Kicking off the Dust

[Rory Naasade]

"Is that the ship?"

"Can't kick the dust offa your feet any faster, huh girl?"

Rory grinned. A slash of white in a dark face.

"No such thing as too soon on this one, Derk."

The Charon recruiter laughed, settling the land speeder down on the landing tarmac next to a corvette. Hiking the smallish rucksack over one shoulder, Rory vaulted out of the speeder, one hand on the side. She landed a bit heavier than she'd planned- the cybernetics bracing her knee whining in protest but holding just fine.

"Gonna leave you here," Derk said over the side as Rory's gaze slid over the ship. "The crew knows yer comin', so no one is gonna open fire when ya walk in."

"What's the ship called?" Rory asked over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off of it.

"Depends on what they're running with on the transponder. But when a job doesn't call for a fake name, this one here is The Rookery. Got everything you need? Bag seems pretty small."

She half turned, throwing him something that was the sloppy child of a wave and a salute.

"Don't got much to bring," she said with a shrug, smile not fading. "Thanks Derk. You won't regret it."

He nodded once. "Don't suspect I will. You did me a solid, and you've got the skills to make it worth Charon's while. Consider it mutually beneficial and we're even."

One last wave and Rory settled the rucksack a little more evenly on her shoulders as she headed up the ramp and onto The Rookery.

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

By the time [member="Rory Naasade"] walked up the hull and stepped inside of the ship she would enter the impromptu cargo hold of the corvette.

There was already someone inside.

Large, bulky, arms like gnarled tree trunks (with as many scars, burns and even a handful of tattoos) and a chest like a barrel Varlo Shysa was less a person and more a simple presence of life. Like a mountain or to use the same tree metaphors, an oak that slowly moved about. Right now Varlo was hauling crates from the entrance and settling them against the other side of the bay to make some more room.

They'd have to move in some more hardware in the next day.

Once Varlo turned around he noticed Rory standing at the entrance. A slow blink. "Um." Squinting a bit, but before she could inform him- "Ah, right, the newbie. Naasade, yeah?"

Nobody.

"Mind lending me a hand? See those crates next to ya?" Half the size of the ones that he was lugging around, but still sizeable for a normal person. "If ya can carry them over to this side, that would be helpful." Every sentence was spoke careful, cautious, slow. As if Shysa was afraid that if he talked too fast the words would escape his grasp and start making rumbles around him.

Strictly speaking she didn't need to-

But it would cut down on his time and Varlo was all about cutting down on his own workload.

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Yup, that's me," she answered brightly. Amused, as always.

A borrowed last name. Nobody. It suited her just fine. His accent was unfamiliar (not local) but he pronounced it correctly. Either Mandalorian or familiar with. Her gaze coasted over, sizing him up out of habit. Exactly the kind of person one didn't look to run into in a dark alley or on the way home after a night of drinking. It was subconscious threat assessment- Rory couldn't turn it off even if she wanted to.

Some things just were.

"You got a name or should I just call you 'Muscles'?" She asked with a grin, turning her eyes toward the crate he indicated.

Oh yeah, no, that wasn't happening. Not without help anyway.

A second person? Nah. Rory's particular flavor of help.

The young women found a corner for her pack and settled it down out of the way. Shrugging off her jacket, her own arms were significantly less beefy and impressive. But she was wearing some sort of metallic weaved armature- nothing particularly impressive with the hodgepodge of different metals- obviously put together from repurposed scrap. Tightening something at her wrist with one hand and using her thumb, something whined to life- not just support, the electronic nature of it clear now.

Flexing her elbow a couple of times, she eased her grip around the crate in question. Not easy, especially for someone as short as she was, but the cybernetic support made it absolutely possible. She hoisted it, eyes peering up and over the edge, voice muffled.

"Anywhere in particular? Don't want to get in your way."

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

His walk was slow, purposeful and putting attention at every step taken.

The shift of weight almost noticeable.

Towards her, but specifically towards the larger crates that were still resting and waiting to be hauled up and away. "Oh." He paused there in his stride and took a moment to consider that. Either talking, pondering or walking, Varlo didn't enjoy doing them all at once. That was the easiest way to make a mistake or let something slip that wasn't necessary to be floating around.

The seconds dragged on.

