Crash Course (Re-Post)

Okay, all spiffied up and betaed and polished and ready to go.

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Life in a swoop gang is exciting. Don't let anybody tell ya different, 'cuz it just ain't so. It's not all speed and daring do, but we get more of it than your average joe and we like it that way. People give us a kind of wary respect and that's better than a snooty look any day. When we aren't being chased by the cops in an adrenaline rush that just won't quit, or skirmishing with another gang over territory, we stage races, or fix our rides, or just sit around and drink and tell each other lies about the things we've done and the cops we've beat.

Mine is a common beginning, but true for all of that. I left school just as soon as I turned sixteen. I was no longer required by law to attend school, so I quit since there were a multitude of other things I needed to do with my time. Making money was one of them. Learning more practical skills was another.

Don't let anyone tell you that Coruscant is the 'world of opportunity', or that its buildings are faced in gold and that there's plenty for everyone. I can tell you from experience that that's a fairytale, too. My folks worked their fingers to the bone and still couldn't afford more than a three-room hovel in a building in the lower levels that should have been condemned decades ago. They certainly couldn't afford to keep feeding and clothing a teenage girl and themselves, too. All growing up, I watched their clothes get more and more ragged as they got thinner and thinner while I ate enough and dressed decently. They even wanted to send me to a university.

I wouldn't stand for it, being a dead weight on my folks, killing them by inches.

So I left.

I knew they'd argue and try and talk me out of it. I mean, they loved me, after all. But I couldn't give them the chance, long odds though it was, that they might succeed. Besides, it would only have made them worry more. So I wrote a note and left it on the table, packed what I had, and slipped out into the lower levels of Coruscant.

It's easier than one might think to join a swoop gang, and harder too. If you haven't got a ride, or a real useful skill, you gotta know someone. I had a few skills, but they weren't any great shakes. But that didn't matter. I knew Sloan, and he was kid brother to Shael, also known as War, who was the right hand man of the Horsemen. Sloan was just waiting for his birthday too, and was in nearly all of the same classes with me at school. He dropped a word in his brother's ear and I was in, simple as that.

Six months later, I was solid, having proven myself to everybody's satisfaction. I was still using learning tapes in my datapad in my spare time and furthering my education. My talents at slicing and tech skills were being rapidly honed by practical usage under the watchful eye and guidance of my fellow Horsemen. I had lots of friends, some money to spend and mom and pops were doing better than they ever had with the little bit of extra cash I was sending home and not having to feed and clothe me.

There was nothing to regret.

Come to think of it, there are very few regrets in my life and most of them deal with not having visited my folks more often before the earthquake leveled their new apartment building. I certainly don't regret that 'anonymous' message I sent the cops alerting them to the criminal usage of sub- standard materials by the construction company. I also don't regret the day I jumped on a complete stranger's swoop, even though it changed my entire life.

I'm an impetuous, rash, fool-hardy sort of person, or at least those were the words he used when there was time enough to waste so much breath. I'd just say I was desperate, in search of a way out.

It was just me and Bulldog, see? We weren't out for no joy ride, but we didn't have any escort neither. Death, our boss man, he didn't want us attracting any undue attention what with the other gangs all growling and hissing at each other. We were zipping

 

I have to sheepishly admit that I wasn't able to read the first posting of this Lilith.

By the time I realized it was there it was too huge for me to tackle in a reasonable amount of time.

Thanks for reposting this, I'll definitely follow along this time. *grin*

 

Hmm, it would appear that I have even fewer readers now than the first time.

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Jolting bolt upright, I quickly scanned my surroundings, fuzzy-minded and momentarily confused. It took a blink or three for me to remember. The sun was rising off the left side of the balcony, casting pale shadows across the faded, grayish carpet. It also brought a well-muscled back and a broad pair of shoulders to my immediate attention.

I relaxed back onto the couch and propped myself up on my elbow, head in hand, and watched the interplay of muscles as Mason lifted, used, and replaced tools in the pursuit of whatever tweaking or repairs he was making. //Hmm, that's nice. Maybe I should ask Shael to work shirtless from now on,// I mused.

?Mmm, now that's a nice view to wake up to,? I said appreciatively.

Mason turned to look at me and blushed fiercely. ?You know, you look good in red,? I teased.

