Please Don't Break Anything

[Ein Harper]

Whoever told these idiots they knew how deal with an overheating engine deserved a good hit over the head with a hydrospanner.

The three Nautolans were scurrying around their dropship like angry ants, barking curses and hurling objects at one another across the landing pad. They weren't exactly suited to Mustafar's climate - an aquatic race didn't tend to thrive on a world of lava and smoke. It seemed the uncomfortable conditions were only inflaming their tempers as they struggled to shut down their ship's engines. The small T-16 wasn't much to look at, and it certainly wasn't designed for Mustafar. Probably didn't even have a heat shield either.

A loud pop shut the trio up. The back of the T-16 lit up like a Lifeday tree. Flames spurt across the landing pad, and bits of metal scrap were sent flying in every direction. One of the Nautolans screamed. The other two made a break for the facility that the pad happened to be attached two. Their friend soon followed.

The facility itself was a massive mining structure built into the side of an obsidian cliff face. Lots of people came in and out with their shipments - about two dozen actually lived there; Ein being one of them.

The pilot was watching the chaotic display with an amused little grin. He sat on the loading ramp of his own ship - a big flying square with four aft engines strapped to the back, and three burst engines stuck into the bottom. He couldn't afford real repulsors like the rich offworlders - burst engines were far less reliable, and a hell of a lot more dangerous. Repulsors weren't prone to exploding when they were overclocked, burst engines were a different story. Still, in the hands of a skilled pilot, they were a far cheaper solution to repulsors.

The cockpit of the ship jutted out at the front, and within was a simple drop bay just big enough to house the survival suits, a heavy duty winch, and the suit's emergency life support systems. The cockpit had two messy leather seats, torn in a thousand places, and permanently infused with the scent of a burning blueberry cigar. Courtesy of Ein's father. the exterior of the ship was anything but smooth. The durasteel was chipped along the entire length of the ships, charred in spots where lava had broken through the shields and spurt over the exterior, and blackened from the planet's smoke.

In short, the ship was an ugly, dingy little thing, but it did the job.

Ein leaned back on the ramp, and examined his datapad for the umpteenth time.

"Overseers to take stock from offworld investors, eh? Lovely..."

[member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

A loud, metal clang sounds within the hanger.

A figure, clad in a fairly worn survival suit, stood alongside a group of other miners in similarly clothed outfits. They were gesturing angrily towards a tall Mustafarian, inputting random data in a datapad. They didn’t seem particularly phased as the angered miner struck their fist against the rampart.

“My pay was –nothing-,” shouted the figure, voice distorted through a speaker. They still had a heavy helmet on, soot and grime covering their suit from the recent day out on the river. “I work harder than any of these other fething soot eaters!”

The Mustafarian responds by simply waving the miner off, murmuring a response in the native tongue. As they raise an angered fist in response, the miners unloading from the ship seem to stand in front of the Mustafarian seemingly in charge, drills at hand. Clearly outnumbered, the figure flicks up their glove, middle finger saluting the group, and struts off towards the opposite point of the hanger where they’d heard an abrupt BANG go off.

[member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

Ein didn't really see himself as the arrogant time, but when he saw stupid, he saw stupid. The pilot snickered to himself at the display within the hangers - the Mustafarians were throwing some other poor sod under the speeder bus. Not his problem, of course. Still, it was always interesting to watch what passed for fair work here on Mustafar. If you didn't know how to play the natives, they tended to play you.

"Don't come here-don't come here-don't come he-..."

The figure was coming right down his way, and it was highly unlikely he, she - it was interested in helping the fleeing Nautolans. The idiots had brought it on themselves flying a T-16 on the lava world anyway. Sure, as a pilot living the same struggle as them Ein felt a tinge of sympathy, but they'd chosen to come here. Likely for the osik promise of riches from Mustafar's untouched ore veins. the ones that didn't actually exist.

The jealousy that struck Ein was sickening. Jealousy and disgust. He'd been born here. Mustafar was all he knew, and it was certainly not meant for humans. He grew up here, but he was always treated like an offworlder, a stranger. Why in Corellia's Nine Hells anyone would ever come here out of their own free will was beyond him. Was the rest of the galaxy that messy?

