Private Repair & Rapport

[James 'Slinger' Antilles]

James nodded.

"Like all instruments a ship needs fine tuning, regular oiling, and every so often a proper repair job. It's a whole ecosystem of parts, pipes, circuits, wires, code and fuel lines. Tear out any of a thousand pieces and she dies spinning in the air. The trick is to keep an eye on all the moving parts regular checkups, maintenance and care is crucial."

James barked a laugh at learning his wallet was safe. Probably. James was sometimes slow to trust, other times, he formed a sense of the person on first meeting. Ana was one of those people. She was a good egg, as his Mam used to say. James trusted her to get the job done.

"Good to hear."

In fact James was beginning to wonder if he should break his often broken rule, and prioritize Ana as his regular circuitry repair woman. She obviously knew what she was doing and the price was reasonable for a professional level job. It would however make him more predictable, and James hated being predictable. What if one of his enemies found out he had a regular spot he was likely to visit? They could be lying in wait, or worse capture Ana to use against him.

James frowned it was a concerning thought, he didn't want to impose on Ana's cordiality by putting her at risk. James had a lot of enemies they wouldn't stop to ask for a detailed history of association, they were more the kidnap and find out through other means types. James frowned, then again James loved his ships, she deserved the best care he could find for her. It was a conundrum.

"So do you get a lot of trouble with a shop like yours? Irate customers, shakedowns or the like?" James asked casually.

He was trying to get a sense of how well she could take care of herself.

Ana Rix

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana sealed the access panel of the ship's primary engine cluster with a soft, final click. In the cramped, hum-filled corridor of the engineering deck, the sound felt unusually intimate. She took a slow moment to wipe the grease from her hands with a well-worn cloth, her movements methodical and grounded, before leaning back against the curve of the bulkhead. Beside her, the diagnostic terminal flickered, a steady, reassuring pulse of moving data that bathed the small space in a soft, atmospheric blue.

At his question, she didn't just rattle off a reply. She let the silence of the ship breathe for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the exposed conduits overhead as she weighed her answer.

"Honestly?" she finally said, her voice carrying a trace of a quiet smile that softened the industrial surroundings. "No. Not really."

Her tone wasn't dismissive. It was the comfortable candor of a professional who felt at home amidst the thrum of a working vessel.

"People who bring me onto their ships or bring me their machines usually want their engines and items purring again. They're looking for a solution, not a confrontation. Starting trouble with the person currently shoulder-deep in your life-support systems isn't exactly a productive survival strategy."

She turned her head slightly to watch the engine's "brain" housing, her eyes tracking the progress of the scan with the practiced ease of someone who could read a ship's health by the vibration in the floorboards.

"I've never had anyone try to shake me down while I'm on the job," she continued, her voice narrowing into a warmer, reflective hum. "No midnight boardings, no angry captains demanding credits back. There's a certain kind of respect that comes with being the one who keeps the stars on the right side of the transparisteel."

She paused, her expression shifting as a memory surfaced, one that still felt a bit too vivid to be old.

"The closest I ever came to real trouble was just a while ago, before I started focusing purely on the mechanical side of things. I was working a side job, acting as a courier for a private delivery."

She mentioned it calmly, with the same detached professional interest she might use to describe a faulty circuit board, carefully omitting the nature of the data she'd been carrying.

"It was a small package, easily hidden, but apparently some local thugs had been tipped off that it was worth more than a month's wages. They didn't want to talk. They just wanted to take. They decided to make their argument with their fists in a back alley near the starport."

A faint, self-deprecating curve touched her mouth, not bitter, but acknowledging a hard-earned lesson that was still fresh in her mind.

"I lost that particular conversation. Quite badly, actually."

She reached out and tapped the side of his console as another diagnostic stage flashed green, a small gesture of affection for the machinery.

"After I healed up from that, I decided I didn't like being that vulnerable. I took a few lessons, nothing dramatic, mind you. I'm no professional soldier or elite commando."

Her shoulders lifted in a slight, easy shrug, the terminal's light catching the honest warmth in her eyes as she looked at him.

