This is a dead place…

[Tejori Lotor]

Out there — it’s nothing. Nowhere, stretched wide and made infinite. The dry crust of desert. The whipping tails of dust. Past that: dunes. Mounds of sand, red as fire. They seem to run on forever underneath the cloudless sky.

Behind her: raggedy, ratty tents. Propped up by scraps of rusted pole and rebar, some of it kinked with an arthritic bent. The wind threatens to pick it all up and carry it away, but it never does. These tents have been here for so long they're a part of the world. Just like the people.

Tejori steps off her speeder —a limping one-seater she cobbled together. (He gave them more than he owed. Then he descends among the scavengers, the castoffs, the dregs of the galaxy's populace. All of them dust-cheeked. Scarred, too-branded by the roughness of this place. She doesn’t look down on them She is one of them.

A round-faced brute with a crown of wispy black hair and a fat body wreathed in rags steps in front of her, licking his chapped lips and chuckling. "What have we here—"

But she knows the play. She's no fool. Not anymore. She stares him down.

Realising she’s no easy mark, the rag-man grunts and wanders off in search of prey that doesn't sting or bite. Tejori, for her part, searches out the bar.

It's not much to look at. The bar has been welded together out of scrap, the whole thing warped and crooked and shaped into a rough half circle, all of it underneath the cap-top of a 323 Rakhmann concussion-miner. Dust and sand hiss against the canopy of thin metal.

She pulls up a rusted stool next to a socket-eyed skull-face: one of the Uthuthma, with swaddles of chain forming a scarf and obscuring its toothy maw. The alien chatters at him in its language: "Matheen wa-sha wa-sho tah." A statement or a question, Tejori doesn't know. All she does is smile and wink and give the stranger a thumbs-up. The Uthuthma keeps staring with those dead empty holes it reportedly calls eyes. A loud, gurgling throat-clear from behind the bar, and she turns to see the tender.

Big fella. Muscle gone to fat. Nose like a fallen tree. Whole right side of his face is peppered with scars, some of them lumpy with bits of scree and stone. One bit of gravel is bigger than the pad on Tejori’s thumb and sticks in the man's cheek the way a rock pokes up out of dry, dead ground. "Whaddya having?"

“What do you have?"

"Nothing but one thing: Knockback Nectar, they call it."

"If you only have one thing, then why ask me what I'm having?"

The bartender shrugs and snorts. "People like the illusion of choice. Gives them comfort in these strange times."

"Then I will have that, my good man."

"Good man," the bartender mutters, then pours from an old oil can into a smaller oil can and plonks it down in front of her. The so-called nectar is the colour of hydraulic fluid. And bits float in it. Spongy, bobbing bits.

"What is this?"

"Knockback Nectar, I told you already."

"No, I mean, what is it?"

"Ugh. Huh. You know, I don't ask. They just bring it to me. Something about scraping the lichen rocks from the dead buttes down in the south. I hear tell they pickle it in fuel barrels or some such."

"It'll get me drunk?"

"It'll get a space slug drunk."

She tips it back. It tastes like sour spit with a motor oil aftertaste. Doesn't take long before her gums start to feel numb and her teeth buzz.

All righty, then.

The Uthuthma babbles at him again: "Matheen bachee. Iss-ta ta-hwhiss."

“You’re right. It tastes like bantha urine,” she says. Her voice is stripped raw after one sip of the Knockback. The words wheeze out. She laughs: It's a mad, desolate, empty sound. Like this little enclave. Like this whole planet.

But she’d been given some credits and as everything she buys she barters for, she had to find somewhere to spend it. It was either this or death-sticks. And they’re addictive.

[member="Taneas Haring"]

 

[Taneas Haring]

[member="Tejori Lotor"]​

​

The swirling tunnel called hyperspace. He must have seen this sight more that he has had hot meals. Yet it still amazed him. Simple sit back and open a bottle of ossus Mead till orbit, and that's exactly what he did. Blue and white lines flashed by in a fraction of a second. Still memorizing. The only reason taneas was here was to fix up his dynamic II frigate. Scrapping with pirates and the like took it's toll on the ship and now one of it's engine casing and turret swivel needed repairs. They where simple parts and the ship had been fixed into working repair for now, but without those fixed it left a weak spot and one less defence down.

