In Need of Repairs

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Crack. Whrrrrrr. Crack.

"Ah!"

Cotan jumped back, throwing the safety goggles he was wearing off his face. Next to him, his astromech started chirping rhythmically.

Almost like it was...

Laughing.

The now-scorched Judge turned back to glare at his droid. "I'm sorry, did you not just see the plasma jet this thing shot out at me?" he growled, pointing agitatedly at the access panel he'd just been working in. "Bloody engine's completely farkled, if we just have to rely on the two of us to fix it!" He threw down his hydrospanner, standing up, and turning his glare to the damaged engine. His droid, meanwhile, let out a long, disappointed dwoooooo.

"Yeah, I know it sucks, but there's no way for you to keep on top of the ion accelerator channels fast enough to keep the line I'm on clear, when you have to keep resetting the switch or jump between panels like you are. Besides, it has a bad motivator too." Which would explain the cracking and whirring he'd heard just before getting blasted with plasma.

It was definitely at least a three person job. Maybe even four.

Cotan sighed, wiping at his brow with one hand.

"I'm pulling us out of hyperspace, figuring out where we are, and making a jump to the nearest planet. A short hit from the ion drive should give us enough momentum to coast to a spaceport, and from there the repulsorlifts can take over and I can find somebody who can help with this. Preferably a better mechanic than myself."

​

​

Before long, Cotan's long-suffering freighter managed to coast to a landing in a spaceport on Sluis Van. It was—by far—the worst looking ship in the lot, covered as it was with carbon scoring, scratches, a few dents from micrometeorite impacts, and the like. By far the worst looking spot, however, was back where it had taken a hit from a light turbolaser near the engines.

Thankfully, the Mandalorian steel armouring of the ship kept it from getting blasted clean through, but there were still a few busted parts in the engine that needed fixed.

And as Cotan walked out and started looking around, he hoped he'd manage to find a fixer fairly quickly. "Lock the boarding ramp and activate the security system," he told his droid as the ramp started to retract. "Don't let anybody steal the ship, Kiss, I don't have any others!"

With the hiss of the pneumatic system releasing pressure after closing the ramp, he didn't hear his droid's sarcastic whistle in response.

"Alright, time to hit the cantina. That's the best place to find out-of-work mechanics."

[member="Silas Rin"]

 

[Silas Rin]

Silas had been stranded in this dusty, remote spaceport for three days. His last job had not ended well. They had completed the run, but the captain had bailed before paying. He had also taken off with all of Silas' stuff.

He did some odd jobs for the cantina owner yesterday and the man had agreed to put him up for a couple of days for his continued help.

Today Silas had worked on the old man's speeder which had not been well kept for years. By the time he had finished he was a dirty, greasy mess.

He stretched, stiff from being under the hood all day. He let the motor run for a moment before nodding in approval. It likely hadn't run that smooth since it had been bought. He turned the engine off and wiped his hands on a dirty rag before heading inside.

He had been working all day and was starving, hopefully to old cantina owner would give him some food. He would need to find work as soon as possible. He wasn't about to get stuck in this dump of a town. There just weren't that many ships that came through these parts.

The bartender slid him a drink before saying they would bring food out in a bit. Silas smiled and leaned back in his chair, stretching again.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

One of the good things about the Outer Rim, compared to the Core, was that Cotan didn't look out of place.

Given the line of work he was involved in—and just how many people there were in the galaxy who disliked those who followed his ideals—it was very nice to be able to blend in; even during his days as a full Jedi of the New Jedi Order, he still stood out. Traditional garb tended to do that. On the rim, though, everybody dressed utilitarian. Functional.

Especially on a world like Sluis Van.

The once-prominent manufacturing planet had fallen on hard times; while the shipyards in orbit were still fairly active, there were few who were willing to actually come planetside anymore, which meant that everybody kicking up the dust down below didn't really get to see the fruits of the shipyards' labor. With the recent fall of the First Order, that went double...

Though at least the native Sluissi were able to move around with more freedom, rather than being treated like second-class citizens.

Strolling into a cantina near the spaceport, Cotan nodded over at the bartender—coincidentally enough, he was one of the snake-like natives. A quick glance over the list of drinks on tap quickly influenced what he was willing to order. "Ne'tra gal," he replied when the bartender asked him what he wanted. Strangely enough, the Mandalorian drink was one of the few that he'd never had issues with ordering across the galaxy.

Must be something about how widespread they are. Good Corellian ale only comes from Corellia, good Tarisian ale only comes from Taris, and everything else is just a bad copy. Mandalorians, though...

