> My Little Old Republic: The Smuggler and the Thief
>  by AidanMaxwell
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Prologue


As the rickety old vessel blasted through hyperspace, Sergeant Rainbow Dash of Wonderbolt squad reclined in her chair and watched the stars streak by. They enveloped the entire viewport, forming a mesmerizing tunnel of blue lines. It was hard to believe that it had only been three days since she'd arrived on Ord Mantell, but Rainbow Dash was well on her way to Cowlick Station and then on to Coruscant.

With her legs crossed on the dashboard and her hooves behind her head, the Sergeant was all but asleep. Her eyes fluttered constantly, fighting the rest that she so desperately wanted. They were going to arrive soon, and she wanted to be awake when they did. But every time she checked the navicomputer to see the ship's approximate arrival time, it didn't seem to change from the last time.

Her eyes darted to the navicomputer anyway, for the fifth time in the last minute. There was still four hours left in the trip.

“Agh!” she cried, sitting upright in her chair. “Go faster, you stupid hunk of metal!”

The cockpit door slid open and Lemon Drop, the yellow earth pony stallion friend of Pinkie Pie's, entered inside. He looked over at Dash and snickered.

“Bored, Sergeant?” he prodded.

“I'm not playing that stupid game with you and Pinkie,” Dash fired back. “I don't need to lose any more credits than I already have playing Sabacc with smugglers.”

“We could play a friendly game, then. Anything to pass the time.”

“I'll wait here. The view's cool.”

Lemon Drop sighed. “Sergeant, come play. You're all alone in here.”

“Why do you care so much, dude?” She twisted her chair around to look him in the eye. His gaze was pleading, almost apologetic. “No offense.”

“None taken. I'm just concerned, for Pinkie's sake.”

“What's the deal with you and her, by the way?” Dash asked.

Lemon's face twisted into a look of confusion. “What?”

“You care a lot about her, so much so that you'd come in here to see if I'm okay just because I'm her friend. There's gotta be a story behind that.”

“There is. I'd rather you hear it from her, though.” He motioned out the door, toward the cargo hold down the hallway. “She really wanted to tell you, if I recall correctly.”

Rainbow Dash gritted her teeth, twisted her head and glared down at the navicomputer one last time. Three hours, fifty-eight minutes, forty-three seconds.

“Fine. No gambling though.”

“Scout's honor,” Lemon replied, giving a mock salute before turning around and leading Dash to the cargo hold. 

Inside, Pinkie Pie sat at a makeshift table consisting of a metal crate slammed atop another. Across from her was Twilight, who was holding five cards in her hooves and staring at them intently. The bland yellow walls of the cargo hold were partially frosted over in some spots and had burn marks in others. The room was temperate in the moment, however, no longer needing to be kept cool for bomb storage, which had been its previous use before being repurposed from the Ord Mantell Separatists.

Twilight looked up from her hand as Lemon and Dash walked into the room and grinned. Then she played four of her cards onto the table. “Negative 23.”

Pinkie blinked, flipped three of her own off the table, and smiled back. “Positive 23. I win again, Lieutenant!”

Furious, Twilight slammed her remaining card onto the table and gritted her teeth. “There’s no way. You must be cheating! Fourteen hands in a row, and you’ve beaten me every time!”

“Oh Twilight, I never lose at Sabacc!” Pinkie looked up at Lemon. “Isn’t that right, Lemony?”

“I’ve never witnessed her lose,” Lemon assured. He sat down at the table by pulling a smaller crate up next to it and picked up a hand of cards. “The Sergeant is here, by the way.”

“Oh! Dashie! Hi!” Pinkie smiled even wider than before, if that was even possible. “Sit, play a game! The Lieutenant has no credits left, so it’ll be for funsies!”

“Yeah, alright,” Rainbow Dash said with a sigh. She likewise pulled up a chair and sat down, picking up the cards off the table. “So, Pinkie, I actually came in here to hear that story.”

“What story?”

“About how you and Lemon met.”

Pinkie’s eyes darted to Lemon, then back to Dash. She had a crooked smile on her lips. “Fine. I’ll tell you. But you gotta beat me in Sabacc.”

“What?” Dash glanced at Twilight, who shook her head at her. “Why?”

“Because I wanna play for stakes! Sabacc is a gambling game, silly. It’s fine to play for fun every now and again, but stakes make it even more fun!”

“And what if I lose?” Dash asked warily.

“Then I don’t tell you until you win.” Pinkie picked up her hand, nodded, then placed them face down on the table. “I’m locked and standing. Lemon?”

“Hold on, I’m gonna take a discard.” He threw the card farthest on the right into the pile and drew another from the deck. His face skewed as he discarded another card, then another, before finally smiling. “Keep.”

Twilight nodded to Pinkie, signalling she was keeping. Dash looked down at her hand and did her best not to react. “Keep also.”

Pinkie led. She played two of her cards onto the table, a six and an eight. “Positive fourteen. Can ya’ beat it?”

Lemon laid three down, two tens and a one. “Negative twenty-one.”

Pinkie looked back at her hand, then to Twilight. “Anything, Lieutenant?”

Twilight placed her whole hand onto the table, her gaze locked onto Pinkie Pie. “Negative twenty-three.”

“I fold,” Lemon said quietly, placing his cards gently back on the table. Pinkie looked back at her hand and sighed.

“Positive twenty-three.” She placed an eleven on the table and smiled back at Twilight, who threw her hooves up in exasperation. “Sorry, ladies. I guess I’m too good-”

“Wait!” Dash interjected. She confidently placed three cards on the table, a two of coins, a three of coins, and a face card called The Idiot, which represented zero. “Idiot’s Array.”

“What?!” All three of the other players leaned in to see Dash’s unbeatable draw, eliciting a low whistle from Lemon Drop.

“I guess Pinkie has just had her first loss,” he chuckled, nudging Pinkie with his hoof playfully. “A deal’s a deal, Pink.”

Pinkie Pie blinked, then smiled up at Dash. “Good job! Well played, Dashie! Very lucky!”

“Alright, I won fair and square,” she said. “I want to hear this story.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your helmet on. Lemme reshuffle and redeal. We can keep playing while I tell the story, right?”

-~-~-~-~-~

Down in the depths of the undercity, Coruscant’s nightlife bustled and boomed, even moreso than the daytime traffic father up. The Dealer’s Den was unusually crowded that evening, however, on account of the unofficial championship Sabacc game. Smugglers, bounty hunters, criminals, gang members, and leisure gamblers alike all gathered together in the spirit of cards and credits to witness the reigning champion of twenty years go up against a complete novice that had clawed her way to the top through luck, skill and determination. It was the match of the century; the renowned smuggler Pinkie Pie versus the incorrigible Lucky Draw.

Both ponies sat down at a glowing holotable in the middle of a vast cantina, with neon lights and holodancers every few meters and a ceiling higher than the buildings outside, or so it seemed. The bars were closing for the duration of the match and instead opened up for bets to be placed. Not that the championship pot wasn’t huge enough already. Ten million credits had already been accumulated and the bets only added to it.

This was a really big deal.

The first five cards were dealt. It was a best out of five, and Lucky Draw had never lost a championship match. Pinkie Pie, unshaken by her odds, giggled and picked her cards up.

“Good luck!” she chanted from across the table.

“To you as well, madam,” replied Lucky Draw as he picked up his hand. The cards were like little television monitors that changed their face values during the course of the betting phase. It was much more random than playing with physical cards. Both ponies surveyed their hands for a moment, then he led the first bid. “Ten thousand says I win this.”

“Twenty says you’re wrong,” Pinkie sang.

Perplexed, Lucky looked down at his hand again. The values of his cards changed before his eyes, just as he predicted they had. His hand value went from twenty to twenty three.

“Thirty.”

“Forty.”

Surely she doesn’t have an Array. “Fifty!”

“Fifty-fiii-ive.”

The crowd gasped. She was outbetting him over and over. Appalled, Lucky called her bluff. “Seventy five!”

“One hundred thousand credits, Lucky-ma’h-boy!” Pinkie stood up in her chair and pirouetted gracefully before sliding back into her seat again, holding her cards as calmly as she had been before. “Are you positive your hand is keepable?”

He looked once again to see his numbers were changing again. Thirteen became his new total. “I fold.”

“Yay!” Pinkie threw her cards onto the table to reveal her total to be negative seven and began spinning in her chair. The crowd went bananas, some patrons throwing money at the bartenders in an attempt to place last-minute bets. “Round two!”

Shocked but mostly calm, Lucky Draw picked up his new hand and read the cards. Twenty one. “I bet ten.”

“Ooooooooone hundreeeeeeeeeed!” Pinkie sang. She had not stopped spinning in her chair since she’d won the last round. Everypony in the crowd was screaming by this point.