As if something as a name should be considered with weight. "Shysa. Varlo Shysa." A shrug followed soon that made the tank top stretch. One could almost hear the sound of a pitiful whine as the fabric was pushed towards an angle that wasn't meant for it.

"Either Varlo, Shysa is fine- the others call me Ironside." Then the walk continued towards the other end. He didn't brush past her, instead taking his time to arc around her and not shrink the distance between them too much. Once you are used to a size like that you learn how to handle yourself. One of the main things was caution, the other was consideration.

He went through his knees, his back steady and strong, fingers curling under the edge of the crate and lifted it up in one smooth movement.

There Varlo paused and glanced over towards the woman- her cybernetics and then the question. "Got a few smaller one stacked over in the corner, anywhere around those is fine." He hesitated for a moment. "You prefer a name?"

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Ironside. Dig. Muscles is good too though. Me? Just Rory is fine."

She took the crate where directed and added it to the top of the stack. The next one would start a new stack because there was no way she was going to manage to get another on top of that one. Varlo might be a mountain and able to stack stuff all the way to the ceiling (it felt like only a slight exaggeration) but Rory was short.

"What do you do on the crew?"

Apparently working in silence, even while moving heavy objects, wasn't in the cards.

The new stack got created and she headed for another one. She'd noticed the level of berth he'd given her, so when she was passing she afforded him the same courtesy.

"I'm a mechanic, but," her face screwed up over the top edge of the next crate. "You probably already knew that. Who else is part of the crew? Anything I should know?"

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

"Then Rory it is."

Varlo agreed calmly after placing down another crate on the others and taking another moment to consider. She'd soon find out that this was simply a thing with the large man, while others speeded through life, trying to chase something? Varlo took his time. Part of it was the nature of his species. The haste exhibited by most sentients aligned closely with their short lifespan.

They simply didn't have that long compared to a Morellian.

At hundred-twenty they would just reach a middle age.

"You make stuff. I break stuff." Short, succinct and to the point that summary was. Exactly the way Varlo liked to project himself. "Carry things around too. Grab things from high places."

There were two options there- either he was joking (there seemed to be an edge of humor there) or Varlo was literally this... literal. It could be either way or it could even somewhat be both. "We got someone with explosives, close quarters, heavy support-" That last part was punctuated with a thumb towards his own chest. "Engineer." A nod towards her.

"Last one got killed a week ago."

He had started walking towards the other crates, but stopped there as Ironside considered that last bit.

"His own fault. You will do better." Then he continued the stride.

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Oh we'll get along great then, cause I specialize in making stuff to break stuff," came the cheerful reply.

Rory tended toward the friendly, gregarious side. At least on the surface. In her lifetime she'd learned early on how much trouble someone could avoid by being friendly and likeable. It wasn't a conscious thing, it wasn't fake, and it wasn't a deception. But it didn't penetrate to her core. It was just one layer of who and what she was, and one that she honestly didn't really think about over much.

"And while it's shocking, I know," she said with a grunt as she placed another crate. "But I am surprisingly bad at reaching the stuff on the high shelf. Never could figure out why. It's the darnedest thing."

She obviously was joking, no mistakes there. Rory was short and she knew it.

Standing up, she wiped a bit of sweat off of her forehead. Yeah, she wasn't used to heavy lifting either, even with the help of the cybernetic exo arm.

The last part made the smile fade from her face.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, tone serious for the first time since she walked on board. Of course the follow up left her unsure of exactly how to respond to that.

"Oh, well, thanks?"

I guess?

"I survived this long. Not gonna let someone else take me out now," she added, her tone lilting up again into amusement at the end.

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

"You might be my favorite person on this ship then."

Well, he didn't actually know the others all that well yet. They had only run a handful of missions together and most of them were pretty basic stuff. Snatch and grab, hits, demolition, the works. The first actual real job had gotten their engineer killed, so Varlo figured that didn't exactly look great on their track record. Some people assumed that Varlo was surly, grumpy, angry all the time.

Mostly because his expression was almost always as impassive as the carving of a stone.

Always slow, considering, never enthusiastic or hyped, but the truth was different. Varlo was just cautious and playing up to his own strengths. Just as Rory was using her bubbly texture for hers.