"I just learned how to take a hit without panicking. How to keep my center of gravity when things get messy. And, if someone really insists on a fight, how to return the favor."

She leaned a little more comfortably against his ship's wall, her gaze steady and mild.

"But generally speaking? My customers prefer working machines to broken mechanics. They know that if I'm sidelined, they're drifting."

The console chimed a soft, melodic note as the final subsystem passed inspection, the bright "Success" prompt reflecting in her eyes.

"So far, that's kept my world fairly peaceful. Even in the corners of the galaxy where peace is hard to find."

James 'Slinger' Antilles

 

[James 'Slinger' Antilles]

James listened to her experiences with a tight lip. James hated thugs who prayed on the innocent, didn't matter whether they were small time hoodlums, or big-time Imperials or Sith. Something in James just couldn't stand to see the little guy stepped on with no consequences. It was the main reason he'd joined the Wild Space Rebellion, he'd been tired of doing nothing, making no real impact to help others. Sure he could do the odd relief run on his own, deliver much needed medical or food supplies to a refugee camp, maybe even a town under siege of oppressors, but he couldn't make it stop, not like that.

Logically James knew it'd never stop, there was no way to ensure peace across the galaxy, that was Imperial thinking and look where that led, but that didn't mean James couldn't make it just a little bit better with every job, mission or quixotic quest he made.

Ana was good people, he meant that in several ways. She was honest, capable and kind. That was a rare combination in a galaxy that frequently didn't allow for it. It angered James that she'd been subjected to an attack for no other reason than greed. Maybe if he was being generous he could chalk it up to desperation. That was no excuse. That just meant people should pull together, help each other, not prey on one another.

James sighed and tapped some numbers into his comm band.

"Here. My personal comms signal, anyone gives you trouble, and you need a firm hand to guide them away, call me and I'll come." James offered downloading it onto a data stick and passing it over.

"It's good that you're taking steps to defend yourself." James acknowledged with a respectful nod.

"A lot of people are shaken up after a beat down, some let themselves stew on it, letting the anxiety build and build till they're afraid to step outside there door. Others pretend it never happened and will never happen again. You're doing the right thing by taking lessons on how to prepare yourself should it happen again."

James paused.

"Some thugs are killers though, learning how to shift your balance for a punch won't be enough. Should they come calling it's good to have friends who know there way around a blaster. Can fight em off or get you away as necessary." James explained.

"I know you're probably attached to your shop, but it's just a place, it can be rebuilt elsewhere. Long as your alive to do the rebuilding." James attempted to persuade.

Some people would die for their homes rather than rebuild elsewhere. James could respect that, but he could also respect the grit it takes to start over somewhere new. He hoped Ana was the latter rather than the former. Having only just met the girl, James already knew the galaxy was a better place for having her in it, it'd hurt to see her taken in one of the conflicts of the galaxy, though he knew it could just as easily be a low rent thug looking for an easy kill.

Ana Rix

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana listened without interrupting while James spoke. She didn't rush to respond, letting the quiet hum of the ship and the soft tick of cooling metal fill the small space between them. His concern wasn't theatrical. It was the kind of practical worry that came from experience, the kind that had seen enough trouble to recognize it before it arrived.

When he handed her the data stick, she accepted it without hesitation, turning it once between her fingers before slotting it into the console to register the signal.

"Thank you," she said simply.

Her eyes moved back to him, calm and steady.

"And you're right."

She leaned lightly against the console again, the blue light of the diagnostics reflecting faintly across her face.

"A shop is a tool. Useful. Replaceable." There was no drama in the way she said it. Just clarity. "I'm attached to life, not a location."

She reached for her own datapad, tapping a few commands before transferring a small data packet back to him. His console chimed softly as it received it.

"You already had the shop line," she added. "That one reaches the front terminal. This one reaches me."

Her expression softened just slightly.

"If you ever need a diagnostic while you're between systems, or if something starts making a noise you don't trust, you can send the logs through that channel."

A small pause followed, then a hint of dry humor returned to her voice.

"And if someone does decide to cause problems again, I suppose having a pilot with a reputation for appearing out of nowhere isn't the worst backup plan."

