Two armoured Shock Troopers stood, weapons drawn, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Between them, their furry green prisoner, arms manacled together, towered over them. The elevator doors finally hissed open, and they gestured with their weapons for the Woonky to precede them through the doors.
An officer braver than most moved to join them in the elevator, but one of the Troopers held up his hand and, indicating their prisoner, shook his head.
The elevator doors hissed closed.
"This isn't going to work," said Mal.
"What? Why didn't you say so before?" said Lurk.
"I did say so before," said Mal. He unfastened the manacles around Shagpyle Duphus' wrists, leaving them in place so that it appeared the Woonky was still chained, but so they could be freely removed.
"Only another fifty levels to the cell block," said Lurk. As he spoke, the elevator slowed and stopped, and the doors opened. They looked out onto a corridor.
Looking in were two Troopers clad in similar armour to their own, except that where their armour was grey, the others wore white. Standing between the two Troopers was a huge, hairy, manacled beast, similar in size to Shaggus except its fur was brown rather than green, and it appeared to be naked except for an ammunition bandolier slung over its shoulder. The creature tilted its head in curiosity and whuffled; Shaggus scratched his own head, a bemused expression on his broad face.
"Uh," said one of the Troopers out in the corridor, "sorry, guys. Our mistake. You carry on, we'll take the next one."
The doors closed again, and the elevator started moving again.
Lurk and Mal looked at each other.
"What was that all about?" asked Lurk.
"Beats me," said Mal. "Still, there was something familiar about those guys."
Shaggus snarled in agreement.
The elevator slowed again.
"Okay, here goes nothing," said Mal.
The doors hissed open again, and the two faux Troopers and their "prisoner" marched out into the detention block reception area.
"Where are you going with that thing?" demanded the officer on duty. Mal and Lurk looked around; there were four Troopers on duty, looking alert—or possibly asleep; with the helmets on it was difficult to tell. One of the Troopers fidgeted uncomfortably, as though his armour was chafing him.
"Uh, prisoner transfer from cell block one one three eight," said Mal.
"Oh," said the officer, in a deadpan monotone. "A prisoner transfer? This is exciting. Now my life is complete, and I can die happy."
"Uh, right," said Mal.
Shaggus roared and shook his arms in the air, sending the manacles flying.
"Look out, he's loose," shouted Lurk, and he started firing wildly around the room. Mal also started firing, with a bit more accuracy; he took out the officer, before he could draw his own weapon, and then started blasting at the Troopers.
"Oh crap," shouted one of the Troopers as he dove for cover. "I'm not even supposed to be here today!" He screamed as Mal shot him.
Mal shot out the couple of security cameras in the corners, and then he turned to look at Lurk. Lurk was still screaming at the top of his lungs and firing wildly. He was hitting the walls and the ceiling, but Mal suspected he was only managing to hit them because he had to hit something.
Shaggus was cowering for cover in a corner, his green furry arms wrapped tightly around his head.
"Yeah, okay, thank you Lurk," said Mal laconically. "You can stop helping now."
Lurk lowered his Mk-III Vaporiser and opened his eyes. "Did we get them?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Mal. "It's all over."
Shaggus stood up and grunted something in an angry tone. Useless farm-boy!
"No wonder K'nobby thinks of blasters as random and clumsy if all Jubblies are as proficient with them as you are," said Mal.
"You think I'm good with it?" asked Lurk.
"I think," said Mal, "that you should stick to using that light rapier of yours from now on!"
"Oh," said Lurk. He slung the rifle over his shoulder.
"Now, let's find this Princess of yours," said Mal. He stepped over the dead Imperial officer to pore over the console. "Uh, how does this thing work?" he said.
Lurk stepped up beside him and began tapping on the keys. "Here it is," he said. "Cell thirty seven."
"You go get her out," said Mal. "I'll take care of that." He pointed to an urgently flashing light above the communication panel.
As Lurk headed down the corridor, Mal removed his Shock Trooper helmet and breathed a grateful breath of fresh air.
"Yes, hello," he said as he tapped the comm button.
"What's going on down there?" asked a voice.
"Uh, minor weapons malfunction. But everything is fine down here now," said Mal. "Uh, how are things with you?" He winced; somehow he did not think that was standard Imperial Communications Protocol.
"I'm fine," said the Imperial. "Thanks for asking."
Mal's eyes widened. Perhaps it wasn't standard protocol, but a little politeness obviously went a long way.
"We'll send down a squad of Troopers to investigate," continued the Imperial.
"Uh, negative, negative," said Mal. "We have a large, uh, reactor leak here now. Very large, very dangerous. Give us a few minutes to lock it down." Yeah, he thought, that really ought to work!
"Who is this?" asked the Imperial suspiciously. "What is your serial number?"
"Uh..."
Mal grabbed his laser rifle and blasted the console. "Boring conversation anyway," he muttered.
