Salvaging a little Free Time

[Laira Darkhold]

Outer Rim Shadowport​

Near Kathol Outback​

​

​

The Explorer running under the registration of the Far Runner was sitting in a berth, E-8 handling the fueling and minor maintenance she needed leaving Laira to explore the asteroid's facilities. The inside of the rock was pressurized allowing for spacers to walk around without having to wear bulky space suits and the ships were connected via boarding tubes so they didn't have to change quickly by their ships.

Laira walked through the rather seedy opening row of stalls, merchants trying to sell bits of salvage they had acquired in their journeys or been screwed into purchasing by suave salesmen. Spacers, smugglers, bounty hunters, all the dregs of society gathered in decent numbers. It was no city sized structure, but there was a decent town of people hidden within the rock of all different species and races. Laira found herself awed by the spectacle. To most it wouldn't appear very special, but Laira was fairly sheltered. She'd visited a few ports here and there, but nothing as unique as this shadowport, which was beautiful in its own way, an entire community looking out for each other. Fuel was cheap, parts were cheap, berthing was free. All that was expected was for salvagers to return the favor and provide a portion of their goods to the house.

As the redhead passed a particularly odd looking alien she caught herself starring rudely and had to quickly avert her gaze, adding some pep in her step as she swiftly walked away towards a cantina on the entry strip. It seemed to be a place full of pilots, salvagers, and freighter captains, the name above the sign reading 'Last Stop' with a job board sitting right on the inside.

A few beings turned to look at her but not many. Other than being a pretty young woman she fit in pretty well with her black leather ensemble paired with a black shirt a little low cut and short for her, especially compared to all the others in the bar. There were a few scantily clad Twi'leks, some rugged mercenary looking types with noticeable cybernetics, among many other interesting characters sitting in the bar, in booths, or standing near the job board. Quietly she made her way to the bar and took a seat on a bar-stool, leaning forward to get the bartender's attention. The older rodian male nodded in her direction, waiting long enough to complete the order he was taking. Laira crossed her forearms under her chest and braced them on the bar, leaning over the bar a little. She hung her head and sighed deeply, a little nervous about being in a new place, a little excited by the concept of the shadowport, and a little worried she would get kidnapped or stabbed in a place like this.

"<What can I get you?>" The greenish reptomammal said in its own langauge as it regarded the now smiling redhead, looking down at her. "How's the Vattle Juice?" She asked with a smile, blinking her pretty grey eyes at him.

"<Not bad. Let me get you some.>" The being turned and poured a very small amount into a tall glass. "<Here, try it and decide if you like it.>" He handed the glass to Laira, and she turned the glass up, sipping the drink. The sour flavored juice wasn't half bad, not the best she had ever tasted, but good enough to enjoy. "Its excellent." The rodian smiled and topped off the glass with a long pour before moving on to the next patron, leaving Laira alone at the bar with seats to either side.

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Laira Vereen"]

There was a flicker of commotion at the entrance of the bar, the atmosphere suddenly becoming tense before it was dispelled by a broken oath and a crackle-pop of cartilage. Like a shark creasing the underbelly of a shoal, a wide path suddenly opened before Runi as she made her way into the dive, neatly stepping over the mewling form of the merc that had tried to bar her passage.

It wasn’t the first time such a scene had unfolded, nor would it be the last. Word of what she had done on Tanquilla Beach had filtered out it seemed, with every two-bit thug and brute suddenly coming out of the proverbial woodwork to put the rumours to a test. All eager to see if the pint-sized salvager was as tough as advertised.

Runi snorted dismissively as she padded her way to the bar, the heavy beskad at her back tapping gently against her thigh in unison to her step. There was no confident swagger or cocksure bravado in her movements. In fact, she seemed more weary than anything. As if the weight of the last few months had begun to weigh upon her shoulders, a fact one only need to glance at her expression to see underscored. She might have been described as pretty if she smiled.

She didn’t.

“Bo Shuda, Verin.” The Rodian behind greeted her with a nod of his head, already placing a bottle of chilled tihaar and a small tumbler down on the counter as she moved to sit down. Off brand, of course. The Kathol Outback might have had an upswing in traders as of late, but quality alcohol was still hard to come by, even on the black market. Not that she minded, too much. Good, bad, it still managed to get the job done at the end of the day. “<I wish you would not keep leaving your broken toys in my doorway. I have customers to think about, you know.>”

“Ain’t my toys, Jarro. And they should count themselves lucky I just left them broken,” The salvage responded dryly as she stole a seat next to the redhead, sparing her a slight appraising glance before turning her attention to the Rodian. She waited patiently for him to fill a glass and slide it across to her eager hand before continuing, “So what’s this I hear about you having a job for me?”