The clomp of boots on durasteel drew Ein from his thoughts. He glanced up from his datapad, and pursed his lips as he sought words. Whoever that person was, he or she was marching right toward him. With that kind of attitude, Ein wasn't sure he wanted to deal with this person. He pushed up to his feet, dusted off his thin leather jacket, and folded his arms over his chest.

"Having fun with the overlords?" He teased in greeting, offering a smooth smile that had gotten him out of more than one hairy situation. "They screw you out of dinner?"

He lofted a brow, and leaned back against the scarred hull of his ship. The old beast creaked audibly under his weight. Definitely secure, yep.

[member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

Who the hell did this guy think he was? Hot sleemo?

The miner hoists up their drill, resting the blunt edge of it on their shoulder. It was evident from how heavy it weighed, the figure hunched over for a moment to accustom them self to its stature before righting themselves again. They rest their gaze on the hulking, sad story for a ship that creaked under the measly weight of its pilot. This was the shrouded gaze of someone who was judging. Judging hard.

“Screwed out of dinner for a week,” sounds the distorted voice, speaker fizzing from the old machinery struggling to keep working.

“The large companies don’t pay anything anymore, not sense the Overlords started recruiting bots and other miners offworld.”

[member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

Well, this one wasn't wrong.

Ein just shrugged, pushing off the side of the vessel as she spoke. The Overseers weren't exactly generous - droids were cheap. They didn't complain. They didn't unionize. They just did whatever the hell you told them. In most cases, that set them leagues ahead of any organic salvager, but Ein wasn't the normal sort. He wasn't one to go down to the safe, exhausted veins - no, he went for the big haul. Deep into places droids could never reach on their own. That was what kept him relevant, and made sure his credit account was nice and fat to help him survive the next month.

"That's why you cant to the regular jobs. You're not going to get anything worth anything as a regular employee. Gotta be a contractor, and you've gotta have your own ship." He thumped a fist into the side of the shuttle. It rumbled in reply. He grinned.

"Ein Harper. Care to take off the helmet miss-sir...sentient?" He lofted a brow, and offered a hand. Sharp brown eyes stared into the viewport of the suit, searching. Then they were shifting just over the figure's shoulder toward the Mustafarians.

They were watching him now, long slender fingers steeped as they strolled about the hanger, pretending to go about their usual duties. He didn't report to the mining board. He wasn't under their jurisdiction anymore. So long as he paid for docking and salvaged in free territory, his business was safe.

"Bit hard to hear with the crackling." He motioned toward his ear for emphasis, and returned his gaze to the stranger.

[member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

The miner shifts where they stand, hand flexing over the hilt of the drill. Idly, they wondered how this man got their hands on their own ship, not to mention the credits to pay for a docking space. It wasn’t easy to survive here, especially now with jobs being the way they were and a low survival rate. Heck, even if you didn’t risk yourself by diving into the flames, the average lifespan of a human on Mustafar was rather bleak.

After a few moments of awkward silence, they clip off the helmet with their free hand and tuck it under their arm. A tan, freckled face was framed with firey hot red hair, reminiscent of Mustafar’s red rivers. Azure eyes rest on Ein, soot and grime coating her entire body. She holds out her hand.

“Lora. Lora Rhodes.”

Lora narrows her gaze, clearly unamused by the previous events, and perhaps even Ein’s lighthearted chatter.

“If I could afford my own ship, and perhaps a few employees, I would. Can’t even get a new suit with what they’re paying me these days.”

[member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

"Charmed." He replied, and he might have meant it.

A human, and a women. That wasn't normal down here. Most humans shipped offworld around adulthood, and women rarely ever worked in the mining industry. Things were fairly standard here - men did the burning, women did whatever else needed doing. That wasn't to say they were incapable, gender didn't mean anything to Ein so long as the person was capable.

Still, he found himself staring for a moment. It was the eyes that drew him in. Blue like deep oceans he'd only ever seen on the holonet. He lost himself in them, and only managed to dredge himself out when he realized how absolutely ridiculous he looked staring.

