Scrapper
THE STARS WILL BE YOUR TOMB
The Battle of Tython was over.
The Alliance and Imperial fleet lay in ruins in the stars above Tython, husks of steel floating endlessly, forever entombed in the graveyard of space until their removal.
Bodies floated out into the ether, permanently frozen, never to decay, never to fade away, cursed to remain as they were.
And there was plenty of work to do, for salvagers like Luke. Luke wasn't an impractical man, but he was, apolitical for the most part. Galactic politics and warfare didn't affect him directly, he hadn't lost family, or friends, in the unending, ceaseless wars between the powers that be, the fervor of Jedi and Sith raging for thousands of years didn't cause him any harm.
If anything, it was good for business.
Salvage was a popular thing nowadays. Everyone and anyone needed high-priority items, equipment, materials. Luke, currently, was doing something profitable- marking. It was a simple task, really, compared to the actual act of salvaging. He'd go into battlefields, territories, what have you- and mark pieces of salvage with transponders. Each transponder would be identified with a code, marking it as X, Y, Z. Fission material, ammunition, rare materials, raw materials, the like. Food and water storage, depending on the right place and time in the galaxy. He'd offer the transponder locations up for bid, with a brief description to each coordinates.
Salvagers like him, and engineers, simply didn't have the time to comb through the wreckage for the good stuff, and wanted quick and efficient work. A marked piece of material or salvage was easy enough, and, more importantly, cost-effective.
He stopped his ship, exiting out the airlock. A large cruiser hung, broken in half. An exchange of turbolaser fire had killed most of the crew, but most jettisoned out the escape pods. He set an oxygen timer as the cold vastness of space opened up and he launched himself out with his propulsion boots. He was armed with a simple blaster, but rarely needed it... other than to occasionally quickly bypass a locked door. Beyond that, he had a plethora of salvage gear, and a large backpack full of transponders.
Today, was going to be a good day. Morbid- a little, with all the bodies of Alliance and Imperial sailors and Marines about, but, still good.