He breached the atmosphere and slowing down his decent to stop the hull burning up and putting pressure on the shielding. that of course was the next to be replaced although he'd just as his kind of daughter to help replace that. Mainly because most markets they where not cheap to come by and Sanya could cut him one for free. Soon coming into land upon the red burning sand of the world near a settlement; he would switch off the engines and lower it's ramp. As he stood up picking up the harness off the seat, taneas would put it on clipping it all up. Then slowly he'd start filling it out with the weapons he'd obtained and had crafted. The two beskad swords on his back, the raging judge and relentless jury where clipped into the holsters, two guns he'd favored since it's make. Then finally the combat kinfe in its sheath on his chest. Taneas knew it was over done with his load out but back water planets, or those lacking of water he couldn't be to careful. Taking the bottle of ossus ale with him he walked through the ships metal interior to the exit ramp. For now as the large red sun in the sky lowered he'd head to the closest bar and sit in the back. Maybe scope out the locals and find out places for the best deals in scrapped part's.

The people here looked rather shady. Many hiding in the shadows of buildings stood in groups. A few metal containers also scattered about the place with fires light. While he looked around the shacks made of welded metal and other things he came across one with a sign and half the name rusted off. Although the word bar scratched in over made it obvious. Pushing it's door open with a creek he peared inside before entering. It seemed quite other than sand hitting it's exterior making a pitter patter sound. Walking inside eyes would look up then back into their glasses or to the groups they socializing with. Although one individual caught his eye. A young girl at the bar. She was obviously complaining about the beverage served here before she took down what ever it was they had here. The stuff looked as if it could strip the hair of a wookie and not in the good way.

He'd sit down at the table behind her and his bottle on the table. Still he gave the impression that he's not one to try ones luck in fighting with at the risk of loosing a finger. Even if that wasn't the kind of man he was. Appearance was everything and the right one could keep someone out of trouble. Turning in his seat he'd look into the back of the girl. "Hey excuse me miss don't suppose you'd be interested in a proper drink would you? In exchange for information of course." He said with a blank expression. The bartender didn't look to impressed either of them. But what where they going to do.

 

[Tejori Lotor]

"You're a scavenger," the tender says.

"What gave it away?"

"Not many folks round here do much else. Most folks...just end up here. Jettisoned like so much worthless cargo. Dropped like waste. Scavenging’s all there is.”

Tejori shrugs and chuckles and sips her poison.

"You're a strange one. You looking for work?"

“Why? What’s available?"

"Haw. Pfft. Not much. Most of the mining is on the far side, and even that's pretty meagre. We do get magnite here, and bezorite, and there's talk of some new kesium gas wells going up, but that might just be rumour. You got the pod-races north of here. You could say your vows and be an anchorite but, naw, not you. And I'd say you could be a bartender, but turns out that job's taken."

"I'll think about it, thanks."

The tender keeps on her: "So how'd you end up here?"

"I didn't 'end up here.'"

"Didn't end up here. Never seen you before. How’d you come to be sitting at my bar, then?"

“Your bar?"

“My bar."

"Well, I came here."

"You came here? Of your own free will and such?"

"Of my own free will and such."

The bartender stands there and stares for a good ten seconds, then bursts out laughing. A big, booming, gurgling laugh like he's choking on his own lung-meats in the process. His jowls shake and his belly bounces back and forth. "Galaxy's a big place, lady. Wide open as a nexu's fang-lined maw. The stars are endless. The worlds are countable, but not by one hand and not by a hundred. You got planets and outposts and stations and spaceships and—" More laughing. "You came here?"

When he put it like that, the absurdity of her decision sounded all the more stark.

But before she could react, they heard the arrival of a ship. Not unheard of but for what passes as entertainment in this place, it was rare enough to warrant everyone stopping what they were doing and staring. The sun lowering behind it made Tejori hold up a hand to shield her eyes. People here didn’t mind ogling at new folks.

The newcomer headed across and Tejori returned her gaze to her oil can. From a distance you could stare without regard. Up close, it could get you killed.

