyper-intelligent member of an unpronounceable race from an unpronounceable homeworld that looked vaguely like a large centipede with multifaceted eyes, large mandibles, and three prehensile tails. Cyrus Mak, technician and weapon specialist, a giant of a man with long, dirty-blonde hair that pulled back into a ponytail, a thick beard, and a twice-broken nose that gave the good-natured giant a villainous appearance.

The one member of the crew who didn't play the part of pirate, smuggler, and scoundrel was Doma Enge, Grif's nephew. He was a gangly, pimply-faced kid who wore a sullen expression of righteous indignation at all times. He wasn't particularly liked, even by his uncle: he showed up one day asking for work, and Grif couldn't turn him down without incurring the wrath of his sister. Velis Enge was a powerful woman, and they didn't "get on" as Amys put it.

Doma was wholly unsuited for this life, having found enough of a sense of morality to make every job they took at least five times harder than it had to be, and he wanted out. Grif happily agreed, and offered to let him off at the next civilized planet they set down on.

All that was left to do, Grif reasoned, was to jump out of hyperspace, avoid any Imperial interceptors, land on the planet, get rid of his nephew, deliver their cargo, and rake in a lot of money. It would be a good day, he thought. A very good day indeed.

"Coming out of hyperspace in twenty seconds," Amys reported.

Grif snapped out of his reverie and glanced at his exec. She wasn't nervous... not exactly... but they'd put a lot of their own money into this cargo, and had a lot riding on its delivery.

"Relax," Grif said, grinning. "This is going to be easy."

Amys smiled back, hoping it looked authentic.

Ktk chittered over the intercom that the hyperspace drive had suffered some stress due to the way they'd pushed it, and would not be able to make another jump until it was refitted in a spaceport with decent shipbuilding facilities.

"Fine, fine. No problem, Ktk, Tylaris Prime had a pretty good spaceport, and we can get the repairs there. I can practically guarantee smooth sailing from here on out."

Ktk replied that it had heard such assurances before, and began recalling a few times when they turned out to be misplaced...

"Yes, yes," Grif cut in hastily, "all good times. But we're coming out of hyperspace in..."

"... ten seconds," Amys supplied.

"... ten seconds, so everybody strap in."

The door to the cockpit opened, and Doma entered, sitting down at the comm station behind the navigator's chair.

"We're gonna get caught by the Imperials," he grumbled. He had a thin, whiny voice that was wholly devoid of charm.

"We're not going to get caught by Imperials," Grif grated, "and I wish you'd stop being your mother's son and relax for once."

"I'm going to die to before I get out of here," Doma continued, and Grif saw Amys' eyes flash dangerously.

"Shut up before my exec kills you. Remember what I said about self-fulfilling prophecies?"

Doma snapped his mouth shut and looked at his control panel, expression sullen.

"Entry to realspace," Amys announced, "in five, four, three, two, one... mark."

Fool's Errand jolted, and everyone jerked forward. Under normal circumstances, the transition from hyperspace to realspace would have been barely noticeable, but while it was possible to coax their hyperdrive on to greater speeds than it was originally designed to handle, it was not possible to coax the inertial compensators to compensate for the extra force.

They left hyperspace and entered the real one. The tangible one.

The paying one, Grif thought. He grinned again.

"We've reached the edge of the Tylaris system," Amys confirmed. "No other ships reported in the vicinity."

Grif's grin grew wider, and he laughed out loud when he heard Cyrus shout "Pay me!" to Ktk over the intercom.

"That's what you get, Ktk," Grif added cheerfully. "That'll teach you to bet against your captain."

"Hold that thought," Amys said.

"Oh, don't be such a worrier. There's no way we could have been followed by that"

"Imperial Cruiser, bearing 5, neg 12, 22."

" What? " Grif's grin vanished, replaced by a stunned look of dismay.

"I said, Imperial Cruiser..."

"I heard you," he growled, and flicked on the holomap.

There it was, the Imperial Cruiser Centurion bearing down on them from above.

"Not fair," Grif whispered plaintively.

Ktk now informed Cyrus that it was his obligation to pay it .

Doma turned to Grif, a look of utter defeat in his eyes. "We're going to die," he said.

"Shut up."

"They're hailing us," Amys said.

Doma's look of defeat turned into a look of indignation. "Hey!" he shouted, "That's supposed to come from my station!"

"Oh, that..." Grif waved his hand dismissively. "Been meaning to tell you. We routed all the communication functions to the navigator's chair. Ever since you accidentally broadcast our in-ship communications to the Vordaxian patrol vessel two runs back, we figured it'd be a good idea to minimize your contact with expensive equipment."

"It was an accident," Doma protested.

"I said accident. I accept the lack of malice in your incompetence, nephew of mine, but there's still that whole incompetence issue..."

Doma opened his mouth and shut it repeatedly, searching for words, and finally gave up.