“<You passed the board on your way in, same as everybody else.>”

“True enough, but we both know I’m not everyone else.” She brought the glass to her lips, taking a quick, grimacing sip. It tasted like hyperdrive solvent and naboo blast air freshner. It went down smooth enough, however. Of course that might be it just melting its way through any form of resistance. “Rashiz staked you for this place, ‘lek? That means you owe Rashiz, which is funny because Rashiz owes me. You float me a line on that job you’ve been holding back for a rainy day, might go a long way to making you and the big guy square. Simple math, really.”

The rodian’s snout crumpled in thought, as if actually attempting to check her calculations. “<Say you’re right, Verin, say I got a little somethin’ somethin’ stashed away… Last I heard you haven’t got a ship to your name. Everybody here has already heard how the Boracyk took a beating in the last solar storm. Last I checked, not even you can do a job without a ship. Don’t even need math to work that one out.>”

Runi grimaced openly at that, and it wasn’t just because of the cheap alcohol. The Boracyk had indeed been put out of commission during her last voyage. A foolish little last minute attempt to cut a few hours of a smuggling run. A move that had cost her far more than her cargo had been worth, which was why she was having to sniff for scraps around bottom feeders like Jarro in the first place. “Let me worry about that, pateesa. I’ll think of something.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira turned to look behind her when the commotion started and watched the short scrap between a woman and mercenary occurred. She had assumed places like this what women lived or visited here fell into only a few categories. It appeared that she and the new comer were both into the category of tough, independent, and capable. Laira tried very hard to look like she was just a pretty face most of the time, but some of her muscle definition was still noticeable, especially on her legs and rear, and arms when she wasn't wearing a jacket. That wasn't to say she wasn't proud of her appearance and how she looked, and that she didn't dress specifically to exemplify her appearance, because she was and she did. It had been a lesson learned in her youth, never show off all your strengths if you can help it. And Laira at heart was a princess, she enjoyed being noticed and getting free drinks.

The alderaanian turned back to her drink and bunched her shoulders to relax for a moment when she noticed the new arrival had taken the seat beside her. She carried on in casual conversation with the bartender, so it was impossible not to overhear what was being said. First, this woman was known in these parts, which was exactly what Laira wanted if for different reasons. Laira didn't want to be known for the fame, but because then she wouldn't be Vereen's daughter or Princess Organa, but she would be her own person with her own fame. Second, she was connected enough with people of note to have special privileges. Not necessarily something Laira cared about other than it being a product of the other woman's experience. Third, her providence afforded to her special work with likely much higher pay. Fourth, and most importantly, she needed a ship.

The pretty redhead brushed her bangs out of her eyes, slipping the hair from her face as she ran her fingers behind her ear. "Jarro, could you get me another." She said sweetly and with a smile. The Rodian nodded as he finished with the other woman for now and refilled Laira's glass. "Thank you sweetie." Her voice purposefully like honey. The rodian seemed to realize she hadn't paid for either drink yet, but he also didn't mention it as she took the cup back and sipped on it. Her storm grey eyes turned to the woman beside her, giving her a quick once over from head to toe as subtly as she could. Laira was barely taller and they had similar builds, though Laira might fill out a dress a little more, but they weren't terribly different. Little did Laira know, they weren't so different after all. Their Father's having been good friends for many years before they both ran off and got married.

Sitting up straight on the stool, shoulder's back in good posture, Laira smiled at the new arrival and turned to face her at less of an angle. "No ship huh?" She said, trying her best not to sound condescending as she addressed Runi. "I'm not from around these parts, and I'm in sore need of good pay." Jerking a thumb towards the Job Board on the wall, she continued speaking. "And no offense to the management, but those don't pay very well. A girl needs some spending money after the bills are paid. Right?" She chuckled slightly, trying her best to make light conversation with a woman she had just seen knock someone out cold.

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Laira Vereen"]

Runi arched a brow as the redhead piped up beside her, having initially taken her for nothing more than cantina window dressing. Places like these always seemed to attract all manner of hanger-ons. A surprising amount from decent, stable homes, in her experience. Looking to have a taste of the outer rim before settling down, maybe pick up a story or two for the grandkids. Her gaze shifted from the dismissive to the appraising, lips pursing slightly as she tried to take red’s measure in at a glance, all the while not even having the common decency to try and hide it.

She was undeniably pretty, that much was readily evident to anyone present. Yet not just in that cutsey, corewolder kind of way that Runi had initially assumed. There was a touch of iron in those grey eyes, a hardness that belied her otherwise noble features, contrasted and framed by that blazing shock of inferno red hair. She was taller than Runi by a few inches, which granted wasn’t entirely uncommon, and while somewhat leaner build because of it, the salvager was willing to wager there was a deceptive amount of muscle beneath that outfit. Couldn’t hide the greenness, however. That rolled off her in waves. If she didn’t get that sorted, and quick, one of these chakaar would try to take advantage of her.