If there were any gods, then he prayed to them that she hadn't noticed.

"I managed to scrap this together. She's rusty, but she runs." He took the hand, and have it a firm shake. "Looking for a contractor job?"

He lofted a brow.

"I don't really do dives. I'm better at flying - problem is I need someone to actually go into the river. I'll split the finds, of course."

[member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

Lora gives his hand a firm squeeze, and then releases. She stares past Ein’s face, a rather concerned gaze running over his rig. He wanted her to dive from that thing? Was this man nuts? She leans back on her heels, arm squeezing the helmet at her side as she looked back towards the pilot. He looked pretty young to be piloting and contracting his own work. It put off a small alarm in the back of her head, that perhaps this was all a setup. She’d heard tales of fake jobs like this, folks getting needy and desperate miners boarding just so they could get stripped of their parts and credits, only to be thrown into the hot depths of Mustafar’s lakes.

She clicks her tongue and taps her thumb against the side of the hefty-looking drill resting on her shoulder.

“I can tell you don’t do dives. You’re too clean,” she muses, cracking a grin.

Lora leans down, resting her helmet and drill in front of her only to slip a small, ancient-looking holopad from her jacket. She holds it out for Ein to look at.

“I won't go through the chit the Overlords put me through again. I get this much a payday, plus sixty percent of finds. I need something to sustain me even on dead dives.”

[member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

Women are she-devils that only want you to get them pregnant and your credits.

That was what Ein's dear old mommy taught him on his thirteenth birthday. The opposite gender was out purely to take care of his boyish heart. The lesson had stuck, and that lovely piece of knowledge had kept
the pilot from going out with women. Ever. So when Lora started her despicable woman act -honestly she was acting like a normal hums being - Ein was onto her. She wanted his credits!

"I have to pay to keep the equipment running. Suits, ship, life support." He waved a hand toward the ship. "Fifty-fifty is already cutting credit account pretty deep. I'm bleeding out, you don't hafta' drive the blade any deeper."

He set his hands on his hips, and gave Lora a hard stare. Nothing to try and deter the woman or try and intimidate her, he just wasn't backing down. Running a ship was terribly expensive, especially a rust bucket like this. He couldn't afford to ease up on the credits.

"As for the dirt...I like to be presentable for the Mustafarians. They like it." He shrugged, though he couldn't help the small slip of a smile from appearing. "Makes it easier to deal with them. They think I'm an offworlder, worth more money than I actually am."


[member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

Pay to keep his equipment up, huh?

Lora lifts a brow, gaze traveling past Ein to towards his ship. She swore if she so much as sneezed on it, it’d fall apart. Clearly, this was where all that money was going to. Why didn’t he just buy another ship at this point?

“I’m the best diver you'll find here, especially with how things are now,” Lora muses, waving the sorry excuse for a holopad at him. “You won’t find anyone better. Heck, I’m twenty times better than these sorry offworlders they have digging up down there.”

She takes a step towards him, metal boots heavy against the hangar floor. Lora taps the edge of the holopad against Ein’s chest, narrowing her gaze as she approached.

“I have my own suit anyways. How about this. Sixty-forty, depending what we bring back this first dive. If I do well, we keep it, if not, you can cut me down to forty.”

Lora smirks, the glow from her holopad igniting her fierce glare. No pilot was good without someone down below, and while this contractor could have picked anyone, clearly he was waiting for the right catch. She simply hoped she wasn’t risking her life jumping out of a chum bucket.

[member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

Well someone liked to gloat. Of course, that might have been founded in fact. This woman might very well be the best diver this side of the outer rim. He couldn't just dismiss her on word alone, and he didn't really want to. Finding someone to complement his work was tedious, and if she wanted to work with him, who was he to tell her no?

That, and those eyes...Ein was a sucker for blue eyes. They were a commodity on Mustafar. Most everyone looked the same, fair skin, brown eyes, black hair. Lora was an outlier. That made her something of interest. Not that he cared. Women were dangerous. He just needed to get her to do the job and..not..look.

"Fine, fine." He groaned, holding his arms up in mock surrender. He stare down at the datapad being jabbed into his chest - an antique if there ever was one. She couldn't judge him when she was dragging something like that around.