"You do the pointing, I will do the reaching, Rory." Over to the next large crate and grabbing hold of it. Moving right when she was giving her condolences. There was silence there as it was set down against the wall. No sweat, he wasn't even winded, but Varlo did lean against the crate for a bit. Left leg given some freedom to relax for a bit longer.

"Like I said- got himself killed, almost us. Besides-" Brows wrinkled a bit, almost as in bemusement. "Kept stealing my yogurt."

He stretched a bit here, letting the bones creak slowly, muscles winding.

"Thanks," When Rory put down the last one. It definitely became faster this way and that was what counted. "I can show you to your room?" Or she could wander through the ship on her own and finally stumble on it after directions from the droid. Either way Varlo wasn't all that fussed, but seeing as he was heading to his anyway, might as well, no?

 

[Rory Naasade]

Putting down the last crate on her end, Rory sighed and swung her arms about. With a few taps, the sounds of soft mechanical whining died down from her arm, and she stretched it over her head.

"Opph, gonna have to finish building the other one, that was hard. Glad there aren't more."

She hadn't complained once through it, and wasn't complaining now.

Too hot and sweaty to want to put her jacket back on, she slung it over her shoulder while reaching down to snag the rucksack from the corner again before bouncing over.

"That'd be great, thanks. Do you put your name on your yogurt or what? Just so I know. Is it shared cooler space I guess or what?"

Falling in beside him, she had to take two fast steps for every one of his, but she kept up just fine.

"How does it work for everyone? Fend for yourself? Rotate who cooks?"

Rory had never done anything like this before and she had a million questions.

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

"I will ask you to help more often. Help enough- they will call you Muscles in no time."

They started walking- he kept his steps shorter for her, but that still meant about two of hers filled one of his. That was as good as he could make it without threatening to tip over and fall on his face though. Corridor in and out, corners cut, if the ship had looked large from the outside the winding corridors only increased the space. Every now and again an absent gesture showed her some important place.

"Lifts. Recreation. Kitchen- right, common kitchen, shared fridge. We cook for ourselves for the most part." They didn't really know each other enough to entrust one another with their food.

Mostly.

Stepped into another corridor. "Those stairs lead to the hangar and armory-" It wasn't huge, but large enough for a truck, starfighters, the works. They weren't conquering a planet with it, but comfortable enough to have options for any sort of mission. "Lifts also reach there." They continued the walk for a brief moment before Ironside paused in the next corridor.

"Your room." Finger pointed there, "My room." Next door over. "They put us near the place of our specialty." For Varlo it were the weapons, for Rory it would be tinkering with all kinds of stuff, he supposed.

"Need anything?"

 

[Rory Naasade]

Rory looked around with interest, occasionally turning all the way around in a spin to catch every angle before hurrying forward a couple of steps to catch up again.

"I dunno that sounds like a lot of lifting crates, probably more than we've got on the ship to manage that," she quipped.

The whole time, her attention was mostly on looking around, noting a variety of things- more than just what he was pointing out. Where corridors folded back in on themselves, wider spaces where they met, dead ends, how big the air vents were, did it look like she could pry the floor panels up? How about the wall panels? OOhhh there and there, yes.

"It's cool, no one wants to eat my cooking anyway," she said, eyes sweeping again. Talking to Varlo but not looking at him when she did. Too busy absorbing it all.

"Oh that's convenient," she murmured, resettling her rucksack on her shoulder before palming the door to 'her' room that he'd indicated.

Stepping in but not closing the door behind her, she looked around. Small. Cramped. Spartan.

But it was hers.

"It's perfect," she said with enthusiasm that couldn't be faked or masked. She dropped the jacket and bag on the small desk that was bolted to the wall and proceeded to execute a flop onto the bunk.

She had a bed.

"What? No, no I don't think so," she said, sitting up. Giving it an experimental bounce. Not like she had anything to compare it to. Rory beamed up at him.

"Thanks for showing me around and being so nice!"

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

"Oh, believe me, always more crates in this gig."

It was one of the things that actually attracted Varlo to the job in the first place. Not the... crate carrying, but what was inside the crates. New gear, equipment, always something interesting and fascinating to try out. Things that went boom or otherwise had some cool effect. Even with his years, that sort of thing was new for Varlo, considering most of his early years had been spend in the Outer Rim.

Most interesting thing you find there was a new kind of water purifier.

