Public [Character Introduction] Due to Unfortunate Circumstances...

[Vella Tor]

Cold. Dark. Something was pulling at Vella's left foot. She kicked at it, as one does. The resulting binary screech indicated that she was not kicking some nightmare creature, merely a droid of some sort. A droid whose demeanor had shifted from "annoyed" to "absolutely livid". She tried, as best she could, to quell its artificial rage, but the incensed mechanical being was entirely fed up with her shenanigans. Patting it on the chassis didn't help, and merely spurred it to start smacking the midgety trespasser with an outstretched cleaning implement. This continued until Vella had gathered her things and vacated her little hiding spot, leaving the droid to fuss over some patch of dirt or other.

Soon, Vella is out in the station proper. She blinks the sleep from her eyes, squinting in the light. Despite finding no shortage of repair work on Desroc Station, she considers moving on to somewhere else. She's running out of places to sleep, especially if this trend of getting chased out of every sufficiently out-of-the-way space she can find persists. To make matters worse, her dreams are getting surreal again. Yeah, time to leave.

As Vella munches on a not-yet-expired meal bar, she muses over the logistics of not getting stuck on Kessel, or having her organ meats stolen. She needs those. As she makes her rounds at the hangar, checking a busted-up old holopad for work, those with a keen eye and knowledge of spacer culture may notice something. On the woman's decrepit satchel, there are a series of symbols, some embroidered, a few rendered in... electrical tape? By displaying those symbols in that particular ordering, this somewhat pathetic creature is both claiming she can repair most systems on a typical starship, and signalling that she needs passage to somewhere else.

 

[Val Drutin]

“Ooh,” murmured Val, craning his neck as Vella Tor passed. His eye was drawn not by her looks or figure, but to the markings on her bag, the message they displayed. Will repair for passage. Why, he was just the sort of match she was looking for, with his decrepit old yacht he used to ferry travelers around. He couldn’t possibly let this one escape without trying to do some good old fashioned business first.

Without taking into account the need for proper introductions when dealing with a stranger, the madman left his perch and began following her around, cheerfully waiting for the “right opportunity” to approach her. When that opportunity would come, he did not know, just that it eventually would. Probably.

 

[Vella Tor]

The hangar, as usual, is a bustling hub of activity. As such, it takes Vella a bit to notice that she is being tailed. Not exactly a comforting thing to notice, but at least she had caught on in an area with people nearby. Much better than catching a glimpse of a pursuer while walking through some neglected maintenance hallway. Or never.

In any case, she had better see what this person's aim is. Vella finds a place to stand around and look like she isn't doing anything in particular. She turns to face him in a manner that could indicate her realization that she had passed her destination. Her destination which she definitely has planned out already and didn't just fabricate as an excuse to turn around. Yep.

If he was just some guy with business in the direction she was walking, he'd almost certainly continue on toward said business. If his business was with her, then she may as well hear it. If that business involved her insides becoming her outsides, well, that's what one carries a boot knife for.

 

[Val Drutin]

Vella Tor veered off into an empty alcove and halted there, looking straight at him. Val turned his head, meeting her gaze even as he nearly walked right past her.

“Uh, hello,” he said. It was rare that he found a human who was even shorter than him, and he was a bit thrown off by the fact that he had to look down rather than up. She was tiny and shrimpy where he was broad and muscular. Ah, did that mean she was scared of him? Well, he was in tights and a dancer’s costume, so she couldn’t be that intimidated...

“I saw your bag.” He pointed to the markings. “I have a ship. It’s old and may need some work, but it still flies.” He bounced on his heels as she failed to interrupt him, as he was used to most conversations going. “...Where do you need to go?”

 

[Vella Tor]

Ah, that explains it. He's her ticket out of here, or at least wants to seem like he is. Mentioning that she's got no particular destination in mind is a terrible idea. Mentioning a vision quest of any sort is right out. Luckily, she does have a decoy route to spout off.