"Grif," Amys said, "they're still hailing us."

"OK."

"They've put us in a tractor beam."

The ship shuddered. "So it seems."

"They're powering up their ion cannons."

"OK, OK!" Grif snarled, hitting the arm of his chair in frustration. "Put 'em on holo!"

The transparent figure of an Imperial commander appeared, floating over the pilot's console.

"Commander Mavis," Grif said, trying to keep the loathing out of his voice. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Captain Vindh," the figure replied. "The pleasure is mine, I assure you. If you would be so kind as to deactivate your engine and lower your shields, we will pull you into our hold and search your ship very, very thoroughly."

Grif couldn't see the Commander's expression in the flickering holo display, but he could hear the sneer in his voice.

"Well, uh, Commander, I don't want to be rude, but the Tylaris system isn't really Imperial space any more..."

"EVERYTHING is Imperial space, Captain Vindh, and you are in no position to practice the finer arts of diplomacy."

As if to underscore the point, Amys whispered "the Centurion has locked it's main ion cannon on us."

"OK, you have a point," Grif conceded. "Standby." He nodded to Amys, who killed the audio on Centurion's feed. Grif punched the intercom.

"Kill engines and deflectors, power down guns."

Cyrus responded with an indignant "WHAT?" Ktk asked if such a course of action was prudent.

"Just do it" Grif said sourly. He nodded to Amys again, who restored the audio feed. "Very well, Commander. Our engines are powering down, our guns are powering down, and our shields are, uh, hold on... they're down. You win."

"Very good, Captain Vindh." Commander Mavis nearly purred his approval, and Grif had the sudden image of a cat playing with a mouse flash through his head. "You will be brought into Centurion's flight bay, then you will be boarded immediately. Civility requires that I say I hope, when all is said and done, that I will not be forced to execute you on the spot."

"Why, thank you, Commander," Grif replied, voice strained. "Coming from you, that means quite a lot."

[Grif Vindh]

Grif hit the intercom. "OK guys, we don't have a lot of time." He frowned, then looked at Amys. "Do we?"

She shook her head. "Five, six minutes. Maybe. The commander seems a bit eager to meet us."

"I'll bet he does," Grif muttered. "Cyrus! Ktk! Get down to the cargo hold and unseal bays 3 and 4."

"Unseal them?" Cyrus sounded like Grif had just asked him to shoot his mother with an ion canon.

"You heard me. Then seal 'em about... oh, 80 or 90 percent. Pile our decoy cargo over the rest of it."

Ktk made the observation that the Imperials would almost certainly discover the broken seals and find the other cargo.

"I know that."

Ktk replied that he was looking forward to getting paid, and didn't want to see his paycheck confiscated by Commander Mavis.

"Neither do I."

Ktk further explained that it would be annoying for any Imperial to confiscate their goods, but given the history between Mavis and Vindh it would seem doubly insufferable if such an event were to occur.

"I understand, dammit," Grif snarled. "We now have four minutes to get everything ready. So DO IT!" he roared, causing Amys and Doma to jump in their seats.

"Do you want us to help" Amy asked. Doma looked nervous.

"Nope," Grif said. "They'd see it on their sensors. "I don't want to make them suspicious."

"They're ALREADY suspicious!" Doma shrieked.

Grif felt that funny feeling behind the bridge of his nose that told him he was going to get a headache in an hour or two. "And you ," he said, turning on Doma so suddenly that his nephew shrank back into his seat. "You will say nothing whatsoever to any of the Imperials on this ship. If you do anything other than stutter, stammer, and look like you're going to have an accident in your flight suit, I will tell your mother exactly what you did on Bespin."

Doma gulped.

"And send her the pictures."

Doma turned white as a sheet.

"Oh, yes, I found them. Actually, Cyrus found them. And showed them to Ktk. Who showed them to Amys. Who critiqued them, rated each one by creativity, poise, and athleticism, and then gave them to me."

Amys preoccupied herself with the navigation computer, trying to hide her smile. Doma looked like he wanted to die on the spot.

"I won't say anything. I swear. Oh, oh, I swear..."

"Good." Grif returned to the pilot seat, swiveling around in it absentmindedly. "If you're a good boy and don't screw this up, you'll get 'em back."

Doma nodded mutely.

"Oh..." Grif added a wicked grin on his face. "Pay attention to Amys' critiques. "He leered at hi navigator, who smirked in response. Doma blushed furiously.

Cyrus' voice crackled over the intercom. "OK, Grif. We did what you said. I don't know why you want to get our cargo confiscated, but you're the boss."

"Good man. You and Ktk return to your stations."

"Just in time," Amys reported. "We're being pulled inside the ship."

There was a sudden jarring sensation as auxiliary tractor beams grabbed onto the hull of the Fool's Errand , pulling it through the docking port and onto the flight deck of the Centurion . She hit the deck with a thud.