Which was okay, but didn't have that bang to it.

He was leaning against the doorpost -- a bit hunch over, because it would have knocked his forehead against the post otherwise -- but didn't join further into the room. It wasn't his place to.

She hadn't invited him in, after all.

"I got you to carry around my crates and walked with you up until my room, Rory." A pause. "You're welcome." His stony expression didn't quite break, but there was a hint of humor in those hazel eyes. Just a flicker before it was retreated back behind the wall. "Besides. You were respectful about my yogurt and are going to give me toys to break things with."

That was something, no?

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Never mess with a man's yogurt," Rory responded solemnly. "That's just a rule across the galaxy."

The smile spread again a moment later however.

Rory had never had a room of her own before. A space that was hers. It didn't even occur to her to invite him in because she didn't really even hit the consideration of that as a right she had now. She just figured that's where he was standing because he wanted to.

"All the toys," she confirmed, smile broadening. "Whole reason I got brought on. Well that and to take care of the ship, but honestly I'm pretty sure it's mostly the toys. Going to be making them for Charon- I think Derk said next supply pick up was going to include all of the materials and tools I told him I'd need."

She bounced again, animated, hands gesturing as she spoke.

"Better versions of the exoskeletons on my arm and leg, to start," she said excitedly. Not made out of scrap metal, scrounged and mismatched. "Strengthen and increase endurance by taking the strain off of the muscles. I'll make the prototypes here, test them out, then send them along for production at HQ. Assuming it works right, but if I can make these work right I'm not too worried."

What she meant was if she could build these out of literal trash (something Derk had been very impressed by when he'd asked about it), imagine what she could do

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

In truth Varlo was proud of his strength.

One of the things that he had worked hard on over the years to make it his and only his. It would be interesting to add an exoskeleton to the mix, but part of him didn't want to. Even though he could recognise the advantages to it. Part of him felt like it would be a... betrayal? No, not the right word. In truth Varlo didn't know right now.

Just something to ponder in the privacy of his room, he reckoned.

Maybe after picking at it for a while he would get a handle on the feels. "Sounds exciting." For a brief moment there was silence as she bounced excitedly.

Kinda amusing.

"Well, let me know when you want a tour of the hangars, I will be in my room."

A nod and he'd move to head on over to his quarters. There was a large water bottle with his name on it, because you had to stay hydrated. In the meantime he mulled about Rory too. She was... not exactly the way he had expected.

Odd bird that one.

But sweet in her own way.

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Will do!" Rory said with a little wave. She didn't stop him, instead leaning back against her bunk, hands threaded behind her head as she turned her attention to the ceiling.

That didn't last long of course. There was too much energy and excitement. The opportunity to work for Charon had fallen, almost literally, into her lap. She knew she didn't actually fit in here. Probably didn't belong at all. But that didn't change anything for the young woman. At the same time she was aware of that, there was a solid determination to make it work. The opportunity was too good to pass up without fighting for it.

She'd be the absolute best she could, make them like her- like she always did.

Again, it wasn't a lie or fake. But it was very much a defense mechanism built over years.

Rory got up after only a couple of minutes. The door was still open as she opened up her rucksack. One change of clothes, her tools (Derk has said they'd supply better but Rory wasn't about to leave any of her meager belongings behind), a few odds and ends. That was it. She didn't unpack- it didn't occur to her to. She was used to living out of the pack, that was just the way of things.

Instead she poked around a bit, sat and tinkered with the settings on the leg brace. Until.....

A knock sounded at his door.

"Uh, can you point me to the 'fresher?" She asked, rubbing at her hair in some consternation. "I didn't notice it when we were coming through."

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

Head leaned back as water washed down the pills.

Leaning heavy against the table, eyes closed, grumbling softly as the pain seemed to fade- wasn't true, that was just the anticipation and adrenaline in the moment. It would be pushed away soon and it would take time before they really worked themselves in. Still, it was better than nothing as Varlo rose once more and slowly rotated his left shoulder. He could feel the bone inside the socket circle, clicking every so often and he could almost imagine it scrapping against the bone.

He'd have to figure that out.

Just not now.

"What?" Varlo blinked. Two seconds later the door slid open and Ironside came out again. Just pants now, he had been in the middle of things- "Um, right, yeah. Come on then." The scars and burns on his arms only continued on the rest of his skin. Now visible without the shirt, they went on for a while.

