Hangar Bay, Five-Star Legacy

            Logan approached his ship, getting ready to walk up the entry ramp.
            A soldier on guard approached him. “Sir, temporary quarters have been arranged for you.”
            “What?” Logan turned. “I was going to look over the damage, see if I could start repairing some of it.”
            The soldier shook his head. “Standing orders; this ship is to remain untouched until it’s been fully inspected.”
            Logan bristled. “This is my ship, buddy. Are you telling me I can’t touch my own damned ship?”
            “Advising, sir,” said the soldier, though he pointedly adjusted his blaster rifle as he did so. “Your ship survived contact with the Yuuzhaan Vong, and the techs back at base will want to study it. Besides, I wouldn’t want to sleep there until those engines have been removed.”
            Logan calmed himself down. “I thought they were contained now.”
            “They are, but I wouldn’t risk it.” The soldier jerked his head towards the aft of the freighter. “Engines as old as that? You never know if they’re going to flare up again.”
            “Hey,” cried Logan, affronted. “I put those in myself. You know how hard it is to find something that’ll fit an old Hawk?”
            “A Hawk? There are some of those still in the air?”
            Logan snorted. “You’re one to talk. What is this thing, an old Venator-class?” He gestured towards the old-fashioned structural supports in the hangar bay.
            The soldier smirked. “Acclamator, actually.”
            Logan shook his head in wonderment. “Wow. What museum did you guys have to knock over?”
            The soldier laughed. “Seriously, sir, this ship needs to stay in its condition until we get to Xenen. It’s just an in-system jump.”
            “Alright. Can I at least get my stuff from my cabin?”
            The rifle waggled towards the open hatchway. “Fine, but you’ll need to be out when we unload.”

* * * * *

            The interior of the Seraph’s Wake was almost as bad as the outer hull. Carbon streaks expanded outwards from the engine room, and Logan stared for a long moment at a grisly shadow against a bulkhead. His business partner and co-pilot didn’t talk much; Logan knew even less about Jer’s family than he did the Gotal himself. There was a Holonet message box address somewhere in the ship’s computer; he’d have to send a notification at the very least.
            He replayed the encounter with the Vong ship as he made his way to the cabins. The asteroid had trapped them dead in the water; the gravity field pinned them in place and something had ripped the shields apart. The last two shots that had disabled the engines were a bit more rapid-fire than the first ones, which meant that there were plenty of openings that the thing hadn’t taken. Given what the NRI kid had said, there had been some nasty battles with the things, which had left the military hurting.
            Logan frowned as he started grabbing clothes and datacards from compartments in his cabin. Had the thrusters not spun them around, the first magma shot would have torn into the cockpit – punched right through the transparisteel and vaporized him on the spot. After he proved troublesome, the rockship had just glided around to make a pair of surgical strikes to disable them further.
            The Vong things must had needed the ship intact. His ship. And considering that despite his personal feelings towards the vintage transport, there wasn’t anything really special about it. Sentimental, expensive to repair, maybe, but most parts were stock-standard from the Corellian shipyard it was built in.
            On a whim, he selected a card and slotted it into his datapad. There was the manifest, alright, and he had remembered everything that was on it when the Jedi pipsqueak had asked him. Looking over it again, nothing really stood out as being important, but then again, he hadn’t even heard of these Vong until not even an hour ago.
            Tucking the datapad into his pocket, he grabbed what he could and tossed it into a pack. Most of it could sit tight until he found a more permanent place for it – hell, the bulk of what he owned could probably stay on the ship while it was being repaired.
            He felt the vibrating thrum of the deck that signaled a large ship making a hyperspace transition. Not long after that, the vibrations changed again as the Acclamator-class cruiser reverted back to realspace.
            Logan took one last look around the Wake. She’d wait for him. And he’d return to her, as he always did when they were apart.
            He sealed her up and nodded to the soldiers on duty. Time to go.

~ Logan MacKenzie