"They're hailing us again."

Grif waved, and Commander Mavis' image appeared once again.

"Captain Vindh, I must as you and your crew to leave your ship while we conduct our search. Come out unarmed, with your hands raised over your heads, and do so slowly."

Grif rolled his eyes. "I know the drill, Commander. And if you could remind your boys that Ktk has no hands that actually reach over his head, I would very much appreciate it."

Commander Mavis chuckled. "I will do my best... I would hate for anything to happen to your pet centipede."

Grif gritted his teeth. "Right. We're coming out."

Amys killed the channel, then Grif punched the intercom. "OK, into the cargo hold. You know the drill. Cyrus, leave ALL your weapons behind, PLEASE." He cut off the intercom before Cyrus had a chance to protest.

They gathered at the cargo hold, everyone nervous. Amys appeared calm, but the long strand of black hair twirling around her finger was her tell. Ktk didn't transmit anxiety in the same way that humans did, but the constant, staccato chitter coming out of its mandibles indicated it was unhappy with the situation. Cyrus was scowling... when he was nervous, he got angry. Doma was pale, shaking, and looked like he was going to pass out.

Grif was tense, and bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly. He was nervous, but also excited.

If this worked...

He grinned at his crew. "Follow my lead," he said. "And just act natural."

He opened the cargo bay doors, and stepped own the ramp, arms over his head.

The flight deck of the Centurion was immense. Grif had seen it before under similar circumstances, and he was again reminded how easy it was for a full squad of stormtroopers to distract one from impressive feats of engineering.

Behind the stormtroopers was Commander Mavis himself, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. He barked some orders, and a detachment of stormtroopers surrounded Grif and his crew, as some began scanning them for weapons.

"They're clean, sir," one reported crisply, and Mavis nodded in satisfaction. "You and your crew may lower your arms, Captain Vindh," he said, the facade of joviality dripping from his voice like butter sitting on a fusion coil. "Including your... bug-friend's tentacles, I suppose."

Ktk replied that they were tails, not tentacles, but Mavis had no idea what he was saying, and Grif didn't bother to translate.

Commander Mavis turned and barked more orders. Another contingent of stormtroopers made their way into the cargo hold of the Fool's Errand .

"So... Captain Vindh. Do you have anything to declare?" Mavis obviously thought the question funny, because he started laughing.

"Yeah, I have something to declare. This is an illegal search. This system is not Imperial Space."

Commander Mavis stopped laughing, back stiffening. "I've already answered this complaint, Captain. Everything is Imperial Space."

"Yeah... I had a few questions about that," Grif said. How does that work, exactly? Are you subletting some of that out to the Republic, or..."

Grif saw stars as something heavy connected with the back of his head, sending him to the floor, gasping in pain. He heard Amys cry out in alarm, Cyrus bellow in rage...

... and the sound of about forty stormtroopers powering up their weapons, after which, silence ruled the day.

"Do not taunt me, Captain Vindh," Commander Mavis said quietly. Grif nodded, gasping, and staggered to his feet. Amys gripped his arm and helped him get his balance back.

"I'm fine," he said. Then he grinned. "But it's nice to know you care."

Amys rolled her eyes.

Just then a stormtrooper appeared in the entrance hatch to the Fool's Errand , and waved Commander Mavis over.

"Uh-oh," Cyrus muttered.

The stormtrooper and the commander exchanged words, but no-one could hear what they were saying. When the commander turned around, his face was filled with triumph.

"At last!" he crowed, going back to the group, eyes filled with a manic glee. "I'm afraid, Captain Vindh, that I will actually come out ahead in this little venture. Alas, it's not enough to arrest you and execute you on the spot, but I regret to inform you that you are carrying undeclared contraband on board your ship."

"Why, Commander," Grif said, trying to look innocent. "Whatever do you mean?"

Mavis laughed. "That's right, Captain. Play it to the hilt, right until the very end. What I mean is that your ship is carrying about nine tons of Varkavian whiskey. Nine undeclared tons of Varkavian whiskey. Thought you might avoid the tax for luxury goods, did you?" He made a tsking sound as he shook his head sadly. "Apparently your rather ingeniously hidden extra cargo bays were improperly sealed."

Grif whirled on Ktk, face contorted into a rage. "I thought I told you to seal those hatches! DO I have to do everything around here?"

Ktk replied that Grif had asked it to unseal them in the first place, and must have known this would happen, so he should stop yelling at it.

Grif stood there stunned. Commander Mavis smiled. "And what did you... engineer tell you?"

"It said... the plates must have buckled when we came out of hyperspace... we were running the engine pretty hard, the inertial compensators couldn't keep up."

Amys raised her eyebrows at the lie, but said nothing. Cyrus just looked annoyed. Doma looked confused, and was about to open his mouth to protest, but Cyrus casually smacked him on the back of his head.

