Private How We Fix Things

[Corin Vale]

The last thing Corin wanted was to be responsible for someone else. The idea of someone relying on him and him alone was enough that the practiced frown and furrow in his brow was a little less forced than usual. There were things about the job that were acceptable, though. Namely, it was something relatively simple. A light freighter from CEC’s G9 Rigger-class dropped out of hyperspace and the crew jettisoned, citing irreparable damage to the ship and declaring it a total loss.

That just meant a payday for Corin and his partner for this job. Sure, the ship was old. Very, very old. Not a single original part left on it, more sealant and dreams holding it together than bolts and plating. But there were still parts, so Corin could fix it. At least help it hobble back to a shipyard where they could either retrofit or scrap as they needed.

But they called for a repair so it was going to get repaired.

Corin sat in the co-pilot seat of his partner Lyra Ventor’s freighter, sipping on a mug of caf as he scrolled through a datapad reporting all of the issues the ship had.

As he read, Corin couldn’t help but let out an appreciative whistle.

“Damn,” he clicked his tongue as he scanned the tablet and listed off the issues reported in a quiet almost to himself voice, “gravity’s being temperamental, main reactor is runnin’ hot…life support’s failing on the second deck...and the stabilizer on the s-foil is cracked? Stars above it’s no wonder they abandoned ship.”

Setting down the datapad, Corin raised his eyes and looked through the cockpit screen, staring out into nothingness and sipped on his mug of caf.

“Old ships like that need to be museum pieces. You can only replace somethin’ so much until it starts to lose its spirit,” he said, then cast his eyes around the cockpit of the ship they were in, observing much of the same repair jobs of someone who defiantly refused to move on. After his short inspection, he looked over at the pilot, “Not this though,” he said quickly, tapping a console appreciatively, “this ship’s great,” he confirmed then took another slow drink of his mug.

“I ain’t gonna treat you like a beginner,” he said, setting the mug aside and wiping his mouth with the side of his hand.

“No, hey Lyra make sure you got your EVA suit on if you’re goin’ outside! Or, hey Lyra close the shielding before you activate the reactor. You’re good enough for that. Gotta be to keep this thing runnin’.” He took another look around the room.

“But you’re gonna work on what I say to work on when I say to work on it, mm? And…yes, please don’t forget to put on your EVA suit.”

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra listened while Corin went through the damage report, one boot propped lazily against the lower console while her hands worked through pre-flight diagnostics with practiced ease. Around them, the cockpit hummed softly beneath her touch, its old systems responding with the familiar stubbornness she had long ago learned to work with rather than against. At his whistle and growing disbelief toward the abandoned freighter, a faint grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"You say that like we're not flying around in a ship held together by optimism and illegal amounts of aftermarket modification."

Her fingers danced across another control cluster while she glanced sidelong at him, catching the quick correction when he praised the Starling instead. That earned him immediate points, especially from her ship.

"See? She likes you already," she said lightly, patting the console beside her almost affectionately. "You insulted the other ship first."

As Corin continued, shifting into a more serious explanation of how they were going to handle the repair operation, Lyra's expression settled into something more attentive. She could already tell exactly what type of mechanic he was: thorough, overworked, and the kind of person who trusted their own hands more than anyone else's. Honestly, she deeply respected it, probably because she was annoyingly similar herself.

When he finally finished with his EVA warning, Lyra snorted softly and leaned back into her seat.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence buried underneath the lecture," she said, warmth threading through her dry humor. "And don't worry, I know how not to decompress myself into open space."

Her eyes drifted toward the stars outside the cockpit window before settling back on the datapad resting between them.

"Though I'm not gonna lie," she admitted thoughtfully, a faint spark of genuine excitement entering her voice, "I kind of love disasters like this. Half the systems failing, structural problems, overheating reactors, and crews abandoning ship because it looks completely impossible, because that's where things actually get interesting."

Her grin returned faintly as she reached over and tapped the flashing damage report.

"Besides, if the old girl survived long enough to get abandoned instead of exploding outright, she's clearly still got some fight left in her."

Her eyes flicked toward him again afterward, curious now rather than guarded as her hand rested lightly against the console beneath her fingertips.

"So tell me honestly, Corin," she said after a small, thoughtful pause. "Are you the kind of mechanic that fixes ships because you care about the people flying them, or because you just can't stand losing the ship itself?"

Corin Vale

 

[Corin Vale]

Almost immediately, Lyra drew something from Corin he often forgot he could do.

Corin laughed.

The care Lyra showed her ship, the way she talked about it, cared for it. The way she responded to him. It reminded him of him, but younger, more lively. Proud of her work in a way most people just weren’t. She cared about her ship like it was alive, like it was part of her. Every modification she made he was sure felt like she was improving a part of her own life. It was a passion he had long since lost, something he couldn’t help but feel jealous of.

He allowed himself a rare workplace smile as he responded to her,

“I’m glad she likes me,” he said and chuckled again, “but everything has its time to go. Ain’t your ship’s time but it is this Rig’s. Just hope her owners realize that.”

He sighed and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at her as she spoke. Again the smile danced across his face as the fondness of his memories came to him. There it was again, that passion. It almost lit his own back up. He could listen to someone talk about how happy they were to fix a disaster for eternity, he decided. He also decided to ignore her question for the moment, deciding to collect his thoughts.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked back out the viewport. “On the choice between a fiery explosion and bein’ forgotten?...I’d rather this ship go out proper. Even if they knew we were coming out to get it, I hate seeing it out here. Empty, cold. But she didn’t kill her crew, they got out, so…” he stopped and took a deep breath through his nose, “Good job, girl,” he said quietly to the ship as it started to come into view.