Her expression compressed into a thin line as she turned her attention back to her tihaar, if it could even be called that, reaching forward to pour herself another overly ample measure. It should have been a no brainer, really. The girl had a ship, or at least claimed to, and Runi had a job. In another life, with another spacer, it might have been a no brainer. There was even saying on Kol Atorn about never looking a gift ronto in the mouth after all. Yet Runi had been burned one too many times in recent years, with jobs that should have been easy blue milk runs going sideways because of unforeseen variables. Variables like the redhead beside her essentially summed up in one, neatly attractive package. Trouble with a capital trill and several exclamation points beside.

“No offence, cheeka, I’m flattered an’ all, but I don’t sign on to crew with just anybody.” Runi said, as she toyed with her glass, spinning the contents idly as she twisted and turned it this way and that. “As you said, you ain’t from around these parts, which means I don’t know you. I don’t know your ship. I don’t even know anyone that does.” She gave a rolling shrug of her shoulders. “That, to me, is the karkin’ textbook definition of flying blind.”

There was a clatter of credits on the counter, quickly and professionally scooped up by Jarro in passing. She raised her glass in a mock salute, “[SIZE=9pt]Next round is on me, though, to show gratitude for the offer all the same. K'oyacyi, Get'ika.[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]”[/SIZE]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"I suppose you prefer public transport in the mean time, right?" Laira grinned at the tanned skin spacer woman sitting beside her. As much as she could respect being a private person, she herself held secrets, she had a desire for some work and some guidance from someone with experience.

"I wouldn't expect you to know my ship. I'm not very well know, but a well known spacer isn't always a good thing." She knew good and well fame had its costs and was not always something a pilot wanted. Sometimes it was. Those with reputations got higher pay, could make demands and get through obstacles on reputation alone. "I could use what you bring to the table and you could use me." Her tone was somewhat cutesy, as the teenager had always been a little on the girly side of things. "How about we pay for cost, and then split the profits fifty fifty after expenses. And if it makes you feel better, we could call it partnering up."

Laira turned and accepted the third glass of juice with a coy smile at the rodian, adjusting her jacket as she took it. "Thanks for the drink." With that the fiery redhead drained the glass and set it on the bar, "If you're interested, I'm docked at one eighty two, you can check out the Far Runner before hand. If not, have fun riding the bus." Her smile didn't leave her face as she rose and sauntered out of the bar with a subtle sway to her hips as she walked.

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Laira Vereen"]

Oh, the girl had lip, too. Runi snorted softly, present amused yet idly wondering how long that would last and how long it would be before she felt the need to split it. A not entirely uncommon occurrence, and perhaps the primary reason her friend list was slim-to-none these days.

“True enough,” She conceded, having recently experienced first-hand how fickly thin the line between fame and obscurity ran for those in their particular line of work could be. The merc at the entrance was proof enough of that. She had succeeded in making the name Verin her own, however. No small feat given how wide of a shadow Jacaro cast. “I could use your ship,” Runi corrected with habitual bluntness, although her voice was a touch softer than her expression might have otherwise suggested. “Ain’t entirely convinced I could say the same about you, cheeka. You might be easy on the eyes, granted, but you’ll find there ain’t much call for a pretty face when you’re salvaging a decompressed hulk.”

She offered another jostle of those shoulders by way of a half-hearted apology for that fact before necking down her tihar regret, noting that the taste didn’t seem so bad now that the first two had blazed a trail. A sure sign she should spare thought to slowing down a little, a fact further reinforced by the piece of advice she offered next. “’sides which, you never want to offer a fifty percent slice straight off the bat like that. Not without making the other person work a little. Make them try to sweeten the deal. Not like you ain’t got any assets to play, cheeka.” She was still talking about the ship there, right? “And unless you want to sell me an equal stake in your ship, it ain’t gonna be a partnership – and I wouldn’t expect it to be. Your ship, your rules.”

Piece said, conscience appeased by its mandated good deed of the day, she returned her empty glass to the counter, letting it remain dry for now. She didn’t trust herself to pour another measure quite yet, not if there was a credible deal in cards. “Fine, let’s go see this ship of yours. See if you've actually got what it takes to make this worthwhile.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira grinned as she walked towards the ship, being followed by the other, slightly shorter woman. They were actually only about an inch apart in height, and less than ten pounds weight, though anyone who looked could see where the weight differences were most prominent. "My ship is pretty nice, though its not as pretty as me." She chuckled to herself. "I could spend all day telling you how useful I can be on a decompressed hulk, and it wouldn't do me any good. Until you see for yourself, you won't believe it." Actions always held more weight than words, but in order to preform the actions she needed to this woman, Verin, had to give her an opportunity. It didn't help that despite Laira's capabilities and her independent attitude, she still looked like a teenage bombshell more than a scavenger and smuggler. She couldn't help it, she was vain.

