Character
Aithche finished the final post flight checks and settled herself in the battered freighter chair. She allowed herself a moment to groan and rub at red eyes with the palms of her hands. The last eighteen hours of the run had been labouring enough, especially with something going wrong every second hour and jolting her from much needed sleep. She was just grateful they'd made it there in one piece, it showed maybe one of the star gods was still looking on her with favour. Her astrogation was rusty and she wasn't sure if the last jolt in hyperspace had been her charting a course too close to a planet's gravitational pull or an interdictor cruiser keeping a look out for smugglers. The last thing she wanted to be doing was trying to explain possibly illegal cargos to humourless Imperial, Galactic Alliance, or Jedi Concord officials. The borders shifted so often that you might run into two different sets on your first voyage out and back.
The station well...to put it politely, she wasn't quite sure what it was. W H S K S T T N had been what the navigation computer had provided and she was starting to wonder whether the device was on its last legs, what was wrong with adding a few vowels?
It looked like it had seen better days but then so had she. She was in the same set of overalls for three days and there were enough fuel, oil, and food stains on it to show that hygiene hadn't been much of a concern on the trip. She just prayed there was something mildly more nourishing on the station than ratburgers or mynock kebab. She had enough ration packs stored to last her a lifetime but she was seriously considering just gnawing at her arm next time hunger intruded.
At least the cargo was secure. Several crates of First Order military surplus, some of what she'd salvaged in the inevitable chaos of its withdrawal from the galaxy. There were other stashes concealed in a dozen different systems but she was half afraid to even venture there without more information. If she could offload some here then it might pay for some repairs, renew a few licenses, and get her enough capital for another venture to expand. The music hadn't stopped yet but it was slowing down. She didn't want to be the only one without a chair.
Time to face them. Rising from her chair, she sucked on the dregs of a water pack as she made the trip to the rear of the ship. The rear access ramp groaned with effort when it was opened, slowly lowering and letting in the sights, sounds, and smells of the landing bay. She blinked watery eyes in the artificial light, it was far worse than the run down ones she had installed on her freighter.
Clutching her dataslate, she made her way with grim resignation to what appeared to be the landing or dockmaster. It didn't matter where you were, they all looked the same. The same confident smirk as they knew they were about to legally rob you just for landing on their territory.
Beatrice Govan
The station well...to put it politely, she wasn't quite sure what it was. W H S K S T T N had been what the navigation computer had provided and she was starting to wonder whether the device was on its last legs, what was wrong with adding a few vowels?
It looked like it had seen better days but then so had she. She was in the same set of overalls for three days and there were enough fuel, oil, and food stains on it to show that hygiene hadn't been much of a concern on the trip. She just prayed there was something mildly more nourishing on the station than ratburgers or mynock kebab. She had enough ration packs stored to last her a lifetime but she was seriously considering just gnawing at her arm next time hunger intruded.
At least the cargo was secure. Several crates of First Order military surplus, some of what she'd salvaged in the inevitable chaos of its withdrawal from the galaxy. There were other stashes concealed in a dozen different systems but she was half afraid to even venture there without more information. If she could offload some here then it might pay for some repairs, renew a few licenses, and get her enough capital for another venture to expand. The music hadn't stopped yet but it was slowing down. She didn't want to be the only one without a chair.
Time to face them. Rising from her chair, she sucked on the dregs of a water pack as she made the trip to the rear of the ship. The rear access ramp groaned with effort when it was opened, slowly lowering and letting in the sights, sounds, and smells of the landing bay. She blinked watery eyes in the artificial light, it was far worse than the run down ones she had installed on her freighter.
Clutching her dataslate, she made her way with grim resignation to what appeared to be the landing or dockmaster. It didn't matter where you were, they all looked the same. The same confident smirk as they knew they were about to legally rob you just for landing on their territory.
Beatrice Govan