Private Fixer Upper

[Sidra Ater]

Sidra Ater sat on the lowered ramp of an old light freighter, her boots on the sandy ground. For the moment, there was shade from the twin suns – and the woman was thankful for a break. From her spot, she looked out across the open space of the scrap yard, her current place of employment.

It was far from an idea job, but soon she'd hopefully have enough to make it off Tatooine with a little ship of her own. That was the plan, anyways. Of course, that is... unless something better came along.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a black cigarette and lit up. Her slim hand brought the Coruscanti Clove up to her lips, and she breathed deep. Amber eyes closed momentarily, savoring the burn inside her lungs. As she exhaled, drifts of smoke rose into the dry desert air. Turning slightly, she glanced back inside the empty cargo bay of the ship – her current project.

Sidra knew ships, and she could usually get even broken down beaters up and running again. But it just wasn't happening today. In fact, it had been happening less and less since her connection with the force was nearly severed. There was a lot riding on her ability to 'talk' to machines. Now that she was no longer a Jedi, it felt like the only thing she had left. And if she lost that, too, she didn't know what she'd end up doing. However, she had a feeling it would be... grim.

Once her cigarette was mostly ash, she tossed it down onto the sand and stepped on it as she stood up. Dusting herself off, she hung her head and tried to will herself back into the engine room. But movement caught her eye. Squinting, she spotted a dark silhouette against the tawny background of cliffs and sand. There weren't many that ventured out this way for the fun of it. That meant it was probably a customer.

The scrapyard's owner was currently making a deal in Mos Eisley and would return soon, so it looked like Sidra would have to see to the newcomer.

Gren Blidh

 

[Gren Blidh]

The breeze was not unwelcome in the Tatooine desert, although the sand it kicked up stung as it pelted Gren Blidh's stubbled cheek. Loose sand curled around his dusty boot as he stood at the entrance to the scrapyard, chosen because it looked particularly promising. One could usually tell whether a scrapyard was worth the visit within five seconds of sizing it up. This one was expansive, hosting a variety of visible machinery behind its fences, and most of all, filthy. But this was Tatooine. That was to be expected.

The shadow cast on the sand by Gren reached all the way to the smoldering remains of Sidra's cigarette in the sand and grew smaller as he approached. Eventually the shadow disappeared as the toe of his boot rested before the dead cigarette butt. Smoke still rose from it and the embers still glowed red. Maybe if there was something in danger of burning on this arid shithole, someone would be concerned about fully putting it out. But this was Tatooine, and there wasn't.

There was, however, a pretty face, hidden as it was behind the grim realities of a day's manual labor in a scrapyard. Gren's tight face nodded a wordless greeting.

"I'm in the market for the fastest ship you've got for under twenty thousand credits," He said to Sidra Ater plainly.

 

[Sidra Ater]

The winds of the desert were full of surprises. Sidra's chin tilted upwards slightly when the man came to stand before her, a tumbleweed blown into the scrap yard. He had the sort of weathered appearance that she'd come to expect from any spacer. Her amber eyes lingered for a moment or two on his patch – long enough to wonder why he didn't wear a prosthetic, but hopefully not long enough to make him uncomfortable. Still, she supposed it only enhanced his rugged, enigmatic looks.

A brow arched slightly when he made his request. No beating around the bush or doing the song and dance of the ship yard haggler. Indeed twenty thousand was certainly not a small chunk of credits. But, he wouldn't be flying out of the desert with their best ship.

“Walk me with me,” she said in lightly accented basic, while turning her back and walking in the opposite direction of the nicer ships on the lot. “We've got some light freighters that might interest you.”

That seemed to be the smuggler's favorite. And, she guessed that's what he was... but of course, she'd been wrong before. Casting him a side-long glance, she decided it was probably best to find out just what he planned to use the ship for and why it needed to be so... fast.

“What line of work are you in, mister....” Sidra left a pause for him to fill in his name if he wished. “Cargo space important or just speed?”

Gren Blidh

 

[Gren Blidh]

Gren followed on the heels of Sidra Ater as she led him through the scrapyard. They passed several promising heaps of metal along the way as the desert wind blew without a care, though all of them would require significant work. Twenty thousand credits could only go so far. His solitary eye wandered from the scraps, to Sidra's backside, and back to the scraps again, all before he increased his pace to walk side-by-side with her.

"I could give you an answer, but I reckon you'd call me a liar," Gren said, and then pulled open the maw of his trenchcoat to reveal the credit chits in one pocket, indicating that he was paying cash.

"I imagine I'm your usual clientele, what with being on the ass end of space and all," He mused, narrowing his eye and exhaling coolly as he focused on the ship ahead.