"OUCH!" Doma cried out. "What was that for?"

"For pissing me off," Cyrus said stoically.

"No, really." Commander Mavis walked over to Cyrus and Doma, eyeing them carefully. "What was that for?" Cyrus said nothing, face stoic, but Doma whimpered.

Mavis zeroed in on him. "Young man? Is there something you were going to... add to this conversation?"

Doma began to stutter. Mavis waited patiently.

Grif's heart sank. Doma was trying his best not to speak, but he was completely out of his depth where Mavis was concerned. Sooner or later, his nephew would crack and start babbling about the first thing that came into his head... which would ruin everything.

He had to do something fast.

"Wait a minute..." Grif said slowly. "Nine tons?"

Mavis looked back at Grif curiously.

"Nine ?" Grif repeated, voice raising another ten decibels. "Only nine tons? We started out with ten !"

Commander Mavis now gave Grif his full attention, all interest in Doma forgotten. Grif looked at his crew and scowled, who looked back at him uncertainly.

"All right," Grif said quietly. "Who took the extra ton?"

Nobody moved.

Then, slowly, Cyrus stepped forward, looking sheepish.

"YOU!" Grif lunged forward, hands outstretched, grasping for the big man's neck. Cyrus stepped back, and Grif was caught and pushed back by four stormtroopers.

"It was just before we left port," Cyrus said defensively. "I had to pay off a... pay off a... well, I had to pay someone."

"You paid her with a metric ton of high-grade liquor? " Grif screeched, and lunged for Cyrus again. It took two more stormtroopers to pull him back.

"Gentlemen," Commander Mavis interrupted, "as interesting as this little drama of treachery and betrayal is... I'm afraid it willl have to continue elsewhere."

Grif made a show of calming down, and smoothing out his flight jacket.

"Captain Vindh," Mavis continued, "smuggling whiskey, even the rather expensive kind you were carrying, is not an offense that carries the death penalty. Unfortunately. And, alas, due to more pressing matters, the Empire cannot afford to incarcerate smugglers for minor offenses. I am, however, permitted to confiscate all contraband found onboard your ship, and I intend to do so." He nodded to a stormtrooper, who directed more into the cargo bay of the Fool's Errand .

"Now wait a minute..."

Commander Mavis cut off Grif with a wave of his hand. "I'm afraid I cannot, Captain Vindh. Today, you have lost. I suggest you come to grips with this truth, and you will carry it with you in your future endeavors. You have lost your cargo, and you have lost your reputation. I believe you can no longer legitimately claim to be the one smuggler in the sector who never lost a cargo, no?" He smiled. "I thought not."

Grif glared, Mavis continued to smile. "When we are finished, you may return to your ship, and go on your way to... where were you going? Well, no matter. Have a pleasant journey... I know I shall."

The Fool's Errand floated silently in space, each member of her crew watching the Centurion prepare for hyperspace. They could already see space starting to bend around it as the hyperdrive tried to build up enough of a field to carry the entire mass of the cruiser through.

It was a grim crew. No-one said anything... Amys focused on her navigation screen, biting her lower lip. She took great pride in their reputation and it had been damaged by today's fiasco. Cyrus was furious: he'd played along when Grif threw his "tantrum," deflecting attention away from the crew's weakest link, but he felt none of this would have been necessary if they'd simply "kept the damn bays sealed." Ktk was disappointed, but took a more philosophical view. It stated it had found the experience interesting, and wondered what they would do next.

Dogma hadn't said a word since they'd returned to the ship. He was still shaken from the Commanders brief "interrogation."

The distortion around the Imperial Cruiser increased dramatically. She was almost ready to jump.

"Centurion is hailing us, Grif," Amys said quietly.

"Oh, please ," Grif moaned. "How many times can a guy gloat? Nevermind. Put the bastard through."

Commander Mavis' face floated over the holoprojector. "Well, Captain Vindh, I must say farewell."

"Goodbye, commander."

"Now, now, don't be so glum. You've managed to evade me for quite some time... you can take some small comfort in that. Of course, I did win the last battle... and that's the only battle that matters, isn't it? The last one you fight..."

Grif did not respond.

"Farewell, Captain Vindh. And consider yourself lucky... I was hoping to kill you."

The communication ended. Centurion rippled in space, then winked out of existence.

It wasn't until the spatial distortion had completely faded away that Grif started laughing.

[Grif Vindh]

Amys and Doma looked at Grif as though he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He grinned at them, still chuckling, and hit the intercom.

"OK, bug sweep. Then meet in the galley."

They found the usual Imperial tracking devices in the usual places, and a few listening devices as well. Ktk climbed out onto the hull and found a few more. All in all, there were six tracking devices and eight listening devices hidden on the ship. They were unceremoniously dumped into space, then the crew gathered in the galley.