"Aye, but people won't hire Captain Darkhold for the big bucks. They might hire miss Verin for that though. Besides, I told you I'm new at this. Cut me a little slack." Laira was green. So far she had taken three jobs since venturing out on her own. She ran a cargo of stygium for some Corporate Skakoan, and then gave the location of his bank vault to a number of bounty hunters anonymously because he had paid her, entrusted her with the cargo, and then threatened to place a bounty on her if she didn't deliver after giving her everything. The other two things had been milk runs for table scraps and she was financially starving. It didn't help that she had only minor understanding of money and currency. She had been raised with either everything, or nothing, which meant budgeting wasn't her strong suit in the slightest and she had blown through fifty thousand credits quickly on fuel, upkeep, a pretty dress from a Zeltron, dance lessons, among other things. Laira did catch the innuendo though, and though well crafted and subtle, especially considering the blank stare of her compatriot, it wasn't exactly flirtatious. "Unfortunately, those assets aren't on the table to touch. Not unless you try a lot harder at least." The redhead grinned devilishly at the woman beside her while they walked.

She stopped at the docking tube that affixed to her vessel, the Far Runner as it was currently appearing. "This is the Far Runner, its a modified Rekali-class I was able to piece back together. Found it at Roche." Not entirely untrue, the original ship had served Captain Larraq's forces on Roche before Draco bought that particular ship. After a while it had been modified and Laira had worked on it during that process. "Since its my ship, my rules. First rule is we have to know each other's names. I'm Laira Darkhold." She extended her hand to the woman and waited. All she knew was a name, Verin, so far. And that could be an alias like her own, a nickname, a first name, a last name or what have you.

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Laira Vereen"]

Despite knowing every inch of the station like the back of her cybernetic hand, Runi was quite content to let the redhead lead the way to birth one eighty two. The view was better for starters, but the luxury of not having to play tour guide also allowed her to turn her attention towards burning off some of the alcohol she had imbibed in quick succession. Not enough to remove her buzz entirely, but enough to round off some of the rougher edges a little. “My first solo job out, I ran a shipment of spice for the Besadii Kajidic. Only people that would give me the time of day back then. Gouged me for the privilege, too. Eighty-twenty split. Trust me, I know all about missing out on the big creds.”

Of course, Runi had later further indebted herself with them by borrowing creds to purchase a ship, but the redhead didn’t need to know that. That was just an embarrassing mistake. One she was paid for every day since in one form or another. “Advice number two? Never tell anyone that you’re new. Folk are already gonna get that straight off, but there’s a difference between having it known and advertising that fact, ‘lek? Everyone is already looking to screw you over – and in your case, in more ways than one, I’d wager – so there ain’t no sense in making it any easier for them.” She slowed her pace as they neared the access hatch, purposefully stopping a few feet short of her unfortunate lecture-victim to take a glance out of the view port.

A soft, low pitched whistle of appreciation escaped the salvager as she admired the vessel that hung suspended outside, her expression softening for what seemed like lifetime as she traced that distinctively low slung profile and those harsh lines that made it unmistakable. She was a beaut, alright. Runi had never flown one herself, but the Rekali-class was reputed to be quite the impressive little she-queen from all accounts. While her personal tastes might have inclined more towards CEC for shear modularity, even she couldn’t help but appreciate the art MandalMotors had been producing in recent decades.

“She’s got character, I’ll give her that much.” She turned slightly, shifting her attention back to the redhead. “You must’ve been pretty lucky to snatch one up at salvage. The Mando’ade don’t take kindly to aruetiise picking over their battle sites. From how Roche turned out…” There was another whistle, this time in a lower-less-melodic key. “Fierfek, if your story is true, I don’t know if to be impressed by your gett’se, cheeka, or concerned that I’m signing on with such an obvious nerve-burner.”

Runi shook her head, a ghost of a smirk twisting at the corner of her lips as she clasped the redhead’s hand with her own. “Verin. Runi Verin, Captain of the Boracyk. If your ship is half as good as advertised, you might just well have yourself a mechanic, Darkhold.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

It wasn't bad advice she was being given. Runi was far more experienced in the field than the fiery redhead, and it helped to get some pointers from someone who knew the lay of the land, knew the ropes well enough to show her. It was also beneficial that Laira and Runi weren't very far separated in age. That meant that as much as her companion was her elder, she wasn't far off, not an old player of the game. Gave them some camaraderie to go with off the bat. Plus both being young women in a place and profession where young women didn't often gravitate towards, they at least had some form of kindred spirit.

