<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/55/83/d8/5583d8287dc20d30cf2e8c3b4d048177.jpg)</div>As soon as the Dianoga dropped out of hyperspace, her targeting system automatically swept the area around her and locked onto the biggest target it could find.  Which happened to be the Imp patrol cruiser. With an audible 'yeep', Shane swatted the controls into neutral; pointing a piddling little quad-mount spitgun at a ship thirty times your own size was a quick route to a level of oneness with the Force she wasn't in a hurry to achieve.<br/><br/>Apparently, the probe that had been shadowing them felt the same. Dropping unseen out of hyperspace just a few seconds behind the smuggler, it sniffed its surroundings, hesitated, and let out a figurative 'yeep' of its own, rocketing away at a tangent under appalling acceleration.  Either its course had been a bizarre coincidence, or it, too, didn't feel like doing anything untoward under the eyes- and guns- of the Empire.<br/><br/>As they started their approach spiral, Shane cued her mike. "Hey, if the Greys<em>insist</em>on coming aboard, offer their brass a drink. If he says yes you'll know you can deal. If not...well, then we go to plan B."<br/><br/>She hoped there<strong>was</strong>a plan B.  And when was she ever without her guns?  Hell, she slept with them under her pillow. IT was why she was still in one piece.