Cyrus was fuming. "What the hell happened back there?" he shouted. "Do you know how much money we're out?"

"Relax, Cyrus. We're not out any money."

"What do you mean, we're not out any money?" Cyrus' pale face was starting to turn red. "Fifty thousand credits a ton. Fifty thousand! That's four hundred and fifty thousand credits, mostly from our personal accounts, because you told us it would be worth our while, and we believed you!"

"I didn't actually put any money in," Doma piped in. "Because I didn't believe him."

"Well," Cyrus growled, "for once the brat was right about something."

"Hey!"

Grif ignored his nephew and winked at Cyrus. "Don't worry... I've got it all covered."

"You damned well better have!"

Grif raised a finger. "Hold on a sec."

He walked over to a pantry, opened it up, and started rummaging it around. "I could have sworn it was up there... oh. I don't remember putting it down there, but that's all right..."

Grif emerged from the pantry carrying a plastic crate. He set it on the island, and the crew gathered around to see what was inside. Sitting in the crate were piles of plastic, sealed packets.

Grif picked up one and threw it to Cyrus, who looked at it dubiously.

"Five hundred thousand credits, right there in your hands. Consider it a bonus," Grif added, an winked merrily at Cyrus, who was staring at him dumbfounded.

He then proceeded to throw packets to the rest of his crew: Ktk, who caught it with one of it's tails, Amys, who caught it absent-mindedly as she frowned at the crate, and Doma, who stared at the packet stupidly as it arced through the air and smacked into his forehead.

"Hey!"

"Five hundred thousand credits apiece. Even for you, my unbelieving nephew... and because you held up pretty well, considering the circumstances, you even get your pictures back."

Doma's ears reddened slightly.

Amys turned the packet over in her hands. "Grif... what is this supposed to be?"

"This is our meal ticket, gorgeous. I mean, we probably won't really be able to get five hundred thousand credits apiece for 'em... actually, the deal I have with our main buyer is for roughly half that... but it's still a load of money, and compared to that, the loss of the whiskey is... well, it doesn't even rate." Grif started pulling out the plastic packets and spreading them out on the island.

"Grif," Amys said gently, "these are military rations."

Grif laughed. "No they're not."

"Grif." The gentleness disappeared from Amys' voice, and was replaced with a dangerous edge. "These are military rations. They go for about seven credits a pop at any military outpost on any planet in known space."

"He's finally snapped," Cyrus muttered.

"Guys." Grif was grinning like a madman. "These are not military rations. They are sealed in packets that are intended to look like military rations, but what is inside these deceptively dull packets is going to make us filthy, stinking rich." He looked at them all and shook his head. "You guys are smugglers, right? Connect the dots."

Amys' face went blank... and then she started to smile. "The whiskey was a decoy," she said.

"Yes!"

"Grif..." Amys looked like she was torn between scolding him and kissing him. "What the hell am I holding?"

"I'm glad you asked," he replied, almost singing. "In that packet, my dear, beautiful, gorgeous and exquisitely deadly executive officer, is the highest grade anagathic ever to come out of the medical laboratories on Coruscant."

Anagathics. The most potent anti-aging drug there was... and only the rich could afford 'em.

You could have heard a pin drop.

Doma was speechless. Amys was radiant, smiling and flushed. Ktk was twitching, a sign that it was completely and utterly floored by this revelation. And Cyrus was beaming, a gleaming, toothy grin showing beneath the shock of hair on his face. He turned to Ktk, and hit it jovially on its midsection.

"Pay me, bug!" He boomed, then burst out laughing. Ktk followed suit, in its own way.

Amys shook her head, still smiling. "Why didn't you tell us, Grif? Why keep us in the dark?"

"Mostly because I didn't want my nephew to screw everything up," Grif said.

Everyone agreed that was probably a good a idea... even Doma.

"But also," he admitted, "I wanted to see the look on your faces... and it was worth it."

Ktk asked how much cargo they were carrying.

"One hundred packets," Grif replied. "Count 'em yourself. The buyer on Tylaris Prime wants 80 and is willing to pay for more... but at half the going rate. Which is still an insane amount of money, I'd like to point out, and it's safe money on top of it. The packet you're holding is yours to do what you want with it. If you throw it into the pile, all the profit from that packet goes into your account, above and beyond your usual cut. Or, if you want you can try and sell it later, in a different market. You might get more for it if you do. The rest gets divided normally, a cut for each of us and the rest going back into the ship."

Amys started counting the packets.

"Gotta hand it to you Grif," Cyrus laughed, "I thought you'd lost your marbles."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted a card up my sleeve in case Mavis did pull us over. I knew he was going to try and tear the ship apart if he didn't find anything, so in the event we were pulled in, I wanted him to find something as soon as possible." Grif sighed. "My only regret is that Commander Mavis has no idea my reputation is still intact... and probably won't find out for a few months. I hate to think of him being that happy, even if it's only temporary."

