It was a typical night at the Fishtank, the bar aboard the Mon Calamari MC80 New Republic battle cruiser Morning Star. Several members of the Morning Star‘s Blue and Red squadrons were rallied around a single booth. Captain Paul "Rogue" Sweet was finishing up a story of his previous life.

"And then the Corriellian gave me one quick look up and down and told me ‘Continue on with your project lad.'"

At the end of Rogue's story the whole booth burst into laughter. After taking a few moments for everyone to regain there composure Chelsy "Vape" Maxfield turned to the quiet ensign at the table. "So Target what of your past life? I mean what did you do before you joined the Alliance?"

The youngest pilot at the table, Kristofer "Target" Chester looked a little uneasy at this question. "I don't think you'd want me to tell you . . ." he began.

"Come on!" Rogue exclaimed. "If all of us are sharing the craziest moments before we joined the Alliance you have to as well."

Target looked as if he was about to deny again when Rogue put in a final sarcastic statement. "I outrank you."

Suppressing a grim smile of his own Target looked at his audience. "It seems I have no choice. It all began aboard the Sandskimmer, an old Tatooine transport I worked aboard for 2 years after the battle at Ralltiir. The crew and myself were just finishing up a job for the Hutts when . . ."

Jake Vantooine, Captain of the Sorosubb 3000 yacht Sandskimmer swiveled in his chair as the door to the cockpit opened. In the doorway stood the young man Jake had rescued off Ralltiir during the Lord Tion incident. Kris Chester was the lads name though Jake had been trying to think up a nickname for the youth, because every good smuggler needs a nickname!

"Report?" Jake asked Kris. Previously the Sandskimmer had narrowly missed an imperial patrol. The Imp ship had detected their illegal cargo of spice and sent out some of its Twin Ion Engine Fighters otherwise known as TIE fighters after the yacht. The Tie's were no match for the Skimmer's Durasteel hull but the proton torpedoes from the cruiser had punched some nasty holes threw the shields. The Skimmer and crew had barely escaped into hyperspace.

Kris winced at the question. "Not good sir."

Jake sighed. He never had any luck, at least not like some of the other smugglers seemed to possess. After the run in with the Imperials the Skimmer docked at a backwater station orbiting Ord Mantell, hell the only station! He thought angrily.

Jubilee Wheel was the stations name and it was brand new to the sector. Still only half-completed the Wheel was a free port orbiting the brown Junk world spinning below.

"Well, what exactly was hit?" Jake asked the Ralltiirian.

Kris looked at his datapad. "Port stabilizer, its amazing we got here before it blew. We have a slight coolant leak, and port sensors are down. And about 3 craters carved into our port side." He finished.

Jake sighed again. "Do we have the cash to repair it?"

"Sir? You are in charge of finances I have little in the way of money, remember?"

"Well, Borga was going to pay us 6,000 if we delivered the spice!" Jake whined.

Kris looked at his Captain mournfully. "Sir, that would barley patch up our hull. Much less a new stabilizer."

"Yes I know." Jake replied blowing out his breath. "I'll see what strings I can pull. You see about getting a job."

Kris frowned at this. "Very well Captain" He exasperated as he walked out of the cockpit.

Jake knew how much the lad hated doing manual labor, he much preferred to fly and this wasn't the first time Jake had let the boy down. He sighed one final time and turned to the controls. We all have to do what we must to survive, he thought glumly.

Kris Chester walked down the hallways of the Jubilee Wheel looking for work, any work. As he bobbed and weaved threw the crowds he spotted an assortment of unusual creatures. Just add me to the mix. He thought sarcastically as he finally found a posting for a tug operator. The pay was good and it involved flying, even if it was low speed flying. Kris tore down the sign and headed for the coordinates to get his posting.

As he was walking along a peculiar looking biped came up on his right looking over his arm at the piece of paper. The creature stood about 5 feet tall with gray fur, a tail, and white hair including a brilliant mustachio with the ends died purple. The creature sported clothing in relatively poor condition. An old gray jumpsuit and boots, along with a reeking gray hat.

Kris looked at the creature with annoyance. "What do you want?" He demanded.

The purple streaked creature replied. "Same as you, looking for a job."

"Who said I was looking for a job?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, so you are holding that paper out of personal fear." He replied sarcastically.

Kris inquisitively asked. "What do you mean?"

"You could be saving that for the refresher."

Kris snorted, "You certainly have a sense of humor."

The furry biped grinned up at the Ralltiirian. "Well that's a welcome change, normally it's ‘your annoying me Ryn, go away!' Or ‘I'm calling security on you damn gypsy.' And my favorite involving no words just a glare and a shove!"

"So you're a Ryn?" Kris asked.

"Yep, that's my race, elusive creatures we are."

"What are you doing on the Wheel?" Kris inquired.

The Ryn brought his head down in shame. "My clanmates abandoned me. I have . . . Well a problem."

Kris started to feel bad for the alien. "What is this problem, maybe I can help?"

"Gambling. Its unusually enough for my species to take part in such things but I do not posses even a marginally skill for it and I still owe a lot of money." The gray-clad alien looked up again. "And why are you stranded on this hunk o' junk?"

Kris thought silently for a moment. "My Captain's ship was damaged and we need money to repair it."

"Sorry to hear It." the Ryn replied. "Well good luck with the tug job!"