“A hundred fifty!” Lucky countered.

“I match! What’s your hand?”

He played his twenty one and was mortified to see her literally sling negative twenty two onto the table midspin. Patrons from across the room roared with excitement as the cards were randomized for the third round.

Lucky regained his composure after nearly slamming his hoof on the table and checked his hand. “Twenty.”

“I fold.”

The crowd went dead.

Pinkie looked around at the silent ponies and blinked. Even Lucky, who had been doing well at maintaining a Sabacc face, had his mouth agape. The next hand was dealt, and Pinkie instantly declared another fold. What might have been an easy three-win steal became a five-game showdown. A sudden death match. Lucky Draw picked up his last hand and felt a lump form in his throat. The fifth match was always the most stressful. He almost felt better losing the third game than the fifth.

That was, of course, Pinkie’s strategy. And, of course, longer games were more fun.

“I bet ten thousand,” Lucky stated, nervously holding his hand.

“Twenty five!” Pinkie countered.

“Thirty-” His declaration was cut short by the randomizing of his hand. Suddenly, his value jumped to twenty three. “Thirty-five thousand.”

“Forty thousand!” came the inevitable call-back. The crowd was on the edge of their seats.

“Sixty.”

“Eighty.”

“A hundred thousand credits.” Lucky smirked. He wasn’t losing this.

“A million!”

A glass shattered on the ground. Lucky’s smirk grew to a full smile. “I match.”

He calmly placed his cards on the table, and Pinkie did the same. His total was still twenty three. Her hand consisted of a twelve, a three of sabres, a two of coins, a three of coins, and The Idiot.

Just when the silence couldn’t get any more overwhelming, the entire cantina erupted into a mixture of shouts, cheers and applause. Lucky Draw’s smile faded into a dismayed frown, until the realization that he’d just thrown a million credits out the window on a bad call hit him like a grand piano; then he slumped to the floor in a mess of tears. Pinkie Pie was lifted into the air by the nearby patrons that had just struck rich on bets, thanks to her, and was carried to the nearest bartender, where she was placed in a chair and encircled.

She looked around and smiled. It was obvious what they wanted.

“Party time, everypony!” she shouted. “Drinks on me!”

More chaos erupted.


> Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Old Galactic Market, Coruscant, One Year Ago


Pinkie sauntered out of the cantina later that night with a briefcase of credit chips strapped to her back. Cheers of delight and merriment continued to emanate from the bar behind her, ponies drunk off their rockers over the blowout tournament match. While happy to throw a party, something about being drunk rubbed Pinkie the wrong way. Like it was almost excessive.

But that seemed silly. You can’t have too much fun, right?

The suitcase was light but jiggled with every bouncy step she took, being full of credit chips. It was split up into piles to diversify the payout, but it still felt like more money than Pinkie knew what to do with. Her ship needed some maintenance, and she could use a new weapon or two, and maybe a few sweets for the next trip. The thought crossed her mind to line all the hallways on her ship with neon glowsticks, just for fun; perhaps she could throw a disco ball into the cargo hold and install a new stereo, too.

“Then I could call it The Party Cruiser,” she mused to herself. “Or The Party Star. Oh! Oh! The Party Wagon!”

She meandered down the sidewalk with her winnings, thinking aloud of names for her newly redesigned vessel, oblivious to the ponies following after her. Three headhunters, each dressed in combat suits and carrying blasters on their belts, keeping their distance while they closed on Pinkie. The ponies in the crowd around them paid no mind, since bounty hunters chased after smugglers all the time in the lower city. 

As one of the bounty hunters pulled his pistol out and aimed it at Pinkie Pie, one pedestrian bystander cried “Blaster!” and everypony dropped to the ground. The confused hunter whipped his hoof back to survey the crowd, not wanting to hit a civilian and getting arrested by the local police, just as Pinkie dashed into a nearby tunnel in the confusion. She didn’t stop when she reached the corner, opting instead to race down the alley and back into another street far away from the cantina.

Briefcase secure and heart thumping, Pinkie leaned against a stone wall and took a moment to catch her breath. “Wonder what that was about?” she muttered to herself.

“I reckon it was ‘bout that there case a’ yours,” said a voice from behind her. She wheeled around to see another pair of bounty hunters. “You ‘ave a lot of money there, miss champion.”

“What? But I just won a couple hours ago!” she exclaimed. “How can a bounty already be posted?”

“No offense to you, a’course, ma’am,” the pony replied apologetically. “The bounty was placed just after the game ended. Some bloke just wanted the winner ex-ed and the winnings brought to ‘im.”

“Ex-ed?” Pinkie echoed. “You mean, like...”

“Like, dead, ma’am.”

“Oh... But, you don’t sound so sure. Can’t we make a deal?”

“I’m ‘fraid not, ma’am.” The hunter raised his rifle, leveling it with Pinkie’s eyes. His silent friend did the same. “It’s a shame, too. So young a sheila. Got a name, missie?”

As quick as lightning, Pinkie whipped her hooves across her belt and drew both of her pistols. She pulled the triggers and shot two stun bolts at the pair of bounty hunters, knocking them cold in the middle of the street. After a moment, Pinkie caught her breath and realized her situation was much more serious than a few bounty hunters coming after her. Every gunpony in the Old Galactic Market was going to be on her tail until she had gotten off Coruscant, at which point she could use her winning to change her identity... again.

Making sure the coast was clear, Pinkie ducked off the back alley and returned to the main concourse, shielding her face from everypony she passed in an effort to stay somewhat innocuous. The speeder pad wasn’t far away, and she figured if she could rent one, a trip to the spaceport would get her to the safety of her ship. The steps leading to the rental speeder pad came into view as four Mandalorian warriors descended from the high rooftops ahead of her using descender cables.

“Oh, come on!” Pinkie cried, twisting around and bolting in the opposite direction. Blaster fire erupted behind her as she managed to swing herself around a corner and plant her face firmly against a wall. Backing up, she noticed the small nook was a dead end, save for a sewer drain just below her hooves. She ripped the cover off the drain and leaped headlong down the shaft, landing in a pool of stagnant, murky water. When she surfaced, all she could see was a dim light shining down on her and shadows dancing across the light from above.

“Where is she? Where’d she go?” The Mandalorians poked their heads into the sewer as Pinkie swam into the darkness, ignoring the stench in fear of her life.

When she was sure they hadn’t followed her in, Pinkie stopped and treaded water where she was, trying to see ahead of her. It was then that the smell of the sewer finally hit her, and she nearly choked on the putrid odor. Murky, disgusting scum clung to her clothes and urine-mixed water soaked into her hair. Pinkie whimpered softly as she tread the grimy waters. The comfort of rubbing her eyes was denied her due to the substance she was swimming in. Tears welled up in her eyes, not just from the overwhelming stench, but from the exhaustion and the bewilderment of her predicament. Despite that, she pushed herself on, swimming further down the tunnel in search of an exit.

She swam on and on, for what felt like forever, until a faint light slowly glistened into view, piercing the darkness like an arrow. Beside her, a set of rungs stapled into the metal walls led up to the exit. Pinkie grabbed hold of the first rung, then the next, and pulled herself out of the sewage toward the light, not stopping until she reached the top and pushed the cover away and crawled into the street. She didn’t know where she was, or how she was going to get the smell of feces out of her mane, but she was happy to have a moment of peace to catch her breath.

That moment ended abruptly when a snapping sound scared Pinkie Pie, causing her to stand up and take aim. A young stallion, who had been passing by her when she emerged, jumped at the sight of the barrels of her pistols.

“Woah, woah, woah!” he protested, throwing his hooves up. “What’s your deal, lady?”

“Huh?” Pinkie blinked, then lowered her pistols slowly. “Sorry. I’m a little on edge. I’m Pinkie Pie!”

“Yeah, good to know,” replied the stallion. “You smell like poo.”

“I just swam in the sewers not too long ago,” she explained with a frown, glancing at the briefcase strapped to her back. She put a hoof around it and pulled it to her chest, throwing a wary glance at the stallion.

“I would never have guessed, seeing as you just came out of that sewer pipe. Bet that was fun.”

“Oh, no no no no no, not at all! In fact, it was awful! I’ve never smelled anything so bad in my life! I mean, sheesh, guys, couldn’t you put the sewage somewhere else? Somepony might die of... of... stink... Yeah.”

“I suppose my sarcasm has gone unappreciated,” said the stallion, slapping his face with his hoof. “Anyway, I’m Lemon Drop. You said your name was Pinkie Pie, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You seem to be quite burdened by that briefcase, Ms. Pinkie Pie.”

She shook her head rapidly. “No, not really.”

Lemon rolled his eyes. “I mean, it’s appears to be a problem for you.”