Amys looked up. "How many packets did you say there were?"

"One hundred," Grif said. "You know, nice round number. Metric, even."

"Ninety," Amys corrected.

"No, one hundre... what? Grif walked over to the crate.

"Ninety packets," Amys repeated.

"Ninety? Somebody must have..." Grif stared at the crate, shocked, then burst out laughing.

"Now what?" Doma asked, bewildered. "What's so funny? Ten packets is like, what, two and a half million credits? What's so funny being down two and a half million credits?"

"Oh, it kills me," Grif wheezed. "Some stormtrooper must have been rummaging around, and decided that military rations would be a nice change of pace from the Centurion's mess hall. Imagine his surprise when he tries to eat what's inside."

Doma sighed, looking cross, but everyon else laughed.

"And imagine," Grif continued, "what will happen when he reports his find to his commander. Looks like our Best Buddy in the Imperial Navy is going to discovery my reputation is intact, after all." He beamed at them one last time, then ordered them back to their stations.

Sitting in the pilots chair, waiting for the course to Tylaris Prime to be fed into the pilot's station, he looked across the cockpit at Amys and smiled.

"This is the best day ever," he said.

[Grif Vindh]

The crew of the Fool's Errand was very, very, very drunk.

They arrived planetside and sold their cargo in short order. The buyer was anxious to get his merchandise, and paid without complaint. The payment was legit, and after giving Doma his share and merrily bidding him farewell, the remaining four slapped themselves on the back, congratulated themselves on their newfound wealth, and proceeded to piss it away like any self-respecting smuggler would.

So they got drunk. They set themselves up in one of the spacer's bars in the seedier part of the capital city, and started buying drinks for everyone there. It was only a matter of time before a few colleagues dropped by, and that's when the storytelling began.

Everyone found the story of their latest run extremely entertaining... and Grif was certain (as certain as he was able, operating through a haze of potent drink) that this would be very, very good for their reputation.

Eventually the stories turned into outright lies, with each smuggler at the table taking their favorite run and turning it into outright fabrication. Merriment was had by all.

The boisterousness of the evening passed, and after the bar had closed a small cadre of smugglers remained, a tight-knit group that often passed information on to each other in order to better avoid whatever law enforcement group was causing the most trouble at the time. After they'd sobered up somewhat, they started talking shop.

"What're you going to do with that haul, Grif?" one of the smugglers asked. Everyone was curious. They'd managed to pull in a little over twenty-two million credits in that haul... an astronomical sum for an independent smuggler. At one time, the Hutt's had pulled in sums like that with regularity, but the smuggler's cut wasn't even a tenth of that kind of cargo.

Grif grinned. "Spend frivolously, live wastefully, indulge in every kind of excess, wake up broke and go back to work."

A rumble of laughter traveled around the table. Most people figured he was only half-kidding.

"Seriously," Grif added, looking thoughtful. "A lot of it is going back into Fool's Errand. She's needed a refit for some time, we need to upgrade the hyperdrive..."

Ktk chimed in.

"Oh, yeah, that's true," Grif agreed. "And now that the Imperials know about our hidden bays, I'm going to need to overhaul the cargo bay..."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"At any rate, with the overhaul, general repairs, upgrades, new engine, maybe some new cannons, definitely some new deflector screens... I reckon that'll cut into most of our haul... minus our individual takes, of course. I reckon these guys'll be retiring on a warm planet somewhere, or starting their own crews."

He laughed as he said it, but he wondered if it was true.

Morning broke, and eventually the group broke away, until only Grif, Amys, Ktk and Cyrus were left. The bar was opening up again, and the bartender laughed when he saw them still sitting there. "I'll get you folks some coffee," he said, chuckling. "Err... well, what can I get for the bug?"

Ktk chittered.

"It says coffee is fine."

"It drinks coffee?" The bartender looked at it, trying to figure out how.

"It drinks a lot of things. It's probably responsible for half of last night's bill."

"Uhh. Ok. And here I thought it was just taking up space."

Grif grinned at Ktk, who chittered away, laughing.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Cyrus cleared his throat.

"I, uh... hm." He looked very uncomfortable. Grif knew what he was going to say.

Cyrus took a big breath. "I guess that was my last run on the Fool's Errand," he said, a catch in his throat. "I always wanted to have my own ship, you know. And I can get one, now... a smaller class, but it'd be mine, and..." he trailed off, staring at the table.

Grif nodded. He'd miss the big guy, but who could blame him? "Yeah, I'm not surprised," he said, keeping his voice cheerful.

"It's not nothing to do with you guys," Cyrus explained. "I mean, hell Grif, other than giving me heart attack when you make these insane plans and don't bother to tell us what's going on, you're the best captain I've served under. And you all are like family, you know..."