He quickly scanned over the occupants of the cantina, before settling on somebody who looked, part and parcel, like a stereotypical starship or repulsorlift mechanic. He slid into a seat next to the man, not even bothering to ask if he minded. "Just get done rebuilding a skiff?" he asked, semi-jokingly, gesturing at the man's clothes. "Don't think I've ever seen anyone get that messy on anything smaller, unless it was an antique."

[member="Silas Rin"]

 

[Silas Rin]

Silas didn't realize how tired he was until he started eating. After only a few bites, he slowed, sinking down into his chair somewhat. He should be looking for work right now, a way to get off this planet but maybe that could wait until tomorrow. He had a passing thought that was probably how most people ended up stuck in places like this. They said they would definitely get out tomorrow, and the next day, next thing they realized they had spent their life on some backwater world.

He eyed the man as he sat down next to him. It was still early, the cantina relatively empty, even for a place as sleepy as this. "Something like that." he said with a chuckle, taking another drink from his glass. "Helping repair the old busted speeder out back while I am between work." he said which caught the attention of the owner who mumbled some curses about it being a fine speeder. "The last time that speeder was "fine" was about 100 years before I was born." he joked back with the owner before he passed by.

He looked down at his clothes as the newcomer looked down at them. "You aren't doing it right if you don't end up filthy." he said, shrugging.

"Names Silas." he said introducing himself, extending a hand. He assumed the man wanted to talk, since he had chosen the seat directly next to him out of the multiple other choices throughout the cantina. "I have been around for a couple of days, haven't seen you before. You just passing through?" he asked, making conversation. There was also the hope he had a ship and could use a hand, but Silas had spent the last couple of years negotiating these kind of jobs, best not to seem eager.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

"Cotan," came the Judge's reply, shaking the outstretched hand. Sounded like the speeder really was an antique. Those things always guzzled more lubricant—and attracted more dust, dirt, and grime—than modern vehicles. But, if Silas could work on an old busted speeder and get it running again, he might be able to help fix a ship. Morever, as Cotan noted, he had said he was "between work."

Perfect.

Cotan learned back in seat, shrugging. "More or less, though not by choice." His black ale got to him then; he took a gulp of the beverage, setting it down on the table. "If you're good with repulsorlift engines, how do you think you'd do on something a bit bigger?"

[member="Silas Rin"]

 

[Silas Rin]

"Yeah.." he said with a chuckle "We will call it an Antique." he finished taking another drink from his glass. He rolling his shoulders, stretching as the man leaned back in his chair. He really was sore, the accommodations he had been staying in here at the cantina had an old busted sink for a shower which was not cutting it given the hard labor he was doing every day.

"Oh yeah?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. It made sense. He wasn't sure why anyone would come out this far for a nothing town. The only reason his previous crew had was to bring supplies in. It was a boring job, but sometimes those were the jobs that put food on the table.

"I can work on just about anything." he said honestly. "I assume you having ship troubles? That would explain why you decided to make a stop here. Whats wrong with it?" he asked as he spooned more food in his mouth. Silas had spent the last several years moving ship to ship which had given him a pretty good foundation on ship repair.

@Cotan Sar'andor

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

"Having ship troubles barely begins to cover it."

Something that Cotan didn't much like to admit. He figured he was probably the only Judge in the entire Outer Rim who didn't know how to do extensive repairs on their own ship. "Binary motivator is acting up. Normally I'd just have my droid fix that, but my main engine's been busted with some fire from pirates." He took a quick gulp, rendering his cup dangerously close to empty. "Problem for me is, those Mandalorian engines are such a coiled mess of particle accelerators leading to the ion output that, between just me and the droid, we're not able to get to the lines that need fixed before it activates the one we're on and spews out plasma."

With one hand, he gestured at some of the burns on his shirt for emphasis.

A lot of emphasis.

"I'd just shut it down completely to do the work, but some of the modifications it had don't play too well with the deactivation sequence yet, because I haven't been able to reprogram the internal engine shields to stay on longer than they would for a normal, cooler-running piece. It's all been a bit problematic." He shrugged, somewhat helplessly. "So if you're able to help, it'd be appreciated. The droid and I would keep the lines free while you fix the busted ones, and then we could head out of here." Another gulp, and the ale was fully drained away.

"Can't really pay you much, but if you can do it, I can give you a ride off this planet, and get you out to people who are always looking for mechanics in ORC space. Might find some steady work that way. What do you say?"

[member="Silas Rin"]