“Actually, it’s kinda light—”

“It’s drawing a lot of unwanted attention.”

Pinkie blinked again. Lemon was holding both hooves in front of him, like was about to grab something and strangle it. “Oh. Hah. Yeah. There’s a bunch of bounty hunters following me, and—”

“Bounty hunters? What’d you do?”

The question sounded sincere, but she didn’t feel quite comfortable discussing her situation to a stranger. Pinkie looked the stallion over, to better guess his motives, and found only sadness. His jacket was ripped and the sleeves were missing. Where normally sweatpants kept you warm, his seemed to have been shot and singed in a few places, where the numerous holes had black, jagged edges inside them. He had no visible weapon on him.

“Why should I trust you?” Pinkie asked, tilting her head to the side. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to trust you, but I only just met you, and my mom always told me not to trust strangers unless they’re cops, which is ironic because I’m a smuggler—”

Lemon Drop shoved his hoof into her mouth and pointed out toward the skyline. Pinkie turned to see a speeder fly by, with a trio of angry bounty hunters holding rifles across their shoulders. They looked in every direction except at her before flying away again. “Somepony comes by every few minutes. Every hunter in the Market is probably looking for you.”

Pinkie gulped. “I guess I could use a helping hoof right about now.”

“My place is just around this corner. Small, hidden. Come inside and rest a while.”

Still wary but eager to get off the road, Pinkie followed him around the corner and was appalled to see yet another storm drain, and her jaw nearly hit the ground when he lifted it up. As he crawled into it, she shook her head rapidly. “I think I’d rather take my chances out here than go back in there.”

“Your call, lady,” he sang as he delved into the sewer.

-~-~-~-~-~


Present Day


“So what’d you do?” asked Rainbow Dash anxiously, banging her hoof against the metal box in front of her.

Pinkie Pie jumped at the sound, spilling some water from the glass she’d been sipping from onto her vest. “Aww, Dashie, let me finish my drink before I finish my story!”

“I must say, whoever set up that bounty must have been very eager to get his hooves on that money,” Twilight noted. “To have you killed, it seems like more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Oh, I know, right?” Pinkie agreed cheerfully, setting down her empty glass. Lemon picked it up to take it into the ship’s kitchen to be cleaned, and she slapped him across the back of the head before he got away. “Stop working, Lemony! I need your help to tell this story!”

“Dishes!” he argued.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Bleh!”

“Bleh!” he replied, mimicking the motion.

“Do it later,” Pinkie insisted with large, pleading eyes. “Pweeze?”

“Fine, whatever.” Lemon sat down and turned to Twilight and Dash, “So where was she? I guess we’d just gotten to my place. It took some convincing, but I got her to follow me down there.”

-~-~-~-~-~


One Year Ago


Pinkie Pie was holding her breath as she descended the ladder into the sewer pipe, expecting to be assaulted by a disgusting odor. Instead, her hooves hit the metal floor after only three rungs, and she looked down to see she was inside a rusted pipeline, long abandoned and disconnected from the other sewers. Lemon was standing at one end, resting his back against a large metal cap on the back of the pipe. An identical cap was placed on the other end as well, sealing off about fifty feet of sewer pipeline from the main capillary. 

The smell was almost completely gone, though vague remnants lingered in the air of what was once the constant flow of pony waste. Signs of past use were still visible on the partially stained sides of the artificially lit pipe section. Rugged makeshift furniture sparsely decorated the space. Lemon Drop had a table and chair made of rotted wood and rusted metal, an ornately designed wicker screen, a springboard bed with a decrepit mattress, a dresser overflowing with clothes of all colors and sizes, and a tub on the ground inside a ruptured section of the sewage pipe. Water coursed from a smaller pipe just above the tub and drained into it like a faucet.

“This is what I call home,” he said cheerfully. He gestured to the tub and smiled at it. “Right here, somepony planted a bomb in an assassination attempt. Because they were installing new plumbing nearby anyway, they left the old shaft in disrepair and built around it. They didn’t fix the leak, so now I use it as a shower slash sink slash water fountain.”

“You use it as a shower?” Pinkie repeated curiously. “Is it clean water?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. It’s just like any other water on Coruscant. And I installed a valve onto this section of the pipe, so I can turn it off when I’m not home.” Sure enough, when Pinkie looked, she could see a round valve cap above the lip of the faucet. Lemon gestured to the tub and laughed. “So, Pinkie Pie, would you like to be rid of your smell?”

“Oh, I, uhm...” Pinkie’s cheeks turned pink, if that was even possible. “I don’t know...”

“If you’re worried about me,” Lemon assured, “there’s a wicker screen you can use to shield yourself from my view. I’m just trying to be a nice host.”

“I wouldn’t wanna put you off, then,” Pinkie conceded, moving closer to the tub. “Thank you so so sooo much.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Lemon laughed, pulling the screen to Pinkie and extending it between him and her. He took a seat in his chair as the sound of wet clothes being pulled was followed by the sight of said wet clothes being thrown at the wall. “I have a ton of old clothes, if you need a fresh outfit.”

“That’d be aweso-o-oh geez this water’s freezing!”

“Twist the valve further toward that rusted part. It’ll start spewing hot water.” Lemon waited a moment in his chair, to make sure she figured it out. He was about to stand up when steam began to emanate from behind the screen. Relieved, he sat back down. “So, Ms. Pinkie Pie, how deep in crap are you?”

“I’m not in the sewer anymore!” she called back over the water.

Lemon’s hoof instantly slammed against his face. “No, I mean, what kind of trouble are you in? Why are all these hunters looking for you?”

“Oh! Well, I guess I can tell you, but if you try anything funny, I’m gonna hurt you.”

“I promise not to try anything, then.”

“You gotta Pinkie Promise.”

His right eyebrow shot up. “Pinkie Promise?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie poked her head out from behind the screen, her mane dripping wet and flat against her face. The silty color had been scrubbed from her hair, bringing out her overwhelmingly pink natural color. “You cross your heart, hope to fly, then stick a cupcake in your eye. And then you can’t break your promise!”

“Ah, I... see.” Lemon stood up and cleared his throat. “Then I... cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye... whatever a cupcake is.”

“Good!” Pinkie’s head retracted behind the screen as quickly and randomly as it had shot out. “So, I won the Sabacc championship a few hours ago, and these hunters are after my briefcase. It’s got the money in it. Apparently they want me dead, too...”

Her voice trailed off at the sound of the word “dead.” Lemon’s initial instinct was to respond with words of comfort, but his eyes wandered to the sopping, putrid briefcase lying against the side of the pipe next to Pinkie’s clothes. Supposedly, in that briefcase, was a sum of money equal to a street-urchin’s retirement fund, and it was just sitting there, unguarded. All he had to do was stand up, take the case, and walk out. He’d never have another problem in life ever again.

It was so simple, so easy...

“So, Lemony Snicket,” Pinkie suddenly chirped from the shower, snapping Lemon’s head back toward the screen, “tell me about you.”

“Me? I’m a...” His eyes wandered back to the briefcase for a second. “I’m a thief. I steal for a living. When I was just a colt, my parents left me on my own here in the undercity, and I’ve grown up in gangs. I learned from the best of the best when it comes to lowlives and criminals. Unfortunately, I’m such a nice and tender-hearted natured stallion, I try to steal as little as I can. It causes this... moral dilemma in my soul.”

“You need to work on that,” Pinkie responded evenly. “Bring a lowlife means you need to overcome your morals to survive. But, hey! That’s cool! So, what’s it like being a thief?”

“Well, I’m naturally quite... poor. And all the stuff in here doesn’t belong to me. None of those clothes, or the dresser they’re in, that tub you’re using, that screen between me and you, this chair, my bed... all of it, repurposed. Some of it came from the dump, but a lot of it was straight up taken from somepony. But just because I don’t live in the lap of stolen luxury doesn’t mean I’m a bad thief. In fact, I’m the best on Coruscant. I just have... some morals.”

“Yeah, you said that.” The water shut off, and Lemon looked over to see a clean, albeit soaked, Pinkie Pie standing beside the screen with no clothes on. Her smile was the first thing Lemon saw, her pearly whites beaming at him from across the room. As she shook her head, her mane seemed to puff out before his eyes, inflating into a cotton candy-esque shape of billowy pink chaos. Her round, blue eyes fluttered open, and she locked her gaze on his face. “Thank you for the shower. I reeeeally needed it. You’re my new best friend, okie dokie?”

Lemon stared at her, mouth agape, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink.

“You okay, Lemon Drop?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Wha? I, uh, erm... yeah, I’m fine. You, uh, need some clothes?”

“I washed mine in the tub, but they won’t be dry for a while,” Pinkie answered. “That’s not as important as what I need to do next, though. I need to get to the spaceport and leave in my ship.”