"And you don't think people look at you and just want to screw you over?" Laira asked with her devilish grin in tact. "Trust me, it could be worse. At least they don't see us as ornaments." Often the noblemen saw their female counterparts as little more than trophies and status symbols, or in her case, a way to lift one's own status. So it was still refreshing to be seen as at least useful in the field. Plus she was vain and didn't mind most of the looks she attracted so long as the lines never got crossed. So far, she had been able to avoid that kind of attention, and she even enjoyed the fact that her guest had appreciated the view. There were easier girls in cantinas like the one they had left together, and ones for hire with fixed rates.

Laira waited while the spacer woman she was with looked over her ship and whistled, letting her enjoy the view of the vessel in peace. "Pleased to meet you Runi Verin. We might have to discuss bringing you aboard after a job together." The redhead winked at Runi and offered a thin, coy smile. She didn't mind flirting with anyone, and had no qualms about showing off. It was the follow through where she drew the line.

"There were a few sold to the Outback and Silver Sanctum back in the day, and Roche was a mess. This one was left drifting in the asteroid field. Guess it got forgotten about in the scramble to go secure Nickel One and try and secure civilians." A rare ship indeed, but not the rarest. Some Non-Mandalorians were able to afford the Mandal Hypernautics attack craft, especially those that had been trusted allies like the Outback and Sanctum before that whole mess. "I'll admit, I enjoy getting to fly combat." She honestly didn't want a mechanic so soon. Some of the modifications would be readily noticeable just having her aboard; having Runi pick through the electronics and the mechanics of the ship, it would be blindingly obvious no person off the street could have afforded this ship.

The doors opened for them to go aboard and Laira took the lead walking through the boarding tube to the ships bulkhead. "Most of what I've done is clear out the bomb-bay and munitions storage for living space. Its got a small brig on that side, and a small cargo bay to the other." She gestured at the interior doors to either side, the other door already open to reveal a YT-stylized living room with an attached refresher, however small. Laira pulled off her jacket and tossed it at a droid, allowing the muscles on her arms to be clearly seen. She wasn't jacked, but the muscle definition on her now visible stomach and arms was clear enough to imply she wasn't a frail little thing.

A closed door to either side, ladders going up and down to a top turret and cargo bay. "That's my room over there, the table folds away and the booth pulls out into a full sized bed for guests. Food processor is keyed to Corellian food, but if you know the codes you can plug in for whatever you like." Laira walked all the way to the cockpit and slumped into the forward pilot's chair, swiveling around to look her companion up and down one more time. "Like what you see?"

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Laira Vereen"]

“They also look at me and see what I did to that mouthbreather back at the bar.” Runi replied with a casual shrug of her shoulders, apparently having almost zero regret or remorse at having potentially maimed someone. Violence had always been at the core of her life, after all. You only had to catch a glimpse of the defined muscle and scar tissue that lurked beneath her spacer clothes to see just how much it was a part of her. She was a product of the streets of Kol Atorn, one that had been honed with Jacaro and later polished by her time with the Crusaders. “Makes them think twice about their chances. Ain’t quite as satisfying to hold as respect, but I’ll admit fear has its own place in this line of work.”

While Liara busied herself with the access protocols, Runi allowed her gaze linger a spell longer on the Far Runner, the mechanic in her mentally matching the components she could make out from the viewport. Some were stock standard, some, while subtle, were noticeably not, however. The latter was a point of interest, one added in Darkhold’s slowly increasing favour. Aftermarket modifications were what truly gave a ship its soul in her estimation. A belief that was firmly reflected in her own vessel, the Boracyk, a ship that had had so many upgrades and modifications applied, removed and re-applied over the years that even the CEC engineers would be hard pressed to recognise anything but the outer edges of the increasingly patchwork hull.

With a reluctant and visible concentration of effort, she pulled herself away from the viewport and followed the redhead through the boarding hatch. “Hate to break your dreams of crewing this cheeka, but I’m only looking to sign on for the basis of this one job, Darkhold. You might not be as green as people think,” She paused, micro-frowned, and amended as the thought struck her amidst her constant reassessment of the woman passing herself off as Liara Darkhold. “Or as even green as you want people to think, but you’re still far too many shades and hues of it for me to consider calling you captain.”