She pushed herself off the console and glanced once more at the engine readouts.

"Your ship's systems are stabilizing nicely, by the way. Another few minutes and she'll be ready to run a full stress test."

James 'Slinger' Antilles

 

[James 'Slinger' Antilles]

James nodded relieved and grateful when she accepted the datastick and his direct line without a fuss. It had been just as likely that she'd stubbornly refuse help, insist she could make her own way in the galaxy. Then when it'd be too late, well it'd be too late. James liked helping people but sometimes that wasn't enough when they refused to help themselves.

James felt better having offered the alternate avenue for Ana should she need it It felt right for offering to do him a solid at such a reasonable price. James accepted the front terminal line with a grateful nod.

"Thank You." James said simply, following her lead. Ana didn't seem the type to get all gushy, about a swap of favours, James could respect that. It wasn't in his nature either. Anytime someone started thanking him profusely for something at best he'd laugh it off, other times he'd just get uncomfortable, particularly if it was over something that meant a lot to them. Like their lives or worse their children's lives.

"Shiny!" James said with a breakout wry grin.

It was a relief to hear that things were going smoothly enough for a stress test. This job had been, quick, efficient, professional, all qualities James appreciated in any job, let alone one that had to do with the care of his ship.

They waited the few minutes till it was ready for the stress test.

"Care to do the honours?" James asked with a wry grin.

Normally he wouldn't dream of anyone else running a stress test on his ship, but in the short time he'd met her, James had come to trust Ana's expertise in this area was greater than his own. Last thing he wanted was to muck up in the final stretch of repairs, besides they had a good rapport.

Ana Rix

 

[Ana Rix]

Ana watched the final diagnostic lines scroll across the terminal, the soft blue glow reflecting in her eyes as the system finished its final stabilization sequence. The engine brain hummed with a deeper, steadier cadence now, the kind of quiet, mechanical confidence she always liked to hear in a ship that was finally coming back to life.

At his offer, one corner of her mouth curved upward into a genuine, albeit small, smile.

"Careful," she said lightly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "Most captains don't surrender the privilege of the final check so easily; they're usually far too protective of their seats to let a mechanic have the last word."

Still, she stepped closer to the console, her fingers hovering expectantly above the controls while the system completed the last few synchronization checks. A small timer ticked down in the corner of the display, the seconds rhythmic and steady.

While they waited for the countdown, she glanced back at him, her expression softening with a flicker of real interest.

"Let me ask you something," she said, shifting her weight as she leaned against the station. "You travel a lot, system to system, jumping between new ports all the time, never staying in one place long enough for the dust to settle."

Her tone was curious rather than probing, as if she were genuinely trying to reconcile the life of a pilot with the concept of a home.

"After all that time spent drifting through the black, what's the one place you actually look forward to going back to?"

The timer reached zero with a soft, melodic chime, signaling that the system was ready.

Ana turned back to the console, the moment of reflection transitioning back into her professional element.

"Alright," she murmured, more to the ship than to him.

Her fingers moved across the controls with calm, practiced precision as she initiated the stress test sequence. The engine brain began to cycle through rapid diagnostic loops while the ship's systems ramped up power draw in controlled, powerful bursts that vibrated through the very floorboards beneath their boots.

The hum deepened into a resonant thrum that seemed to vibrate in their chests.

Numbers flickered across the display in a rapid-fire blur of green and white data.

She watched the screen closely for a long moment, her eyes tracking the feedback curves with the focus of someone who could feel the machinery's pulse.

"Routing layer is holding steady," she said quietly, almost a whisper of relief. "Signal latency remains stable across all sectors, and I'm not seeing any sign of those cascade errors we were worried about."

Another few seconds passed in a tense, expectant silence as the power levels peaked and then gradually began to taper off.

Then, she finally leaned back slightly from the console, her posture relaxing as she felt the ship settle back into its idle rhythm.

"Looks perfectly clean," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him with a small, professional smile that held a touch of warmth. "Your girl's healthy, Slinger. She's ready for whatever the galaxy decides to throw at you next."

James 'Slinger' Antilles