Hard life, way too many for someone his age. (or the age he seemed anyway)

Corridor down his hand pressed against a touch pad and the door slid open next to it. "Ours- the others got their own in their corridor. Cleaning twice a week, you can take one day, I will do the other."

It made his hands itch when things weren't clean. So twice a week was the minimum, but sadly Varlo wasn't really able to figure out more than that. Not when they had missions to run and other scheduling issues every single week or so.

 

[Rory Naasade]

Oh, she noticed the scars and burns. Impossible not to when his chest was basically face height for her. Eyes coasted over them for a second, then up- she wasn't trying to stare but she also didn't pretend she didn't see.

"Great, thanks," she said with relief.

"Sounds fair," she said when he mentioned the split cleaning. It was. There was just one problem.

Rory had literally never cleaned a bathroom before.

How hard could it be though?

This time she closed the door behind her, but almost immediately started talking through it again. Apparently she was one of those people.

"Whenever you'd done doing.... whatever you were doing maybe you could show me the hangar? I know I could probably just find it myself but you offered so I'm gonna take you up on it. I want to see what I've got to work with until the supplies Derk said he'd send end up here. Maybe I can do some tinkering before that, ya know?"

Fortunately, other than her voice which was pitched to go through the door, most of the other sounds were muffled.

Flush.

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

He had not been expecting her to talk to him.

Once the door slid shut he had already turned his back to walk away, instead the muffled voice started to sound almost immediately afterwards. Varlo had grown up on Rishi, spend a lot of years cruising through the Outer Rim as a pirate, scavenger, mercenary, bounty hunter- you didn't really have a lot of privacy out there. Bathrooms usually shared between dozens of people at the same time and stuff.

It was partially where his clinical cleanness need had come from.

Gross stuff.

"Sure. I was gonna head down there for some target practice anyway." A beat as the muffled noises of.... her business started to resonate through. Varlo thought about that for a moment.

"Let me know when you are ready."

It didn't bother him- but he still had shet to do anyway and the migraine behind his brow was still going through in force. So the return to his own room came right after that where he rummaged around a bit. More meds, definitely. By the time that Rory knocked on his door again he stepped on out once more. Still no shirt though, it was hot in the hangar room.

Mostly because it was located close-by the engines.

"Ready then?"

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Kay," came the response through the door.

It was noticeable how clean this place was, Rory noted to herself as she washed up. When you lived on the streets you didn't really have the luxury of worrying about stuff like that. You did the best you could with what you had.

But now what she had was better, right? So she'd do the best she could here too.

Hmm. He'd said once a week but should she clean it after she used it? She had no idea.

Better to err on the side of caution she decided.

In the end, it took longer than Varlo would have expected for her to end up at his door again, smelling vaguely of disinfectant when she did. She'd tried to wash the smell off of her hands but without much success.

"Yup!" She answered with a nod, falling into step beside him. "So what kind of target practice? There a range set up down there?"

[member="Varlo Shysa"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Rory Naasade"]

The smell was noticeable mostly because it was one he was familiar with.

He gave her an odd look.

"Um." They continued to walk while Varlo tried to see how to approach this. "You do not need to clean after every use, Rory." Well, technically that would make things extra, extra clean. It had popped into his mind a number of times, but he had always dismissed it as a tick too obsessive. It was one thing to make it a good habit that fed into his desire.

Another thing to turn that into an obsession, no?

"Unless you thought it wasn't clean enough- then.... good initiative."

Always a possibility, of course. Perhaps Rory was even more focused on being clean and clinical. That would certainly make things easier if they had to live next to one another for a long period of time.

They walked down the set of stairs Varlo had pointed out earlier.

"Yup- target boards that can move around, enclosed portion next to the armory for easy access. Good for training."

It rotated down and down in a spiral, until a set of doors slid open before them. The hangars were large and spacious. They ran down the line of the entire corvette and allowed a lot of room for storage, parking and the sort. A handful of starfighters to one side, vehicles to the next (from speeders to trucks and even a VTOL, it was all rather state of the art).

But the one thing Rory might notice above all?

The heat.

"Ventilation is on, but proximity to the engines? Heats it up all the same."