Traveling alone was a nuisance, and a sensation that Kai had never grown accustomed to. Even on the bridge of the ship there had always been at least one other individual working alongside him. For the most part, that had been his master, Glo’ra, but she’d been gone…too long to bother counting the days any longer. With every attempt to reflect on how he’d left her behind, it was a sad reminder of one of his worst failures in his mind. Of course, the Jen’saarai were only too happy to agree with that assumption. A price existed on his head, and it had brought shame to the order that only barely danced out of the path of extinction. One he didn’t even know the reasoning behind, though the apprentice never stayed long enough in any one place to find out.
Wandering the lone, dark corridors of the ship he sighed as the blue trim lights along the floor guided his way, passing the droid bay that helped to keep the ship operational. It hadn’t been designed to be operated by less than a handful of individuals, and here the guy was piloting it solo. That left the little kriffs to work overtime, performing the tasks that he couldn’t or didn’t have the time to do. For some, such as tuning the sensor dish or calibrating the power regulator? They worked wonders. Other compartments that actually required a person…not so much. He didn’t dare trust them with the flight controls, let alone in one of the four cockpit seats. They’d been fortunate enough to have only come under attack once, while traveling the void, his mind dreading back to the memory of the unfortunate droid that had been acting as a gunner for one of the rear hardpoints along the nacelles. A pile of scrap components was all that remained of the bugger, and a sad prompting of the state the ship was in.
Even the ram scoop had been acting up as of late, and while he was a proficient engineer…Kai couldn’t work miracles. Not with a non-existent budget, and absence of spare parts. Or with a lack of a crew. About the only thing the ship could reliably do, outside of giving him shelter, was a working lounge for food. The workshop, perhaps, for housing what remained of his side projects — ones that had long since fallen by the wayside due to the other maintenance that had been required of him. He was supposed to be exploring the galaxy, and finding clues to further his journey, and here the bloke was welding a new plating into piece not half an hour prior.
Cargo bays that had once been plentiful with supplies were now barren, offering little to no trading capacity, and jobs? Don’t get him started. The only option that remained was bounties, or transport. Neither of which he was in a state to accept or apply for. A price on your head, and a ship that was falling apart didn’t exactly boast well for a resume. It was a pity too, given the outside appearance both he and the Defender’s Errant reflected. Beautiful, and masterfully crafted, until you got glimpse of the innards. An utter mess, that was nigh unfathomable how it was holding together.
Looking to the fuel gauge he sighed as it flashed an perilous red, running on fumes. He should have filled up at the last space port, despite the exorbitant prices. Had the ram scoop been working, that would have alleviated his problems as well, but worrying about either was too late at this point. Fingers dancing across the display, the man pulled up the star charts to the nearest stop. Echoy’la. Mandalorian Space. Growling at the notion of having to resort to such measures, he plotted the course, praying that some benign force out there was looking out for him. Those regions were the last place he should have ventured, but given the fact that he had next to no supplies or fuel…the Jen’saarai didn’t have much of a choice in arguing the matter.
As the ship exited hyperspace and plummeted through the clouds, the frame began to oscillate violently as it entered the atmosphere. A gas giant. Wonderful. He’d never piloted in one, nor had the ship been brought into one under the condition it was currently in. Lurching to the side as the vessel rocked, an alarm blared to the side indicating that the port and starboard nacelles had given out, leaving him running at only half engine capacity. “Just blooming wonderful!” he exclaimed, scrambling from the floor of which he’d been tossed upon back into the seat. “Damn thing is a death trap, I’ll be lucky to get this wreck to the landing pad.”
Tower control had been furious at the sudden request for docking clearance, accompanied only by an issue that he’d be met at the gate. Words he didn’t want to hear. Rocketing downwards, the visual of a station became visible through the dense fog that clouded the windows. As he neared, the radio went silent, drowned out by the guttural sigh of the landing gears and exterior stairwell descending. Touchdown. Well…at least he was somewhere. In one piece. For now. There was no telling how long that would last, and with a fair wave of confidence, he was sure that the ship wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
______________
@Isley Verd
Wandering the lone, dark corridors of the ship he sighed as the blue trim lights along the floor guided his way, passing the droid bay that helped to keep the ship operational. It hadn’t been designed to be operated by less than a handful of individuals, and here the guy was piloting it solo. That left the little kriffs to work overtime, performing the tasks that he couldn’t or didn’t have the time to do. For some, such as tuning the sensor dish or calibrating the power regulator? They worked wonders. Other compartments that actually required a person…not so much. He didn’t dare trust them with the flight controls, let alone in one of the four cockpit seats. They’d been fortunate enough to have only come under attack once, while traveling the void, his mind dreading back to the memory of the unfortunate droid that had been acting as a gunner for one of the rear hardpoints along the nacelles. A pile of scrap components was all that remained of the bugger, and a sad prompting of the state the ship was in.
Even the ram scoop had been acting up as of late, and while he was a proficient engineer…Kai couldn’t work miracles. Not with a non-existent budget, and absence of spare parts. Or with a lack of a crew. About the only thing the ship could reliably do, outside of giving him shelter, was a working lounge for food. The workshop, perhaps, for housing what remained of his side projects — ones that had long since fallen by the wayside due to the other maintenance that had been required of him. He was supposed to be exploring the galaxy, and finding clues to further his journey, and here the bloke was welding a new plating into piece not half an hour prior.
Cargo bays that had once been plentiful with supplies were now barren, offering little to no trading capacity, and jobs? Don’t get him started. The only option that remained was bounties, or transport. Neither of which he was in a state to accept or apply for. A price on your head, and a ship that was falling apart didn’t exactly boast well for a resume. It was a pity too, given the outside appearance both he and the Defender’s Errant reflected. Beautiful, and masterfully crafted, until you got glimpse of the innards. An utter mess, that was nigh unfathomable how it was holding together.
Looking to the fuel gauge he sighed as it flashed an perilous red, running on fumes. He should have filled up at the last space port, despite the exorbitant prices. Had the ram scoop been working, that would have alleviated his problems as well, but worrying about either was too late at this point. Fingers dancing across the display, the man pulled up the star charts to the nearest stop. Echoy’la. Mandalorian Space. Growling at the notion of having to resort to such measures, he plotted the course, praying that some benign force out there was looking out for him. Those regions were the last place he should have ventured, but given the fact that he had next to no supplies or fuel…the Jen’saarai didn’t have much of a choice in arguing the matter.
As the ship exited hyperspace and plummeted through the clouds, the frame began to oscillate violently as it entered the atmosphere. A gas giant. Wonderful. He’d never piloted in one, nor had the ship been brought into one under the condition it was currently in. Lurching to the side as the vessel rocked, an alarm blared to the side indicating that the port and starboard nacelles had given out, leaving him running at only half engine capacity. “Just blooming wonderful!” he exclaimed, scrambling from the floor of which he’d been tossed upon back into the seat. “Damn thing is a death trap, I’ll be lucky to get this wreck to the landing pad.”
Tower control had been furious at the sudden request for docking clearance, accompanied only by an issue that he’d be met at the gate. Words he didn’t want to hear. Rocketing downwards, the visual of a station became visible through the dense fog that clouded the windows. As he neared, the radio went silent, drowned out by the guttural sigh of the landing gears and exterior stairwell descending. Touchdown. Well…at least he was somewhere. In one piece. For now. There was no telling how long that would last, and with a fair wave of confidence, he was sure that the ship wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
______________
@Isley Verd