A Brother in Need

[Connory Monroe]

Cory deactivated the welding torch and moved away from her work, Pulling free the mask and running her eyes across the hustle of the docks, her eyes lingering momentarily on a family that’d just disembarked from a transport along with a dozen others. Not uncommon visitors for Kwenn Station, this close to the Silver Jedi, many were looking for help there.

She turned her attention back to the freshly welded panel and sought flaws in her work. It wasn’t perfect, but the Liberator wasn’t meant to be. She moved round to the lowered landing ramp, dropping the torch and mask into a toolbox and snatched up a thermos of caff.

Cory sank into a seat, halfway up the ramp, where Princess trotted out to meet her, rubbing her feline body along Cory’s back as she poured herself a cup and settled in to watch the hustle pass her by. It’d been a quiet few days, for work. While not necessarily a bad thing, she was running out of things to fix on her own ship.

[member="Obran"]

 

[Obran]

Ships. He flew them. To other people passably so. To the Mando'ade, it was not so good. He wouldn't drop the ship out of the sky. And minimal, basic maintenance he could do. But this? This he could not suss out. The damn guns had just ceased to fire. Every. Single. One. Nothing even clicked. The control array registered as if no guns were even present. Greyed out screens, switches that did nothing.

And so, the former gladiator and goran sat under his craft with a relay to the main guns exposed. A borrow spanner in his hands as his scruffed face looked into the utter confusing mess of wires and switch-backs and such. For half a moment the spanner raised like a club before he thought better of abusing the tool the kindly Sullustan had lent him.

Instead, the man let loose a stream of vile cursing in Mando'a, and let the tool drop to his side and stared up in bewilderment.

Might as well try to understand a damn woman

[member="Connory Monroe"]

 

[Connory Monroe]

The stream of mando'a curses snapped Cory out of her daydream. She hadn't heard anyone swear that colourfully in a long time. Princess was far more curious than she trotting off with her tail in the air towards the next pad where the curses had come from. Cory considered starting the engines and abandoning the tooka, not for the first time either. As always, Jan'ika's face floated in her mind and reminded her she was a gift.

Heaving a sigh, she drained the remains of her caff and meandered after the feline. Nothing about her appearance said Mandalorian. She was clad in a dark blue grease stained jumpsuit, that was undone and tied at her waist with an equally grease stained shirt underneath. Princess slipped underneath the ship before she reached there, purring loudly and making strange chirruping noises. “Furball, get out of it, no one wants you in their face.”

She leaned down to peak at the ships owner laying on his back. “You ok down there, vod? Sounded like you are having some problems.”

[member="Obran"]

 

[Obran]

Connory would find the vitrol from moments earlier absent. Princess was happily being scratched behind the ears, chewing on some sort of trail mix like substance that was in the cupped hand of the formerly angry gladiator. A way with animals was always a gift, from big or small. Just like this feline, creatures were drawn to and gravitated to him almost naturally, though he didn't quite understand it. It was also one of the few things in his existence that relaxed him and brought the current smile he was wearing to his face.

Caff was steaming from an open thermos, a lovely cup-lid full of it and a bag of more of the mix next to him. Sheets of diagrams still fresh from the manufacturer lay scattered about. As did a nasty looking kukri knife that was almost a sword, and a hefty blaster pistol. Even out of armor and garbed in a baggy dark grey spacers jumpsuit, he was obviously battle-hardened and tense, almost paranoid. Eyes wide set in a face covered in scruff with long hair tied back. Her voice seemed to shake him more than the feline did, and he turned in a half-spin like a grenade had went off, hand reaching to the pistol before relaxing after a slick threat assessment.

"I'm fine... This shabla heap is about to be sold for scrap. A gunboat without guns is of no use to me."

[member="Connory Monroe"]

 

[Connory Monroe]

Most people reached for a gun when someone approached them on a space station they didn't know. It was survival instinct, so the jumpy reaction didn't phase Cory in the slightest. She clicked her tongue at Princess who was purring as she ate. "Stupid animal." she muttered, convinced that the tooka would make friends with anyone if it meant she'd get food. Anyone would think that Cory didn't feed her reluctant pet.

"Gunboat without guns, huh?" She circled the ship slowly, running her hands along its hull. "Pretty boat." she commented finally, running her eyes over the blueprints scattered on the ground. "Mind if I take a look?" She didn't wait for an answer, ducking underneath and running her gaze over the exposed relay. She saw the problem within seconds and chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't look at listing it as scrap quite yet, looks like a simple fix. Here."

She reached into the relay, reconnecting a couple of wires and eliciting sparks, then a gentle hum as the weapons systems began warming up.

[member="Obran"]

 

[Obran]

Stillness came over him, and the small animal moved away as if suddenly uncomfortable. For a drawn out moment, he just stared at the ship and muttered. Then, finally, he stood and turned his stare to the other who had just fixed his entire ship problem by essentially plugging it in. This is why he didn't fly terribly often. Why he preferred being up close, and personal. A further few moments as his gaze turned back to the ship, and he shook his head, a mixed smile of bemusement and chagrin stretching across rugged features.

"That was... Shameful... On my part. But I am no engineer or mechanic. Talent lays elsewhere.

A quick nod to the ramp of the ship, visible. A harness of armor and bladed weaponry were visible in a deployment rack. Obviously intended for quick suit up and deployment, and with the jetpack nearby, potentially for HALO insertion.

"Still, I am grateful. It is a new craft to me. So I am unaware of it's quirks. I am on way to secure payment from a job, so payment would be hard to make... But... Please... I have food aboard, and drink. I can share, in thanks. If you would accept it"

[member="Connory Monroe"]

 

[Connory Monroe]

“No shame in it at all.” She replied, getting to her feet and dusting her hands off. “I’ve spent most, if not all of my life in one boat or another. You get to know their inners pretty well.” Plus, she thought, my father was a mechanical genius, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I wasn’t looking for payment. A lot of people are taking advantage of a scattered people. Overcharging and underpaying, gotta help where you can.” Princess tangled herself in Cory’s legs and flopped onto her back seeking attention. Cory ignored her.

“I won’t say no to a drink though.” She extended a hand. “Cory.” she offered.

[member="Obran"]

 

[Obran]

"The little one seems taken with you."

He indicated the feline as he rose and gathered equipment. The gear was gathered with slow familiarity, and he slid the blast into a holster on hi right hip, along with other implements going to their proper homes as he shut the access hatch and smiled wanly. As he turned to her a comm link button was pressed and the ramp descended fully. Slowly, relaxation was creeping across his posture and stance. Still wary, but not on high alert at least. Not so much anyway.

"I agree... They smell blood in the water, and sense a broken people. Now, more than ever, we should stand together. Strong. As best as we can be. But come, there is a good bar onboard"

With that, he turned and walked the ramp with a rolling gait, stopping by the gear mount just inside to return things as he waited for his guest.

[member="Connory Monroe"]