“Alright,” he said, pointing, “I know this ship has a loading ramp in the back, I don’t think it has any other entry ports,” he turned towards Lyra, “you have anything on this’n that’ll help us get out there ‘sides EVA?” he asked then pushed himself up and off the seat, grabbing the datapad with the damage report and tucking it inside his jumpsuit,

As he turned to leave the bridge, he turned towards Lyra, “About your question? It’s a good question,” he said, then rubbed the back of his head. “If I had to choose I’d choose you over your ship. Does that answer it? Crew makes the ship, not the other way 'round.”

He sighed out and furrowed his brow in thought, “I dunno…well, no, I do know. I mean…I like fixing things. Ships. I do it cause someone else might screw up and get someone killed. This Rig’s a piece of junk and needs to be sunset but…,” he turned back to her and flashed a half smile, “When we’re done with her, her crew’ll be able to fly her again and not have to worry about dyin’ horribly for at least a year or two.”

He felt a twinge of pain in his chest and turned back away from her where his smile quickly died. Yes, they’d fix it. Yes, it’d fly again.


But what if they weren’t here next time?

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra listened quietly while Corin spoke, her attention drifting from him to the damaged freighter slowly coming into view beyond the cockpit glass. Even from a distance, she could already see the uneven power fluctuations running along the hull plating and the subtle instability in the ship's posture relative to its drift; the old Rig just looked incredibly tired, devoid of any drama or glory, and entirely exhausted. At first, she only smiled faintly at his comment about the Starling liking him, but the warmth in her expression softened further the longer he spoke. There was something strangely familiar in the way he talked about broken vessels. Not with a blind, idealistic attachment, but with the weary respect of someone who had spent too much time trying to keep dying things alive.

When he finally answered her question, doing so honestly rather than directly, it mattered much more to her. Her eyes lingered on him after he turned away again, catching the brief disappearance of his smile and the quiet heaviness underneath the words he chose carefully not to elaborate on. She knew that look. Not the exact specifics, perhaps, but certainly the shape of it. It was guilt, the distinct and heavy kind that mechanics carried when machinery failed loudly, and people got hurt quietly.

"Crew makes the ship," she repeated softly, leaning back in her chair for a moment as she considered his words, her thumb brushing absentmindedly against the worn metal of the Starling's console, polished smooth by years of use. "Yeah. I think you're right about that. Though I think ships remember people, too. Maybe not literally, but you spend enough years inside one: patching it together, fighting to keep it flying, listening to every sound it makes—and eventually it starts feeling less like machinery and more like a conversation."

As they drew closer, the damaged freighter loomed larger through the viewport, its scarred plating and failing systems becoming easier to distinguish against the backdrop of open space. Lyra exhaled softly through her nose before finally pushing herself up from the pilot's seat and reaching for her gloves near the side compartment.

"I don't think someone who worries this much about crews is capable of treating ships like scrap," she noted, offering the observation with quiet certainty rather than her usual teasing.

Then, because lingering too long on heavier emotions never sat naturally with her, she smoothly slipped back toward lighter ground while pulling on her gloves, a faint grin tugging at her mouth once more.

"As for getting out there? I've got magnetic tether rigs, maneuvering harnesses, external maintenance clamps, and one very questionable stabilization platform that definitely violates at least six safety regulations. So naturally, that last one works perfectly."

Stepping toward the rear of the cockpit, her mind already shifted entirely into work mode as the shadow of the broken ship fell across them. "C'mon," she called lightly over her shoulder. "Let's go convince this old girl she's not dead yet."

Corin Vale

 

[Corin Vale]

Eventually it stars feeling less like machinery and more like a conversation…

A small, single solitary chuckle escaped Corin’s mouth. There was no shortage of people with the passion for the job. Mekneks, Techs, Engineers, whatever. Corin was hardly the only one who was passionate about his job, but it still made him happy each and every time he met someone who cared as much as he did. He nodded softly and stepped to the side, allowing the Captain of her Ship free reign without stepping on her toes or getting in the way. He crossed his arms and watched as she maneuvered the Starling closer to the old Rigger, a quiet confidence in her skills building, but he continued to watch for any misstep.

This was still a chance to see how she worked. What, if anything, he could help improve. So far he was impressed. She knew the workings of her ship, how to handle it. Didn’t crash into the Rig which was a plus.

He cast his eyes from her to the ship beyond the glass, a small frown on his lips. The damage was visible from here. Corin looked back at Lyra after a moment, watching as her eyes danced across the hull as well. He imagined her immediately setting to work, prioritizing damage in her mind, working out the most efficient method to complete the job. Something he himself did. They seemed so similar it was almost a certainty to him that’s what she was doing before she pushed herself up from the seat.

“Well,” he answered, shrugging his shoulder weakly, “sometimes a ship is just scrap.”
He shook his head, “Not that tha’ ever stopped me…but sometimes it should, I think. I dunno.” He shrugged again, his eyes glazing over in thought before he perked up as she ran down the list of options. The tiredness in his expression eased slightly and a smirk fought its way back on his lips,

“Naturally,” he repeated and chuckled. Corin was all too familiar with dispensing with safety regulations when they become a hindrance more so than a protective measure. Part of him tensed, however. The Regulations were there for a reason after all, but for people like Corin and, he suspected, Lyra they more often than not just got in the way. Corin gestured with a hand for her to lead the way before falling into step behind her.

“Your ship, Cap’n,” he said and weakly saluted, “your call.”

He moved out of the cockpit into a nearby storage where he left his toolbox, “Speaking of EVA,” he said over his shoulder as he grabbed his protective armored sleeve, “It’ll be able to fit this over it, no?” He waved the sleeve of metal plates slightly and tilted his head.

“Not that it’s necessary. Just, you know. Safety first. Unless it’s inconvenient. Or dangerous.”

Lyra Ventor