"Twenty times though...that's pretty broad miss. I'd be a fool to say no." He teased, tapping the datapad with his index finger. She was getting a bit close - too close for his personal l. Of course, he wasn't going to say that. He offered a half-smile, and turned about, stepping aboard the old rig.

"You want a tour before we head out?"

[member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

Lora blinks in disbelief at Ein. Today? She looks down at her charred outfit from her previous jump just a few hours ago, sweat still lining the inside.

“Yeah. Suurreee,” she murmurs, pocketing the datapad. The miner hoists up her drill and helm, holding them at her sides as she heads inside the ship. Her body ached, but it was likely she’d lose her position if she didn’t accept the offer. Besides, it was an ample opportunity to show this ‘Ein’ what she could do.

[member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

"Not asking you to dive. Just gonna show you how we fly." He thumped his fist against the side of the shuttle. For once, it didn't creak. Score. Ein walked aboard the ship, and stood alongside the entrance, beckoning Lora inside with a wave of the hand.

The entrance of the ship was nothing special. It looked better than the outside - plasteel rather than rusted durasteel. A single sink, refrigerator, and refresher were crushed into a corner of the small ship. The refresher had a small door to allow for some level of privacy, though there wouldn't be much in a ship like this.

In the other corner of the ship was a single bed, and a holovision that could have fit in the fresher on its own. A single chair was pulled up to a small square table - what served as Ein's eating area. He couldn't afford an apartment and a ship at once, and this was easier anyway. He wasn't scurrying between locations.

In the very back were the suits, right next to the sublight engine. The life support lines were wrapped around a small railing just above them. In the front was the cockpit, a two seated closet with a viewport. It was a wonder how Ein ever piloted this ship without external sensors - not that he would let Lora in on that little tidbit of information.

"Welcome to my home, office, social area, and bachelor pad. Caf is on the right."

[member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[xAcheron]

Aranov was never one to socialize with people he didn't know. Even when it came to Mandalorians he was wary of who he shared words with. Today was definitely not a day when the man was feeling talkative. Not only had he been stuck on this hellhole of a planet for three months, he was going to be here even longer. As a mercenary he always envisioned his tasks as a bit more exciting than blasting lava fleas and watching Cortosis get sucked out of the magma.

He could hear Ein walking into the ship, he had that girl with her. The man had told Aranov about the third member to their little 'team' but he never cared to ask who it was. He sat in the sorry excuse for a weapon's locker that his current employer had so graciously graced him with. "Haar'chak! Ori'Shya yamika rua huttla ta'ay!" 'Damn it! I've had more space in a Hutt jail cell!'

The Mandoa sighed before pulling his hood back away from his cybernetic eye a bit. As the eye scanned over an old set of plasma grenades he narrowed his one good eye. "Looks like these things may be defective....Figures."

[member="Ein Harper"] [member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

Lora whistles as she steps inside the ship, allowing her gaze to run along the inside. At least it looks a bit better than the outside, though she questioned if the ship would hold together once they left the base. She sets her helm and drill on the questionable table and starts to pace around. Lora taps at the wall, gloved fingertips running along until she took a seat in one of the seats at the cockpit.

“You live here as well? Jeeze, if this is your home –and- your ship, would it kill ya to get a few new parts?”

Lora lifts a firey brow his direction and then peers out the window. Her angry glare rested across the hanger, where she could see her old employer’s ship readying to take off again, likely for the second dive of the day. Dicks.

[member="Aranov Alore"] [member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

"Telling me you're not impressed? My ship's a dream." Ein shot back, thumping a hand against the inner corridor. A resounding thud echoed throughout the small shuttle. He offered Lora a small that was all too real, and cast his gaze over her shoulder.

Arabov was busying himself with his usual military junk. Ein could appreciate a good blaster, but anything beyond that was out of his depth. Ordnance wasn't a term in his vocabulary. That was why the Mandalorian was here, after all, to deal with issues that required violence.

He sidled on up next to Lora, perhaps a bit too close for the redhead's comfort given their surroundings, and motioned toward the Mando.