He looked at Grif. "Well, not like your family. Like a normal family."

Everyone laughed at that.

"Don't worry, Cyrus, really. I get it. I remember when I as on Barquo Fen's ship, dreaming of my own bucket. Really, it's just how things work out. No hard feelings." He lifted up his mug of coffee in a toast. "Free skies."

Cyrus raised his own, eyes blinking rapidly. "Clear landings."

The four toasted together, sharing a last moment of camaraderie. Then Cyrus stood up.

"I, ah... guess I ought to go get me a ship," he said.

Grif stood up and shook his hand. "Guess so. Drop by if you hear we're in port. There's always a seat at the table."

Cyrus nodded wordlessly, and exited the bar.

From the outside, they could hear him shouting: "Bloody hell! Where'd all this light come from!"

Grif was going to miss him.

"What about you, Ktk? Leaving too?"

Ktk replied that it had no interest in owning a spaceship, and life on the Fool's Errand was much too interesting to leave at present.

Grif grinned. "Well, good to hear."

Ktk excused itself, saying it was tired and wanted to sleep. Grif nodded and watched as it slithered away.

Which left Amys. He cocked his head to one side and gazed at her fondly.

"What?" She looked back with an oh-no-you-don't air about her, which made him laugh.

"Not that," he said. "C'mon, give me some credit. I just want to know what you're going to do next."

"What do you mean?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't kid me, Amys. You saw Cyrus. Wants a ship. Can get one, now. I know you saved up more capital than he did. You could get yourself a real sweet ship, if you wanted. So are you?"

She smiled slightly. "Trying to get rid of me, Captain?"

Grif snorted. "You wish. C'mon, be honest. It must have crossed your mind."

She sighed, nodded. "It has," she admitted. "But I haven't made any decisions yet."

"Why not?" He leaned forward. "Hey, look, Amys, don't get me wrong. If I had my way, you'd always be my exec, on whatever ship I had at the time. I mean, let's be honest, if I had my way... well, never mind."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off. "Let me give you some advice, ok? Get your own ship. Do it. You're as good a pilot as any I've seen, better than most... and there are a lot of good pilots in our crowd. If you went legit or if you stayed in the business, you'd make out like gangbusters. Why take orders when you can give them?"

Amys didn't reply.

"It's good advice. You should take it."

Finally, Amys laughed. "You know I never take your advice."

So she was staying, then.

He laughed. "I was counting on it. Reverse psychology."

"You're terrible," she said, by which she meant, "you're a liar."

They didn't say anything for at least ten minutes. They just sat at the table and studiously avoided each others gaze, while the early morning patrons filtered in. Finally, Amys broke the silence and brought the world back into the picture.

"We're going to need to replace Cyrus and Doma."

Grif sighed. "Yeah, we can probably fly Fool's Errand with just the three of us, but it'd be a lot easier with five. Especially in tight spots..."

"... which we usually seem to have," Amys added.

"Yes, yes, of course," Grif agreed. "We need to think about that. We've got some time, though. The refit won't be finished overnight. By the time that's over and done with, I suspect we'll find some poor, miserable wretches ready to stake their lives on my insanity... and find someone looking to capitalize on our new and improved reputations, as well."

He grinned. "It's just a matter of time."

[Grif Vindh]

Ktkktktkktkktttkktktkktkkttkktktkktkktkktktktktk, known as "Ktk" by races who couldn't begin to reproduce the rapid series of clicks and clacks needed to properly pronounce its name, peered over the diagnostics computer and adjusted the power levels with a flick of one of its tails. It had taken quite a while to adapt to the way humans built their tools, but its tails were now as adept at using them as any human's hands were... even better, since it had three and could use all of them independently from each other.

"The hyperdrive seems to be responding correctly to tests. You may continue with installation." The translator strapped around its midsection spoke with an artificial cheerfulness that it found aggravating, but the techs who were installing the new drive did not speak its language, and it needed to be able to supervise the work.

One of the techs looked at it nervously and nodded. Ktk was used to humans being uncomfortable around it. Most couldn't help but compare it to small insectoid life forms found on many planets sharing rough physical and biological similarities to its own species, which many humans found unnerving. In fact, the only humans who seemed completely comfortable with its presence to date were Grif, Amys, and Cyrus.

Which was one of the reasons it had elected to travel with them.

Ktk's species had long struggled with the difficulties of communicating with other races. They were able to produce only two distinct sounds with their mandibles, and their communication consisted of verifying true and false conditions implied in their speech. The sound the mandibles made that most closely correlated to the human consonant "K" indicated a true condition, and the sound that most closely correlated to the human consonant "T" indicated a false one. Modern "speech" was, of course, a highly stylized version of this basic concept, allowing them to communicate abstract concepts as well as concrete true and false conditions... but they were unique in that their culture established the theories of binary mathematics before inventing an alphabet.