Vella maintains eye contact while typing out a response. She had learned early on that people don't appreciate it all that much if you appear to be browsing some holonet site or other while they're talking to you. This holds true if they're speaking at you, as well, but that's not pertinent at the moment. Soon enough, she turns the holopad so he can see what she has written.
I hear they need technicians on Bespin. I was looking to try and join up. If you can't bring me all the way there, you can drop me off somewhere in that direction. As long as there's a reasonably busy spaceport, I'll manage.

She waits until he's read what's there before adding an addendum.
What problems would you say your ship has? If I know what's wrong, I'll be able to spend less time troubleshooting and more time actually fixing issues. Also, acquiring any needed materials will be significantly easier before we're underway.
Going directly into the technician script may help distract from her somewhat shaky travel plans. Might.

 

[Val Drutin]

A mute, huh? Well, it wasn’t much different from dealing with protocol droids translating for aliens.

“I can take you to Bespin,” he replied cheerfully. “If that is where you want to go.”

Vella Tor had “aimless drifter” written all over her, but as long as she was paying, it was none of his business.

“My ship is older than me. I inherited it from an old lady, and she never took it in for repairs or even a diagnostic. She’s had some work done recently, but the mechanic didn’t replace any parts, just refurbished them.” And discovered a mynock infestation and a rabid slice hound crawling around the wires, but he had that taken care of too. “I think he said she needed a... a turret? No, wait... that was optional. Uh... there was a mynock infestation not too long ago, and I think they might have eaten through some of the wires...”

 

[Vella Tor]

Vella had been in the process of pulling up a list of some sort, likely detailing her current inventory of wire, connectors, and misc. replacement doodads. However, the last part of Val Drutin 's first statement gave her pause. With his deduction of her transient nature, one layer of security peels away. On the other hand, if he has a ship from someone else, and can afford to deal so flippantly with it, he likely isn't the kidney-selling type. Hopefully he's not the face-wearing type, either. Vella reflects that she is improperly sized for a skin suit, at least.

Unless you have a better idea.
Sarcasm usually doesn't translate very well through text, especially text with no formatting to speak of. It may be there, it may not.
I'll admit, I'm not entirely set on any one destination. One has to stay flexible in today's job market. Too many gigs, not enough established positions that aren't literal slavery.

While she gives him time to read, she ponders exactly how she got into this position. As usual, she's never sure where, exactly, her Path is taking her. All she knows is that it's leading her away from here. As much as a shaky, ill-conceived idea stemming from a foolish childhood fantasy can lead someone, at least.

In any case, she did still have to confirm whether or not the mystery ship took universal parts. Usually, such a thing can be assumed, but her as-yet-unnamed associate did note its antiquity, and an antique ship may be prone to certain eccentricities.
Would you say the ship is over a millennium in age? If so, custom parts may have to be ordered to completely replace what is broken. At that point, you can either run it until the bottom falls out, see what you can get from a museum, or find someone who can refit it with the proper uplinks for universal parts.
Someone like her, but she'd wait to see if he jumped to that conclusion on his own. Partially because if she tried to type much more out, the lettering would have to be scrolled, at the size she had it. In the meantime, she is trying to decide how she feels about sharing a ship with this man. He doesn't seem outwardly malicious, which is better than some rides she's had. She couldn't smell him from where he was, so that was also a point in his favor. As long as she didn't have to deal with any further shipboard fauna, this may be one of her better trips. Such optimism may be her downfall, but it's not like anyone else is taking her up on the offer.

[Apologies for the later-than-usual reply, I am easily distracted and things have been a lil' hectic in meatspace.]

 

[Val Drutin]

"You're the one in need of transport," Val replied with a shrug. "I just do the piloting."

Reading further made his smile falter. Slavery was one of those galactic issues that was impossible to avoid no matter who was in charge. He knew from experience how easily a person, be they man, woman, or child, could be sold as property, and no one would know about it or care to stop it. But what Vella Tor was talking about sounded more like the typical complaint of an underpaid laborer, equating their situation with slavery. He smirked sadly, but didn't say anything.

