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This story was written for the sole purpose
of entertainment. No copyright infringement or harm is intended.
The characters you know are owned by George Lucas, all others are property of the Author.
It took only a few seconds to convince the lock of the supply area to give, then they were in relative privacy. Once sure that they were indeed alone, they removed the additional parts of their disguise from their packs, to help them assume their "interior" identities. Slicker had assured the two of them that the items they strapped around their waists were exactly what their counterparts should wear, and they'd trusted in her judgment. After all, it was her mission...they were just implementing it.
Slicker had contacted Wedge first, begging for him to help free her friend from the evil grips of work. He'd been more than willing to help, but with most of the Rogues on leave, his options were pretty limited. He said he would do what he could, and had immediately sought out Face. The Wraith Leader had been eager to help. He felt that Slicker's "portrayal" of him in one of her extended historical documents had been a very flattering one, and wanted to repay the favor. He'd enlisted Kell to help, and Wedge had been able to convince fellow Rogues Wes and Myn to join them. Altogether, it was a pretty impressive team, the plan was relatively sound, and all they had to do was put it into action.
So Wes and Wedge left the supply room. It took them only a couple of minutes to get deeper into the structure, and then up a floor. They had a position to take up, a cover to build, then scouting to do. And in the end, a friend to rescue.
"This has to be one of the most humiliating things you've ever made me do," Wes whined.
Wedge smirked. "I doubt that. I've humiliated you quite a bit over the years."
"Never to this point."
"Noted," Wedge sighed. "I'll add your complaint to the mission debriefing notes."
"You would. And add that I need more training in this area, and see to it that I get it."
"You know my methods far too well." It was a slow, practiced grin that Wedge turned on his fellow pilot, approaching him to see exactly what he was doing in the small cubicle. While holding this position, they had to act their parts, in case they were intruded upon.
"Yeah," Wes answered. "After suffering your punishments for years, I should."
"Possibly. Why don't you keep pretending to clean." Wedge pointed to the seat of the 'fresher, his grin broadening.
"Oh, shut up." Wes tossed one of his rags over his shoulder, which Wedge neatly nabbed, then tucked into the back of his friend's tool belt. There was a light jangling noise, all kinds of metallic tools that Wedge wasn't familiar with swaying as Wes moved, poking at a 'fresher part. "You know, these look nothing like ours. What does this lever do?"
"Maybe it--" Wedge was cut off by a man entering the 'fresher. He stopped short, raising an eyebrow at the two pilots, crowded into the same cubicle. Wedge turned towards the man, unhooking a tool and waving it in front of him. "Uh, sorry, all out of order. Try downstairs," Wedge bluffed, and he saw Wes out the corner of his eye, lifting the lid to peer in at the workings of the fresher.
"Always when you need it..." the man muttered, then headed back out.
Wedge relaxed, his shoulders slumping a little, as the door closed again. Wes was muttering behind him. "What is this big bulbous thing for? I can't see how it--"
"Wes!" Wedge hissed, replacing the bizarre tool back on his belt. "This is no time to figure out the inner workings of Terran plumbing!"
Wes slowly turned, glancing over his shoulder at his commander as he did. "What else are we going to do while we wait? I 'went' before I left the Core."
Wedge just shook his head, but he couldn't help a smile. He turned and wandered over to where the sink was, and turned the faucet on. He stared at his image as he ran his hands though the water, thinking back through their plan. They would have to wait in this 'fresher for another five minutes, and then commence their scouting run. They had timed it to coincide with what was deemed the popular "lunch hour," when a lot of workers would either be in the break rooms, or more concerned with their food than two plumbers wandering the hallways, searching for their target, studying egress options...
His thoughts were interrupted by a cry of "Whoa!" from Wes, half-drowned out by a flushing sound. Wedge just shook his head, drying his hands. Sometimes, Wes could be such a child, and anything he touched a toy for his amusement.
another sigh, Wedge tossed the drying paper into the recycler. "C'mon,
let's get ready to move out."