“Good luck with that,” Lemon said with a snort. “Every hunter in the Galactic Market district is looking for you. Don’t you think your ship would be the first place they’d look?”

Pinkie raised her hoof and opened her mouth to retort, but the truth of Lemon’s words seemed to hit her like an anvil. After a few seconds, she sniffled loudly. Tears formed in the lids of her eyes.

“My ship... I... How will I get away now? What’ll I do? Where will I go? Who will feed Gummy?” She paced frantically, sniffling louder and louder until finally she hiccupped. That hiccup set her off, and Pinkie began crying hysterically, her eyes spouting more water than Lemon’s faucet. Almost immediately, she rolled onto the floor and buried her face in her forelegs. “Why is everything happening to me?”

Amid her crying, she felt a hoof touch lightly against her back. She instantly sat up and grabbed ahold of Lemon. He found it very hard to breathe. “Ack, Pinkie Pie, loosen up... Eep!”

“I don’t wanna die, Lemony!” she wailed into his ripped shirt, still producing rivers of tears. “I wanna find my ship, and go far away... Aaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaaaah!”

“Pinkie...” He looked down at her and saw something that made him smile. This mare, who had literally appeared out of nowhere, needed help. Help he could provide. He saw a business opportunity. If he could get passage off of Coruscant with this mare’s ship, he could leave the filthy slums behind him and begin a life somewhere new, where he could get a real job and buy his own ship. That briefcase of money was still a perfectly viable option. All he needed to do was win Pinkie’s friendship. “Hey, cheer up. It’s late. Spend the night, sleep this off, and in the morning, I’ll help you get your ship back, okay?”

Pinkie sniffled one last time before looking up at Lemon with solemn, sad eyes. Huge, round, beautiful blue eyes, misty and red around the rims. “R-really?!”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course. What are... friends for, right?”

The hug tightened again. Lemon returned the hug and smiled deviously over her shoulder. He put a hoof around her back and patted it slowly. Now all he needed was that briefcase. After that, whatever happened to Pinkie was her problem, not his. 


> Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lemon Drop awoke the following morning with a slight headache. He’d slept upright in his metal chair, letting the lady have the proper bed and opting not to share it with her. Even if he was a dirty, no-good, lowlife thief, he respected mares enough to not sleep with them. Just a courtesy. Besides, after today, his life was going to get much better; he might be able to afford his own bed and legally buy it. Maybe settle down with a mare of his own.

He stirred from his seat and looked toward the bed. Pinkie Pie was sprawled out across the bedsheets, her head thrown back onto the pillow. Her rear leg twitched every now and again, and she snored softly through her slightly agape mouth. On the bedpost, her hat, vest and belt hung together to form a clump of barely dry clothes. At the sound of him moving, her large blue eyes fluttered open and she licked her lips before looking at him groggily.

“Oh, hey Lemony,” she whispered. With a stretch and a yawn, she leaped out of the bed and touched her bundled clothes. A frown creeped onto her face and she furrowed her brow. “Aww, they’re still wet.”

“I do have clothes I could let you use,” he reminded her with a smile.

Pinkie turned to face the dresser and looked at the overflowing drawers. “Okie dokie! What do you have in my size?” She yanked the drawer completely out and sifted through the unfolded, wrinkled mess, looking for something suitable to wear. Clothes went flying as she digged, some nearly smacking Lemon in the face. He shielded himself from the onslaught of cloth by throwing his hooves up in front of his head, but as he did, the sound of digging stopped. When he looked again, Pinkie was dressed in a tight polyester t-shirt and athletic shorts that complimented her rear end just a little too much.

“Wow, Pinkie,” Lemon said with a blush, “don’t you think that’s... a bit... I don’t know...”

“Do you think it’s modest enough?” she asked, tilting her head. “I feel like it’s hugging me a little too tight, but I couldn’t find anything else in the dresser that fit me well—”

“It isn’t.”

Pinkie froze, her mouth still agape, trying to sound out the word on the tip of her tongue. Lemon looked away and blushed a little harder.

“Wait, it isn’t?” Pinkie echoed. “Is it bothering you?”

“A little.”

“Lemony, are you... like... gay?”

“What?!” Lemon jumped in place and turned back to Pinkie, his face an obvious, deep red. “N-no, no I’m not! I don’t have anything against ponies who are, but I’m definitely not.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Pinkie asked quietly, almost in a whisper. She trotted up to Lemon and rubbed her tail across his face seductively, to which he reacted by standing completely motionless and remaining silent. “Don’t you like what you see, big boy?”

“Too much so, milady.”

“What a gentlecolt!” she exclaimed, bumping him playfully with her rump. “You’re so funny, Mr. Lemon. Okie dokie, if you don’t want me to dress like this, I’ll find something more modest.”

“Why would you want to dress like that, though?” he asked with a pleading glance at her hind end as she walked by, mesmerised. “I mean, not that I, you know, don’t like it or anything—”

“Sometimes you go to extremes to get what you want,” she answered, giggling at how badly Lemon was stumbling over himself. “It’s part of the nature of my job. I once had to wear a dancer’s outfit for a Hutt, just so I could trick him into trusting me. Then, when he was sleeping, I snuck into his private chambers and planted some weapons for his guards, who were actually bounty hunters in disguise. I didn’t stick around for the bad part, but I can imagine how it went.”

By the time Lemon worked up the resolve to look away, Pinkie had changed into her wet clothes. She was making her way to the ladder when she took notice of Lemon, who was still absently staring at the wall. In an instant, she was by his side, poking him in the chest with her hoof.

“Hey, thanks for being honest, though. I do appreciate it.” When it didn’t rouse his attention, she bumped him with her rump again. After a brief pause, a smile broke across his face, and he returned the gesture playfully. “Hah! We’re gonna be good friends, you and I! I can feel it.”

The smile faded from Lemon’s face as Pinkie started for the ladder again. A pang of guilt seared through his soul, causing him to grit his teeth as his eyes twitched shut.

“Whatever you say, lady.”

-~-~-~-~-~

“So, lemme get this straight,” Rainbow Dash interrupted, “you’re saying he wanted to steal your ship and your money?”

“Yepperoonie! That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Pinkie stood up and walked over to the door of the cargo hold, reaching into the hallway with her hoof. A scream of shock sounded from somewhere else on the ship, then Pinkie pulled her hoof back. She had Lemon by the collar of his shirt, a soapy, wet sponge and a half-cleaned plate still in his hooves. He looked up at the two soldiers and nodded, as though this was only half unexpected. “Tell ‘em, Lemony!”

“Tell ‘em what?” he asked impatiently.

“That you wanted to steal my ship!”

“Yeah, that’s right. I followed Pinkie in the hopes that I could start a new life with her ship and her winnings from that night.”

“Well, did you?” Dash asked, also impatient.

“Obviously not, Sergeant,” Twilight interjected. “They wouldn’t be together if he had.”

“Together?” Dash echoed. He turned to Lemon and Pinkie. “Wait, are you two together?”

Both ponies blushed and looked away from each other, answering “No!” in unison.

Twilight slammed her hoof against her face. “I meant, together as partners in crime, Dash, not partners in romance.”

“Well, what happened, then?!” Dash yelled, throwing her hooves up in exasperation.

-~-~-~-~-~

The Coruscant sun beat down on Pinkie Pie as she crawled from the abandoned storm drain, instantly feeling its heat start to dry her still-damp clothes. Ponies of all colors and types were busily walking, trotting, and running up the nearby promenade, ignoring her completely as they made their way toward their destinations. Even though the majority of the traffic was pedestrian, every so often a speeder would zip by, and every time one did, Pinkie ducked to try and avoid being seen.

Lemon emerged behind her a short time after, holding a briefcase in his teeth. “Youf forgot shomefing,” he spat through the handle.

“Oh, my case!” Pinkie reached out for it gingerly, but retracted her hooves with a scrunched face. “Umm, can you carry it for me? That way, if I get caught, at least they don’t get my winnings too.”

“Shure fing,” he replied all too happily, slinging the case onto his back. Of course he could carry the briefcase with the money in it. Without revealing his glee, he looked back at Pinkie and gave her an even glare. “So, where to, lady?”

“Stop calling me lady,” Pinkie snapped. “It makes me feel old, or something.”

“You can’t be younger than me,” Lemon said with a shrug. “I thought it was just a courtesy to call mares older than you something... respectful.”

“I...” Pinkie bit her lip, then reached over to Lemon’s face and pulled him close. She whispered something in his ear, which caused his eyes to widen.

“Seriously? You’re not much younger than me...” His cheeks turned red again. “That’s... embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay! It’s okay! Just, no more of the ‘lady’ thing, okay? We’re friends!”

“Right... So, Pinkie, where are we headed?”