"A millennium?" He whistled. "Try forty or fifty years old. I dunno about universal parts. I'm not very knowledgeable about this stuff."

By then, he had noticed that she seemed reluctant to go through with the whole thing, in spite of the markings on her bag proclaiming her need for transportation. Well, if she was getting cold feet, what was the reason for it?

Meeting her eyes - or trying to, since she had already gone back to typing a response - he gently probed her mind with the Force. It was unnoticeable to all but those trained to pick up on such techniques, and only gave him a scant glimpse of her most surface-level thoughts. The reluctance stemmed from uncertainty. He was a stranger to her, and while she didn't seem to consider him a possible threat, she knew appearances could be deceiving.

 

[Vella Tor]

Val Drutin had picked a somewhat (in)opportune time to peer into Vella's head, what with her being in the middle of an uncomfortable recollection. He catches a few glimpses, a betrayal, abandonment in unfortunate circumstances, and a daring escape. At least, as daring as stowing away and nearly starving for fear of discovery can be.

It sticks in her mind for a bit, but soon is... not forced down, but allowed to pass. In its wake it leaves a renewed conviction to avoid getting dropped off anywhere she could be unexisted quite so easily, and the uncomfortable fact that she is not someone who would be missed. She shifts her left foot a little, verifying her boot knife's presence and reminding herself that most beings, regardless of their standing in some power group or other, are not immortal.

In addition to that somewhat threatening but ultimately impotent tidbit, Val might note a perilous similarity. Force sensitivity, if a cursory thought scan can detect such things. A neglected glimmer of it, but a glimmer nonetheless. From the lack of any mental wards, it's very likely she's unaware of this.

Vella finishes typing out her schpiel, but as she turns the holopad to Val, the screen goes dark. She turns it back a little, to carefully reseat an exposed cable. The text returns.
Well, if you're willing to provide transport, I'm willing to fix what I can. I'm Vella, by the way.

 

[Val Drutin]

The probe turned a bit too personal for Val's liking, and he was already retreating from her mind by the time Vella Tor finished typing. He had his own reasons for avoiding sob stories - namely because it usually didn't do any good for him to get involved in someone else's tragedy.

He read the message after she fixed the cable and nodded his head. "That's why I was following you around in the first place, Vella," he replied. "I'm Val. If you need time to do anything before we leave, my ship is the Stardust, in Bay 124B."

 

[Vella Tor]

Vella gives him a thumbs-up. Possibly one of the most recognizable gestures in the galaxy, if not the second most easily recognized. The pact is sealed.

It'd probably be best for me to start checking it over as soon as possible, in case I find any issues with the engines or anything on the exterior of the ship. In-flight repairs are possible on those systems, but I would rather that not be necessary.

Val Drutin didn't seem the type, but some drifters like herself had met terrible ends at the hands of captains who resented them. She had been lucky so far. Partially due to her knowledge of the oft-repeated tales of terror, and her strict adherence to the advice therein. "Don't show them anything valuable." "Don't look desperate.", "Any spacewalks should take less time than they'll need to spin up the hyperdrive.", and others. The most important of these, of course, being "Mind your business."

 

[Val Drutin]

Val cracked a smile at the thumbs up. He had not only a passenger, but a functional mechanic.