The man grabbed up a rag to wipe his hands on and hightailed it for his bedroom and a shirt. I ducked my head a bit for a better angle out the balcony doors and pondered the windows opposite. //I wonder, how many women are silently cursing me right now?//

When Mason returned he had pulled a clean white shirt over his head and washed the grease from his hands. I pouted at him and giggled when he glared at me in consternation. For a swoop rider, my host was an awful prude.

?Breakfast?? I asked hopefully when Mason headed for the kitchen alcove.

?I should imagine that you are rather hungry,? he replied drily. ?Since you passed out before dinner yesterday and slept like the dead.?

?Work hard, play hard, sleep hard,? I tossed back at him flippantly.

?Sleep hard I've seen, play hard I have a good idea of from your little stunt yesterday, but I haven't seen you work,? Mason hinted, making it a question, as he began pulling a few things out of cupboards and the fridge.

?Few people have,? I told him, moving over to prop myself against a counter and watch him work. Few men that I'd met were any good at domestic skills and I was curious to see if my host was. Not that I'm any great shakes myself. I mean, I can wipe dust off my terminal monitor and I can drop an insta-meal in the heater, but that's pretty much the extent of it. The Horsemen certainly don't revere me for my cooking or cleaning skills.

?So does that mean you don't work, or just that nobody sees you??

I grinned at him when he looked up from his preparations. ?That depends entirely on who you ask. Speaking of asking,? I continued in as bored a tone as I could manage, ?what did you do, you know, before??

?This and that.? He was bent over the meal's components and I wished that he would look at me when he spoke. He had too much control over his body, but his face, especially his eyes, was much easier for me to read. ?I traveled from job to job, never staying anywhere for long, rarely doing the same thing twice.?

Mason glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, giving me a brief glimpse of his profile. ?I decided I was unhappy. I did not like what I was doing, so I decided to take a chance.?

//Liar,// I thought, amused. //Oh, parts of your story are true enough, but others ... I'll have you figured out soon.//

Mason had hinted the night before that he was worried about money for food and housing. For lunch he had paid in exact change, counting his money out down to the last deci-credit as if each one was precious, and for most of us on the streets they are. But I'd seen what he had in his fridge and cupboards. Food was not a problem, and wouldn?t be for a couple of weeks unless he ate like all three of the triplets combined. And it was only the fifth of the month. I happen to know every building in the sector that rents rooms by the week or day, and this was not one of them, so Mason wasn't in danger of being homeless for another three weeks. He'd told a partial truth. He was worried about something, but it wasn't food or liv

 

Lil. It is so nice to read so much in one post. It seems much clearer to me.... all my little hangups have been dealt with. I like Sloan's larger role... and the two heads of blond hair behind Death... nice image.....

 

So Death is the name of the leader of the Horsemen, huh, no matter who it is? Do the other nicknames get handed down, too, or are they more unique?

 

They pretty much get handed down too, though I think they might not necessarily be filled all the time. I'm not sure since I've never really thought about that part of it.

 

do we know who plague is yet? It's not sloan, is it?

 

Plague is mentioned in the story, but never by his real name, though I do have it written down around here somewhere ... *goes shuffling through odds and ends of papers and notes* Ah yes, his name is Nillan.

 

Well, since it seems that it's for my readers this time around, we might as well post the next part.

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The party was in still in full swing when Roble and I came out of his office and walked across the warehouse floor. We strode past long rows of comfortable bunks, each pair of beds with a trunk and a small closet to either side. Some of the beds were made up, some not, and some were empty, waiting for friends or other visitors to claim them for a night or two. Since this sector of Coruscant was just south of the northern tropic line, there were no heating units to be seen anywhere, but there were plenty of personal cooling units for those who had fur or were otherwise uncomfortable with how high the temperature could occasionally climb.

Casting my eyes around the crowd that had gathered at the far end of the floor, I took a quick head count, mentally ticking faces off a rollcall list. It appeared that most everyone was there. That made sense, since Roble had called for a lockdown in the face of rising hostilities. I knew several of the boys would be glad of the opportunity to simply sit around all day and tinker with their rides for a week or so. Since I didn't have a ride, a long story I won't go into just now, and our computer system was crude to say the least, I knew that I was going to end up being terribly bored if I couldn't find something to keep me occupied.

When I reached the edge of the crowd it didn't part for me. Rather, Frank, standing nearest to me, lifted me right off my feet and handed me to Chaser, who handed me off to Bait, who handed me off in turn. In a manner not unlike what had happened when I arrived, I made my way toward the focus of the celebration.

?Slicer coming through!?