“Ummmmmmmm...” She scanned her surroundings to see if the hangar she’d landed in was nearby, but she didn’t recognize where she was at all. “I don't know where I am... but I'm parked in the Old Galactic Market.”

“Oh, we're not that far from there,” Lemon said as he started for the promenade. “A short speeder ride, maybe five minutes—”

“A speeder?” Pinkie echoed. “Where will we get a speeder?”

Lemon pointed to himself with a hoof. “Thief, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!” She bounced after him as Lemon led the way down the path, weaving between the ponies in the crowd that both moved with and against them. Skyscrapers and bright neon signs occupied that district of Coruscant, giving it a true cityscape feel that wasn't as obvious down in the Undercity. It was in that moment that Pinkie realized she had swam up to the upper ring of the city, where daytime was the more active time of day. “I don't see the true city all that often. It's beautiful...”

“Don't come here often, I take it?” Lemon asked as he weaved into an alley just off the promenade. It led to a small parking lot where a few speeders were parked, some of which had their owners still sitting inside them.

“No, not really,” Pinkie replied as she jumped aside to dodge a pedestrian on her way to the lot. “I don't live on Coruscant, and when I do come here, I usually go straight to the undercity.”

“It's real nice up here. A little rich for my blood, perhaps.” Lemon touched his hoof against an unoccupied speeder and, when an intruder alarm didn't sound, jumped into the driver's seat. “Cover me while I hotwire this.”

“Okie dokie lokie!”

The sound of a plate being ripped off the front of the speeder's steering mechanism meant Lemon was working, which Pinkie tried to make look less conspicuous by leaning against the side of the craft and looking around absently, like she was waiting for somepony. “So, while we're not busy—”

“Excuse me?”

“—I was wondering, why did you think I was older than you?”

“I didn't want to believe somepony so young and pretty was doing something as seedy as smuggling for a living. I mean, you could do anything in the galaxy with your skillset.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Pinkie leaned over the side of the speeder and glared down at Lemon curiously. “Am I weak? Is that what you’re saying?”

Lemon looked up at her to reply and stopped short, letting his mouth hang open. Her luminously large, blue eyes seemed to gaze into his very soul. Her puffy pink mane eclipsed the sun and brightened her face to a point that she seemed to glow like an angel. Awestruck, Lemon just stared at her.

She tried to wave a hoof in front of his eyes, but it didn’t yield any results. “Uh, Lemon?”

He snapped back to reality and shook his head, blushing slightly. “Huh? What was I saying?”

“You were saying I was weak...”

“I never said that!” he replied indignantly. “I used the word ‘young,’ I believe.”

“But what does my age have to do with my work?”

“It just seems dangerous, is all! You’re alone in the galaxy, doing very risky jobs.”

“Well, yeah,” Pinkie replied, nodding slowly, “but it’s good money.”

“I do like good money,” Lemon said with a laugh. “I’m not sure if I could ever smuggle or play cards for good money, though. Seems like too much risk. As though your current situation isn’t an indicator of that.”

“You’re young, too. And my work is no less dangerous than being a thief, Mr. Lemon.”

“Touché.” At that moment, the speeder roared to life as Lemon bypassed the security systems and started it up. He sat up in the driver’s seat and patted the passenger side with his hoof indicatively. “One taxi to the Old Galactic Market.”

-~-~-~-~-~

Pinkie’s face lit up like a light. Overjoyed to be on her way back to her ship, she leaped over the side of the speeder and plopped down into the seat beside Lemon. The leather upholstery hugged her damp clothes warmly, heated by exposure to the morning sun. It was a comfortable warmth, like being hugged by a close friend.

As the speeder lifted off and sped into traffic, the rush of wind against her body gave Pinkie chills. With the heated seat juxtaposing the brisk air, she felt an odd sensation of both calming warmth and exhilarating cold. She wrapped her hooves together and huddled down to use the windshield as a wind shield. The irony caused her to giggle, eliciting a confused look from her driver.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way,” Pinkie said cheerfully. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lemon said slowly, looking around as he flew. “There’s still a bounty on you, so there’s a good chance your ship has not gone unnoticed.”

“I’ll think of something,” she replied. “It’s my ship, after all. I’m not letting somepony have it without a fight.”

Lemon shuddered. “Yes, well, we still need to get there, so let’s focus on flying and—”

Two black speeder bikes zipped into the traffic lane just ahead of them. In the seats of both bikes sat a pair of armored ponies, one of whom was driving while the other held a long rifle over the side, aiming at the incoming hijacked speeder. Lemon swerved to the left and dove down, out of the traffic, just as two bolts loosed into the air and missed. The shots nearly grazing Pinkie’s mane as they dropped down, scorching the tailgate of the speeder. Grasping her hat, she looked frantically at Lemon, who had his eyes firmly locked on the space ahead of them.

“Lemon!” she cried as the speeder dipped toward the undercity. “What about my ship?”

“Do you wanna die before we get there?” he yelled.

“No, not really!”

“Then shut up and let me drive!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Pinkie saw the two bikes dip down to pursue them. The ponies on the back, still pointing their weapons at her, fired a volley of shots onto the fleeing speeder. As the shots poured down on them, Pinkie reached to her belt and whipped out her own pair of guns, returning fire as best as she could. Lemon wasn’t helping her aim, however, as he jerked the speeder into evasive maneuvers that forced her to hold onto her seat belt.

A sudden banked turn put Lemon and Pinkie’s speeder into an access tunnel, where oncoming traffic dived and swerved to get out of their way. One bike followed them in while the other zipped by.

“Lemon?!” Pinkie cried again, firing a shot over the seat at the pursuing bike. “They’re gonna try and race us to the end!”

“How good a shot are you?”

“Pretty good, I think.”

“Then worry about the ones behind us and stop worrying about the ones you can’t shoot!”

Pinkie stuck her tongue out at him and took aim, grimacing. “Geez, just trying to help.” She loosed a pair of bolts at the enemy bike. Lemon took a dive right then to dodge an incoming taxi speeder. The lurching movement caused Pinkie Pie to miss both shots and forced her down into her seat. In the maneuver, her hat almost flew off her head. She took a moment to set it down under her legs, to hold it in place so she didn’t lose it, and also holstered one of her pistols. Then, with only one gun, she took much more careful aim, waited for the speeder to level out again, and fired a single shot.

It rang true, smacking against the helmet of the bike’s driver. The pony flipped backwards in the chair and hauled the bike’s steering handles back with him, sending it into a skyward climb. When it collided with the roof of the tunnel, a fireball erupted from the bike as the contents of the fuel tank spilled into the ignition. All that remained was two charred bounty hunters and some crumpled chunks of a speeder bike.

“Good shot,” Lemon said, looking back to check on the pursuit.

“Lemon!” Pinkie cried once more, pointing ahead. He turned to see the end of the tunnel looming closer, and sitting in the center was an identical black speeder with two more gunponies riding it. Before he could check to see if they had been spotted among the traffic, three shots barreled down the tunnel and smacked against the windshield. One pierced the glass and grazed Lemon’s shoulder. He screamed in pain and reached for his injured limb instinctively, sending the speeder into an unintentional barrel roll.

Pinkie clung to the side of the speeder as her companion continued to cry out, clutching his shoulder. The force of the spin was too great for her to reach for the steering bar with her front legs. Using every ounce of willpower, she instead pushed a kick with her hind leg through the gravity force and righted the bar, taking the speeder out of its death spin. More shots poured down the tunnel at her speeder, but she ignored them. All that was on her mind now was driving.

Jumping from her seat belt, Pinkie reached across Lemon and grabbed the steering bar. She put the speeder into a nosedive, dodging another flurry of bolts, then snaked back up again into a climb. At the speed she was going, a few seconds later, they were only a few meters from the bike. Realizing this, Pinkie shielded her face with a hoof and braced herself against her agonized driver for impact.

The speeder jerked hard as the nose connected with the side of the bike, sending the two occupants into the air. They emerged from the tunnel and plummeted the three mile drop to the lower city while the speeder, smoking, dented, and covered in blaster marks, zipped back towards the traffic lanes and disappeared into the Old Galactic Market district.

Somehow, Pinkie managed to land the speeder on a rooftop just outside the primary hangar. The first thing she did was jump out and pull Lemon from his seat, still clutching his wound like a stubborn leech. Pinkie lifted his hoof away, with great difficulty and the occasional grunt, to see that it was cauterizing around a patch of dry blood. The bolt had broken the skin, but the heat generated from the shot was actually closing the wound.

“You got very lucky, Lemony,” she whispered gently, rubbing his hoof in a therapeutic manner. “It’s gonna be okay, okie dokie?”

