Ana Rix
Character
The narrow storefront sat wedged between a parts recycler and a shuttered café, its sign half-lit in soft blue and white: Axiom Systems & Repairs. The lettering was old but meticulously maintained, the kind of place that didn't advertise loudly because it didn't need to. On Echelon, reputation traveled faster than holos.
Inside, the shop was a controlled blend of order and lived-in chaos.
One wall was lined with transparent cabinets filled with precision tools, micro-soldering rigs, calibrators, and modular cybernetic components arranged by size and function. Another held racks of datapads and portable terminals, each tagged and labeled in neat, consistent handwriting. Workbenches ran along the back and side walls, layered with half-disassembled droids, exposed prosthetic limbs, neural interface ports, and open casing plates revealing delicate lattices of wiring and light.
Soft white task lighting hung over each station, adjustable and carefully positioned. Between them, warmer ambient lamps cast a muted glow, keeping the space from feeling sterile. The air carried the faint scent of coolant, warm circuitry, and recycled ozone, clean but unmistakably technological.
A low hum threaded through everything, the sound of processors running diagnostics, charging cradles cycling power, and a small wall-mounted server rack quietly doing its work.
Behind the main counter, Ana was seated on a high-backed stool, one leg hooked casually around the rung as she worked.
She wore a fitted charcoal-gray tunic beneath a light slate-colored jacket with a high collar and reinforced seams, the sleeves rolled neatly to her forearms. The fabric was practical yet well-kept, designed for long periods of movement without sacrificing its shape. Dark straight-cut trousers and well-worn low boots completed the look, grounded and functional enough to let her disappear into almost any crowd when she needed to.
A pair of thin magnification lenses rested over her eyes, linked to a small holo-display hovering near her left temple. Her dark hair was pulled back into a low, efficient tie, keeping it clear of circuitry and tools.
On the counter in front of her lay an open cybernetic forearm, its casing removed to reveal a lattice of fiber-optic channels and micro-actuators. She worked with steady precision, guiding a calibration probe along the interface ports while a diagnostic readout floated beside her.
Numbers. Signals. Response curves.
Everything had to be perfect.
She adjusted one connection, paused, checked the readout, then made a tiny correction with the tip of her stylus. Satisfied, she exhaled quietly and began sealing the housing.
That was when the door slid open.
A soft chime sounded, subtle but clear, announcing a new arrival.
Ana's eyes lifted instinctively from her work, magnification lenses dimming as her focus shifted toward the entrance, her posture straightening just slightly as she registered the presence at the threshold.
Kaylee Xendos
Inside, the shop was a controlled blend of order and lived-in chaos.
One wall was lined with transparent cabinets filled with precision tools, micro-soldering rigs, calibrators, and modular cybernetic components arranged by size and function. Another held racks of datapads and portable terminals, each tagged and labeled in neat, consistent handwriting. Workbenches ran along the back and side walls, layered with half-disassembled droids, exposed prosthetic limbs, neural interface ports, and open casing plates revealing delicate lattices of wiring and light.
Soft white task lighting hung over each station, adjustable and carefully positioned. Between them, warmer ambient lamps cast a muted glow, keeping the space from feeling sterile. The air carried the faint scent of coolant, warm circuitry, and recycled ozone, clean but unmistakably technological.
A low hum threaded through everything, the sound of processors running diagnostics, charging cradles cycling power, and a small wall-mounted server rack quietly doing its work.
Behind the main counter, Ana was seated on a high-backed stool, one leg hooked casually around the rung as she worked.
She wore a fitted charcoal-gray tunic beneath a light slate-colored jacket with a high collar and reinforced seams, the sleeves rolled neatly to her forearms. The fabric was practical yet well-kept, designed for long periods of movement without sacrificing its shape. Dark straight-cut trousers and well-worn low boots completed the look, grounded and functional enough to let her disappear into almost any crowd when she needed to.
A pair of thin magnification lenses rested over her eyes, linked to a small holo-display hovering near her left temple. Her dark hair was pulled back into a low, efficient tie, keeping it clear of circuitry and tools.
On the counter in front of her lay an open cybernetic forearm, its casing removed to reveal a lattice of fiber-optic channels and micro-actuators. She worked with steady precision, guiding a calibration probe along the interface ports while a diagnostic readout floated beside her.
Numbers. Signals. Response curves.
Everything had to be perfect.
She adjusted one connection, paused, checked the readout, then made a tiny correction with the tip of her stylus. Satisfied, she exhaled quietly and began sealing the housing.
That was when the door slid open.
A soft chime sounded, subtle but clear, announcing a new arrival.
Ana's eyes lifted instinctively from her work, magnification lenses dimming as her focus shifted toward the entrance, her posture straightening just slightly as she registered the presence at the threshold.
Kaylee Xendos