I rolled my eyes, and giggled and kicked uncontrollably when one of the triplets hit a tickle spot, but other than that I didn't protest the treatment. It was pretty typical. We were more like a family than anything else, and this was just one more proof of that. I was finally put back on my own feet in front a long table visibly sagging under the weight of the foodstuffs my computer skills had helped get for us. There were sliced meats, fresh fruits and vegetables, breads, even nutri-wafers, ration bars, and food capsules for the few who preferred those. It made me flush with pride. I had made this possible for my family. I wasn't the only one who had been involved, but I'd had a significant part in it, and that felt wonderful.

?Eat up, Crash.?

I grabbed a muja fruit off the nearest plate and meandered slowly through the crowd, chatting here and there with everyone I passed, since I wasn't tall enough to see anyone I might want to seek out. Eventually I passed within hearing range of Bulldog and recognized that he was telling, or most likely re-telling, the story of what I'd done, so I pushed and wormed my way in the direction of his voice until I emerged from the crowd. Standing around Bulldog were Mason, Shael, Roble, Sloan, and one of the triplets, I'm not sure which because I could never tell them apart. Bulldog was weaving his hand back and forth, showing our reckless, frantic course through traffic.

?She triple tapped me and off we went,? he was saying. ?She'd already passed me the chip by then. Stuffed it right down in my boot. Anyway, we're dodging and weaving, but the pig's still staying with us, actually making up distance.?

?They've really souped up those pursuit units,? Sloan interjected. ?Probably ?cuz we?re always out running them.?

?Yeah,? Bulldog agreed, grudging admiration in his voice. ?Then, Crash, hiya Crash, well, she points up ahead, and what do I see, but another swoop. And it ain?t got no markings on it at all and the driver ain?t got no colors on, but I still don't like it. Crash, she kicks me in the leg, reminding me what it is I got jammed down in my boot,? Bulldog said confidingly to Mason, ?and so I move closer. Then, all of a sudden, Crash, she jumps off my ride and

 

"...barbarian-boy, until you're ready to accept evolution and apologize for your primitive, chest-thumping behavior..."

You did a really good job of -not- calling him a Neanderthal! In fact, this phrase seems so much more vivid and insulting somehow. Well done!

 

I agree with Jane, Lilith the description, really had me laughing...

Still here, just jumping in to read a bit in between Darth RL disasters.

 

"Personally, I don't care for drinking. You can't slice your way into a super secure database while drunk, and it's pretty dang hard to fly straight, too. I learned my lesson about the same time that I earned my nickname. "

Heehee!!!

 

*Does happy little dance* Someone finally caught it. Several people have asked me how Crash got her nickname and all I could do was sigh in frustration.

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I didn't go to our resident healer, nicknamed Doc for some inexplicable reason, for a painkiller for my legs. Drugs of any sort, but especially medical drugs, were hideously expensive and you just can't trust the black market stuff. So I stretched a little and then didn't use them for the rest of the day.

I let the triplets be my legs.

I don't know if anyone has the full story on the triplets. I sure don't. They're so alike that they could have been stamped out of a mold. Tall, fair of skin, hair and eye, and built along the lines of construction droids, the triplets were all too nice, too eager to please to be wanted by the cops or to have been tossed out of school. Phyl, Gil, and Bil, or just 'hey, boys' for short, had sort of drifted into the gang a couple of years after I joined and nobody had bothered to question why.

Whatever their history, the triplets were impossible to dislike and they hurried back and forth all afternoon doing my bidding. I only ran into problems when I forgot who I was dealing with and tried to send them on separate errands. Those three boys can't seem to keep anything straight if they aren't together.

I first upgraded the some of our computer hardware systems with bits and pieces I'd managed to scrounge recently. Then, I beefed up the security programs. When that was done, I started actively looking for something to keep me occupied. Being unwilling to use my legs any more than absolutely necessary limited my choices, though. Finally, I had the boys carry me over to the sound setup to see if I couldn't figure out what the kriff was wrong with the blasted thing.

While I sat and stared at the exposed guts of wiring and components, I thought about Mason and the mystery he represented. The man seemed to tell as much truth as he possibly could, but never all of it. He wanted into a gang, and it now certainly looked like he was going to get his wish. I was sponsoring him and Roble had okayed it. So long as he didn't do anything stupid, it would be no time at all before he got his jacket. I vaguely wondered what he was going to do with all the food back at his apartment. Mason danced, bowed, spoke well, rode well, healed quickly, was unfailingly polite. I was pretty sure that I had all the pieces to the puzzle, but for the life of me I could not see how they fit together or what picture they might form. I needed one good, solid clue that would tie the others together.