“Aaaaagh, it burns sooooo bad,” he moaned, his eyes forced shut in pain.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. You’re not bleeding, and it’s not serious.” Pinkie put a hoof on his good shoulder and tugged gently, as if urging him to sit up. When he tried, he let out a scream that made her blood curdle, but she didn’t let go of his back. Instead, she pulled him closer and hugged him, carefully, to avoid irritating his wound. “You’re alive...”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t wanna be,” he said through his gritted teeth. “This suuuuuucks...”

“I’m so happy...” came the gentle reply. Lemon turned his head to look at Pinkie with one eye still forced shut. She had her cheek resting on his good shoulder and she was frowning back at him. “The way you'd been screaming... I thought you'd been hurt. I got scared.”

“Nah, I'm gonna be okay.” He made a hissing noise from between his teeth. “Give me a few minutes, and after the throbbing stops, we'll walk down there, mm'kay?”

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

“You alright?” he asked quietly into her ear.

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled. “I'd be dead right now without you...”

“I would be as well, Pinkie, but you saved me,” Lemon replied with a toothy smile. He hissed in pain, shutting his eyes. His hoof squeezed against his wound tighter. “I probably would've crashed that speeder if you hadn't taken over when you did.”

She didn't say anything. Instead of talking, she lifted her head and pushed gently on his good shoulder, lying him on the ground. Lemon seethed in pain as his shoulder came to rest on the rooftop shortly after his head. Pinkie then poked around his wound, eliciting a seething grunt from Lemon. Her touch was gentle, however, and when she was sure he was okay, she flicked his mane playfully while he laid there. Every time he looked up at her, she stared into his eyes intently, and giggled at him when he looked away.

“It's not fair...” Lemon whispered after a couple minutes. “You're so nice and caring, and I haven't done anything to deserve this kindness. I barely even know you.”

“You offered to help me, and you saved my life,” Pinkie replied with a giggle. “You're my friend, Lemony. I take care of my friends.”

“I'm in your debt, Ms. Pinkie Pie,” Lemon said with a grunt as he lifted himself to his hooves and stood up. He began to shudder, but Pinkie put a hoof out to stabilize him. He accepted it with a smile. “Thank you.”

“Ready to go get my ship back?”

“I'm right behind you.”

Pinkie winked at him before trotting toward the rooftop stair access. Lemon turned toward the smoldering speeder and reached inside, grabbing a briefcase with his teeth before galloping after her.


> Part 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

About twenty meters away stood a massive metal building, one that threatened to pierce the heavens and occupied nearly thirty city blocks. Pinkie stared up at it from one of the several hundred external bridges that led into the building from the ground level of upper Coruscant, trying to gauge how tall it was. Ships of all sizes, shapes and classes docked inside and departed from within the monstrous hangar bay, one of the biggest in Galactic City. Ponies streamed across the many exit ramps and bridges that connected the hangar to the rest of the city, making it the effective center of that slice of Coruscant.

The Old Galactic Market.

Even after living in its shadow his whole life, Lemon was likewise enthralled with the size of the hangar. Pinkie stood beside him, mouth agape in awe, until finally he poked her with his hoof. “Ready?”

“Huh?” She snapped back to reality and blinked back at him, then smiled. “Yep! Let’s do this!”

“Lead the way, then.”

Pinkie trotted through the massive archway before them and entered into the Market hub. Ponies bustled to and fro through the complex, weaving an ever-shifting blanket of colors and noise. Pegasi construction workers zipped around the domed ceiling of the transit station, inspecting structural integrity and preparing the hangar for future expansion. Straining her neck to see over the crowd, Pinkie spotted the wing she’d parked her ship in and began pushing through the throng towards it.

Lemon followed cautiously behind her, using her bouncy pink tail as his guide through the crowd. He bumped into another pony with almost every step, making it hard to conceal the briefcase he had on his back whenever an angry pedestrian collided with him. A few minutes in and seventeen collisions later, Pinkie finally emerged from the crowd and skipped toward an elevator. Lemon caught up a moment later, grimacing and breathing heavily.

“Tired?” Pinkie asked curiously, tilting her head sideways. “I didn’t go that fast.”

“Somepony shoved me onto the ground a second ago,” Lemon clarified, swallowing a lump of saliva that had formed in his throat. “I panicked when I couldn’t find you.”

“Well, I’m right here, silly!” She poked the elevator button and the door swung open almost immediately. They both clambered inside and forced the door to shut without waiting to see if anypony else needed to use it. As the room lurched down and started its descent, Pinkie’s smile faded. “My ship’s gonna be down here... I hope. What if somepony stole it?”

“Did you have any alarms or defense systems?” Lemon asked with feigned concern. This information was relevant to his plans.

“Yeah, a couple alarms. No money to install fancy turrets or anything.”

“The ship will probably be there still, then,” he assured with an aloof hoof gesture. “Authorities would’ve investigated if the alarm was tripped. Besides, it makes much better bait to leave the ship where it is.”

“Yeah, but... but aren’t we, like, falling for it?”

“In a sense. But we’re more prepared than they anticipate. They can’t surprise us if we’re expecting to be surprised.”

“That makes sense... I think...” Pinkie faces contorted itself as she tried her hoof at thinking. When she couldn’t reach an immediate conclusion, she shook her head and grunted, eliciting a laugh from Lemon. She shot an annoyed glare at him, but it quickly dissolved into laughter of her own. They were both rolling on the floor laughing by the time the elevator door swung open.

Noticing they’d reached their stop, Lemon stood up to proceed, but Pinkie grabbed his shirt before he could step out of the elevator. He turned to see her looking at him pleadingly, her round blue eyes like sad sapphires.

“Ready or not, we’re walking into a trap, Lemony,” she whimpered. “Is this a good idea?”

“You got a better one?”

She shook her head remorsefully. Together they disembarked from the elevator towards the hangar. The room was nearly half a mile long and filled with all kinds of ships from personal starfighters to small frigates to junky freighters. The metal roof extended high above their heads and ended about four hundred meters out, held up by massive support beams that lined the edge of the hangar. They formed slots in the open end of the room, to allow ships to enter through them, similar to parking spaces.

Pinkie’s eyes widened and a smile broke across her face as she began galloping away from Lemon. He turned to see her approaching a particularly unimpressive freighter: an old Corellian XS class freighter that saw very little commercial flight anymore, despite being as popular of a model as it was. Typically associated with smugglers, this particular XS was painted a dull, faded brown with bright yellow stripes around the sides. Two defense turrets, one on top and one on the bottom, were the only visible defense systems on the vessel, though he assumed the autocannons were hidden elsewhere, and there were compartments on the outside where missile launchers were probably installed in secret.

Pinkie sat down and stared in awe at the ship. Despite having left it not even a day ago, she felt as though an eternity had passed since she’d last set hoof on its loading ramp. Tears came to her eyes at the sight of her intact freighter. She was finally home free.

Turning to Lemon, Pinkie threw herself on him and wrapped her hooves around his back. “It’s here! I’m going home!”

“Yay,” Lemon said with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster. “Just remember to check out with the deck officer. Can’t leave until you do.”

“Oh, right! Thanks, Lemony! For... for everything.” She looked down at the ground, then back up at his face. Her smile melted his heart for a moment, bringing to surface the regrets and the hesitations he’d been feeling all day. He bit his tongue and shut his eyes in thought. She skipped away to locate the deck manager, and he looked up again with a sigh, moving toward the ship slowly. Just under the doorway access was the boarding ramp switch, and just as he pried the panel off, he stopped. For a few moments he remained frozen.

“Do I really want to do this?” he muttered to himself.

Pinkie located the deck manager on the other side of the hangar, looking busily over a datapad and trying to juggle conversations with three other ponies while he did so. She hopped next to him and poked his shoulder. “I need to check out my ship!”

“You and three other ponies!” the manager barked, not looking up from his datapad. “Wait your turn, miss.”

“Alright, geez.” Pinkie sat down on the cold metal floor and waited for a few moments. Her attention remained intently on the manager until, from nowhere, the distinct sound of her XS freighter’s alarm system resounded off the walls. She twisted her neck to see the boarding ramp closing and the ship’s thrusters engaging. “What!? No! My ship!”

She stood up and galloped toward the starship, but she was too late. As she reached the base of the vessel, it lifted off the ground and turned in midair, and a moment later it zipped out of the hangar and took off into the Coruscanti sky. Pinkie could do little more than stare helplessly at the slowly fading freighter and sob.

Once the ship had disappeared completely, she slumped to the ground and wailed, tears pouring from her eyes like a fountain. She felt a hoof on her back and assumed it was Lemon Drop, so she wrapped her hooves around the figure blindly in an attempt to get some comfort.

“Somepony stole my ship!” she wailed.

