Lyra Ventor
Character
Lyra had received stranger repair requests.
Not many, admittedly, but enough that a message from a pilot droid asking someone to come inspect its ship hadn't immediately set off any alarms. The transmission had been frustratingly sparse on useful information. No detailed diagnostic report, no convenient list of malfunctioning systems, and certainly nothing explaining why the droid apparently wanted someone to come aboard rather than simply transmitting the relevant data. There had been a location on Commenor, a request for mechanical assistance, and just enough information about the vessel itself to make Lyra curious.
Curiosity had always been one of her weaknesses.
Fortunately, she hadn't needed to travel far. Commenor was home, and Lyra knew the local ports, repair yards, and landing fields well enough that reaching the coordinates had been easy. She arrived dressed more for work than introductions, wearing an old shirt beneath a utility jacket, durable trousers, boots, and a tool belt that had accumulated enough scratches and grease stains to qualify as an archaeological record of her career. A compact diagnostic kit rested against one hip as she crossed the landing area toward the ship that had apparently decided it needed her attention.
The moment she got a proper look at the vessel, Lyra slowed.
"Oh..."
That was interesting.
Her attention traveled along the unusual contours of the corvette, mechanic and pilot immediately competing for control of her thoughts. She had seen thousands of ships, worked on more than she could count, and spent enough of her childhood around freighters to recognize broad families of design philosophies even when she didn't know a particular model. This one demanded a second look. There was something almost organic about its shape, enough that she found herself circling partway around it before remembering that somebody had actually called her here for a reason.
"You couldn't have mentioned you were attached to something this interesting?" she called toward the ship, apparently addressing the droid that had contacted her whether it could presently hear her or not.
Lyra adjusted the diagnostic kit against her hip and approached more carefully, resisting the powerful temptation to start examining the hull before she had permission. Whatever was wrong with it, she wasn't about to start pulling panels from somebody else's ship simply because she wanted to know what was underneath them.
"Hello?" she called once she was close enough to reasonably expect an answer. "I'm Lyra Ventor. Your pilot contacted me about taking a look at the ship."
She waited a moment, listening for movement from within before adding with an amused little smile, "It neglected to tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at, though, so I'm hoping somebody aboard has the rest of that conversation."
One hand settled casually against her tool belt as she looked toward the entrance. She had left home expecting a troublesome engine, an unreliable hyperdrive, or perhaps a navigation system with an attitude problem. Instead, standing beneath the strange vessel on the familiar soil of Commenor, Lyra found herself increasingly curious about both the ship and whoever had arrived aboard it.
For now, though, she remained outside and waited to be invited in.
Starlin Dinn
Not many, admittedly, but enough that a message from a pilot droid asking someone to come inspect its ship hadn't immediately set off any alarms. The transmission had been frustratingly sparse on useful information. No detailed diagnostic report, no convenient list of malfunctioning systems, and certainly nothing explaining why the droid apparently wanted someone to come aboard rather than simply transmitting the relevant data. There had been a location on Commenor, a request for mechanical assistance, and just enough information about the vessel itself to make Lyra curious.
Curiosity had always been one of her weaknesses.
Fortunately, she hadn't needed to travel far. Commenor was home, and Lyra knew the local ports, repair yards, and landing fields well enough that reaching the coordinates had been easy. She arrived dressed more for work than introductions, wearing an old shirt beneath a utility jacket, durable trousers, boots, and a tool belt that had accumulated enough scratches and grease stains to qualify as an archaeological record of her career. A compact diagnostic kit rested against one hip as she crossed the landing area toward the ship that had apparently decided it needed her attention.
The moment she got a proper look at the vessel, Lyra slowed.
"Oh..."
That was interesting.
Her attention traveled along the unusual contours of the corvette, mechanic and pilot immediately competing for control of her thoughts. She had seen thousands of ships, worked on more than she could count, and spent enough of her childhood around freighters to recognize broad families of design philosophies even when she didn't know a particular model. This one demanded a second look. There was something almost organic about its shape, enough that she found herself circling partway around it before remembering that somebody had actually called her here for a reason.
"You couldn't have mentioned you were attached to something this interesting?" she called toward the ship, apparently addressing the droid that had contacted her whether it could presently hear her or not.
Lyra adjusted the diagnostic kit against her hip and approached more carefully, resisting the powerful temptation to start examining the hull before she had permission. Whatever was wrong with it, she wasn't about to start pulling panels from somebody else's ship simply because she wanted to know what was underneath them.
"Hello?" she called once she was close enough to reasonably expect an answer. "I'm Lyra Ventor. Your pilot contacted me about taking a look at the ship."
She waited a moment, listening for movement from within before adding with an amused little smile, "It neglected to tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at, though, so I'm hoping somebody aboard has the rest of that conversation."
One hand settled casually against her tool belt as she looked toward the entrance. She had left home expecting a troublesome engine, an unreliable hyperdrive, or perhaps a navigation system with an attitude problem. Instead, standing beneath the strange vessel on the familiar soil of Commenor, Lyra found herself increasingly curious about both the ship and whoever had arrived aboard it.
For now, though, she remained outside and waited to be invited in.
Starlin Dinn