"Lurk," he shouted down the corridor to where Lurk was peering at the numbers on the cell doors, "hurry it up. We're going to have company."
Lurk waved back. There it is. Number thirty seven. He tapped the control panel beneath the number, and the door hissed open. He stepped down into the tiny cell.
There she was. Princess Labia. Lying draped across the hard bunk at the far end of the cell, her grubby white dress in tatters. He gaped at her. Despite the grime and the tangled hair, she was beautiful—and he could definitely see her nipples!
She sat up and looked back at him. "Aren't you a little short for a Shock Trooper?" she asked.
"Huh?" he said eloquently. "What? Oh, the uniform." He reached up and lifted the helmet from his head, revealing his shock of tousled blond hair, his winning smile, and his pretty face with the manly cleft in the chin. If the light in the cell had been a little brighter, it would have sparkled from his teeth.
"I'm Lurk mumblemumble," he said excitedly. "I'm here to rescue you?"
"Lurk who?" asked the Princess with a puzzled look on her face.
"Lurk Splitwhisker," said Lurk, feeling that she was somehow missing the point of his opening statement.
The Princess tried to stifle a giggle; instead it emerged as a strangled snort. "You're actually admitting to a name like that?"
Lurk pouted. "Please don't be like that, Princess Labia Orgasma," he said pointedly.
"Okay," she said, wincing and holding one hand up in surrender. "Point taken. And please, call me 'Libby'!"
"Come on, Libby," he said more slowly. Somehow the fun of being the rescuing hero had gone out of the situation. "We've got to get out of here. Come with me if you want to live."
She made no attempt to move.
"I've got your 'bots," he said.
She raised an eyebrow.
"I'm here with Bent K'nobby," he said.
"K'nobby?" she said. "Obeah Bum K'nobby? Well, why didn't you say so?" She jumped up and pushed past Lurk, out into the narrow corridor.
She nearly collided with Mal and Shaggus as they came running down the corridor towards her. She sidestepped neatly.
"We've got Troopers coming through," said Mal breathlessly. "We welded up the door, but it won't hold them for long."
They peered back down towards the reception area. A shower of sparks was in evidence where the Imperials were cutting through the door.
"There's no other way out," whined Lurk.
Mal leaned back into one of the many convenient alcoves which lined the corridor. He braced his Imperial Vaporiser, aiming it back down the corridor. "Get ready," he shouted, and as the first Shock Trooper burst through the newly cut hole in the door he opened fire, cutting him down.
Libby looked back and forth from Mal to Lurk. Her eyes narrowed incredulously. "Do you mean to tell me that when you came in here, you had no plan for getting out?" she asked.
"Hey, don't look at me, sweetheart," growled Mal. "He's the brains."
She looked at Lurk. Somehow, that didn't fill her with confidence.
She glanced around, weighing up the situation. Laser fire flashed up the corridor in front of her face. She looked back into her cell wistfully; it almost seemed safer to retreat into there and lock the door behind her.
Then she saw it. Without waiting to explain, she grabbed Lurk's rifle and jerked it out of his hands.
"What are you doing," he screamed at her.
"Getting us out of here," she muttered. She aimed the weapon at a grating, low down in the wall, and blasted it into oblivion. Thrusting the weapon back at Lurk, she shouted "come on!" and dove head-first through the opening.
Lurk glanced at Mal, shrugged, and dove after her.
"Go on, Shaggus," shouted Mal. "Get down there."
Shaggus shook his shaggy head and cowered back against the wall. He whuffled something. Smells bad!
Mal fired a couple more shots down the hallway in an effort to keep the Imperial Troopers at bay. "Get in there, you big coward," shouted Mal. "I don't care what you smell."
Shaggus growled something, then dove headfirst into the hole—and promptly got stuck. He roared and began flailing his legs in the air.
"Oh crap," said Mal succinctly. "Suck it in, you big lump," he yelled. Feeling awfully exposed to incoming laser fire, he planted his foot squarely against the Woonky's backside and pushed. Shaggus slid another inch or two into the hole, and then, with an audible pop, he slid away out of sight.
Mal fired down the corridor again. "Are you clear?" he yelled. He had no intention of diving headfirst into the hole only to discover that the Woonky had gotten stuck at the first bend. That could be—embarrassing.
He heard a distant Woonky snarl. Smells really bad!
"Whinge, whinge, whinge," he muttered. He dove through the opening, slid for several metres down a steeply sloped duct, and then shot out into the air. He just had time for a quick scream before he splashed down into a thick soup of slimy, smelly water. Coughing and spluttering, he stood up; the waist-deep water was a foul-smelling sludge of raw sewage. He had no wish to identify some of the lumpy objects which were bobbing around on the surface.
"What an incredible smell you've discovered," he said. He hoisted his gun and aimed it at the access hatch—although he did find himself wondering exactly who would ever want to access this dank slimy cesspit.