“Yes, sorry about that,” replied the figure. Pinkie looked up, wide-eyed and sobbing, to see the face of Lucky Draw, her opponent front the card game the previous night. “It’s a shame, really. You were that close to escaping me.”

-~-~-~-~-~

Lemon slumped in his chair as he piloted his newly acquired ship toward the departure lane. Leaving Coruscant was such a trivial and needlessly confusing procedure, but it mattered little at this point. He was finally leaving forever, to start a new life with his vast amount of money. Every so often, an image of Pinkie flashed across his mind, causing a pit in his stomach to form that made him queasy. He drowned the sensation with thoughts of where he’d settle down. Dantooine, maybe, for the fresh, green atmosphere. Or perhaps somewhere new and exciting, like a Jedi colony. Tython, perhaps. 

Amidst his thoughts, Lemon leaned back in his pilots chair, the autopilot having kicked in when he took off. When he did, a small paper book slid off the console in front of him, ripping him from his fantasizing. He picked up the little tome and read the first page.

Pinkie’s Journal. Do Not Touch.

He flipped to the next page, ignoring the warning on the front. The entry was relatively dry, mostly her scatterbrained ramblings about her daily life and her work. As he flipped through the pages, scanning them with increasing interest, a common theme popped up in most of the later entries: Pinkie Pie was dissatisfied with something. She wrote about how endless her job seemed to be, how she would quit if the money wasn’t so good. How she wished it wasn’t so lonely in the off-season, and how the occasional murder she committed really shook her to her core. Every entry was more disturbing than the last, and with every word Lemon’s stomach pit grew.

He flipped to the last page absently, unable to keep reading after four or five entries. As he started to close the book, his eye caught a doodle on the back page, and he reopened it to investigate. It was a playing card from a Sabacc deck, and beside it was a full page about Pinkie’s plan to enter into the upcoming championship tournament. For some reason, Lemon felt compelled to actually read the entry, despite the overwhelming guilt eating his insides. His breathing quickened as he reached the last paragraph.

“Who knows? Maybe I can retire if I win. I’m sure the winnings will be enough to buy a house, somewhere away from the danger and the crime. The more I smuggle, the more I’m starting to see just how much I need to get out. I can’t dodge the bullet forever.”

A tear formed in the corner of Lemon’s eye. He had been the bullet that she couldn’t dodge.

-~-~-~-~-~

Pinkie’s shoulders heaved again as she sucked in a large breath of air, which she immediately released in a painful wail. Her eyes were forced shut and leaking a seemingly endless river of tears, and her head was buried into her forelegs. Against her head rested the barrel of a blaster rifle, the owner of whom was trying to talk to her during her hysterics, and getting frustrated.

“Please, Miss, this is getting ridiculous,” Lucky Draw. “Why are you crying like this?”

“I don’t wanna die!” she bellowed into her folded hooves.

“Is that really worth crying over, though? I mean, considering your line of work, you could have died several times over by now, or worse: imprisoned for life.”

“I... I was... Aaaaaaaaaahh...” She lifted her head long enough to produce a fountain of tears that proceeded to fall on, and then soak, Lucky Draw in salty water. Then she dropped back into her slump. “I was leaving! I was gonna retire! It was over!”

“Well, things don’t always go the way we want, yeah?” Lucky poked Pinkie with the blaster twice, eliciting a whimper from her. “So, I’m gonna do you a favor and end your suffering. Since I’m a gentlemen, I’ll grant the lady a last word before I exact my vengeance. Anything to say?”

Pinkie stopped crying almost instantly, but she didn’t move. The crack in her voice betrayed her sorrow. “...Don’t call me a lady,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Lucky inquired. “I didn’t catch that. Stop mumbling into your hooves so I can-”

“Don’t call me a lady!” Pinkie shrieked, throwing her head up to glare at Lucky. “I’m no lady.”

“Very well,” he replied, unphased. “If that’s all, we should be going. My ship is further down the block, so let’s get on board.”

Lucky waited patiently for her to move, and when she didn’t, he gently nudged her with his blaster. After nearly a minute, Pinkie stood up shakily and glared at him before trudging a few steps ahead of him. She made no attempt to escape, which pleased him.

“I do feel as though I’ve been slighted,” he said casually as they walked. “I never did get my money back.”

A loud rumbling shook the hangar as a ship began docking procedures. The ship slowly caught Lucky’s attention when he recognized it, much to his horror, as the ship that Pinkie had chased after when he had moved in to apprehend her. It was her ship. The boarding ramp was lowered, and standing in the center was Lemon Drop, holding a blaster rifle in his hooves. As the ship hovered in place, he raised the rifle and aimed it at Lucky Draw.

“I don’t know who you are,” Lemon yelled over the ship’s engines, “but you’re gonna let her go. Now.”

“And if I don’t?” Lucky replied carefully, trying not to betray his fear. He put a hoof gently on Pinkie’s shoulder and drew her close to himself. He kept the gun against her head.

“You will. Because I have an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Oh?”

“Let her go, and the money is yours. Don’t let her go, and I shoot you both.”

Lucky froze. He almost wanted to shoot Lemon, but feared that, if he missed, the counterattack would be fatal. Instead he slowly let go of Pinkie but kept the blaster pointed at her. “I accept. Revenge isn’t worth dying for.”

“Let her go first.”

“Give me the money first.”

Lemon fired. The blaster shot connected with Lucky’s pistol, causing him to drop it in shock. The weapon fell to the metal floor and smoldered, melted and unusable.

“Pinkie, come here,” he said evenly, still holding his aim. Pinkie galloped toward her ship and leaped into the air, landing on the end of the boarding ramp. She walked past Lemon without even a passing glance and disappeared into her ship. Then, when she was out of sight, he kicked a briefcase onto the ground. “If I ever see you again, you die. Are we clear?”

“Clear as crystal,” Lucky replied with a nod.

Lemon returned the gesture, lowered his rifle, and retreated into the ship. The boarding ramp closed behind him and the ship turned in place before it blasted away toward the traffic lane. Lucky waited until the vessel was gone and away before he cautiously approached the briefcase and picked it up. Inside he found every last credit of the winnings from the night before, much to his surprise. He looked up toward the long gone freighter and nodded again, as though he appreciated the honesty of a thief and a smuggler.

-~-~-~-~-~

Lemon trotted up the boarding ramp and found Pinkie Pie standing there, staring at a small leather book that had somehow found its way to the floor nearby. It was open to the last page, and she was reading it intently.

“You alright?” Lemon asked.

She looked up at him and frowned. “Yes. But... I can’t figure this out! Why’d you steal my ship?”

“Because I wanted to start over somewhere else. Live a good, fulfilling life by myself, with no more illegal activity and no more danger.”

“Then... then why’d you come back?”

“Because I made a Pinkie promise.”

Pinkie smiled. “Yeah, you did. Thank you!”

“Well, it cost me all that money you won,” Lemon replied with a twinge of pain in his voice. He looked away in shame. “I didn’t want to incur his vengeance, too, so I threw him the case. All those credits, gone.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Pinkie walked up to Lemon and threw her hooves around his neck. “I owe you my life...”

“I guess we’re even then, huh?” he said. Pinkie didn’t reply, so Lemon tapped her on the shoulder. “So, can I ask a favor?”

“I... what do you want?” she asked innocently, her large, rapidly blinking eyes drilling into him. His gaze was cold, almost inspired, and eyes were aquamarine in color.

“I want you to forget I stole your ship,” he said. “I also want transport off of Coruscant. Then, after that... and no offense by this, but I want to be dropped off and I never want to see you again.”

“W-what?” Pinkie choked, her eyes still moist from her earlier ordeal. “Why?”

“You trusted of me, and I broke that trust. I just don’t want to push my luck with you anymore. You understand, right?”

“Nope,” she replied, shaking her head rapidly. “I really don’t. In fact... I don’t want you to leave!”

“But I have to!”

“No you don’t! You can... I don’t know... You can work with me!” Her eyes lit up at the thought. “Yeah! We need to make a lot of money before we can retire like we wanna, so let’s help each other! We can travel around the galaxy doing the same work we’ve been doing, and we can get paid lots and lots of credits for it!”

Lemon’s lip twitched. “You want to... hire me? After I just tried to steal your ship?”

“Yes, Lemony.” Pinkie smiled warmly at him, tilting her head slightly. “You could’ve stolen my ship and been on your way, but instead you saved my life. Again! I forgive you for whatever wrong you think you’ve done me. No hard feelings, I promise. I want to thank you for all the help you’ve been to me, though. So will you join me?”

“Me? A smuggler?” Lemon didn’t want to admit it, but he liked the idea. It was a step up from stealing out of garbage bins in the sewer levels of Coruscant for every meal. “I mean, what, do we split all our profits fifty-fifty?”