"Same to you!" Kris told the Ryn as he separated from the furry biped.

Kris strapped himself in the seat of the tug and powered up the small ion grill strapped onto the back of the boxy vessel. Slowly throttling it up, he brought the gray craft out into the deep pits of space. Rotating the vessel smoothly Kris brought it over to his assigned task, multiple girders that needed placing. As the tiny tug was making its way over there he heard some chatter of the comm. And then a familiar voice spoke.

"So, did you get a good spot?" The Ryn's voice questioned.

"What? You desperate enough for some space bum chatter?" Kris asked

"Kinda, the last guy I tried wasn't too friendly." The Ryn informed him.

"So, what is that big box for?" the Ryn asked.

Kris looked up and out the viewscreen, searching for this big box. "Probably just a girder" he told the Ryn.

Right then a large gray object floated into view. Kris's eyes took a minute to focus and then he identified the large vessel. That's an Imperial Carrack class vessel! His mind screamed at him.

Carracks were not small ships as far as Imperial vessels went but they were ideal strike vessels. Kris had seen quite a few back at Ralltiir and the Skimmer had run into two since his arrival.

Then he realized it wasn't floating up but was under its own power. Every other tug had already started their retreat except for the ignorant Ryn and Kris.

"Ryn, start moving back to the bay! That is an Imp. Cruiser." Kris told the Ryn.

Kris heard a groan over the comm. "Just my luck!"

Kris quickly started rotating the tug around and pumped power to the ion grill, madly climbing forward in space to the safety of the docking bay, the Ryn's tug at his aft.

As the two tiny tugs madly climbed toward the docking bay the Carrack opened fire. A scream over the comm alerted Kris to the destruction of the Ryn and his vehicle.

Glumly Kris thought I didn't even know his name. The tug's ion grill pushed for all it was worth but it wasn't fast enough to outrace the Carrack's guns.

The cruiser opened fire, effectively sealing the docking bay. Kris snapped rolled the tug in a 180' angle and fired up the grill again.

The Carrack now started its ascent to attack the main part of the Wheel as it dropped off Tie fighters.

The Comm crackled and a high, snobbish voice boomed forth.

"All vessels in the area, this is Captain Jarad of the Imperial cruiser Mandrid cease your useless flight and prepare to be boarded."

The young tug pilot could not believe his luck. One of the Tie's is coming right for me! And I'm in a stinking maintenance tug! As the nimble starfighter started coming in on the maintenance craft it opened fire, green globs of energy spilling out into the cold heart of space.

The green spheres steadily raced toward the tug as its pilot attempted a daring maneuver. Kris pushed the tiny ion unit to its max just barley missing the destructive spheres. As the nimble Tie continued its flight right past the slower tug, Kris jammed the control stick forward. The maintenance vehicle just barley caught the Tie's rear, the little mechanical arms stanching part of the solar panels of the left wing.

Kris's craft was yanked around as the Tie continued accelerating oblivious to its cargo. After the tug got used to the boosted speed Kris took the right manipulative claw and started cutting into the ion engine assembly. While he was no mechanic, it wasn't that hard to disable an unshielded, lightly armored fighter when your face was less than a meter from it with only a small piece of transparientsteel separating you.

The claw quickly dug into the engine, tearing out vital components. Finally the Tie pilot was alerted to its hitchhikers presence and the pilot started trying to weave the annoying craft off.

Finally the claw found its goal and disabled the whole engine assembly, immediately stopping the Tie's junking and the tug pilot smartly disengaged from its ride.

Kris and his tiny craft quickly raced back toward the Wheel leaving the Tie and its pilot to fate and the Force.

As Kris and his tug approached the Jubilee Wheel he noted the lambda shuttlecrafts already boarding the station. He then noticed out of the corner of his eye the brilliant blue glow of a powered ion drive inside of the hangar.

The cheap scanning system aboard the tug took a few seconds before bringing up the powered vehicle's ID. Kris could not believe the findings; it was the Sandskimmer the Sorosubb he was a crewmate aboard.

Unable to suppress a "woohoo!" he watched as the yacht fired blaster cannons on the nearest approaching lambda. The blaster fire ripped threw the shuttle sending debris flying across the hangar. Then the Sandskimmer turned its bow toward the opening and climbed toward the stars.

It took Kris a few moments to realize the Skimmer was heading away from his tug and that the yacht had no clue about the maintenance's occupant. Quickly flipping on the comm Kris tried in vain to contact his Captain. A burning smell and a spark of energy accompanied his request of the comm.

Without hope Kris watched as his ship and only remaining friend fled into the safety of hyperspace.

Target cleared his throat and looked around at the table's occupants. "Afterwards I made it aboard my Z-95 which Jake was kind enough to leave. I succeeded in finding a ride out of the system aboard none other than an Alliance transport. He is the one who suggested I join the Rebellion and a mere month later I found myself on Hoth."

The Flight Officer looked at his audience and there stunned faces. All of the stories so far had a more humorous nature and a happy ending.

"So that is your craziest story?" Rogue asked curiously.

"Have you ever taken on a Tie in a tug? And no, that is the craziest one before joining the Alliance." Kris said with a grin "Hoth was less accompanying."

With a finally smirk Kris looked around the table and sighted his gaze on Vape. "Guess who's turn it is?"