"Let's go, then." Turning on his heel, he headed for the hangar bay, figuring she would follow him there.

~~~​

From the outside, the Stardust didn't look all that bad. The luxury yacht's sleek design, while a little dated in style, was fairly clean. Scratches and dents were minimal; it didn't appear to have been in many space battles, if it had been in any at all to begin with. There was a rather obvious blank spot left in the hull for the installation of a turret, as well as an attached starfighter which was no longer functioning, but otherwise the exterior was unremarkable.

The interior of the ship was conversely cluttered. Any and all damaged wires or exposed panels were obscured by Val's collection of scavenged junk, which took up the bulk of the vessel's storage and main hub. The parts were sorted by color, not by purpose, and there was plainly too much of it and not enough space.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the cockpit," Val said sheepishly. He had learned from past experiences with mechanics that it was best if he stayed out of the way.

Vella Tor

 

[Vella Tor]

Vella gives the ship an appraising visual sweep before heading inside, picking out the features mentioned and trying to pinpoint common external systems. Some, like the shield generators or the comm array, were often hidden or otherwise blended into the body of the ship, especially on vessels built with aesthetics in mind.

Upon entering the ship, Vella can't help but be a little surprised at the sheer volume of things Val Drutin keeps aboard. She hopes this hoard doesn't come with a dragon. Seeing Val's egress, she holds up a hand, hopefully adequately signalling him to wait while she types out a query.

I'm probably going to have to move some of this to get to certain panels. Is there some sort of system you'd rather I follow, so things don't get out of order?
Some people got touchy about their possessions, and it was far less dangerous to ask permission than forgiveness.

Whatever his answer, she responds with another thumbs-up. What a remarkably versatile gesture. With that cleared up, Vella begins checking the ship over more thoroughly, to see where she should start.
Thankfully, the vessel's exterior systems were sound, save for the defunct fighter and the absent turret. She'd fiddle with the fighter a bit if she had time before they left, but it wasn't strictly necessary. The turretless void, however, Vella will not touch, beyond checking to see what it would be compatible with.

Choosing a turret seemed like the sort of thing Val might want to choose for himself. Vella types up a list of recommendations, notably favoring araments which could easily be controlled from the cockpit. He doesn't seem like one to fly woth a companion. A passenger, sure, but not a companion. A few that are more suited to a dedicated gunner are also included, just in case.

 

[Val Drutin]

Vella Tor

Val noticed her signal, then waved his hand dismissively. "No system," he replied. "I just put it wherever and organize it later anyway."

The parts and doodads he kept aboard the ship were going toward the creation of a mural on the eastern wall. So far it was only a quarter of the way finished, and no one - not even Val himself - could tell what it was supposed to depict.

Back in the cockpit, Val set up contact with Vella remotely via his datapad. Since she couldn't talk, might as well text her from here on out. That way he could sit in the cockpit watching holovids and stay up to date on what she was doing to the ship.

Is it awful? Is it horrifying? Is it the worst you've ever seen?

His message was rhetorical, more out of insecurity than anything else. Without the immediacy of speech, his new passenger couldn't offer much in the way of startled, annoyed, or alarmed reactions to Val's antics. The madman felt slightly impotent - or perhaps irrelevant was a better word - without being able to provoke her. After all, that was more than half the fun he derived from all social interactions.

He propped his feet up on the dashboard - or tried to, since his legs weren't quite long enough - and pulled up a dance instruction video to pass the time.

 

[Vella Tor]

After fiddling with the starfighter for a bit, Vella concludes that it's a project best left for a later date. She ensures nothing is broken in a way that will become progressively worse before heading inside. Perhaps she can offer to fix it for further passage, if Bespin ends up being a less-than-friendly port.

She recieves Val Drutin 's ping while preparing to replace a damaged length of cable. Misinterpreting his message, she sends a hopefully reassuring response.
Don't worry. I don't think I can call it the worst until I find a nest of stinging insects.

Soon enough, though...
I have encountered some sort of large rodent. It has established a den near a particularly damaged section of conduit. It doesn't seem overly hostile, but it did hiss at me.
Another ping arrives shortly.
Is this a pet of yours? If not, I will attempt to lure it off the ship with the remainder of a meal bar.

 

[Val Drutin]

Vella Tor

Val was absorbed in what he was watching and didn't pay much attention to the pings until they became more frequent.

NO, I don't have any pets. It might be another Corellian slice hound pup, although they growl, not hiss. They were keeping the mynock infestation under control, but they will attack you if you bother them.

It seemed he had a whole ecosystem of predators and prey living aboard his ship. Ah well, the more the merrier.