The interior of the ship was almost exactly as Runi had expected it to be. Namely, clean and tidy. Where were the piles of tools, half-fixed components and crates of miscellaneous scrap? Without those, it hardly seemed lived in, if she was honest. Darkhold might have been willing to talk a good game, but it seemed she was still holding herself back from fully letting herself go when it came to the fringer lifestyle. Sooner or later she would have to decide which facet of her life she wanted to embrace, the one she was running from or the she was running towards. Living between would only end badly. Not that it bothered Runi too much one way or the other, provided that existential crisis didn’t get in way of them pulling a job together.

“Corellian is a little bland, but I’ve eaten worse. I’ll give the bed a miss if it’s all the same.” She replied as they entered the final leg of the tour, confident that she could navigate the cramped vessel without too much trouble. The modifications didn’t seem as radical as the exterior might have suggested. She tilted her head to the side, straining her ears slightly as she listened to the ambient hum as she stole the co-pilot seat. “Might want to get that engine re-aligned in a few weeks, though. Gotta already out by at least three percent.” She snapped back again, flashing her first open smile – even if it was ruined by the more-than-slightly smug quality of it at her own party trick. “Otherwise, she ain’t too bad at all. Could even go so far as the say she’s serviceable.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"You're right about that. I haven't had to have a bar room brawl yet, but I like my chances." Laira grinned from her seat, watching the other woman move around the ship. It was what you didn't know that got you killed most of the time, and the redhead was a ball of unknowns for the time being. Not immensely strong, but able to supplement her physical prowess with the Force, or amplify her physical abilities. She could manage to dent durasteel with her bare hands if she really wanted to. It was nice, but that it hadn't been lived in long was pretty obvious. Laira had only been living on the ship for a month, and so it wasn't like it had seen a lot of action or had many people on it. Other than herself and E-8 the engineering droid, there had been one other guest aboard and that had been a one time job.

He'd been alright, but he'd been very blatantly a Mandalorian Man, and much older than her at that. She had felt awkward having him aboard for a number of reasons, but it was mostly that he was Mandalorian. That was a culture her father had raised her to be, trained her to become a part of, and in the end, she had to choose between it or Alderaan. That no matter which she decided on, she would be in the shadow of her parents, who were important people in their own right. All she wanted was to be her own person, and Runi seemed to be a perfect example of that. In a few years, perhaps Laira would be too, she just needed time and experience getting on her feet.

"So you are interested in signing on for a job. Good. I'm glad you liked my assets enough to come aboard even if its only for the one job." The fiery redhead emphasized one word in particular, trying to remain flirty and aloof. Not that she would be doing anything about it, but Runi didn't know that, and that hint of maybe might save Laira's life. Laira liked the woman being around, she had already helped out several times with gems of wisdom and advice. "You don't have to call me captain. I'm vain, not an egomaniac. I'm pretty, and I'm green. But its not like I've been sheltered my whole life and don't have any clue what's going on around me. How long have you survived in the jungles of Vendaxa on your own?" Laira smiled proudly for a moment, "I'm alone now, and this is everything I got, and I have to make this work." She gestured around the ship, and it was true. Everything she owned, everything she could call hers and hers alone was on this ship. She had access to her father's money and her mother's nobility, but she had left that life to cut out on her own, left her mother, father, twin brother behind. She was well and truly on her own, making her own way in the galaxy, and so far the closest things she had to a friend was a melancholy droid and a dark haired brunette standing in front of her.

The redhead smiled up at the other woman, deciding to bring the conversation back to light-hearted and fun, "Serviceable is as good a complement as I'm going to get out of you isn't it." Laira spoke, "Shame, cuz I really liked what I see." adding a little twinge of honey to her tone as she turned away from her compatriot and clicked a few buttons on the dash, turning on the running lights and sending the ship through diagnostics. "If you are really interested in us helping each other out why don't we figure out about this job and get on our way." Laira could use the work, but it was really the experience she was after. The prestige would come later, after she'd done some work on her own, clawed her way through a couple of messes by herself. Runi would likely get most of the credit for anything that happened on this mission anyway, but people might wonder how she had managed to keep up with the better known spacer.

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Laira Vereen"]

Another amused snort escaped the salvager as she surveyed the ship, barely paying attention to the redheads less-than-subtle flirtations at this point. She was cute, granted, but it took more than a pretty face to garner a genuine reaction from Runi in that regard. Besides, she had grown up around spacers her entire life. Most of them horn-dogs, too. She traced a hand over the back of the co-pilot chair, her gaze sweeping the control layout for a moment before she turned it back on the vessel’s captain, matching storm grey with earthy brown. “Hate to break it to you, cheeka, but I’ve seen better assets in my time. You’re tolerable enough and this ship doesn’t seem half bad, I can work with that. That’s as far as my interest goes.”