His words caught her off-guard. A quick scan revealed she was the only woman in close proximity — at least one that looked like a woman. Some of these aliens were hard to be sure about. She glanced once more at the alcohol in front of her and wondered how many brain cells would be dead by the time she finished it. Whatever he was offering, it couldn’t possibly be worse.

“Sure,” she said. “Most things have a price.” She once would have said everything…but not any loger. She had principles. She may be starving and effectively homeless and spent most days so dehydrated she was glad to get to bed-time without fainting — but she had them.

“What do you want to know?”

[member="Taneas Haring"]

 

[Taneas Haring]

[member="Tejori Lotor"]

Taneas would give a small smirk as he stood up to sit next to her. "Well I'm looking for one of the ship scrap yards around here that still has good quality metal on them. You know without the rust and corrosion on it." He'd take a mouthful from the bottle gulping it down in one then wiping around the top before passing it to the young girl. She looked drained of energy and her clothes rugged and slightly stuck to her skin.

There was something about the girl. She seemed lost yet denied to see it. Did she crave somewhere secure, safe and a place to be kept busy? Most people where like an open book but the girl was like a vault door that had a complicated code to open. Some details where on the top of course. The tips of her fingers looked whiter than the rest of her hand meaning they had hardened from hard work or maybe some kind of instrument. Although that culture didn't seem so popular here by it's looks. It lead to the idea she was a hard worker to possibly scrape by. "Also I don't suppose you know anyone that is handy around ships would you?" He asked her.

 

[Tejori Lotor]

Tejori smiled. “I know of a scrap yard like that.” Her smile had a valid reason. This was a desert planet. Water was at a premium. No moisture would remain on a ship long enough to rust it. Ships abandoned were in precisely the same condition they were when they landed – or more likely crashed. Regardless of the time elapsed.

But she didn’t need to share that just yet.

She took the flask and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. Compared to the stuff she’d just bought, this was nectar. Pure nectar. The look on her face gave it away. It actually hurt to smile this widely – her face wasn’t used to it.

She took another drink before handing it back. “And someone handy around ships? You’re looking at her.”

He was an off-worlder, which meant he had a lot to learn about this planet, but that didn’t make him a fool. But she was both a competent pilot and knew about ships. She’d stripped and worked on enough in her time.

“So, what did you have in mind?”

[member="Taneas Haring"]

 

[Taneas Haring]

[member="Tejori Lotor"]

Taneas watched the girl take the sip and watched her expression change. For someone who looked quite young she could knock it back. As he took the flask back taking a mouthful himself once more he'd look back to her. "Well I have a dynamic freighter outside and well I need to patch her up. The problem is I'd need another set of hands. Most of the repair work is easy back home but when it comes to places where I don't really have the equipment to do stuff, it gets difficult. On top of that I rarely return home. That part is for another time maybe. Depends." He'd give a smirk to the girl as he passed the flask to her again. After all he was one to share something even if he didn't have much. The whole reason he'd rather live around the slums on issue that some high up rich people area. That and people who had less seemed nicer. "Well then I have a proposition for you. Name your price. Credits, travel anything outside the box for all I care in exchange for the help, and before I forget to introduce myself the name is Taneas."

 

[Tejori Lotor]

She probably looked as though she was quite used to drinking. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Already she could sense that her mouth wasn’t keeping up with her brain and neither were her limbs.

Alcohol was clearly to be avoided unless you were tucked up in bed and no danger to anyone.

So she passed on the flask when he offered it once more. “Need a clear head,” she said, aware things might get worse for her before they got better. She considered making herself sick, but decided it wasn’t going to impress the stranger.

“I have hands and know my way around most electronic and mechanical devices.” This was true. She’d rigged up a variety of contraptions in the place she called home. And she’d dismantled enough starship systems to understand what went where.

“So, Taneas. A price?” She was stumped. Usually she brought stuff to market and accepted the price given. There was rarely room to barter a better deal — given there was only one buyer. “Um…credits are kind of pointless around here — only the trader has them — he buys stuff from off-world. You could…teach me how to use a blaster?” Aware this was too small a price, she hastily added, “And any spare parts that you don’t need? I get to keep?”

[member="Taneas Haring"]