Most of Ktk's species resigned themselves to using translators when communicating with other races, but translators were unable to interpret the way they expressed emotion, which involved two plates behind the mandibles rubbing together quickly to produce a range of sounds to signify anger, amusement, trust, and so on, all depending on the speed of the rubbing and the intensity of the sound. So Ktk disliked the translator strapped around its waist, and preferred to let Grif, Amys or Cyrus interpret for it. It was more interested in observing the actions of other species, rather than interacting with them directly.

Lately, however, it had been necessary to interact directly. Ktk was overseeing the refit of the Fool's Errand, and Grif and Amys were out buying the new equipment for the refit, as well as looking for new crew members to replace Doma and Cyrus. Ktk didn't care for Doma and was glad to see him leave, but missed Cyrus. He understood Cyrus' decision, but it was saddening just the same, and it wondered how well it would get along with the new crew they were theoretically going to take on.

It used the term "theoretically" when speculating on new crew members, because Ktk noticed that it took a very specific kind of outlook and mental conditioning to stay onboard the Fool's Errand for any length of time. Captain Vindh was considered unorthodox even among his peer group, who were by nature unorthodox, and considered effectively insane by much of the rest of the spacefaring community in this sector.

"Ok, uh, sir, I think we have it locked down," the tech said, breaking Ktk out of it's ruminations. "If you could run the systems check... you might need to re-calibrate a little, to adjust for the ship's mass, but I think we have it."

Ktk liked working with this tech -- he had managed to keep his basic uneasiness under control, and took direction well. The human still insisted on using a male pronoun when referring to it, but humans commonly had problem, especially when they were trying to be polite, so it had long ceased being offended by the error. It moved two of its tails along the panel of the main engineering console and keyed up a systems check.

"All operations check out," the translator box said cheerfully. "Some re-calibration is necessary, but I can do that on my own time. Thank you for your assistance."

The tech nodded again. "I guess we'll be back in a week, then, when you upgrade the deflectors." He smiled appreciatively. "This is going to be one sweet bucket when you guys are finished with it."

Ktk noticed again the tendency humans had of using derogatory terms for beloved possessions. Grif also called his ship a "bucket," which was usually used to describe slow, unwieldy transport ships. The Fool's Errand, while serviceable as a transport ship, was neither slow nor unwieldy. It chalked it up to the human concept of irony, which it could appreciate on occasion but still found confusing from time to time.

The tech crew packed up their tools and left, and Ktk deactivated the translator, putting it back in Ktk's flight locker with relief. It then began to work up the math needed to properly calibrate the new hyperdrive. As it did so, the intercom announced an incoming message on a private channel.

Ktk abandoned its work and headed up to the cockpit.

The cockpit was designed to be operated by humans, and Ktk's body was a full meter larger than that, so it was difficult to maneuver past the three chairs to get to the navigation console (Ktk made a mental note to reactivate the communications center, now that Doma was no longer a threat to their daily existence.) Ktk reached up with a tail and turned on the holocom. There, floating over the pilot's console, was an indistinct human, female, with grey hair.

They were going to replace the holocom later in the week with a model that provided a great deal more visual clarity, but that the moment she looked a lot like a faceless droid in a grey wig.

Ktk announced that he was receiving the message, and to please continue. The ship's computer sent a text translation to the receiving vessel, which was apparently in orbit around the planet. Ktk looked at the signal identifier curiously -- the ship was not one it was familiar with.

"Where is Captain Vindh?" The woman asked impatiently. Something about her voice set Ktk on edge, and it's feet skittered about nervously as it tried to maintain its position wedged in between the pilot and navigator's chairs.

It replied that Captain Vindh was not currently on board the ship, but that it would be willing to relay a message for her if she wished.

"No, that's not --" the voice paused again. "What the hell are you?"

Ktk wished it had the ability to roll its eyes, as that seemed to best reflect the reaction it was having from that comment. It replied that it was Ktk, chief engineer of the Fool's Errand, and quite capable of speaking for Captain Vindh in his absence on most matters.

"Not this one," she said coldly. "This is a family matter."

The word 'family' attached to the name 'Vindh' forced Ktk to fight off a wave of panic.

"Look, I don't have time to talk to a cockroach."

Ktk, trying to stay calm, replied that it was actually closer to a centipede in appearance, though some of its features more closely resembled an ant or a --

"Whatever," the woman growled. "Look, you tell my brother that Velis Enge is here, and that he and I are going to have a little talk. Within the week. I'm a busy woman and have other things to do right now, but tell him if he tries to leave before I see him I will skin him alive."

Ktk replied that it would relay the message.

"See that you do," the woman said. "Enge out."

As the hologram flickered out, Ktk wondered if Cyrus was looking for a good engineer.