 

[Sidra Ater]

Sidra shifted slightly as the man spoke the usual spacer tale. A man with no name, and the kind of quiet business that didn't travel by word of mouth. The flash of cred chits didn't go unnoticed, and a smirk found her lips as he mentioned being out in the ass end of space. It was true. Well, she couldn't fault the guy for playing the cards close to his chest – out here, you did have to watch your own back. Or else one might find a knife stuck there mighty fast.

She offered a nod to acknowledge his words as she stopped by a VCX-100 Light Freighter.

“This ship currently has a class 2 hyperdrive,” she said. “It's not the fastest, sure – but this one is probably in the best shape.” It was, of course, still a bit of a fixer upper. “And just maybe, I might-could make it go faster.”

The woman shot him a small glance as if to say she definitely could make it go faster.

“I'm Sidra, by the way,” she added as she lowered the ramp in case her customer wanted a quick look around the ship.

Gren Blidh

 

[Gren Blidh]

Sidra Ater cut a trail through the forest of spare parts and scrap heaps, until finally the junk piles parted to reveal a complete ship. Gren stared up at the hulking mass as the Tatooine suns tag-teamed his forehead, and reached up to run his finger across the hull. Off came a layer of dust onto his fingertip, revealing the hull's original white paint job beneath. Gren turned to the woman as the hydraulics of the ramp groaned to life.

"I'm Gren," He answered her with a lowering of his chin. "Gren Blidh."

Once the ramp had lowered, Gren took a step up into the ship to examine its inner quarters. The musty, unused smell and dust and webs collecting around the walls and controls told of adventures long since forgotten. How many hands had punched in hyperspace coordinates on the main dashboard, how many pounds of illicit cargo had been stored in the hidden bays beneath their feet? The ship looked as if it had seen plenty of action in an age long past, and since then, had waited dormant, like an ancient ruin beneath the sands.

He'd heard her boast, though he hadn't responded to it yet. Sidra fashioned herself a mechanic, and a damn good one, apparently. This was noted.

Gren's eye scanned the hallways one more time before settling back on Sidra.

"I'll take it," He said. "For ten thousand credits."

A low offer.

 

[Sidra Ater]

Sidra offered a small nod to acknowledge his introduction.

And she watched him closely as he moved into the ship to have a look. It'd been sitting here for a long time and definitely showed its age. But Sidra saw the potential – she hoped Gren did, too. With her remarks apparently brushed off, her amber eyes narrowed slightly when he turned and named his price.

A smirk formed on her lips. Of course, she could easily accept such an offer on behalf of the junkyard's owner. It wasn't that shabby, but she could probably squeeze a bit more out of this deal. After all, she did owe it to the scrapper... he'd let her crash here when she'd nowhere else to go. Her pulse quickened slightly, and there was almost a familiar tingle of... the force. But as quickly as it'd come, it was gone again.

“Twelve thousand,” Sidra responded, standing a bit straighter. “And I'll fix up that hyperdrive – if you get me off this rock.”

Gren Blidh

 

[Gren Blidh]

Gren had hoped to leave the scrapyard with a ship, yet it seemed like he would be leaving with more than just that. Sidra Ater drove her point home firmly, straightening herself and locking eyes with him, but Gren caught the hint of whimsy in her voice as she delivered her message. A feeling that yearned to experience more than just this desolate ecosystem had to offer. A desire to know the galaxy, and know herself. The same flame that burned inside Gren. He could work with that.

"Five thousand," Gren countered. He let the sting of his words settle for a mere second.

"That includes the offer of taking you on as a full crewmember and a fifty-fifty split of all profits. I know of a job for a friend that'll pay twenty thousand credits. If you're as good as you say you are, you get half."

It wasn't merely a purchase; it was an investment. Of course, Sidra could be bluffing about her mechanical abilities, but fortunately for her, she had a damn cute face to work with.

Gren stuck out his hand. "Deal?"

 

[Sidra Ater]

His counter offer of only five thousand made Sidra shift her weight from one leg to the other. It was definitely low, insultingly so. However, he soon sweetened the deal with the offer of taking her on as a crew member – and a pretty healthy split on profits. A brow arched thoughtfully as she considered, but it was mainly for show, her mind was already made up.

“Deal.” Sidra stepped forward and locked hands to cement their new bond as business partners.

Her amber eyes shifted about the cabin of the ship. The scrapper was going to be upset, but at least she didn't have to worry about it... she'd be long gone before he ever found out. And this fact fueled a new plan.

“We gotta hit atmo before the owner gets back,” Sidra said, glancing over her shoulder at Gren as she made for the ramp. “Load up whatever you might need from the yard or get the ship all nice and warm for me, would ya?”