?Crash,? a familiar voice jerked me out of my thoughts and I began to poke and prod around inside the main control box much more energetically. I didn't need to turn around to see who it was, and I had no intention of facing him until I heard what I wanted to hear. ?I need to talk to you.?

?Unless you're here to apologize, don't bother.?

?Crash, will you just listen to me??

I noticed right away that he didn't answer me. Would it really have been so hard to say 'I'm sorry for being an unthinking jerk' or 'I'm sorry for thinking you couldn't pull your own weight in the gang'? Since that wasn't what he was saying, though, I ignored him and went right on poking through the innards of the sound setup.

?Crash, will you at least turn and look at me?? I also ignored the note of pleading in his voice.

?Only if you're ready to apologize. If you aren't, then we have nothing more to say.?

?Crash!? That was it. If he was going to start shouting at me, there was no point in taking the conversation any farther. I slammed the panel shut and stood, repressing a wince as my legs protested such treatment. Turning to look Shael in the eye, I fought to keep my voice level and my volume down.

?Grow up, Shael. Shouting should have stopped getting you your way years ago.? I ducked under his attempt to grab my shoulders and stalked away across the floor and headed for my

 

Was that in the first time through?

I find I "get" this story so much better now. I think it is because I can read such a nice long post all at once......

Great writing Lil!

How did the end of your school year go? Are you gradgitated or do you still have more to go?

 

Scheduling mix up means that I will not graduate this month. I will have to wait until next April because of a class that isn't offered until winter semester.

And, yes, that bit's been there the whole time.

 

Whew! Just got caught up on this Lilith! I had almost forgotten how much I really enjoyed this story!

Now I'm just waiting for more!

 

This is /awesome/, Lilith! I usually don't like first-person stories, but you do this one so well! Can't wait for more!

 

Up! Please, please, please post more! I'm hooked! *g*

 

Oooo, a new reader!! Okay, since you asked so nicely ...


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Three blocks later it occurred to me that Mason hadn't a clue as to where we were going. With taps on his chest, I guided him across the line and into Wildcard territory. It didn't take long for us to pick up an escort. My clearly visible jacket made identification easy for them ? further aided by the fact that I'm one of the few remaining swoopless Horsemen ? and my cheery wave was answered in kind. One rider sped off home to let 'em know that company was coming and the rest led us right in.

Bobby Fawkes jogged into the Wildcards' garage to meet us, our engine noise racketing around the interior of the smallish permacrete structure. He stopped short as soon as Qui- Mason pulled off his helmet. It wasn't hard to see that he had been expecting someone else to be at the controls, Sloan maybe.

?Crash, who's your friend??

I set my helmet on the swoop's seat and skipped forward for a hug. ?Bobby, you cad, give me a squeeze.? He didn't have to be asked twice, but wasn't to be deterred by my lack of answer to his question. He gave me my hug, then simply turned a questioning gaze Mason's way as soon as he'd released me. My Jedi extended his hand in reply.

?Cade, Mason Cade.?

?He's the newest Horseman, Bobby,? I explained, moving back to stand by Mason's side in a silent endorsement. ?Before you ask, Shael's-?

?Madder than a shaved Wookiee,? Fawkes supplied. ?He and Death commed us just a bit ago. They mentioned something about a raving lunatic with a death wish who was coming to see me. I thought at first that it might be Ishtari. She's the only one of you that I could come up with that would rocket off during a lockdown. War set me straight on that one in short order.?

My smile vanished faster than an unwatched purse in the lower market. ?He still thumping his chest and hollering like a Lyran lurker??

?No, he's past that to smoking at the ears and muttering under his breath.? Bobby raised an eyebrow at me and glanced curiously at the tall man standing by my side, where Shael usually was.

?Mason was a convenient ride,? I explained.

?And I 'spect that he hasn't been around long enough to know better than to listen to you.?

?We had a fight, Bobby, and I don't want to talk about it. I needed to stretch my legs and I remembered that you still owe me thirty-seven credits.?

As expected, the mere mention of money -- especially the owing part-- chased any thought of delving deeper into my spat with my long time boyfriend right out of Bobby's head. A mercenary gleam lit up his eyes and his lips quirked into a sly half smile.