A half-truth. Her interest in Captain Laira Darkhold in reality ran a little deeper than that, although there was nothing sordid or romantic to be found in its intent. Like the ship she captained, Runi had a feeling that there was more to Darkhold than initially met the eye. She was a puzzle to be sure, one the Mandalorian spacer had only just begun to find the corner and edge pieces for. She idly wondered what image would be revealed once they’d all been found and assembled. She somehow doubted the girl was just another wannabe spacer with rich kid issues, although recognised that that was perhaps her own bias talking. Maybe she wanted to see more in the girl than that.

“Survive the jungle? Not very long, I’d imagine. Not a lot of jungles out here in the black. Starweirds, pirates, dar’jetii monsters…” The list went on, really. At this point, Runi wasn’t sure if she had bad luck when it came to picking jobs or if she simply attracted trouble. She couldn’t even remember the last job that went smooth. “Plenty of things to get you killed, few of them likely to be impressed by the fact you know how to rub sticks together and sleep in the dirt.” She gave a lopsided shrug and leant forward on her elbows, resting her weight fully on the back of the chair now. “You might be seen as some hot osik back in the core, but out here the only rep that matters is the one that brings in the creds. So, the sooner you put a few jobs under your belt, the sooner people might start thinking you’re worth a flying feth. Kark, they might even see past the rich little princess act, too.”

If it even was an act.

Runi jerked her chin up slightly, gesturing towards the comm board. “The Last Stop should be listed under the local bands. Tell Jarro I’ve found myself a ship and it's time for him to hold up his end of the deal. If he gives you only hassle, just drop Rashiz’s name a few times. That’ll shut him up.” She pushed off from the chair and turned to head back into the core of the ship, trusting that Laira could handle the likes of Jarro and the initial take off procedures. “I’m gonna take a look at that engine 'fore we get anywhere uncharted. I seriously have no karking clue how you can fly with that noise all the time.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira frowned and kept her attention on the controls of the ship. She'd tried to flirt her way to a solid complement from the brunette, but it seemed that she wasn't interested. Nothing the matter with that, not everyone preferred pretty redheaded teens, and she was aware not everyone found her attractive. It still hurt her confidence a bit though, having been used to puffing her chest out and a few bats of her eyelashes enough to be given jewelry and poems, much less having to put the kind of effort she had put into flirting with Runi, even if that's as far as the Redhead was planning to take it. "That's fair enough. I suppose I don't need a compliment from you, though one would be nice even if you aren't interested."

"I'm not seen as anything in the Core. My point was I'm not helpless, even if I don't mind getting a little dolled up and showing off my looks. I've got it where it counts and you can trust me to watch your back while we're together." Her voice was less honeyed words, more professional know. Laira had taken her whack at cracking the brunette woman and attempting to get her to blush. Knowing that her ship-mate wasn't interested had its own benefits, it meant that Laira didn't have to worry about sleeping arrangements if they did have to bunk together, and from their conversation she had gleaned that Runi was either Mandalorian or dealt with them often, otherwise she wouldn't drop in Mando'a all the time. Laira knew the language enough to be conversational, but she was hardly fluent. Even her father hadn't been fluent.

The redhead turned her attention to the communication system filtering through channels until she found the Last Stop channel. She would have muttered something in response about the noise, but she'd not noticed it really. Probably because she was used to it, or hadn't noticed the subtle difference of one of the engine blocks. "Last Stop, this is Far Runner. Runi Verin found herself a ship and wants to know about that job."

"<Who is this?>" A gruff rodian voice asked across the comlink, the electronic grate distorting his odd language.

"Darkhold, the Far Runner. Verin want's to know about that job." She responded, maintaining her professional tone. The time for meaningless flirting and teasing seemed to have passed for today.

"<Eh, I dunno. How do I know that's legit.>"

"She's busy. The faster you just send me the info, the faster we can be going. Without any unnecessary calls to Rashiz." Laira glanced over he shoulder to look to see where the Spacer woman had wondered off to. Not into her room, that was locked, but it wasn't like the ship was top security inside. The cargo hold and hangar still had her Basilisk War Droid and twin speeder bikes stuck in the cramped bay, and though the brig was empty, it had the energy cells for holding Force Users. Close inspection of the interior and wiring would likely reveal the vessel was very heavily customized, and done so very meticulously and professionally. Certainly not something a young girl who didn't notice an engine out of alignment would be capable of.

"<No, no. No problems. Transmitting the data package now.>" The Rodian paused for a moment, "<Hey, are you that redhead she left with?>"

"Yeah, why?"

"<Oh, no reason. You've got my package now.>" The rodian snorted in a subtle giggle to himself before closing the channel, earning a confused look from Laira. Why was that funny?