Hopping back down to the sand, she made for her bunk first to grab her single bag of possessions. She'd input the sale to keep the books tidy, and release the ship from the docking clamps to clear them for take off. And, she'd take on some useful bits and bobs to get a jump on upgrading the ship once they were safely leaving Tatooine behind.

Gren Blidh

 

[Gren Blidh]

The broken-in leather glove around Gren's hand was worn and tarnished, as if it had seen too many hydrospanners and too many bar fights. It gripped Sidra's hand warmly, and Gren let escape a faint smile. He had a feeling she would find his terms acceptable.

"Right," Was his curt reply to the sudden need for haste. It's not like he wasn't used to moving through life with someone hot on his trail.

After a quick jaunt around the scrapyard, Gren returned to the hull of the ship with whatever potentially useful spare parts he could fill his pockets with, as well as a few drinks from the indoor vending machine conveniently located inside. Those would be for later.

Making his way to the cockpit, Blidh perched himself in the pilot's chair for the first time, the leather seat groaning and coughing up a plume of dust as he sat. His gloved hand reached for the ship's controls, and he pushed the ignition, waiting for the moment of truth. The ship rumbled as the sublight engines sputtered to life, wakened after a long sleep. No doubt Sidra Ater would hear the ship coming to life from across the scrapyard.

"So this scrapper," He said to her upon her return, "Is he gonna be someone we need to worry about?"

 

[Sidra Ater]

Sidra packed her bag, thankful that she'd soon be away from the hot sand of the desert. She paused as she lifted her saber. Clipping it to her belt would be a dead giveaway. Was she ready to reveal this to her new employer? No, not yet. She tucked it safely into her bag and set the strap over her shoulder.

As she went to the scrapper's sale console, she spotted Gren's dark form heading for the ship. She entered the sale and released the docking clamps to allow them off Tatooine. Of course, they could have easily skipped off without paying a single credit – but this meant it was a legal sale. They couldn't be faulted for traveling in a stolen ship.

A brisk walk took her back out into the yard, where she gathered parts she'd need – or thought she may eventually need – and deposited them into the cargo hold. With the ship already alive at Gren's control, she made her way to the cockpit to join him. She had a seat in the co-pilot's chair, and glanced sidelong at him as he spoke.

“Doubt it,” she said with a shrug. The scrapper was lazy, and he was cheap, too. If sending men after them cost money, he wasn't likely to pursue it. “But there's always someone to worry about, isn't there?” Sidra smirked. “So, where are we headed?”

Gren Blidh

 

[Gren Blidh]

Upon Sidra's dismissal of her scrapper boss, Gren turned his face away. His eye couldn't be seen, the patched side facing Sidra Ater . His hand, however, moved from his trenchcoat to rest loosely on the armrest of the captain's chair, as if visibly relaxing away from the weapon holstered at his belt.

If there was going to be a problem, Gren would like to deal with it now rather than later. But he would take his new partner's word for the matter, and dismissed it entirely as the sublight engines began to roar to life. He allowed a visible smirk at her next statement. There was nothing more true, and Gren certainly had enough enemies to worry about on his own; he didn't need another person's thrown in the mix.

But hell, she was cute.

"We're going to Ord Mantell," Gren answered her question. "I've got a scrapper contact there, he's got a few aftermarket parts he wants brought to the local Black Sun syndicate. We deliver the parts, we get paid, simple enough."

Once the sublight engines were primed, Gren lifted up on the ship's control stick and the spacecraft took to the air for the first time in years, a mighty crescendo of creaking steel.

"Space diner on the way?"

 

[Sidra Ater]

As she glanced side-long at Gren, she noted the change in his posture – no longer on edge. Though, she could tell that he was the kind that didn't let his guard down. She was the same. “Ord Mantell—alright, then,” she said and then gave a nod.

Sidra listened closely as the ship rose off the sandy ground of Tatooine. There were creaks and rattles, little things that could be honed. She guessed there would be a fair amount of work to be done, but nothing that threatened to blow up immediately or send them crashing back down. Gren's voice brought drew her back, and she turned slightly in her seat.

“Sure,” Sidra said, noting just then how hungry she was. The galley was probably a mess and any food left behind in the cabinets was likely... ancient. “I've got some instant meals and ration bars.” It wasn't fancy, it wasn't even what she would call good... but it was something. “Unless you've got something better.” A slight smile appeared on her lips as she dug the meal packs out of her bag, which she'd drop into a crew cabin on the way. And thinking of crew...

“So,” she started as they went. “You've plans to expand this crew?” Sidra canted her head to the side. It wasn't that she was opposed to working with others, but she'd been on her own for a long while now and had become a bit set in her ways. When it came to people, she felt they just complicated things.

Gren Blidh