?Care to give me a chance to win it back??

I rolled my eyes for effect and nodded. ?Sure. Why not. I can use the cash.?

Bobby practically rubbed his hands together in anticipation and waved us through the door into the main lounge.
*******

?Kriff!?

The short, emphatic word summed it up for almost everyone at the table. Bobby watched the pile of chips in the center of the table get pulled away from him, and frowned in consternation. I was just glad that it wasn't me he was frowning at. I'm only an indifferent sabacc player, and I'd only barely managed to break even. Mason, on the other hand, had multiplied his original stake by an unbelievable amount.

?Ante up.?

As red chips plunked into the center of the table, I sensed that all the other players were only continuing the game for the sake form and not from any real enthusiasm. I didn't blame them. They'd all lost a lot of money to a man who had been playing very badly half an hour ago. Of course, being a Jedi, he had an unreasonable advantage seeing as how he could read the emotions of the players even more accurately than I could.

I was bored with playing, but didn't want to drop out until Bobby and the others decided to call it quits. To do otherwise would have been rude. Win or lose, games of chance only interested me as a

 

No readers?


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?Uhgn?? Not the most intelligent thing to say, but it was the best I could come up with at the time. A furry paw the size of a dinner plate had shaken me out of a very pleasant dream long before it should have. The sleep-muzzy image of Reeabok's brown and black muzzle was the first thing I saw, so I groaned loudly. Short of another Wookiee, that's really not what anyone should see before their first cup of caf. Unless of course, you were into long fur, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and carnivore morning breath. I wasn't, and am still not.

Reeabok tried to pantomime her intentions, a common occurrence since only a few of us actually understand spoken Wookiee, and gave up when I blinked blurrily at her. I usually had no problem figuring out what she wanted, but I was usually fully awake when she tried. Instead of wasting time repeating her motions, she grabbed me by the arms and lifted me bodily out of my bunk and began dragging me across the floor. I managed to snag a blanket and pull it around my waist before I was hauled, stumbling and confused, around the girl's partition.

? 'Bok, slow down. The floor's freezing,? I grumbled as she dragged me toward a whole pack of pajama clad Horsemen huddled around the holovid. Death, Mason and a few others were fully dressed and I frowned disapprovingly. No one should be awake and presentable before the sun came up, unless they were still awake from the night before. It's just not civilized. And from a glance at the chrono on the wall, the sun was only just then beginning to think about getting up and going to work.

Blinking grumpily, I shuffled my feet until I'd managed to get part of the blanket between them and the chilly floor. Then I raked a hand through my tangled mass of unruly hair in an attempt to get the coal black strands out of my face so I could actually see who was narrating the morning news on the holovid.

?... the company announced this morning that it will soon be marketing a cheaper equivalent of CoruCorp's 4T-71. This is the first significant challenge of CoruCorp's monopoly on the market, but they declined to comment on its possible impact on their year-end fiscal statement. Teletron's-? I was suddenly wide awake. ?-spokesbeing forecasts that their TR-80 should hit the market as soon as next week.? Layreen Si'chen! punched up her next data screen with a segmented chitonous digit and continued, but the important part was over and we no longer cared. Reeabok was totally forgiven for her rude wake-up call. First the successful 'shopping run', and then this. It was great news for the whole gang and if I knew Roble he'd have me hard at work in front of my computers in short order.

Everyone around me was grinning widely. Many made their way back to their bunks, hopping from foot to foot on the cold permacrete. Several headed for showers instead since they were already awake. With as many people as we had in Armageddon, you showered early, late, or did without hot water. Shael wandered over and gave me a side arm hug and a quick kiss before heading off to the showers himself.

I smiled sleepily after him and debated trying to catch a bit more sleep before Roble came looking for me. I spotted Mason picking his way through the dispersing crowd toward me and bid a fond farewell to the desire to close my eyes for just fifteen more minutes.

The Jedi's eyes flicked over me once, and though his expression didn't change in the least, I was suddenly very aware of my appearance. The collar of my over-large nightshirt hung loose off one shoulder and my blanket was slipping toward the floor. My sith-black hair probably looked like a mynock had nested in it and I'm certain my eyes were red from rubbing and the lack of a proper amount of sleep. With anybody else I wouldn't have given it a second thought.

With Mason it was different. I tugged at my shirt and pulled my blanket up around my shoulders, then tried to tell myself that it was becaus

 

WELL DONE!