The darkness of Janson and Klivian’s common room was a small hindrance to the figure that moved silently about. The fact that the layout of each of the pilots’ quarters were remarkably similar meant that the masked bandit only had to worry about furniture size. Moving towards the door that was now known to be Klivian’s the figure prepared to pop the door-panel hatch.
Rigging the door for manual control, he paused momentarily before sliding the door open. A cursory glance convinced him that the room’s occupant was sound asleep and he slipped inside.
Tiptoeing to the side of the bed, the figure reached down and gently removed the stuffed Bantha from the sleeping form’s embrace. A gentle snort and a quiet mumble from the bed’s occupant froze the thief in his tracks. He waited for a long moment as Klivian shifted positions several times before flopping onto his stomach, arms limp at his sides, right cheek crushed into his pillow, chest pressed to the mattress and his bottom in the air. The figure suppressed a chuckle and crept from the room. He closed and fixed the door, then headed for the ‘fresher. Rigging the door for manual control, he entered the ‘fresher and, placing the bantha on the counter, he plugged the sink and filled it with cold water…
Wes Janson groaned as he rolled onto his back. He rubbed his eyes and kicked the covers off his body. Rolling onto his side, he fell out of his bed with a loud thud that produced a grunt of pain from the prone pilot. He sat up and flexed his shoulder, running a hand over the sore spot gingerly. He glanced over at his bedside chrono and made a face: it was only 0430. With a sigh, he stood up and walked to the door of his room. With a yawn, he hit the door panel. The light from the ‘fresher’s open door gently illuminated the common room and Wes shook his head. How many times have I told Hobbie to turn that light off when he’s done?
Wes padded into the common room, and headed for the ‘fresher.
"OOF!" The air from Wes’ lungs rushed out as he was thrown backwards by a black-clad figure beating a hasty retreat to the hallway. Recovering quickly, Wes stood and ran to the door, slamming against the cool metal as it shut in his face. He barely noticed the door to Hobbie’s room open and shut as he fumbled with the door-panel.
"W-what ha-happened," Hobbie said around a yawn. "What’s all the noise?"
"Someone was here Hobbs," Wes said as he finally got the door open. He stepped out and looked up and down the dimly lit hallway. Hobbie’s gasp turned his attention back to their quarters and he gave his now pale friend a concerned look. "Hobbie? Are you okay?"
Ignoring him, Hobbie turned on his heel and fled to his room. The sound of furniture being over turned could be faintly heard through the closed door before Hobbie re-emerged. "Where’s Mooky?! We have to find him!"
"Calm down, little buddy," Wes said, placing his hands on his friend’s shoulders. "Our intruder came out of the ‘fresher and…"
Hobbie bolted towards the ‘fresher and skidded to a stop in the middle of the room. Wes saw his roommate’s gaze fall on the sink. With an anguished cry, Hobbie dove towards the sink and Wes could hear the splash of water.
Moments later, Hobbie emerged cuddling his sodden and now towel-wrapped stuffed bantha. He hit the light-panel and the door-panel respectively, but only the lights went out. The door refused to close. With a frown, Hobbie hit the door panel again and the door still refused to close. He and Wes exchanged looks.
"What happened, Wes?" Hobbie eyed his roommate suspiciously.
"I fell out of bed. I got up, opened my door, noticed the light on in the ‘fresher. I walked over to it and before I could get there I was knocked down. I caught my breath, and ran to the door where you found me."
Hobbie peered at Wes for a long moment. "You do realize," Hobbie said icily, "that this is the second attempt on Mooky’s life, and that both times, you just happened to be at the scene of the crime when I find out?"
"C’mon, Hobbs," Wes said with a sigh. "You don’t honestly think I would try to hurt Mooky? Kidnap him, maybe, but not hurt him!"
Hobbie regarded his friend curiously. "What did he look like, Wes?" He said softly.
"Can’t say. He was dressed in black and was able to knock the wind out of me slightly." Wes shrugged. "I guess that means he was slightly bigger than me…"
Hobbie nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that would be a logical assumption to make…excuse me, Wes. I have some planning to do." And with that, Hobbie and Mooky disappeared back into their room.
To be Continued...
Back to Nic's fic