"That's Aranov, or the Hawk as he and a portion of the mining station fancy him. He's a Mandalorian - here to keep all the big bads from chewing our hides." He explained, though his gaze never left Miss Rhodes. How did someone who looked like that end up on Mustafar?

"If you need something to explode, he's your guy. Speaking of which..." He turned toward what passed for their armory, and stamped his foot. "Hawkman. Say hello to Miss Lora Rhodes, our new diver."


[member="Lora Rhodes"] [member="Aranov Alore"]

 

[xAcheron]

After setting down the small crate of explosives Aranov walked over to the others and immediately looked to Ein. "Hawkman? I'd rather you not boss." The Mandalorian's dreads swung over his eyes before he turned his gaze to the diver. "Hey." After turning back to the explosives the Mandalorian looked back to Ein. "If you want your ship to stay in one piece I recommend no one touches my ordinance. Especially these detonators, they seem to be defective."
The man set the crate of grenades on the top shelf before pulling his sniper rifle from the corner of the locker. He sighed before looking the weapon over. It was an old DC-15x model that the Mandalorian got in a deal from a junk trader in the outer rim. While it was slightly outdated it did it's job well and was able to sync to his own cybernetic eye. It was his accuracy with the weapon that caused a great amount of the locals to brand him with the title of 'The Hawk.'

After setting the weapon to the side he simply continued to take inventory of his less than grand arsenal that he was able to stow on the ship.

[member="Ein Harper"] [member="Lora Rhodes"]

 

[Lora Rhodes]

"Hey," Lora echoes, though she had a rather judgmental look on her face as she watched the Mando sort through his devices. She'd never needed some form of protection in the past, so seeing someone as geared as this was quite..new.

She scrunches her nose, freckles gathering on her face as she moved her gaze to Ein, azure eyes pinning him in place. Just who the heck was this guy? Did all of his money go into this junker and hiring the Mandolorian? If so, either the Mandolorian was really expensive, or this Ein made shit for credits.

"As for impressed, that isn't quite the word I'd pick. If you live here, why don't you, I don't know, spruce it up a bit? May as well splurge on a decent junker if you have to sleep on it."

Lora's words were pretty judgmental for someone he'd just met, but clearly, she didn't care. If she was going to jumping from this thing, she wanted to make sure it wasn't going to fall down after her. Just basic precautions...really. She clears her throat as Ein leaned rather close and swivels the chair the opposite direction, practically knocking him back with the edge of the seat.

"Anyways. Nice to meet you, uh.. Ein and uh. Hawk person."

[member="Ein Harper"] [member="Aranov Alore"]

 

[xAcheron]

Aranov turned to leave the ship, his sniper rifle was in hand but he left the rest of his weapons where they were. While pulling his hood up above his head he noticed that many of the diving ships were leaving and it caused him to sigh. "Maybe that means we will do something soon." After looking over the ship he could not help but sigh a bit. "This thing is a complete bucket...."

The Mandalorian crossed his arms before looking back to the facility that he had just finished working at. Aranov had not enjoyed his employment there but it seemed like no matter what he was going to be stuck on this backwater hellhole. He never imagined that chasing a bounty to Mustafar would end in him being forced to work there for going on a year now.
[member="Lora Rhodes"] [member="Ein Harper"]

 

[Ein Harper]

"Welcome to the crew." Ein offered dismissively. He was quite aware of the sorry state his ship was in - he loved it anyway. The thing did its job, and despite its shoddy appearance, it hadn't failed him yet. That wasn't to say that it would not in the future, but for now, it did its job. Still, he didn't care enough to try and deflect any insults toward the vessel. Everything they were saying was pretty much accurate.

He leaned back against the bulkhead, and clapped his hands together. They might not like it, but the trio were a crew now one way or the other. Until someone died anyway. No point in disliking each other.

"Hawk, we're going to make a dive soon. Ready your kit." He added, offering the duo a confident smile. "Lora, best to rest for a bit. We'll dive in...oh, three hours? That's how long it'll take me to fly us to the spot."


[member="Aranov Alore"] [member="Lora Rhodes"]