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Laira Vereen"]

“You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.” Runi replied as she slipped from the cockpit, pausing a half-step past the threshold to glance over her shoulder at the younger woman. She flashed that mirthless, tough smile that barely touched her qukuuf bands let alone her eyes. The salvager hard and brittle once more in that instant. “But you lie to me, you best make it a memorable one, ‘cause chances are it’ll be your last, tayli’bac?”

Perhaps a touch overly dramatic, the threat tumbled all too easily from her tongue. It had suffered the bitter taste of betrayal all too frequently as of late, with several profitable ventures thoroughly seasoned and soured over the course of the last few months. Darkhold seemed to be genuine enough, or the woman Runi occasionally glimpsed beneath that pretty veneer did at least, but it would take more than a disarming smile and a kandosii vessel before she was willing to place her faith in the redhead.

Her vessel was pretty sweet, however. That much Runi had to begrudgingly admit as she headed through the passages, letting her feet and her innate sense of astromechanics guide her towards the engine bay. Her dark brown gaze tracing every rivet, every panel and every bulkhead, committing to memory both their location and their sense within the force itself. Inconsequential little details, yet it was invariably those same little details that kept you flying when the osik hit the proverbial.

****​

​

“Jarro give you what we needed?” The mechanic broke in as she returned to the cockpit a while later, her visage smeared and coated with a mixture of dark engine grease and cooling lubricant. Yet, surprisingly, beneath all the grime, Runi looked more at peace now than she had in days. As if the simple act of correcting a three percent differential on the engine had stripped away a weight from her shoulders.

“He might serve the lousiest tihaar this side of Mandalore, but as far as job brokers go, you’d struggle to find his equal.” She moved uninvited to the co-pilot terminal, dropping down in the chair as she brought up the feed. Likely irrevocably ruining a few hundred credits worth of upholstery in the process. “Well, barring Old Man Rashiz.” She amended absently as she scoured the data, a blockish looking freighter hanging suspended in ethereal electronic light to the side, corresponding with a rather familiar text string.

Covenant of the Black Rose.

She barely knew they had a fleet, let alone one worth salvaging anything from. Most of what they owned had been destroyed in the fires that had forged the Kathol Outback. She reached up and flicked the display around. “Pembric, huh? Must have gotten caught up with the aftermath. I doubt the Mando fleet would’ve left it in enough of one piece for us to salvage otherwise. Surprised the Outback hasn’t picked the bones clean yet, though. Ain’t like Bantam to leave something this valuable sitting on his front porch.”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira heard the very obvious threat. At least the woman was upfront about it, but the redhead could think of some better ways to spend her time and trust. "I wouldn't have brought you where I sleep if I didn't trust you at least somewhat. I would hope that would be a mutual feeling." She had no idea if it would go over well, or what they would really be doing together. But she could tell enough about her companion to know that she liked Runi well enough. Maybe not romantically, but then again Laira was fairly shy about relationships.

"He gave me what we needed after a little convincing and sweet talking. You might change your mind about that bed too. Its going to be a long trip, even for my baby." She rubbed the dashboard in front of her chair affectionately. Pembric sat on the far side of the Kathol Sector proper from where they were, almost seventy two hours with several reversions from hyperspace to reorient. The Far Runner could cut out some of those reversions with the advanced astronavigation systems, and cut a week long trip to three days. It was going to be a rough three days on Laira, having to share the ship with someone so emotionally cold while she was bubbly and warm. The princess had a feeling they would get in at least one tussle on this mission just having to share space with each other. Cramped space at that.

"Ship looks to be outside the early warning markers the Cla- the Mandalorians left. Those mines have a limited sensor range." Her Father's clan had placed those markers before she was born and the enclave on Kal'shebbol maintained them and the patrol group from the Clan that stayed in the Kathol Sector. It wasn't a lot of ships, just a handful of monitoring ships and Rach's Star Destroyer, but they normally sat around Kal'Shebbol. Good to know if they got stranded they were only a week or so from rescue if she could get a message out to the Enclave.

"I say we stealth our way to it just in case its got automated systems. Come in behind it, mag-clamp to the engine system and cut our way in from there." She clicked a few buttons on the dash a hologram of the target came up, with a little dot representing their entry point. "We can make our way to the bridge from there, slave the main computer to mine and take it where ever the contractor wants it taken." A yellow line marked its way from the entry point to the where the bridge of the ship should be on that size and shape vessel, though without complete sensor data it couldn't be known for sure.

The redhead turned and smiled. "If you are ready to go Runi, I am." She stretched her arms over her head, extending her legs, exposing a little more of her stomach and musculature than her shirt already allowed as she got ready for the long, likely stressful, flight.

[member="Runi Verin"]