"No wait," shrieked the Princess, but he ignored her, and fired.
The laser blast ricocheted several times around the room before finally hissing into the water with an explosion of steam.
I really must stop doing that, thought Mal as Shaggus roared in frustration.
"Would you forget it?" shrieked Lurk. "I already tried that. It's magnetically sealed."
"Put that thing away before you get us all killed," ordered the Princess.
"Well, sorry, your worshipfulness," said Mal. "I had everything under control before you led us down here, Princess Labia."
The Princess subsided. "Please," she said. "Just call me Libby."
Mal softened. "Sure, Libby," he said.
"You make things so difficult," she sighed.
"I do, don't I?"
"If you two are quite finished?" said Lurk.
They both turned to look at him. He glared back at Mal.
"Shall we get out of here?" he said. "It won't take them too long to figure out where we went." He ignited his light rapier and pushed the blade into the magnetically sealed blast door; the hardened steel flowed away from his blade like warm blue hephelump butter from a hot knife.
It took Lurk perhaps a minute to carve a large hole in the access door. The heavy block of steel plate fell outwards with a loud crash. Lurk returned his light rapier to his belt, and hoisted himself out into the corridor beyond.
"Come on," he said. "Watch the edges, they're still hot."
He helped Libby out, and then Mal. There was a loud clicking sound from the sewage chamber, and Shaggus launched himself out into the corridor, bowling over all three of them. Moments later a grinding noise bubbled up from below the subsiding water level as somebody initiated the flush cycle.
Cursing, Libby dragged herself out from the bottom of the pile and peered back in through the newly carved hole. "And not before time," she commented wryly. Then she glanced down at her dress. It had sustained yet more rips and tears, and was stained an ugly mottled yellow-brown. She sighed. Next time I go on a mission to help the Rebellion, she thought, I must remember to wear some good strong combat clothing—or, at the very least, underwear! She was almost tempted to tear off what remained of the rag and go the rest of the way naked, for all the good the dress was doing at covering anything—all the rips aside, the transparently wet material was clinging uncomfortably to her bare skin.
She turned away from the flushing sewage pit and caught both the men staring at her. She felt her cheeks burning as she blushed prettily.
"Lead on, guys," she said, pointing past them. "Eyes front!"
They headed down the corridor, their water-filled armoured boots squelching and sploshing with each step. Behind them the drenched and miserable-looking Woonky was still trying to wring the foul-smelling liquid from his clothes and fur. Libby brought up the rear, slimy water dribbling down her legs and leaving bare footprints on the polished metal floor.
The stench was awful; she did her best to breathe through her mouth.
They reached an intersection. Mal and Lurk discussed their choices for a few seconds, then both nodded and headed left. Libby looked right.
"Hey, Lurk," she said.
"This way, Libby," said Lurk.
"But guys," said Libby.
"The ship is this way," said Mal.
"I don't care," she said. "Time out!" She pointed up the right corridor to a sign which marked change rooms for those poor unfortunate maintenance workers who did have to access the sewage pits.
"I don't know about you three," she said, "but I would kill for a hot shower and a change of clothes."
Shaggus whuffled his agreement.
Several minutes later, Libby finished towelling her long hair; it was still damp, but it would have to do. Quickly she twisted it into a tight rope, then wrapped it up into a bun. She was wearing a grey vest and some gym shorts, the only clothing she had been able to find in the couple of lockers that were open. Anything was preferable to the ruined dress, which lay discarded in one corner of the shower cubicle.
She pushed the door marked 'Females' open and stepped through into the communal locker room. Lurk and his friend were waiting for her; each was dressed in the same outfit she was wearing, except that both men wore the damp—and well scrubbed—belts from their Shock Trooper armour slung around their waists to carry their weapons. They looked at each other, and Libby laughed softly.
"I didn't catch your name," she said to Mal.
"Mal," said Mal. "Mal Single. And my big friend"—he gestured back towards the door marked 'Males'—"is Shaggus."
"Nice to meet you," said Libby. "I'm Libby, but you already know that. I appreciate this whole rescue attempt thing."
Mal shrugged. "Like I said before, it was Lurk's idea."
The door to the male showers opened and Shaggus ducked through. He smelled strongly of shampoo. Unable to find any fresh clothes to wear, he had considered dressing in his dirty tunic. Then he had caught a whiff of the discarded garment, and opted instead to wrap the largest towel he could find around his waist, and another around his shoulders. He felt a little silly, but it was either this, or walk around naked—and no self-respecting Woonky would walk around naked in public.
"Ready?" asked Mal. Shaggus grunted.
"Let's go then," he said to the room at large. Pushing the change room door open, he peered out into the corridor beyond. Deserted.
Feeling fresh and clean, he led the group of fugitives out into the corridor and together they began to make their way back to the Serendipity Sparrow.