“I figure we can just have a community pool of credits,” Pinkie replied. “You know, to buy nice things if we want.”

“But we’d need to budget that money, for repairs and equipment and food—”

“Don’t worry about it too much. We’ll talk about it later. For now...” Pinkie extended her hoof towards Lemon. “...will you join my crew?”

Lemon bit his lip, waited a few seconds, then smiled and grabbed her hoof to shake it. “How could I not? After everything that’s happened, I owe you a lot more than just my life.”

-~-~-~-~-~

“And we’ve been traveling together ever since,” Pinkie finished. She took a sip from her glass and set it down on a plate nearby. Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle were still sitting in their makeshift chairs, absorbing the story with enthralled silence. When Pinkie finished, Dash shook her head and nodded thoughtfully.

“Wow, you go way back,” she said. “He was just a thief living in the sewer, and you hired him as your partner?”

“That’s right! And after that day, we gallivanted around the galaxy doing odd jobs and making lots of money. We didn’t have any work lined up after the Ord Mantell job, but we aren’t far off from making all the money we lost that day back again.”

“If I could prove you did any of that, I’d have you in cuffs right now,” Twilight said slowly. Pinkie gasped and put her hooves to her mouth in shock, but Twilight smiled back at her. “Since I can’t, all I can do is say that was a very riveting story. Well told, if not a little cliche.”

“Heh. Yeah, well, thanks, I guess.” Pinkie looked around nervously, as though she was still afraid that Twilight might arrest her. “It’s my story, and I love to tell it.”

“I trust you two won’t make any trouble if I retire to the guest quarters for the remainder of the flight?” Twilight asked, looking at Rainbow Dash. “I can’t imagine we have that long of a trip left.”

“Oh! I totally forgot! I need to go see if we’re landing soon!” Dash stood up and bolted out of the room in a full gallop, nearly toppling Lemon Drop as he was coming back into the room. He had a perplexed expression on his face, no doubt startled by the sudden exit of the Sergeant. Twilight, after witnessing the momentary spectacle, stood up much slower than her comrade had and walked out of the room, nodding to Lemon as she departed.

He stood in the doorway and waited. Pinkie Pie was staring at him, but he didn’t notice right away. When he finally did, his face lifted into a smile. “Hey there.”

“Hi.”

“Did the troopers enjoy story time with Pinkie Pie?”

“Oh yeah,” she replied, smiling. “I think I might have a future in storytelling.”

“Yeah?” Lemon opened his mouth to say something, most likely a joke or some snide remark about Pinkie’s lack of ability to sit still long enough to tell a story, but he stopped short. His smile faded and his eyes grew distant, but they didn’t look away from her eyes. “Pinkie?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Are you... alright?”

“Yep! Never better! Why?”

“Because I feel like... like we should be more than friends, and we’re not... and... and we can’t... and... do you know what I mean?”

“Well, duh! Of course we’re more than friends!” She leaped from her chair and trotted up to Lemon, embracing him in a hug. “We’re partners in crime!”

“Sure, but... Listen, Pinkie. Remember on Ord Mantell, when you told me you loved me? And I said we couldn’t be together because of our work?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like... like I may have been wrong. Like that doesn’t apply any longer.”

Pinkie stared up at him, her gaze lingering and curious. Lemon felt like she was probing his thoughts. She probably was, too, knowing her. When she finally blinked after what felt like several minutes, a smile crept onto her face. “Okay. What are you thinking?”

“Lunch,” Lemon said plainly. “When we dock at Cowlick Station. You and me.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll discuss this further.”

“So careful... Always the gentlecolt.” Pinkie closed her eyes and pushed her lips into his cheek. She lingered there for a moment, feeling the warmth rush to his face, before she giggled and leaned into him. “You always have been.”

“I... I never truly forgave myself for what I did to you that day.”

“If you had actually wronged me, you’d have a reason to be upset. But as it is, you’re just being silly.”

“Y-you’re right, of course.” Lemon was blushing profusely by this point. “Can you let go of me, please?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“If you’re gonna try and court me, you need to own up to being my coltfriend. Hug me back.”

Lemon hesitated for a moment, but reluctantly he slung one hoof onto her back and pressed himself closer to her. The other one came a moment later. Despite his reservations, he found that he was enjoying himself.

Pinkie caught on to the fact, and she playfully drove her hoof into his side and started wiggling it around. He busted out laughing as an all-out tickle war began in the cargo hold.

-~-~-~-~-~

Cowlick Station loomed into view as the little, indiscriminate freighter burst out of hyperspace. Docking procedures took very little time, once the passengers clarified that they were Republic officers and not Separatist spies. When the freighter docked and the four ponies on board shuffled onto the station, they were greeted at the door by the dock officials, who had taken the liberty of forming an guarded escort to see them to the elevator.

Pinkie’s eyes were wide with excitement. Along with the escort, balloons, streamers and confetti were liberally dispersed throughout the hangar. They were being honored as the heroes of Ord Mantell, and the Republic. Twilight and Dash shook hooves with the admiring troopers that had formed to meet them, while Lemon and Pinkie reveled in the festivities of the moment.

A few minutes after her arrival, the dock officials approached Pinkie while she was demonstrating the proper technique for holding spoons on one’s nose.

“Ma’am? Is this ship yours?” he asked her.

“Yep!” she replied happily, placing another spoon on top of the first. A couple of the soldiers nearby applauded her talent.

“Well, see, we received word from Command that this ship was a Separatist vessel. As such, we need to investigate the claim and, if it’s true, we will need to confiscate it.”

Pinkie’s eyes locked onto the official, the spoons flying off her nose and clinking to the metal floor. “What?!”

“Yes, it’s procedure to have all the equipment and contraband check before we release it again. It’s a hassle, I know, but we’ll be sure to recommend the ship to you when we finish.”

“How long?”

“Probably a week, maybe less if we’re quick.”

Pinkie grimaced. Lemon, who had overheard most of the conversation, put a hoof on her shoulder and shook her gently, smiling at the dock official. “That’ll be fine. We don’t want any trouble. Isn’t that right, Pinkie?”

“Yessiree...” she muttered.

Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle finished their debriefing with the troops nearby and headed towards the elevator. Lemon Drop and Pinkie Pie hopped in just before the doors started to shut, and together, the four of them ascended into Cowlick Station’s primary ring. When they opened again, the sheer vastness of the proceeding chamber nearly floored all of them. The ceiling extended forever upward, and near the top was a spire where an aerial cantina rested. Lights, strobes and loud music emanated from above, and Pinkie Pie was enthralled with the idea of a nonstop party that she wasn’t a part of yet.

To the left and right the circle continued, where merchant quarters and equipment requisitions were stationed. Twilight and Dash could see some troopers looking over weapon racks nearby. Dash’s tongue fell out of her mouth and the thought of getting an upgrade for her rifle, while Twilight tried to peer beyond to see if there was a library or something similar beyond.

Lemon was the only one that seemed to notice the young earth pony stallion in front of the door of the elevator. He was obviously rich, being draped in white robes that covered his entire body, and had a thick band over his eyes that seemed to tighten around his head. His mane was jet black and fell around his ears. Even though Lemon couldn’t see his eyes, the stallion was visibly pissed off.

“You!” he called out to Lemon and Pinkie, pointing a hoof between them.

“Me?” Lemon replied, his facial expression contorted into shock. Pinkie turned to look at the stallion and gasped, causing Lemon to shift his attention to her. “What is it, Pink?”

“This stallion...” Pinkie whispered. “We know him.”

“Who is this guy?” Rainbow Dash said, almost shouted. She glared at him for a minute before raising her rifle towards him slowly. “Should we be concerned?”

“My name is Atuna Davinari Lemep,” the stallion announced. A lightsaber flew off his belt and hovered in mid air beside him. It ignited into a beautiful viridian blade about a meter long. “And in the name of the Jedi Order, you are under arrest for grand theft auto and the destruction of Order property. Drop your weapons. Now.”

> Author's Notes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

All rights to The Old Republic go to Bioware.
Hasbro owns MLP: FiM and the characters.
DerpiiHooves made the title picture. Absolutely amazing artist. Link to his dA:[Link]
Fanart/Sketches: 
Source: DerpiiHooves
Source: DerpiiHooves
Source: DerpiiHooves
Source: DerpiiHooves

I will put any/all fan content related to this piece here in the Author's Notes for The Ord Mantell Deception. If you want to ask me questions or send me anything, email me at jedimasteratuna@yahoo.com

Massive props to the reviewers at the Training Grounds on Ponychan, of which I am a member, especially to Dublio, my personal slavereviewer. They review fics with the absolute best quality reviewing skills. If you need a fic glossed over for errors, or want a professional review, check them out here: How To Guide to submitting

~AidanMaxwell